Author: Jonathon

In the interest of that most oft asked question; how do you get those ideas? Here’s a little more on topic. I have an idea moving around in my head. I can feel it, it’s probably been in the back of my mind, my subconscious, for some time, but now it’s finally big enough or ready enough to poke at the front of my head. I’m getting glimpses of it, or I’m looking at ordinary things in extroidinary ways. I don’t know what this idea is yet, but I do know it has wings, or something in the story has wings because I am unduly fascinated with birds. I’m like a cat, my eyes distracted by almost any winged movement, or even the wind blowing something. There was a black plastic bag torn to ribbons in a tree in the grocery store lot. I was fascinated by it. With the first glance I thought it was some huge black bird, then at second glance, I knew what it was, but my imagination made it something else. For a moment, a blink of the mind, I saw it as something else. Something bigger and more dangerous, or more unreal. For an instant I had a picture of what is coming in this idea. My mind tries to give it a name, an image, because the human mind tries to make patterns. It’s what we do. But I don’t want to rush this idea into a shape that is not it’s true shape? I don’t want to try and squeeze the idea into a mold that is not the right fit. I’ve done that before, and the rewriting is a bitch. I’ve learned to back off, swallow my impatience, and let the idea come to me fully formed, knowing what it is. When I say fully formed, I don’t mean a complete story, or book, just that that winged shape will know what it is, and why I’ve been staring off into space, almost as if I’m trying to see things that are not only not there, but could never be there. My imagination is about to push something forward, almost there, almost there. I haven’t had an idea distract me this much in the real world in awhile. Something with wings, something about birds, or maybe not. I can almost see it. For those of you who think I’m teasing, I’m not. I’ve told you almost all I’ve seen, all the idea has told me. I have one more glimpse, more solid, but I think I’m wrong. I think it’s me trying to put a face on the idea. So I wait, wait for the idea to come to me. Some ideas you have to hunt down, chase them, club them and bring them back, but other ideas won’t come like that. They’ll shatter into a thousand pieces and die under such direct attack. This kind of idea you just have to wait it out, to sit still and wait for the idea to come to you. It will come, especially once you’ve seen it peeking at you, it will come closer, if you have patience. Some ideas you have to coax to your hand like luring birds down from the sky to take food from your palm.

You know how I had an idea for a novellite featuring Richard? Well, Richard had let me know that he, like Jason, didn’t want a small book, but a big book. Fine with me, I actually have had an idea for Richard and his family for years, and just never been able to find the right time to do it. But Richard also wanted a novellite, but the idea had expanded to a full-size novel, so no idea for something shorter. Jon and I were walking the two younger dogs this morning, as we do most mornings. (Jimmy and Phouka don’t want to walk over a mile in the morning. It’s about right for Sasquatch, and Pippin would do miles.) Some mornings we talk about real life, other mornings Jon and I talk about what’s on the agenda for the work day. I mentioned to him that Richard wanted a novellite but I had no idea for it. Jon said, “If he wants a novellite, then tell him to shake his imaginary booty and come up with an idea.” Fair enough. I said, “I had that idea about Richard taking Anita off to a bed and breakfast, but it’s not enough of an idea, yet.” We walked some more, and talked about other things, then I said, “What if Louie and Ronnie go with them to the bed and breakfast instead of the idea I’d had about taking them all camping. Ronnie thinks camping is a slice of hell, so she’d like it better. Maybe Ronnie could ask Anita to come along to help buffer her and Louie. Ronnie has some of the same issues Anita does about romance and being too romantic. Yeah, all four of them could go.” Jon agreed it was a good idea. We talked a little more about it, but we had to speed up the walk because we had a meeting at the house and we were pushing it to get the walk in at all. But we managed. We talked about other things, and we had our meeting. More construction stuff. Then I went upstairs to my office and finished up the last change I wanted to make in the acknowledgement page. Then I thought, I’ll open a file and write down the stuff Jon and I talked about on the walk about Richard’s novellite. I did, but the very sketchy ideas grew. It’s the right idea because it’s attracting plot, characters, new ideas. A good idea has a gravitational field to it, that attracts all the other stuff that you need for the book. At least that’s how it works for me. I’ve been kicking around the idea of Richard taking Anita to a bed and breakfast for over a year, and I’ve had the idea for the four of them, Louie, Ronnie, Richard, and Anita, going camping for several years. But the idea camping idea came when Anita and Richard were getting along better. I’d almost abandoned the idea. But this morning, well the two ideas rubbed against each other, and viola it’s a book. A small book, a novellite, but a book. Cool.
I put the process here, because so many of you guys ask me how I come up with ideas for books. I can even tell you how I came up with the concept of Richard taking Anita to a bed and breakfast. Once Micah had had his attempt at a romantic weekend, I wanted Richard to have his chance. It will, of course, go horribly wrong in the way that all my ideas go wrong, violent, and perverse. Can’t help it, just the way my mind works. The camping idea came out of a camping trip I took over a decade ago with my first husband. He went fishing with his friends at the crack of dawn. I got my binoculars and went birding at the crack of dawn. We both had a wonderful morning, separate from each other, which was typical of our marriage. But I remember thinking it would have been nice to have someone to share my morning with, who would truly appreciate that I’d seen an Osprey, and came near touching a great blue heron. Richard, Anita, and Louie, all have degrees in biology. They would get it, and enjoy similar things on a camping trip. Ronnie would feel punished, and not give a damn about the birds. Which is why we kept putting the plot off. Louie and Ronnie were having enough problems without forcing her to go camping. But a bed and breakfast that’s civilized enough for Ronnie. We could pick a bed and breakfast close to a wild life area. Ronnie could sleep in, and the three of them could go bird watching, then back for breakfast, and everyone’s happy. There, that’s how I got this idea. I don’t know if the explanation of it all is helpful in showing you how to get your own ideas. Before I had Jon in my life I often called members of my writing group and we’d brain storm over the phone, or in person at lunch, or such. When it was just my first husband, Gary, and myself I often talked my ideas out loud. He didn’t give the feedback that my friends and Jon do, but for me, apparently, there’s something about talking an idea out loud that helps me test it. Be careful with this advice though. I’ve met some beginning writers that seem to talk about writing but never write anything down. Ideas and talking about them is great but if you don’t write it down, it doesn’t count. I use the talking aloud method only at the very beginning, when I’m sort of thinking out loud. Then, notice, I got to a computer and started typing it, writing it. I already have bits of dialogue for the novellite, though, in truth, I’m not sure when it will fit into the schedule. I’ve got a hundred pages of the new Anita book. I’m not sure I want to put it aside for another novellite. It’s so ready to go.

