Thoughts and Musings

Personal vs. Professional

I started this blog as a professional outlet, to talk about writing in general, my writing specifically, and as an update for my site. Self-promotion. It's turned, slowly, into a combination of that and a personal outlet.

Oddly, that combination has had an odd benefit to me - it's kept me focused on the writing when I wanted to do anything but. For instance, now is not a good time for me. Long, boring story I won't get into here, but if you're a writer, you may know what I mean. Just a long decline that I'm struggling with. It'll change; it always does. But it makes the writing difficult, so blogging has turned into a type of discipline, to stay on top, to keep going.

I share this, not as a whine, but as an encouragement. If you're a writer, and you're not blogging, or journalling, or doing a 55-exercise every day, then I truly believe you should. Start today. No matter how trivial the entries, start a journal.

Because on a writer's journey, not every day is a high. Creativity won't always be in full sail. God gave us life in abundance, not life on an even keel. (Forgive the sailing metaphors; it's a theme with me right now.) Waves crest, and sometimes it's the small things, like a journal...or a blog...that reminds us to keep going and not give up.

One thing I have noticed about this blog is that when I'm dropping, entries slack off, so you may see that some in the next few weeks. Bear with me.

And keep writing.

Lazy Plans

I am enjoying "lazy." I've done little today but take care of Rachel, read email and the paper, nap, and play a couple games of solitaire. I have ambitions of being industrious . . . but at 1:30, I'm still sighing and dreaming. I did take out the garbage (the refrigerator was becoming unbearable) and put in a load of clothes, which I just heard cut off. Time to toss them in the dryer and put another load in to wash.

Rachel is still "not well." Her chronic congestion has gone on for about a month now, and she has good days, but mostly we just barely keep it at bay. No signs of infection, just lots of drainage. I keep hoping for a really heavy rain followed by a heavy frost. I think that's what it will take to clear our air of any remaining fall floaters. Having one ear constantly on alert for how she sounds, however, makes even "lazy" days a touch tense.

I did finish decorating the tree last night, except for icicles (which I need to buy). My plans are to update my website and work on Clues. I have the text almost complete, and the new headshot is ready (see the extended entry here). I just need to finalize the text and the instructions and get them off to the designer.

Sometimes, though, I think we need a lazy day or two, just to recharge a few of the batteries, both creative...and just because we're human. After all, even God took Sunday off.

So...I think I'll get some lunch. Or maybe a nap....

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The new headshot for the website:

Thanks and Giving

Judith's comment below reminded me that I had planned to make a post prior to Thanksgiving, but time got away from me. My plans, which had be so carefully coordinated, got ripped apart literally at the last minute and I had just a short period of time to pack and get on the road.

No emergency, just learning to be flexible this season and go with whatever life throws at me. Holidays with Rachel make that almost a necessity. It's the reason I keep a "toiletries bag" packed all the time. All the bathroom essentials just waiting to be grabbed.

ANYWAY...my entry would have been...I'm sure...full of gentle encouragement to turn thoughts outward this season, not just to give thanks but to also GIVE. Instead, I'm giving over "gentle" for "blunt."

Yes, I know...such requests come at you constantly during the next few weeks, but I'm hoping that it'll last beyond that....and it doesn't necessarily require money.

Give blood. I do. I'm now a six-gallon donor. No, giving doesn't make me feel altruistic in the least. If fact, it's sometimes inconvenient and uncomfortable. But, for the most part, it's 1.5 seconds of pain and 45 minutes out of your life that can save another.

If you can't give money (or blood) to whoever's begging this season, volunteer. This I don't do, with all the usual excuses, but my mother does, and she loves it. She volunteers at the local hospital. I have friends who work the missions (before and after). Our church participates in the Room at the Inn program, and I've cooked for them before. Great stuff.

Start the new year by cleaning out closets. Lots of folks need last year's clothes and ESPECIALLY coats.

And if you do have a little extra, please remember those who need help year round, or are still in need of help from recent disasters, from local storms to those on the Gulf coast still trying to regain ground wiped out by Katrina and Rita. Just to give you a hint, more than 99,000 families (no, that's not a typo) still live in the tiny cramped trailers that FEMA sent down. Much help is still needed there.

In light of that, I've developed an affection for this book, and I bought it as a gift for several of my soft-hearted or celebrity-loving friends: Love Letters to the South. Proceeds go either the Red Cross or Habitat for Humanity.

