Author: Jonathon

Let me tell you how my work day went. I typed a few sentences. Then I went on the internet and looked up: dog training, gardening, news. I typed a few more sentences, maybe a paragraph. Then I went on the internet again. I read news stories I normally would have skipped. I typed a page. I was tired of all my music. None of it fit the mood. I finally found something I thought I wanted. Listened to it while I typed a few more sentences. No that music wasn’t right. Change songs. Type a sentence or two. No, that song wasn’t right either. Change entire disc. Sit back down, type a little more. No that disc sucked, too. It just wasn’t the right mood. Change disc. Type some more. Change disc. Type some more. Rummage through entire house seeking the CD that I’m sure will be the right mood for this scene, but of course I’ve chosen a CD that has gone AWOL. Spend fruitless time searching for disc. Give up, get back to work. Think of a new disc that will help me through this scene. That disc is also among the missing. Finally, give up on both discs, and settle down to the pile of discs I’ve dragged from all corners of the house. None of it makes me happy. Nothing was going to make me happy today. I finally embraced that and just played some music, any music, and let myself change the music when it got too irritating which was frequently. But at the end of the day, I have ten pages, and the deed is done. The death is a done deal, and that character is no more. I could only write the scene in snatches, but when I finally acknowledged late in the day what was wrong, and why I was doing this restless maniac search for music, things sped up. I can’t say I enjoyed the day’s work, but the scene works, and it’s done. I don’t have to face it tomorrow. Tomorrow is talking to the police and setting up the warrants of execution being executed. I’m okay with that. Must kill more bad guys.

I know why I only got six pages on Friday. Okay, this is not so much a spoiler, as a tease. I don’t mean to tease, but it’s either tease or give away an important part of THE HARLEQUIN. I always struggle here on giving you guys a view into how it is to write these books, and not giving away too much, or tormenting you with hints. I’m not sure I’ll ever get the right balance between all that, but I felt that this issue was important enough to share with you. Behave yourselves about it, though, okay. A lot of fans have asked in the last year or so, why hasn’t anyone died in the series in so long? I tell them I made a promise after GUILTY PLEASURES when we killed off you know who (in the odd chance someone reading this is reading the series backwards, which happens, I don’t want to give away who dies, those who have read the book know who I’m talking about)a promise to Anita. That if she truly cared for someone I wouldn’t kill them. Is it the bargain we would all make with Diety if we could. A guarantee that no one you loved would be taken from you. I just didn’t have the heart to do it again. Let alone to someone she truly loved. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why Anita has suddenly found a romantic, or at least sexual, interest with so many of the men. The promise covers them, then. I don’t think this was conscious on my part or Anita’s but there it is. On Friday we killed someone. Not a main character, because that breaks the promise. But someone we’ve seen over the course of more than one book. I wrote the death, but after seeing the injury I put it all off screen. As neat and tidy as I could, but death is not tidy and neat. I know it is not. I know better. But it was easier this way, less painful to her, and to me. I woke up yesterday morning knowing I’d done it wrong. Knowing I had to rewrite the two chapters leading up to it, expand certain parts, and make the death have more impact. It’s the first person we’ve had die on us in years, it should mean something. But the death and the violence that led to it has taken the heart out of me. I was enjoying this book, and now I am not. I used to enjoy playing policeman on paper, now sometimes, I’m just tired. I know my reality is a hyper-reality, and though I’ve done my police research it’s not that close to the real thing, not really, it is fiction. It’s certainly more violent than most real police work, and it is more unrelently violent than most real police, or even combat. I joked that I needed to write an Anita vacation book, where she and a few of the guys got out of Dodge and did something fun. I can take a vacation, but it’s almost as if Anita is my alter-ego, and it’s not just me that needs a break. A few days away with the family rests me, but it doesn’t rest Anita. I’m actually beginning to wonder if I need to write Anita getting that vacation on paper. It’s almost as if it’s not just me that’s tired. That my imaginary friends need a break, too. A real break, like on paper, not just telling them okay, guys, go off and have fun, see you in a few months. Because most of my imaginary friends just wait for me to come back to the computer, they don’t have fun on their own. Oh, Edward does, and Jason does sometimes, but most of them wait for me to come back and tell their story. So unless I sit down and do the vacation, they don’t seem to get one. Trouble is I don’t think I could behave myself for very long on paper. I don’t think I’m capable of writing hundreds of pages of fun in the sun. No, eventually, I think of bodies on the ground, or in the ground. My mind just runs to that. Maybe we could compromise, maybe the first half of the book could be vacation, or maybe we could just have a case that wasn’t a freaking serial killer case, or one this violent. Maybe we could see if I could find a cozy mystery for Anita to play in, something kinder than this. An Anita cozy mystery? It seems impossible, but damn I may be ready to try. I am tired of death. Life appeals to me more, and it’s no longer enough that Anita by killing the bad guy, saves lives. We’d like to be there saving the victims before hand, not cleaning up afterwards. Anita is tired of being the clean-up crew, and so am I today. This death is not a major character, but it’s still hard. I’ve still got to write the scene where Anita watches this person die. I cannot flinch from it. If I’m going to do it, then I have to do it. Do it right, or don’t do it at all, that is the rule. I did it wrong on Friday, I flinched, hell I damn near ran. No more running. Face it, run towards it, run through it. Most of the time I regret most when I give into my cowardice, being brave cost less in the long run. Though there are days when being brave fills like this crushing burden, but it’s not the bravery that crushes, it’s the fear. The overwhelming fear of a thing, and every time you give into that fear you give it more power over you, give it more strength, and you make yourself weaker, less able to fight back. This death will not just be the loss of this character, but there will be emotional shit to clean up for books, not just in Anita’s head, but in other character’s minds, as well. This is why everyone lives, it is not a Star Trek episode where everything is neat and tidy at the end, and next week we have life as normal. No, the great bad thing happens and it impacts our world, changes our world, and the people in it. All you people who wanted someone to die, I hope you enjoy it, because I have not.