I wasn’t as done with the edits of STRANGE CANDY as I thought. The story “Winterkill” had been added late to the editing process, and had it’s own separate author queries which I had to go over. The story almost didn’t make it into the anthology at all, because everyone forgot it existed. It was only as I was writing small intros for each story that I got to the end of all the story titles and realized we were missing one. Neither Jon nor Darla had ever read this one. So, if I hadn’t been going back over the titles, no one would have caught it. I knew exactly which one was missing, but couldn’t remember the title exactly. But I did remember which anthologies it might have appeared in; Marion Zimmer Bradley’s SWORD AND SORCERESS #7 or #8. Well, we had copies of the books, and there it was. Strangely, I did not have a single printed manuscript copy, or file copy of this story. All the other stories, published and unpublished existed in hard copy and computer file, but not “Winterkill”, for whatever reason it only existed in the published anthology. Very unlike me not to keep a hard copy in my files. If I hadn’t decided to do intros to the story ala Marion Zimmer Bradley, herself, the story might have been lost. I’m very glad that it wasn’t. I had other stories planned with Jessa and Gregoor, my two fantasy assassins. The other stories never materialized, but this first adventure is still here, and about to be published afresh. Pretty cool.
Darla deserves extra credit for this story being in the anthology, because she had to type it in from the published copy. Type it in and make sure that it matched. Tedious, to say the least. Just got back from dinner, and was reminded that Darla was not the only one who went over “Winterkill” to make sure it matched. Richard, also, helped, checking and comparing the two versions of the story to make sure they matched. When you read the story sometime in the fall, you can thank both Darla and Richard that it’s there.