It's a heavy little sucker. Definitely a coffee table book, with a twist. A surprise for me in it was that DJ Qualls, whom I've mentioned here before, is in it. But it's more than shots of celebrities; it's also a record of why the book exists and why help is still needed.

So, yeah, here's one more voice wanting you to dole something out. 'Tis the season to be flexible...and generous.

The Shovel's Back

Many of you know that my non-Christian fiction is published under a pseudonym, Jamie Summers, which is something I've talked about before. This has nothing to do with trying to hide and everything to do with building a brand. I don't want someone picking up a book with RR on it, expecting a story with a strong faith element, only to find that the most intimate relationship in the story is between a woman and her shovel....

Thus, "A True Friend" will be published by Echelon Press under the JS flag. The story has no sex and the only violence happens "off stage." Still. . . .

The editor couldn't get in touch with me today, so it'll probably be tomorrow before the story goes up. But I hope you at least go and look. :)

Rant on a View of a Monolith

Had an intriguing chat Friday morning - WAY too early for normal coherence - with a fellow author about the way Christians are viewed by some folks. Both of us are published in the Christian marketplace, both in fiction as well as nonfiction. I've also published quite a lot outside that field.

The basis of the conversation was my own continued confusion about where I need to write...something about which I've talked a lot here already. Won't bore you with it again - except to say that it's a something I struggle with almost every time I sit down at the computer. Just when I think I've settled the issue, something rears up to stir everything again.

But in the course of our counseling session, we started talking about another friend of mine, who is an atheist. I have to admit I don't totally understand atheism. Yes, I'm not an idiot. I know WHAT it is. I just don't understand how folks can get there without denying a serious part of themselves.

Agnostic, yes. Used to be one myself, among a few other things. My own spiritual path is so convoluted that it would make a maze-maker dizzy.

The next segue (it was a LONG conversation for 5am) moved us into dealing with folks (which we both have to do) who think of the body of Christ as this vast right-wing, conservative monolith to be held in revulsion.

Hm.

I have to admit that this irritates me. Part of my job is to know and understand the depth and breadth of the body of Christ from Charismatic Episcopalians to the Brethren and Quakers. I see things coming out of the Emergent church that stirs a wild hope deep in my soul. I hear about the good the relief agencies are doing, and it makes my eyes burn with tears of joy. One Xn agency hit New Orleans after Katrina and brought aid to more than 5,000 families before the government could get off their keister. I have a friend who travels with two different agencies, cooking. That's what he does...goes to areas hit by war, storms, quakes, whatever, and he is a part of the kitchen crew. He cooks for the locals, the workers, anyone who needs it. He never preaches or tries to convert anyone - not his thing. He just cooks because that's what he can do to help.

Yep, I also am quite aware of the more narrow-minded mongers of hate in the name of Christ - those I'd like to personally remove from the gene pool.

But we ain't all them.

And I don't really mean that comment about the gene pool. As an American, I can defend their right of speech, even as I find what they say abhorent and anti-biblical. As a Christian, I try not to fall into the same trap that they are in of judging their fellow Christians, even though that seems to be the campaign of many, in the name of clarifying the "Christian truth."

I am even friends with some, just as I am friends with many unbelievers, and the occasional atheist.

I will have to admit that one of the greatest compliments I've had in a long time came from friend Jamie, who listened to one of my tirades about those who paint all Christians with the same brush, then said quietly, "Maybe that's because they don't have a friend named Ramona who reminds them otherwise."

I cried.

I'm getting ready for Christmas. I'm actually decorating this year, and today put up the tree and lights. As usual, the holiday will be a quiet one for me and Rach, however. It usually is. That can be good, sometimes, even preferable. A reminder than it was once very quiet in a certain notable stable.

On the other hand, I'm becoming more politically active, and as I find articles that I think worthy of passing on, I may post them here.

I suppose that one of my problems with writing for only one market is that I despise labels and the restrictions therein.

Can you tell?

On the Heel of the Good News...

The new editor at Steeple Hill isn't exactly crazy about Daisy. I sent her the proposal last week, and she looked at it right away (a good sign!), but doesn't isn't 100% sold on it.

Good news/bad news. Strange ammunition for my decision on which way to take my career. This time last year, the message was exactly the opposite.