Another computer problem today. Neither Jon, nor Darla, know what caused it. I’m going to be forced to get that new computer sooner rather than later. Jon was able to reformat the file, but when I get this book finished, I must buy a new computer. The glitch today may have had nothing to do with the computer being of a certain age, but this is the last in a growing list of odd computer problems. It just seems that small stuff and not so small stuff goes wrong with increasing frequency. Sigh. And yes, the file that went wonky was the file containing the latest Anita book. AAAHH! But it’s okay, it’s okay. Why do I feel like I’m petting my stuffed toy and telling it, it’s okay, more to comfort myself rather than that I believe what I’m saying? A metaphorically stuffed toy, guys, it’s not been that rough a day. Twenty-two pages yesterday, fifteen the day before, but only six today. We’ve managed to exercise both treadmill and weights. The computer going buggy on my file, well, it just took the wind out of my sails. It is definitely time to go into some quiet cove and put down anchor for the night. I’ve had enough of the big, bad waves for one day. I think if we hadn’t had the great computer crash only a few months ago, I wouldn’t have panicked so much about today. But once burned, twice panicked.

I always tell new writers not to rewrite as they go along in first draft because perfectionism sets in, and I still maintain if you’ve never completed a book save the rewrites until you have at least a finished rough draft. But for those who have a book under their belt, here’s the exception to my own rule. Yesterday I had a complicated action scene. It wrote well, read well, but reality intrudes. How real guns work. The shape of the claws on a tiger. Size of people involved, and logistics. Where is everyone in relation to everyone else? I knew something wasn’t quite right, but I just couldn’t spot it in the rush of adrenalin that often accompanies a productive day. I had thirteen pages, and they read well, but something nagged at me. So I went to Jon and spoiled it for him, because I needed to spoil some big surprises to talk out why I felt I’d missed some stuff. I knew that I needed Jon to help me physical out the scene. Play act it with me. What did I do before I had Jon? I borrowed friends or crawled around on the floor by myself just me and my imagination. Anyway, Jon and I acted out some of the fight. We discovered quickly that some of the injuries just weren’t possible. Wrong angle, wrong weapon, whatever. So the injury to [SPOILER] is out. Jon also raised the question on whether if you shot through someone’s hair would the hair singe? Good question. I’ll have to find out. And my question is why is it that if gunpowder blow back can put traces of bits (I don’t mean the microscopic bits that show up in a GSR test) under the skin of the face like a scar almost, why doesn’t it do that to your hands, which are always close to the gun when it fires? Again, I’m going to have to research and find out if the idea of burnt powder under the skin like a permanent mark is movie myth, or reality. I’ve also got to see how close to the eyes you can fire a gun and not get retina burn. The deafness I already know is a problem. Or the potential ear damage anyway. Scenes like this are why a mock up gun, one of those weighted to look real but painted bright neon colors is really useful. I never, ever roll around and pretend fight with a real gun, even unloaded. I go by the rule that all guns are loaded, all guns are dangerous. They are not toys. That’s why they make the mock guns. A really good replica air-gun will work, but the weight is often wrong. Anyway, I need these questions answered. I will change the stuff we know needs changing, and move on with the book. I can go back later when I have my answers to singed hair, gunpowder burns, muzzle flash, and shooting a gun that close to an ear. I think in the real world you’d probably loose your hearing or have it permanently damaged, but since these guys heal better than normal, I guess I could squeak that one by. The trick here is that I know I’m squeaking by. I know what might happen for real. I don’t guess, and if I bend reality I know I’m bending it. It drives me nuts when I’m reading along, and find that a writer obviously didn’t do any research. I’m okay with a problem here, or there, but when it’s blatantly obvious that they treated the material with no respect, it just ruins my enjoyment of the story. Research, research, research.

