Winter’s Nap

I would just as soon sleep all winter.

I would have made a fine early agrarian — farm manically all summer, hibernate all winter. In a cave wouldn’t be bad as long as it was warm and comfortable — ok, fine, I’d have a hay mattress on the floor, infested by fleas and lice. I guess I’ll stop my romanticizing here.

It’s hard for me to get out of bed in the winter. My husband’s laughing at this because I’m always up and out of bed before he is, at 5:00 AM every morning. Honestly, though, it’s HARD to get out of bed. I keep hoping to be snowed out of work even though they shoveled all the snow from Sunday’s blizzard.

The world is no longer that simple as to follow the rhythms of the year. Academia, my home, follows a rhythm, which is why I love it. But winter is still worktime, and I fight the need to be cozy every day to go to work.

Christmas break will be here in two and a half weeks; I think I’ll make it till then.

I’m back

Sorry I went missing for so long — I was doing some heavy reading through Apocalypse and editing it — it probably needs another edit. I was very focused.

Also, we had a blizzard here Sunday, and that plus the snow day that followed got me off my writing.

I have to go back to work today (I think) but it was nice to have Thanksgiving break as a writing retreat!

What now?

Note: This was written Friday late afternoon.

I’m done. What now?

I finished the second read-through of Whose Hearts are Mountains this afternoon and even wrote a query letter, even though it’s still in need of a developmental edit. I’ve spent time in the hot tub and am waiting for a dinner that I suspect will be wonderful.

But part of me is like, “What do I do now?”

I get really focused when I’m writing and editing. And during a writing retreat, I’m more focused than usual because I’m in a calming place where there’s just enough background noise to keep me from being distracted by silence. Lied Lodge, with its vaulting stone and wood greatroom, fits the function of retreat superbly.

But what now? Dinner, followed by part 2 of a slow-motion Harry Potter marathon, then home tomorrow before the snow hits. We’re supposed to get lots of snow, which means we’ll get barely three inches and I’ll be going back to work on Monday.

Also, I know the answer to “what now?”:

Get Prodigies back from the diversity edit, fix things, and query it to young adult agents with the shiny new query letter
Send Whose Hearts are Mountains to my dev editor
Look over Apocalypse a couple times before sending it to a dev edit
Sit on Voyageurs for a while before sending it on a dev edit
Try to figure out what’s wrong with The Kringle Conspiracy
Write another book. There’s at least two I could write right now.

That’s enough work for three years, I think.

Escape from Black Friday

Normally on the day after Thanksgiving, Richard and I go to a mall for Black Friday. Not to shop, but to watch people. People are generally not at their best when grabbing bargain deals, but there is still enough quirk to make people-watching fun.

Not this year. Lied Lodge (Arbor Day Lodge) is such a soothing combination of wood and stone and fireplace and comfy rocking chairs and plenty of coffee that I’m settled in here for another day of writing retreat. I might get through the second edit on Whose Hearts are Mountains to send it to dev edit (I’m pretty sure I’m sending it to dev edit first.)

We’re cutting the visit a day short because Sunday is bringing a snowstorm to the area that might bring as much as 8 inches of snow. I’m hoping for a snow day Monday.

Peace to my readers.

Thanksgiving writing retreat — and a dilemma

I am well on my way through day 2 of my second edit of Whose Hearts are Mountains (while waiting for Thanksgiving buffet at 11) and I’m left with a dilemma.

Do I send Voyageurs to my developmental editor first, or do I send Whose Hearts are Mountains?

The arguments in favor of Voyageurs:

It’s older than Whose Hearts are Mountains
It’s a romance novel, and I think it could get published as such
It really deserves a dev edit

The arguments in favor of Whose Hearts are Mountains:

It’s fresher and might be a better novel because of what I’ve learned
It’s not romance (I think it’s contemporary fantasy) and I don’t become pigeon-holed as a romance writer
It also deserves a dev edit
It’s part of an established series (which hasn’t been published yet)

(*anguished scream*) I hate to decide!