I’m almost finished editing STRANGE CANDY. I just need to do the dedication and acknowledgements. I just did that for DANSE MACABRE, so I’m kind of left wondering what to say and how to say it. There are already small introductions to each story, and an intro to the collection itself. What’s left to say? Not sure. Part of it is that it’s the end of the work day and I’m tired. Maybe I’ll leave the dedication and such until tomorrow morning. Probably wiser. But once that part is done then I can ship the manuscript off to New York. I’m even a few days ahead of the deadline. Very cool. I’ve got an e-mail interview to do, then I start editing MISTRAL’S KISS. It sounded nifty to have four books coming out in a single year, but somehow I forgot to figure in that whole editing process. It’s not just writing them, but the rest of it that is making this year an interesting one. I will be spending most of the year with one book or another trading places on my desk. Once I get MISTRAL’S KISS off to my editor in New York, then I can finally settle down to writing on the next Anita book. I will be seeing DANSE MACABRE one more time, or is this the last pass through? I know I’ll be seeing MISTRAL several more times as the editing process goes forward. I’ll be seeing STRANGE CANDY at least once more, if not twice. What have I forgotten? Is that it? I guess so. MICAH is out, published, so the first book of the year is the only done deal. It’s nice that something is done.
Usually books crossing over each other drives me nuts. But, strangely, not this time. I think I’ve finally made peace with the fact that Merry and Anita books collide. The short story collection is a one time deal because I don’t have any more short stories. This is it. I may write a few more in the coming months or years, but it’ll probably take another twenty years before I have enough for my own one person anthology. I’m up in my old office, as opposed to the new office which we haven’t moved into yet. MISTRAL’S KISS is the last book I will finish here in this room. It’s a little sad, but the new office is the office of my dreams. Except for no ocean or lake front view, other than that, it’s darn near perfect. So I’m excited about moving into the space, but a little sad about leaving this one. I’ve already started on the next Anita book, so it was begun here, in this space. But it will be finished in the new office, unless I get some muse-driven explosion of pages. But I doubt seriously I will finish a five hundred plus book in two month’s time. We will either be moving into the new space in late May, or early June, or sometime in July after we get back from tour. Come to think of it, if we don’t move until late July that would be the rest of April, only a week, May, June, and July. Three months might see me to four hundred pages, I’ve got a hundred done, but not with tour in the middle of it. No way. The editing went well today, and I’m feeling unduly optimistic. Tomorrow reality will set in, and I’ll realize that I’m looking at end of August or September, or even October, before the next book will be done. But today the sun is shining, the temperature is perfect, and the mockingbird has been serenading me all afternoon. Jimmy and Phouka my two oldest dogs are settled into their beds, sleeping. Old dogs really know how to sleep. I finally closed the windows, and I’ve got Christmas music on the player. Which either means I’m depressed and don’t know it, or I haven’t picked the next music to write to, and Christmas music is sort of a comforting default.

Edited on STRANGE CANDY today. Hopefully, I’ll finish up tomorrow. My head went really ugly during the editing, which it does sometimes. You know, nothing makes you happy, nothing seems right, and you hate it all. Every writer I know admits that sometimes you just can’t see your own writing clearly. Head going ugly is the opposite problem that you sometimes have when you’ve finished a glorious muse-driven rush. Sometimes you think it reads better than it does, or some of the bits are in your head so clearly you think they are on the paper, but they are not. Both ugly and muse-driven bliss are cured by time. You put the writing away, let it, and you, cool off. Then you come back to it with a clearer head. You usually find that the writing is neither as bad as you feared, nor as perfect as you thought. Reality lies somewhere in between.

Well, I’ve taken a few days off. The first day was that delicious adrenaline rush of finishing the book, and for a change not being exhausted. It felt good. Then the next day arrived, the adrenaline rush receded and I hit my moody phase. I do this after every book. Jon and Darla know this and anticipate it. It always seems to catch me by surprise. The only thing that can sort of keep it at bay is to sit down the next day and start the next book. Exhausting, but it keeps the moody blues at bay. Though Jon informs me that when I have to start the next book the very next day with no break (which I’ve had to do from time to time with deadlines) that I’m not moody, I’m cranky. Sorry about that, Jon. I guess moody isn’t so bad, after all. The mood goes something like this; manic with joy and energy, then depressed, weepy, and indifferent. I cycle through those over and over during at least a twenty-four hour period. At least I realize I do it now, so I’ll wander into Darla’s office, bug her for a few minutes sighing, then leave with the parting words of, “Now that I’ve interrupted you, I’ll go interrupt Jon.” She smiles and lets me go like a gloomy little cloud from room to room. The idea this time was that if I gave myself permission to play I might avoid the adrenalin dump. Nope. Apparently, it is just part of the process for me as a writer.
Today I’ll start the editing on MISTRAL’S KISS. Begin to finish up the editing on the short story collection, STRANGE CANDY, that’s coming out in the fall. Let’s see, there was something else, what was it? Well, truthfully, I won’t get both of those writing tasks done today, so I guess sufficient unto the day.

Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Ostara! I hope everyone is enjoying the return of spring, and the return of the sun’s warmth. I know I am. It’s happened, at last, Trinity doesn’t believe in the Easter Bunny anymore. She’s been on the fence for a few years. She thought if she stopped believing for sure that she’d stop getting a basket. When we assured her she’d still get some candy and stuff, she admitted her doubts. She’s still holding fast to Santa Claus, and the Tooth Fairy. We’ll see if they go quietly or with trauma.
Trin had expressed a desire to learn archery. The desire has survived the causal mention stage, so for Easter she got her first bow. She can’t shoot it today because we have to take her back to the shop next weekend to get fitted for arrows, but she has the bow and one arrow that is way too long for her. Jon and I had thought about archery, but neither of us had done it in about twenty years. But when Shawn and Kathy came down to visit Shawn demonstrated the upper body workout that he’d been experiencing from taking up archery himself. It was impressive, so that and Trin’s continuing interest in archery combined to get us into a store this weekend. Jon and I got fitted for bows, and arrows. We split a thing of arrows, and Wade cut them down to our respective sizes, mine being smaller than Jon’s. Trin’s are going to look very short in comparison. We’ve got wrist guards and finger protection for everyone. Next weekend we get her fitted for arrows, and we’ll begin a new hobby, as a family.