Eighteen pages today. Tired. But I’m hoping that by tomorrow morning I’ll be ready to go again. Why the pick up in speed? Big Edward scene, I’d hoped the pace would pick up, and it did. Cool. I can now say for sure that Olaf is going to be in this book, because he’s been on stage. So for all you guys that have been asking when, and what book will Edward and Olaf be in? Answer; this book, The Harlequin, which is the official title. I’m off to try and drag Jon and I off to exercise. He says, he’ll follow where I lead, I just got to be brave enough to lead to the work out room. Damn, I so do not want to exercise today. I’ll let you know if my will power holds out, or if the couch and mindless television suck my will power away.
(Later:) Will Power won out. I’ve exercized and am now working on dinner, while Jon goes and puts in his time on the Dread Mill.

Safely back from Minnesota. I managed not to have out right hysterics on the plane, or even cry. Bully for me. We had between two and three hundred people. Not sure. I know it was under four hundred, and over two hundred, but other than that I’m a little fuzzy. You know how I wear the dark glasses when you guys take flash pictures of me? Well, I hadn’t had a full blown migraine in a while, so I thought maybe I’ve gotten over it. So a few people took flash pictures while I was signing without me putting on the glasses. Jon and I usually police it better, but we just didn’t. So I got a full-blown migraine in the middle of the signing. The dark glasses came out and stayed on. Anyone who took the flash pictures don’t worry about it. Not your fault. We just didn’t police it well enough. From now on, we’ll have to. It was way, way unpleasant to have the migraine while still in a public event. We toughed it out, and did the whole signing, then fled to the hotel room and closed all the drapes. Even that wasn’t dark enough. It’s one of the reasons we carry blind folds with us. I used one that afternoon, or early evening, whatever. It was great seeing everyone, and those who didn’t come missed the super secret black and white edition of the GUILTY PLEASURES comic. My understanding is that the comics that were at, or are at, Source Comics, are all there will ever be. The next time you see this comic it will be full color and so the few hundred comics at the store are all there is of this print run. The store has a few left, so if you want one, go get it now, or call them, because honest, no joke, that’s it. The next time you see the comic it will be colored and done up, and it will be October. Thanks everyone who came out to see us.

Today is the day. A plane, cars driven by strangers, a city I don’t know. Hope I don’t cry on the plane because my very gentle eye make up remover (which I use to fix liner and stuff when I cry) is liquid and will be in checked baggage. Here’s to being made of sterner stuff than I feel like I am made of right this second. See everybody at Source Comics in Minneapolis, Minnesota on Saturday. Books and now comic books to sign. Cool.