For all of you who celebrate US Thanksgiving, Happy Thanksgiving! For those of you who do not, my best wishes and support to you.

Writing retreat time

I’m off to Nebraska City (a two-hour car ride from here) to Lied Lodge for a couple days of writing retreat. It will be challenging — I’m reviewing the beginning of Whose Hearts are Mountains, struck by how I could do the whole reveal of the US’s collapse better. And while I’m at it, how I could improve the flashbacks at the beginning, and …

Yes, it’s a really rough draft. But there’s something there worth salvaging.

For all my US friends, Happy Thanksgiving! For my readers overseas, find something to celebrate!

Miles to Go

Whose Hearts are Mountains is a mess.

As well it should be. After all, it’s a first draft. In the rush to get ideas on the page, things are going to be garbled. For example, I gave one object two different names, and two different characters shared the same name. There were a hundred subtle or less subtle things I corrected on the first pass.

And I’m not done yet. I now have to do a leisurely pass through for things like language (currently not the most poetic) and character (some of my secondary characters need development) and descriptions (too much telling, not enough showing) and that’s going to take a while.

Luckily I’m taking a writing retreat over Thanksgiving…

First Snow

To the snow.
To those who have gone before us.
To a warm house.
To work, which warms our house.
To our friends, and to our pets.
To our family, near and far.
To laughter, may we have it in abundance.
To the snow.

— First Snow, 11/18/18, Maryville MO

One of those sex scenes (warning: no sex. I’m a wimp.)

At that point I had heard too many horrible things: the deaths of several Travellers, Harold’s motives, Ian’s impending death. I started crying, horrible sobs. Ian gathered me into his arms as he murmured in my ear: “My dear Kat, all we can do is be and find meaning in the moment.”

I hiccuped trying to stop the tears. I wondered what he meant.

“I want to stretch this moment into timelessness. With you,” Ian breathed.

That I understood. It was a Traveller phrase, “stretching time”. There were few ways that Travellers could escape time, and sex was one of them.

“Yes,” I barely managed to speak. “I would like that very much.”

He took my hand and led me to my bedroom, and I remembered that he had been tutored under Berkeley, so he would know the layout of the house. I struggled to determine what year that would be. Then he backed me against the wall and kissed me, and math didn’t seem so urgent.

When we backed off from each other, panting, we stared at each other. “Are you going to back off again? It’s okay if you — “

“No, I want this.” And I dropped to my knees before him and began to undo his pants.

“No,” Ian said, squatting before me. “Not like that.”

“That’s the only way I know how to do it,” I sniffed. “If you don’t want to …”

Ian put his arms around me. “You’re no longer the girl who lived on the street. You have a say in this. You have a right to joy. The only thing is,” he sighed, “I have no idea how to do this.”

“You’re a virgin,” I guessed.

“I haven’t had much time to date,” he shrugged. “But it puts me at a disadvantage. What would you like me to do?”

I thought of what my Johns never did, things I’d only read about. “I want us to take our time and kiss a lot. And touch a lot. I don’t want things to be over right away.

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” Ian smiled. “I have a good imagination…”

As he laid me on the floor and slid on top of me, I had to agree.

Four Sex Scenes

I’ve finished the latest edit on Voyageurs, and it’s ready to go into dev edit as soon as I do one more thing.

Write four sex scenes.

After all, it’s a romance novel, or at least a soft SF novel with romantic elements. There are four places in the novel where they’re having sex, but I don’t go into detail. I suspect that romance publishers will need sex scenes.

I’m terrified.

I have nothing against sex — in fact, you can think of me as sex-positive. But I have seen so many bad sex scenes in my writing time that I fear that sex can’t be written well. There’s over-the-top tentacle sex . There’s overwrought adjective sex, where the men and the orgasms are bigger than life. There’s contractual obligation sex scenes and there’s tab A- slot B clinically detailed sex scenes.

I don’t want to write any of these. I want to write something emotionally fulfilling, heavy on relation and light on mechanics. I don’t know if I know how to do that.

If you hear me screaming today, know it’s because I have to write four sex scenes.