Ask Myself

Do I feel like more of a writer since self-publishing The Kringle Conspiracy?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I finally got a novel into the hands of readers (not many but) who liked it, I got to sign copies, I got to advertise it a bit, I got my hands on a paperback copy.

Will I self-publish another book?

Most certainly I will publish the sequel next Christmas time, I will.

What about all those other books I’m sitting on? The fantasies?

I’d love to get those traditionally published, but the shape of trad publishing and my inability to get traction does not encourage me. Alternately, I may put those into the self-publishing marketplace (aka Amazon) if I give up in frustration. There is one (Gaia’s Hands) that could go self-published, as it’s another romance novel.

Will I ever give up writing?

I don’t think so. It’s grown on me. I love creating, and I’m really bad at knitting.

My male protagonist scares me

Josh Young, my male protagonist in Gaia’s Hands, is my worthy adversary.

He scares me because he is a younger man in love with an older woman (He’s 25, she’s 45). It’s still taboo in this day and age, more so than an older man with a younger woman. In the latter case, people turn their heads away with distaste (and, for older men, envy). For women who would date younger men, the outrage raises to a pitchfork-wielding pitch.

A lot of this is based on outdated gender roles. According to these, men aren’t even marriageable till 30, when they’re well on their way to conquering the world, according to dominant culture and romance novels. Women, on the other hand, can’t be as accomplished as the men and their basic commodity is their youth and childbearing ability. Relationships are based on this exchange, which is hypothesized to result from the biological imperative of reproduction of the species.

But at the same time people adhere to the cynical, commoditized view of the above paragraph, we believe in a true love that transcends all barriers. And people write romance about transcending those barriers. Except for an older woman and a younger man.

The barriers assume that all twenty-something males are the same, that they are at a specific (and one may say arrested) state of development that includes a societally-endorsed mix of partying with the guys, living in apartments crawling in garbage and dirty dishes until their mother comes and cleans up the place, and gaming unbathed for days on their PlayStation.

I want to assume differently. Josh Young is 25, with a Masters in Fine Arts and a job as instructor at his alma mater. He has a best friend who he met years ago at aikido lessons, and he himself is ranked 2nd Dan in aikido. Because this is a fantasy novel, he keeps a secret — visions that guide his life, and one of his visions brings him to the side of a woman twenty years older. And he resists, not because she’s too old, but because he’s too young.

I’m bathed enough in dominant culture that this is hard to write, but at the same time I’m compelled to write him as significantly younger, if a bit wiser for his age than typical.

Wish me luck.

PS: There are apparently older woman/younger man romance novels. Maybe I can pull this off!

PPS: Apparently there is a whole genre of Korean drama that features older women/younger men. Woo hoo!

My Temperament Today

So I’m listening to Apple Music’s Acoustic Christmas playlist and getting a bit weepy. I hope it’s just the stress of the end of the semester getting to me. Or the allergy to benzoyl peroxide I’m still dealing with after 2 days. Or the frustration at trying to write and not quite getting my hooks into the main male character. Or the book itself. Or COVID.

I hear that writers are temperamental. I’m pretty temperamental at times, so I guess that’s part of the job description. I try not to be temperamental, because I need to be nice to my husband, so usually I just announce how I’m feeling. Just like I did above.

Being honest about my feelings allows me to take them out and look at them and ask myself if the reasoning behind them (if there is reasoning) is true or a misgiving. And then, what can I do about it? Vent, write, distract myself, make something happen?

Today is split between vegging/taking care of myself and doing something. Confronting my novel in pieces. Interrogating Josh again. Something.

Cold is the absence of heat

I don’t know when I learned that cold was the absence of heat, but I suspect it was during a grade school science class. They never gave me an explanation of why in school, so I looked it up.

It turns out that heat comes from kinetic energy; that is, the movement of molecules. The faster they vibrate, the hotter it gets. We as humans become warm because heat sources (themselves quickly vibrating the molecules of air) transfer warmth to us.

If cold is the absence of warmth (pardon the switching up of the synonym; I have a purpose), then how does this translate to people and relationships?

I think the metaphor works well. Someone who is cold seems elementally so; without movement, glacial, without emotion (which could be considered heat).

I think about this because I have a character in the Christmas romance I’m writing, Brent Oberhauser, who believes he’s cold. The truth of the matter is that he’s trying to deny himself feelings, which is not the same thing. He has feelings; he has heat but is suppressing it.

One of the other characters, Santa Jack, points out that this isn’t true. But I don’t put in the cold/heat metaphor. Should I?