No pages today. No time at my desk at all. The day was spent preparing for the trip. I was waxed, and buffed, and, feel that it was a complete waste of my day. So why do it? Because I’m a girl, and those are the rules for girls. I am totally loosing it about getting on a plane tomorrow. Verging on a full blown panic attack. Shit. I thought I was better than this, but apparently not. Double shit. The extra stress about whether they’ll change the restrictions at the gate. The almost sure knowledge that they’ll loose some lugage during the three hour lay over in Chicago. Three hours, because almost no one flies directly from St. Louis to anywhere. The fact that it’s this hard to fly out of St. Louis on a regular basis has to be hurting our city’s economy. I know that if I were a business person trying to decide where to open up a new branch of my business that the fact that I can’t get in and out of the city on any airline with regularity would make me hesitate. I can’t be the only one that is bothered by this. I don’t know what we can do to help the situation, but no direct flights to so many places is really making traveling from St. Louis a challenge. We are looking forward to seeing everyone in Minnesota. And this will be our first look at the special edition of the comic book in the all together. We’ve seen the artwork and script as it came through, but we haven’t seen the finished product. We’ll be seeing the special edition Saturday with the rest of you for the very first time. I am excited about that. The artwork has been amazing. See you there.

Got up, and got going yesterday. At my desk by 8 something. Got ten pages done before lunch. Then after lunch it all fell apart. I started fussing at the scene. I know better. What’s the rule? If it works don’t rewrite it until the scene, or story line, or whatever is complete. Don’t fuss in the middle. Why? Because most of the time, for me, at least, the first version is the best. What makes me go back and try to fix it when it’s working is failure to believe in what I’ve written. In the afternoon my head went ugly and I just couldn’t see the writing clearly. I realized I wasn’t feeling well in the early evening. I actually was in bed like for sleeping by 9:30. Unheard of. But I felt better this morning. Jon and I are trying to get on the schedule we’ll need for school when Trinity starts back in a couple of weeks. I know many of you are already back on the school year treadmill. I didn’t realize how out of wack we were from the normal schedule until we started getting up this week and doing it. Apparently, we’ve really let our summer schedule vary from the school year schedule. For Jon and I, we try to keep Trin’s schedule closer, but even there, we fudge. You just do in the summer. But apparently, I just can’t stay up very late, and get up very early for very long. I felt better this morning, so I’m not sick, I’m tired. If I start getting enough sleep, then I won’t get sick, but yesterday afternoon was my body’s warning. Treat me better or we will be sick. Jon and I have had trouble getting back on the exercise routine since vacation and all the power outages. I know I feel better when we exercise though the exercise itself I hate. We’ve also gotten off our nutrition plan, and now as we get back on it, it’s harder to stay on it. All habits, good or bad, are easier to stick to, then to go back to.
Just reread the scene as I wrote it in the morning, and it’s good. It’s better than the rewrite I did in the afternoon. Both are good, but the first one’s better. Aren’t I glad that I didn’t delete it when I did the rewrite. When my head goes ugly I often keep the old version so that if sanity returns I can recover it. There are some really good lines in the afternoon version, but it’s not the right version. I’ll save some of the second version and use some of the lines later maybe, but I’m going to put the first version back and follow it where it leads. I tried to rush the scene. I tried to hurry through so I can get to the next part. I always feel pressured on weeks when I know I’ll be traveling later. But cheating my characters of their on stage time is not the way to cut corners. I both love it, and hate it, when a side character character comes on stage and just goes, here I am! In a very major way. It’s a blessing that they’ve become alive enough to demand their screen time. It only feels like a burden, like so many things in life from one angle it’s a blessing, stand a little to the side and it’s a burden. Blessing, burden, blessing, burden. Sometimes the only difference is perspective.

I had a long blog finished, but Jon checked on the what can and can’t go on a flight in this country and in Britain and it’s changed. I guess I should have checked the news earlier. So I’ll hold off until I see what the rules are actually going to be by the day we fly this week. May I just add that my fear of flying has nothing to do with 9/11 and everything to do with having been in a plane that had an exciting descent. I’d been phobic for years before 9/11. I’ll leave it at that right now. I’ve avoided commenting on the whole terrorist plot of recent days because I see the blog as an escape from some of that. But as our own flight gets closer it gets harder to ignore. I’m not worried about terrorists, just the restrictions of what I can and can’t take on a plane. I’m truly phobic, so I always believe that I am taking my life in my hands when I get on a plane. Bombs, mechanical failure, it’s all the same to me. At least with bombs and terrorists you can fight back or arrest them. A tiny engine part going bad in mid-flight, you’re just screwed.