Anita novels always end like an avalanche. I know the end is coming. It makes a lot of noise and is a half-exhilarating, half-frightening ride. The books end in exhaustion and a daze. Merry’s books are like spring. It comes in fits and starts — a crocus followed by more snow. You thought it was spring, but it fooled you. Then one day, when you’ve stopped thinking that this sign, or that, must mean spring is truly here, you find the yard is a river of purple violets and spring has come at last. I finished MISTRAL’S KISS just now, seconds before. I didn’t know until yesterday that I might be this close to the end. I didn’t know until earlier today that I might actually finish this day. Twenty-two pages, an end line I’m happy with, and we’re done. It’s a book, yippee-skippy. I promised myself that the day after I finished if it were in the middle of the week I would take the next day off. I told Jon that if I finished we’d take tomorrow off. He said, what will we do. I told him, I just gave myself permission to take a day off, beyond that, I didn’t know. Maybe we can do a movie, or lie in bed all day, or do something I haven’t thought of. Sometimes I take the day after I finish a book off because I am so exhausted I can’t think, or function. But this is the first time I can remember in all these years that I’ve just given myself permission to take a day and celebrate that the book is done.

I wrote a version of this yesterday, but on rereading it, well, it was a little personal. The temptation on a blog is to treat it like a true diary, something that only you will see, but a blog is not a diary. A blog is a piece of writing meant to be published and shared. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that.
Friday was my first day back at my desk. I got four pages done. Instead of my usual which would be to punish myself for not doing eight pages; I decided to reward myself for doing four. The reward was to acknowledge that four pages after so many days away from the book was pretty damn good I don’t think I realized until the last day or so how punitive I am to myself. Further reward was simply to let myself be done for the day, because that four pages was all I had in me. I could feel it, and I’m a pretty harsh task master so I’m a good judge of the difference between slow writing and just that’s all my muse is ready to write today. The four pages came quickly, easily, and wrote well. Then I was done. I let myself be done, and didn’t force myself to sit in a chair and pound my head against the computer trying to force more out of me than was there to be had. I felt light and airy from giving myself permission to quite the computer so early in the day. It was like a holiday. This morning I got up eager to work, or at least I didn’t feel burdened by the need to make pages. I’m learning, slowly, that I really do work better for rewards than punishment, and I work bloody hard. I seem to work as if I’m going to become a slacker and just drift. Old voices from childhood, I think. That push to always be working. That Puritan work ethic. It’s not a bad ethic, it’s helped get me where I am, but I need to learn to balance it with the ability to rest and give myself a break now and then. Balance, learning how to play, hard lessons for me.
It’s the weekend. But I fear that if I don’t do at least a little work that I’ll loose the momentum in MISTRAL’S KISS that I gained on Friday. Will I? Or is it illusion and fear? Not sure. Do I risk taking today off, after only one day back at work? One of my European business associates described me as German in my work ethic. He meant that I was very focused and very serious about my business. I didn’t see a problem with that. I further informed him that I was very German on one side of my genetics. He found that amusing. Yes, I’m German and Scottish and Irish, and some English thrown in to the mix. Which seems to mean for me that I’m moody as hell, but very poetic about it, can hold a grudge like no one’s business, am artistic and creative but very professional and serious about it. That’s pretty much the German, Scottish and Irish. I’m not sure what the English genetics means for me. I know that Glastonbury, England was the first place I’ve been for the very first time where it felt like home. Jon felt the same way. I’ll watch a show set in that area of England and I’ll get that swell of homesickness. Homesick for a place I’ve only seen once. How weird is that? Can the very genes of your body remember a place that you’ve never seen? By the way, I have no idea where my English ancestors hailed from. I have no idea if any member of my family tree every set foot in Glastonbury before I got there with my family. So, I didn’t go in expecting to feel drawn to the place. Anyway, I’m off to either enjoy a day off, or work a little. Don’t know which yet.

Happy almost April Fool’s Day. I’m feeling a spot better. I felt so much better that Jon and I just got back from taking the dogs for a walk. I’ve missed the first precious days of spring’s early warmth. When I was little spring was just another season. I was a summer, autumn, or winter girl, but for some reason this winter has seemed colder, longer. So one of the first things I wanted to do when I realized I had the energy to do it was something that would move my body. I feel stiff from lack of exercise. Stale from lying about and resting and feeling so unwell it was all I could do. But we did the walk, and it was wonderful just to be out in the fresh air and sunshine. Pippin and Sasquatch were very happy to have a walk after so many days of being inside. Pip, especially, needs the outlet. I’m tired again, so I’m going to put my feet up and rest. I’m trying not to push it. Honest.