Writing Close to Home

In my romances, I sometimes write about ordinary people who perceive that something about them will get in the way of a happily ever after (or at least a happily for now). Secrets, personal failings, longings, parental disapproval. The couple overcome these and find room for love.

This latest book I wrote (it’s in the editing stage), Kringle through the Snow, has one character whose flaw is that she has bipolar 2, which is something I manage in my own life. She is scared that another hypomanic or depressive state is just around the corner and nobody else should be exposed to it.

This is one of the hazards of being bipolar — the stigma. Someone with complications like bipolar is certainly more daunting than people without, and some potential partners want uncomplicated situations. Some are just scared. It is possible to have bipolar disorder and go years before another attack because of diligent management; how is this different than having diabetes or another chronic disease?

I write to ask these questions. In my writing, I want people to confront their preconceived notions, because I think we are our own worst enemies. I think love, when it’s truly there, finds a way.

Flying By the Seat of My Pants

So I’m taking a few minutes to write on Carrying Light this morning, having gotten through some work-type work. I am writing a scene where the collective (not a commune but close) takes part in a story-telling circle. This involves passing a stick from person to person so that they further the story. My main character is going to introduce the solution of their problems as a theoretical but impossible possibility. But it could be possible if their local deity takes it on. But why would She take it on? What if the main character is an acolyte of hers and doesn’t know it? If anyone would be, she would be, as she’s been blessed by that deity. WHY DIDN’T I THINK ABOUT THAT SOONER?

Time for foreshadowing. Time to go back into the story and possibly rewrite whole sections? Time to totally wing the next two thirds of the book because I didn’t plan for this? AAAaaack!

Just kidding. It’s moments like this that remind me of why I write.

When I write, I get into a zone and the words flow out of my fingers. My characters sit over my shoulder and tell me where they are and what they’re thinking. They talk to each other while I write. Every now and then I need to take a break to set the next scene.

It’s an odd way to write, I think, because I’m not always aware of what I write until later. Thank goodness for editing, because without it, I don’t think my stuff would be coherent. Sometimes I find myself moving entire pieces of the book because I put them in the wrong place (it took me 20 minutes to do that today.)

Normally I’m a plantser, which means I’m someone who makes a rough outline and works within that. These last two books have required so much rearranging that I’m a pantser, hanging on by the seat of my pants. My characters are really coming out of nowhere: “Hey, let’s talk about the Garden and its Trees now!”

I wrote 4000 words yesterday (or was it 3500? Let me check — oops, it was 4500) so it was an immense day of pantsing. My characters had a lot to say, and I finished Kringle Through the Snow. Another day, and I’m writing Carrying Light. Let’s see where I go.

Me and My Romance

I am almost done with Kringle Through the Snow, which is the Kringle (Christmas romance) book I almost didn’t write. I thought I was done with the Kringle series (this makes six of them) until one of my Facebook friends told me I needed to write more. It took little arm-twisting, but I always wonder if the current book is the last.

I never thought I’d write romance. And, in fact, my romance is clean (only implied sex) and funny. It’s much more relationship based, although it promotes the Instalove trope, which means people getting attached quickly; I think because that’s always been my personal experience. There’s also several friends-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers, and one age gap. (Two if you count the 100,000-year-old Su and the 6000-year-old Luke.)

Is romance realistic? It’s not supposed to be. It’s grounded in its society (whether that society be modern American, fantasy, science-fiction, etc) and fantastical in its romance elements. Some of the things that happen in romance would not or should not happen in real life (borderline stalkerish behavior, grooming, teacher-student romances) and some only happen in very defined and conscientious contexts in real life (S&M). Some things that happen in romance are just unrealistic. But romance is a type of fantasy — define the rules of the world and you can dream freely on the other parts.

To find my books, click here.

Announcement April 2, 2024

As I’m sure you figured out, I am not collaborating with Me-Me to write a book on Archetype cats as I announced yesterday. The truth is, she asked for an advance, and that’s not how the indie book marketplace works. So she will have to postpone her dream of publishing, and I will go back to my regularly scheduled work.

Fixing a Problem with the Story

Sometimes, when writing, I have to talk with my husband about plot points.

“What happens if the rural water goes out?” Richard sits on the couch with his phone out.

“Rural water will not go out, or else lots of people die.” My solution. I believe the water infrastructure isn’t likely to go out for a while, but when it does, the town will have trouble fixing it for a while. Unless the power goes out, and fuel for generators becomes scarce.

