The HEA Cafe

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but suddenly I find myself the mother of a 12-year old.  Yup, 12 years ago this very minute, I was riding shot-gun while my DH tried to get me into Vancouver before the baby made his appearance.  It’s a long story, filled with prolapsed cords, highway construction and a weeklong stay in the hospital, but it got me to thinking about the old cliche.

And holy cow has it been a busy 12 years.  We’ve moved 4 times, met the most amazing people, lost one grandparent, one dog and countless rats/gerbils/hamsters.  We’ve learned how to juggle hockey, soccer, swimming, piano, taekwondo and baseball while dragging a laptop around so I could finish just one more scene.

12 years ago, the idea of being a published author was still a mere pipe dream; heck, I didn’t even know what POV was back then!  And yes, okay, sometimes I still struggle with that! LOL 12 years ago, all I had were a few ratty old notebooks with REALLY bad poetry scribbled in them.  12 years ago, I’d never heard of RWA, Linda Lael Miller or Julie Garwood.

12 years ago a galley was a kitchen, an ARC was a large wooden boat, and the word synopsis had never crossed my lips.  Now I talk about these things in every day conversation and while most of my face-to-face friends have no idea what I’m talking about, I know you all do.

It’s been a wild 12 years and all I can do is hope the next 12 are just as wild.  Happy birthday, Thomas!!   

Oh, and before I go, I need to plug my new book, THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER, which will hit shelves on April 1st!  Yay!!!

 

It’s my day to blog, and while I’d love to sit here and type fabulous and uplifting comments about writing and life in general, I can’t.  The Devil’s Daughter (pictured here) is due to be released in less than 2 months, and I’ve been furiously writing the sequel, Dancing with the Devil, due out in December.  I’m this close (picture me pinching my finger and thumb together) to finishing. . .I can smell it. . .and I’m consumed by that feeling of pushing through until it’s done.

Nothing else matters, not food, not drink, not the kids. . .LOL. . .okay, well, I’ll stop to feed and water them, but that’s it.  It’s full on until the last word is written, so please excuse me for doing a drop and run, but if I stop now, I’ll lose my momentum and then the next time I blog here, you’ll have to listen to me whine. 

Here’s to happy endings!!

 

We all have our own process for writing.  We all have a system of what works and what doesn’t.

And we also all have our own excuses for why we’re NOT writing.

There’s too much noise.
There’s not enough noise.

Too much coffee (it could happen!)
Not enough coffee (it better not happen!)

Too much clutter.
Not enough clutter.

I confess, right now, that the clutter thing is my Achilles heel.  It’s bad enough when the clutter is tangible, when I can see it and feel boxed in by it.  At least I can put on my blinders and do my best to ignore it.  It’s a million times worse when the clutter is inside my head.  Worry about the kids, the DH, the parents, the deadlines, the Christmas chaos, the weight gain, etc etc, is enough to send me into a downward spiral that gets harder and harder to stop with each new spin.

How stupid is that?

We all know the answer is simple:

#1 – put butt in chair
#2 – write

It couldn’t get any simpler.  The problem is that by doing those two simple things, it means I have to put myself and my writing in front of everything – and everyone – else.  A good wife/mother/sister/friend doesn’t do that, does she?

Again, I ask you – how stupid is that?

Is anyone going to die from it if the kids or the DH have to eat Kraft Dinner or Cheerios for supper (again)?  Is the world going to stop turning if the Christmas decorations aren’t up or down by a specific date?  Will life as we know it come to a screeching halt if your mother/MIL points out the layer of dust in your living room?

Oh, puh-lease.  Who gives a rip? 

Put Dominos on speed dial

Leave the tree where it is – it’s pretty, it’s green (maybe brown by now), and it will remind the family that the spirit of Christmas really should be a year-round thing

And leave the Pledge/Tide/vacuum in a conspicuous location for those times when someone comments on the state of your house.  Simply point them in the direction of the cleaning supplies and smile.

You’re a writer, and sometimes you get to – you have to – make that a priority.  Anyone can sort the darks from the delicates; anyone can load/unload the dishwasher; and anyone can run a vacuum.

But no one – NO ONE – can write your book for you.  Only you can do that – and if anyone has a problem with that, remember this: it’s their problem, not yours. 

So stop reading this post and go write.  Now.  Go!  And don’t let me catch you with a dishcloth in your hand or I’ll send out the screaming monkeys.
 

 

 

 

(My apologies – I tried to embed these videos, but couldn’t figure out how to do it) 

This morning I was driving into the city and had my Christmas music cranked as loud as I could because, really, how can you listen to the Ave Maria or O Holy Night quietly?  You just can’t.

And then, tucked in between Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree and a Kenny & Dolly number was this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jEnTSQStGE

It was 1984 when Bob Geldoff convinced everyone to donate their time and talents to make this record (that’s back when it really was a record).  I believe they did a remake of it in 2004 to celebrate the 20th anniversary, but there’s nothing like the original.  And at this time of year, I think it’s appropriate that we all listen one more time and then reconsider what we can do to help, too.

Of course, shortly afterward, the rest of the world jumped on the idea.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jcrwu6WGoMs

and

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-KC9BxSibg

We can each only do what we can do, but if we all do a little bit, for whoever we can – whether for a stranger overseas or our next door neighbour – surely we can help make this holiday season a little brighter for everyone.

Cheers everyone!

Laura

Casting Director

 

I don’t plot, I don’t plan, and just thinking the word “synopsis” is enough to give me hives.  But one thing I do need to know before I start writing is what my characters look like.  So with my Casting Director’s hat securely in place, I start thumbing through my resources.

 

Glossy entertainment magazines are a bounty for writers, like me, who need visuals.   The articles in these publications are useless to me because, frankly, I couldn’t care less where Angelina Jolie sends her kid to school, nor do I care what Spice Girl Beckham is wearing today.  Good Lord, I can barely keep up with things in my own life, never mind the lives of perfect strangers.  Anyway, I buy these publications because I want the pictures.  Big, glossy, beautiful pictures.

 

Page by page, I go through them, and cut out as many faces as I can.  Most of the time, they’re faces of beautiful people (both male and female), but I’m also looking for interesting faces, homely faces, and those faces that show specific expressions or personalities.  While I can’t deny I often want my heroes and heroines to be attractive, it’s more than that.  It’s a “look”; a frown, a smirk, or any one of a million other expressions that helps define who my characters are.  If that look happens to be attached to Johnny Depp’s face, more the better.  J

 

I keep all the faces pinned to a huge bulletin board in my “office”.   When I start a new book, I study that board to see if the perfect face or look is there.  It’s not just the main characters I’m looking for, but secondary characters, too.  If there are animals in the story – I find those, too.  If I’m lucky enough to find the perfect look, I pull it down and pin it to my work space.  If it’s not there, I drop another small fortune on glossies and keep hunting until I find the perfect face.  Sometimes it’s easy.  Sometimes. . . .OY!!

 

Simple or not, when I find the perfect look to go with my character, it’s like I can make anything work.  Of course, I’d still like all those looks to be attached to Johnny Depp’s face, but I can’t have everything, can I?