Shovels Rule

Women and their shovels...what can I say? Well, I can start by admitting that the idea for the story, now called "A True Friend," developed from a disturbing dream a dear friend had about one of my exes and me. Her image of me whacking him upside the head with a shovel has lingered long for both of us.

But I won't be able to share it with you. Not here anyway.

It won Echelon Press's November "Fast & Fatal" competition.

Oh, yes, lots of cheering on this end. :) I'll let you know when it's available for downloading. Should be shortly. :)

I'm late for work. As usual. Then again, I was at the office until 10 last night, so I don't feel TOO bad....

UPDATE, 6pm: I checked my mail from Echelon. The story will be up for purchase on November 21st.

It's a Monday

Well, the lady with the shovel has resolved her dilemma, although not quite in the way either of us expected. I can't decide if I like it when a story takes over its own writing or not...sometimes it works; sometimes I just have to stop and take stock.

Once upon a time, I heard two back-to-back workshops on plotting your novel. One lingered at length on outlines, circles and arrows, plans, revisions, and flagged manuscripts in three-ring binders.

I think I'd go nuts if I tried.

The other took a different approach, which the speaker referred to as organic writing...you take character development and a basic outline and start writing. Sometimes you may end up where you'd planned. Sometimes you have a better book instead. That worked out quite well for me in MURDER.

I'm not intrinsically drawn to charts, graphs, and notebooks. My organization mainly lives in my head, although I do find that I write down more stuff as I get older and have more coming at me. Today, for instance, I totally forgot something I'd planned all weekend to do, solely because I had so many other things coming at me. I hate it when that happens.

Organic is good, but so are a few plans, work and otherwise. Whatever your working style.

The shovel lady went off to the contest, following feedback from a couple of friends. I don't expect it to win (too much tell, not enough show), but it was a great exercise in letting an idea flow and see where it goes.

PS: Fair warning

I'm going to update the website soon, so if you get an error code one day, give it a bit of time and try again. The site itself is almost three years old (I've grown to hate that picture), and terribly out of date re: the writing.

Working Late

Once more, the quiet has allowed me to catch my breath and re-focus. I had 30 emails waiting after the last meeting, all with a variety of urgent requests. No work...just answered emails.

Sometimes I remember when I had my first email account...believe it or not, it was in the mid-80s, before graphics and IE, when everything was still black and white (or green and black...), back when I had to walk 15 miles in the snow to school...oh, wait....

The point is I used to hope for email. Many days now I hope for NO email, just so I can get caught up. That's one reason I like the night, and the hours when most people are asleep. My creativity comes back to life and gnaws on my neck, reminding me what I'm REALLY about.

And one thing I'm about is making things work--the writing, the numbers during the day, the relationships needed to smooth the details. The other day, I was handed a project that had gone awry and asked why I thought it had...truth is, I didn't care why it had gone wrong...I only want to know how to make it right again. Blame is a strange, strangling exercise. Instead, find the solution.

Which is one reason I write suspense (I like finding the solutions). And why I urged everyone I knew to go vote. Vote and write and speak up. I used to be a news junkie, but I don't have as much time anymore...so I gave up the foreign papers for a few online sites. And all of it makes me truly glad I've missed very few elections since I turned 18. Not all of us are cut out to be politicians (I know I'm not), but I'm a firm believer that if you see it going wrong, do what you can to make it right. And if you see it going right, do what you can to keep it that way.

I'm rambling and I need to get back to work. Right now I'm trying to find a solution to a lovely little story about a woman and her shovel.

Yes, shovel. It's for a contest. If it doesn't win, I'll posted it here, so you can see the bizarre way my mind twists when I'm waiting for election results....

Perspective

I'm sitting here in my quiet office at work, thinking about heroes and losses, writing, jobs, sex, obsessions, and my intense desire to slap a few people who've been making life hard for folks around them for some time. Ed Bradley's death makes me think of Hunter Thompson and other folks I admire (that's the heroes part), which makes me think of what I want to accomplish in writing as well as life (that's the next four), and the last is borne from my sense of justice and need for people to be honest and play fair.

Yeah, I know, there's a pipedream quality about almost all of that. Still, where would we be without a few dreams on our plates.

I'm working late at the office, till about 9 (with a dinner break) in order to handle some of the detail work...reviewing catalog pages, proofs...the WORDS part of my job. The NUMBERS part has consumed my day...contracts, P&L statements, justifications, angry agents...so I'm using the night to take a deep breath and focus on those tiny critters that so consume my heart. WORDS.