“But the collective is going to be prepared for it, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know how. They have less than a week to prepare for it. How are they going to prepare for it?” I type “Where does Mahomet IL get their water?” and I discover Mahomet is sitting on top of a massive aquifer that belts the middle part of the state of Illinois. In fact, it’s called the Mahomet Aquifer. “There’s an aquifer, but I don’t see the collective drilling a well in one week even if they can find someone with the equipment.”

“They could do the pioneer thing and dig it themselves.”

“Eighty feet? How do they get back up?”

“A rope.”

“In a week?”

“Wait a minute. Don’t they have a 100-year-old farmhouse on grounds?” This is where my husband remembers the setting of my story better than I do.

“Yes, but — “

“I would bet that farmhouse has a well.”

“So all they need is piping. And the parts. Lots of pipe and joins, tied in to the water tower — they should have a water tower, right?” (Why didn’t I think of this before?)

“They definitely should have a water tower.”

In my mind I’m painting the water tower because I’m easily distracted. I pull myself back to the current discussion. “Oh, but then we could put the municipal filter in so the water is clean. Hope they can get this done in a week^*.”

^* They don’t just have a week to refit the well. They have as long as they need because I am the author.

My Go-Kit

As a writer, I want to be prepared for writing wherever I go, because who knows when I’m going to have an hour or two to work. I write my works on computers unless I have to interrogate (interview) my characters; then it’s pen and ink. So I have to have a keyboard with me at all times.

The problem with that is that my laptop is powerful, which means it’s big. Heavy. It has to be, because it’s the computer I do my graphics work on. Graphics to me is layout for book covers and not actual drawings or renderings, but I still feel like I need muscle in my laptop.

That means that I need a lighter computer for on-the-go. Thus, my go-kit.

My go-kit is centered on an iPad with an M1 chip and 256 MB storage at just over 1 lb weight. It’s quite useful for information gathering, word processing, and most of what I need to do to produce a book. (I understand it uses Photoshop as well, but I have some trouble accessing the materials I need on here.)

To make this a computer substitute, I need input devices. Rather than get one of Apple’s expensive magic keyboards, I am content with a matching Logi keyboard and mouse, which together cost $50. They match the protector case on the iPad as well, all in what Logi calls “Lavender Lemonade”. See above.)

All this, including the cable, fits in a small computer bag (also lavender) that goes with me almost everywhere, hence the name. I have yet to utilize it fully, however, because I have trouble using the Apple Pencil without glitches. If I can get that taken care of, I wouldn’t even need the pen and ink.

So here’s my solution to not wanting to haul a heavy computer around so I can write when I’m inspired.

Spring Break Again

It’s Spring Break, and I’m writing and reading.

Writing: two items at once:

Kringle Through the Snow (Kringle #6)
Carrying Light (Hidden in Plain Sight #5)

Reading:

Reclaiming the Balance (Hidden in Plain Sight #3)

And, frustratingly, I don’t feel like I’m getting too far. Sometimes, things go swimmingly, and sometimes they go drowningly.

The Big Audacious Goal So Far

So far, I have gotten no closer to the Big Audacious Goal. That goal was to sell books at a writers’ conference. I’m not totally sold on the goal, which is probably why I need to have the goal. Frankly, I’m afraid I’m going to fail selling any books. I think the goal is too audacious for me, as it plays with my insecurities.

I didn’t think I could find a BAG that would seem too big, either. I’m surprised to discover this. There are a dearth of writers’ conferences that are achievable. The ones in this area are too big and overwhelming. The one I would be most comfortable in no longer exists.

Am I going to fulfill this goal, or is it time for a more manageable BAG? Stay tuned.

The Right Direction?

Sometimes I get into those soul-searching sessions when I wonder if I’m doing the right thing with my time, whether there’s a better thing to do with my time, and what that better thing to do would be.

I think of this a lot when it comes to writing. I’m not tired of writing, but I feel like I’m slowing down a bit. It doesn’t help that I have two books I’m writing at once, one more than the other. I’m having a problem with only being able to write smoothly at Starbucks and not at home. I’m not sure what the focus problem is, but I think the low-level distraction of a coffeehouse helps me write.

I’m also dealing with the scourge of writing — the nagging little voice that tells me all I write is crap. It’s quite persistent. It’s killing my joy and distracting me.

On the other hand, writing is my favorite flow activity. It occupies my mind better than few other things. I can lose time while writing; it’s almost hypnotic. My other flow activity is moulage, but I really don’t get too many opportunities to do that. And I don’t know if there’s anything to pass my time that I enjoy as much.

I want to hang on to writing; I want to continue being a writer. I want to sell my work and have others read it. I’m going to have to find ways of overcoming the problems.