The Manuscript as Adversary

I am done with the grading and have completed my semester, for which I’m very happy. I will be spending the next few weeks putting together spring classes for hybrid (in class and on zoom) and enjoying the season. And writing, of course.

The current project will be tearing into that first novel again (the one that has been edited and rewritten about forty times). This story is my adversary, in a very spiritual sense.

“Without the aid of a worthy opponent, who’s not really an enemy but a thoroughly dedicated adversary, the apprentice has no possibility of continuing on the path of knowledge”

— attributed to Carlos Castaneda

This manuscript does not know what it wants to be. It’s mystical, romantic, fanciful, mundane. It features the unexplainable in plain sight of an academic setting. It has a secret which is also the theme.

But I think I finally have it. Someone once told me it was a romance novel, and at its core, I think it is. Two people who struggle trying to understand strange events happening to them fall in love while chasing the meaning of what’s happening — and facing the mysterious villain who’s trying to foil all their work. Their unlikely relationship (a twenty-year age difference) makes sense because there aren’t others like them around.

Whew! That’s a lot to unpack, but I don’t want to lose any of it. So fantasy romance it is.

Now to face my worthy adversary.

Note: I know that Castaneda’s writings have been proven to be a hoax. These quotes are still great quotes and worth thinking on.

Where Do I Go From Here?

The good news is that, with my NaNo project of writing the sequel to The Kringle Conspiracy, I have found my love for writing again.The bad news is that I don’t know what to write next.

One possibility is writing the serialized novel called “Kel and Brother Coyote Save the Universe,” a light-hearted space opera. Another possibility would be to write Hands, which would be the polar opposite of Kel and Brother Coyote, a very psychological book about a boy who can heal — or kill — by touch. The one problem with this is that it would be set in the year 2005 in Krakow, and I don’t see any way that I could immerse myself in that era and place to the extent it would feel authentic.

There are still other possibilities. I could write the third story in the Kringle Chronicles, but I want to wait till NaNo next year to write that. I could write a sequel to Voyagers (or lengthen it to a full novel). I could write the sequel to Apocalypse, Gods’ Seeds. There’s so many choices.

But for now, I will edit the slightly problematic sequel to The Kringle Conspiracy, known as Kringle in the Dark. That will keep me busy.

Growth Mindset in Our Endeavors

Today I’m just waiting for straggling exams to come in. This means it’s time for some creativity.

My first reader (aka my husband) says the second half of my latest book goes too fast. He’s right, of course. So the task du jour is to work on adding a little more substance into the second half. This is not, I repeat not, an easy thing to do without disrupting flow. So my work is cut out for me.

This is a reminder of what I learned a long time ago in writing books, but it may be a good piece of advice in general: Never fall in love with your results so much that you can’t hear constructive criticism.

I believe so many things are a process — writing, teaching, any skilled labor or hobby. We can take them just for fun, but those with a growth mindset will always push themselves to improve.

It took a lot for me to get there, in part because I think writers’ immediate response to writing a book is “This is my brainchild! My masterpiece!” Our second response is “This is horrible! I can’t bear to edit it!” Somewhere in-between that is the desire to write the best book possible. That’s where the growth is.

Romance is not Picture Perfect

It’s dark and foggy outside my window, tempting me to set foot on the porch and feel the mist —

Noooooo! It’s cold out there!

Just one of those moments where a romantic notion is foiled by reality.

Winter wonderlands filled with frostbite. Hiking solo and getting lost. The elaborate ring presentation interrupted by the sound of eyes rolling. Sex on the beach with sand getting in very personal places.

Yet we still persist in trying to emulate impossible romantic scenarios as seen on TV (Hallmark Channel, I’m looking at you!) Instead, we should be finding romance in our own lives. Sharing traditions, having tea for two no matter that your tea set is two mismatched coffee cups and a pot you bought at a yard sale, telling stories in front of a fireplace (even if it’s not yours). It’s the presence of people together, or even a solo person and their dreams, that makes it romantic.

The fine moments you think about later are the romantic ones, the moments that gave you joy and connection and shared meaning. They do not need to be made picture-perfect, because pictures are not perfect in real life.

Tired

I’m so tired.

I’m in the end stretch, with final exams to be graded Monday and Thursday, and office hours online all week. It’s not going to be too hard, but I still wish it was all over.

I get it. I’m getting older, old enough that I reminisce about Christmas past and old music. Old enough that I would like to do nothing except write till January. (And celebrate Christmas). Old enough that I don’t feel younger than my age anymore. Old enough that I don’t imagine younger men getting crushes on me. I have become a more sedate version of myself. And, after this semester, a more tired one.

I would like my heart to be lighter. This may not be the year, and perhaps what I need is a reprieve from work rather than joy.