After the job stuff, I have a short story to finish and a scene to straighten out. The WORDS keep me going, keep those dreams hopping.

On the wall in my office is a poster of Cornelia Fort, someone whom I admire a great deal. Another hero, someone who followed her dream. She was an intellectual, writer, debutante, who fell in love with flying and was one of the first female military aviators. She was in the air over Pearl Harbor, giving a flying lesson, when the Japanese attacked. She landed in the middle of the bombing. She did what she loved and never gave up. There's an airport here named for her.

Sometimes the details of the day, the ones that make you throw books and have hissy fits, cloud the perspective of what's important: the dreams, the perseverance. Looking back on Mr. Bradley's life, on HST's, on the people I admire most, that's what strikes me as the common ground which made them anything but.

What's your dream?

Creative Cant

I love words. And I find the varied definitions of some amusing. Take a few of the ones for "cant" from dictionary.com:
1. a salient angle.
2. a sudden movement that tilts or overturns a thing.
3. a slanting or tilted position.
or
3. the phraseology peculiar to a particular class, party, profession, etc.: the cant of the fashion industry.
4. whining or singsong speech, esp. of beggars.

The juxtaposition of the last two I find particularly amusing.

I'm currently experiencing a couple of creative cants...sudden jerks in an overturning direction only to find myself and my mind on a perverse angle. Which, of course, led to a phone call the other day that started with a perky voice greeting me, "Hey! Watcha doing?"

"Plotting a murder with a shovel."

Silence. Then, softly, "Anyone I know?"

Sometimes my friends forget that I'm a writer.

Been on a cant lately?

And if I haven't mentioned it recently, try out McNair Wilson's blog for creative jaunts and jolts as well.

Plotting and Planning

I received the jpg of my cover today, so the time has come for me to plan a little marketing.

First step will be to update the website, moving from more of an editorial focus to a writing focus. I also hope to do just a few other things that cost a bit of money, including postcards, bookmarks, etc. Not too much, however, since I've committed to attending and being on a few panels at the Romantic Times conference in the spring.

In the meantime, the writing focus must continue, despite the overwhelming nature of the new job. The first week has left me exhausted. Still...this weekend looks like it's going to be a hoot as well. A friend from LA is here, and we're both night prowlers and have tastes that run toward the odd and sometimes slightly deranged. This bodes will for the happiness factor for the next few days. :)

If nothing else, it'll definitely be fodder for the writing. Almost everything is, but the weirder the better. As Doc Thompson once said, "It never got weird enough for me."

Showers of Thoughts

This morning I stepped into the shower, knowing that I had only a few minutes to wash hair and body. I don't like this. I am a creature of comfort, and I luxuriate in long, hot showers and baths. Have since I was a kid.

It's where I do some of my best plotting.

Quick showers are not conducive to good writing. However, sometimes the mind knows what it wants. I started thinking about words--this blog, the next scene in CLUES, an email I just read--and all of a sudden, I realize I'm going through the final motions of the shower....squeezing out the washcloth, tidying up, and I realize I cannot remember putting conditioner on my hair.

Did I? I felt it. It felt conditioned and rinsed, but I just couldn't remember doing it. I sighed and dried off. Out of time, whether I did or didn't. I did, however, have a good resolution for the next scene in my head.

I do this a lot. Just go into that other world in my head and hang around for a bit, while the body goes through any number of routine actions. I wish I could say I never do it driving, but given how many exits I've missed, that would be a less than honest answer. Terry Pratchett talks about this in his Sometimes the Magic Works as a symptom of many writers. I figure it's why we're writers and dreamers instead of Jedi Knights.*

On a TOTAL change of subject, we're coming up on the election. Vote. I can't say it enough. Whatever your predilection, VOTE. Early voting here in Tennessee goes until Nov. 2, and I've already cast my ballot. I've been reading Anita Thompson's blog** lately, and I like that she's posting the Amendments from the Bill of Rights, one per day until the election, then all of them on the 7th. Just a little reminder of what we're all about.

More later, folks.

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*If you don't get the reference, I refer you to The Empire Strikes Back, where Yoda goes off about Luke never being in the here and now. When I first saw this in the theater, I got poked by two friends. Can't imagine why.

**Anita Thompson is Hunter S. Thompson's widow, and opens most of her blog posts with excerpts from his works. Just fair warning.