It's been a while.

Snow and poverty and a Saints Superbowl have pretty much kept me busy in the last few weeks. However, I am still writing, submitting, and Living the Dream. :) Okay, at least on weeknights and weekends.

Sometimes it's difficult to keep up momentum, especially when you're doing it alone. Or at least, when it feels like you're doing it alone. My partner is a very good writer who does not write, so while she is great at encouraging me and helping me work out Escher-like tangles in my plot, she does not have that writer drive in her.

There are days when I wish I had an entire room full of writers to sit and bitch with, especially when my prose seems so terribly lame and my characters 2-D and my plot...well, just stupid. There are times i wish I had a room full of people just as neurotic as I am, where we could all commisserate on the absolute masochism of our chosen dreams.

On the other hand, sometimes it's really great to have a girlfriend who just says, you're great, you can do it, and NO you can't skip writing to watch your Netflix movie. Sometimes, that's a really wonderful thing to have.

Now, I'm going to log off the internet (having dutifully sent out the three chapters an agent requested) and get back to Fairville. Poor Mo--I left her in a bit of a pickle, and I guess I ought to just go move things along. Namaste, my peeps.

Snow is my friend

Since this pile of white mush decided to cover my state, I have gotten several thousand words written on Fairville, sent out one partial, and sent two more queries on All the Back Roads Home.

I've also eaten half a large mushroom and onion pan pizza (no cheese, please), five breadsticks, and goodness knows how much of Fey's cranberry double-chocolate sweet bread.

So. January brings succes and weight gain. I can live with that.

What Writers Do When They're Bored

I mentioned a few posts back that I wanted to put a role in my new novel for actress Veronica Cartwright. That started me thinking about who I would cast in the movie version of All the Back Roads Home. So, without further ado, here is the IMDB listing for the A-List Feature Version of All the Back Roads Home:

Samantha Lawson: Ashley Judd
Mark Hunter: James Denton
Alan Lawson: Oliver Platt
Kattrina West: Dana Ivey
Frank West: Beau Bridges
Marion Lawson: Ellen Burstyn
Edward Lawson:
Celeste Lawson: Kristin Chenoweth
Mitch Williams:
Lou Mancetti:
Dr. Charles Ganault: Stanley Tucci

I chose Ashley Judd because she has that awesome mix of vulnerability and pure strength. James Denton because he's hot in a regular guy sort of way. Oliver Platt and Kristin Chenoweth as Alan and Celeste, simply because I think they'd bring a levity to the procedings. Dana Ivey and Beau Bridges as the Wests--Dana because she can play the complex mix of evil and frailty needed for Kattrina West, and Beau Bridges because he looks like he'd be such a nice guy--which would only make the character scarier. I'm still on the fence about Edward, Mitch and Lou, but Ellen Burstyn and Stanley Tucci are shoe-ins. Honestly, I'd create a part for Stanley Tucci.

Positive Thinking

I recently hit the 10K mark on my new book, Fairville. One of the differences between writing short stories and novels is that, with short stories I hardly ever worried about word count. My point was always to write the story. it was just a matter of getting everything done that needed to be done. The word count took care of itself.

With novels, though, I'm constantly stressing about how many words I have, how many words I've written, and how I'm ever going to make this story novel length.

I think I'm going to go back to my old way of thinking. I think I'm going to just tell the story. Put words on the page. Move the characters around on the Monopoly board like the little pewter darlings they are.

Accept that the word count will take care of itself, as long as I take care of the words that comprise that count.

One of the main reasons I quit pursuing a professional writing career back in the 90s was that I just stressed myself out worrying about the details. I worried so much about marketing and querying and publishing that I sucked all the joy out of writing for myself.

Down at the core, it's all about telling the tale.

Down at the core, it's all telling a tale other people want to read.

I can do that, folks. I just have to get out of my way.

Netflix

I am falling in love with Veronica Cartwright all over again. :) Got two of her films from Netflix--so very different, yet both incredible performances.

Bernice Bobs Her Hair: A very young Veronica plays a nasty little vamp in this TV movie of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story. She's gorgeous, 3-dimensional, and holds her own with Shelley Duvall (not an easy task).

Straight-Jacket: Veronica plays Jerry Albrecht, a closeted, workaholic agent in the early 50s whose main client is an outrageous Rock Hudsonesque movie star who is more successful than discrete. The entire movie is a hilarious send-up of the old 50s romantic comedies.

So, what character could Veronica play in the movie version of Fairville? I don't know, but there will be a character for her. Seriously. I want this woman in my movie. (Yeah, Deb. Write the novel before casting the film.)

The Thing About Pep Talks...

They only provide valuable advise if you actually use said advise.

I did not use my advise from the previous post.

I have not written anything in days.

I know this is one of those Stupid Writer Things you're not supposed to do, but my depression has been in Super Awesome Overkill Mode since last week. I'd pretty much convinced myself that this was not for me, and that I was wasting my own time and my loved ones' patience trying to be a Real Writer (as opposed to the kind who writes hundreds of short stories that are well-received, but completely unpublishable due to their fannish nature).

But I'm not going to give up. I am working on a plan to get the same kind of encouragement I got for my short stories--namely, someone reading as I go along and telling me, "You can't stop now." That's how I wrote the first novel.

Fact is, I do not have it in me to be my own pep squad. There are simply too many insecurities there, soo much self-esteem crap pulling me down and distracting me from the business of putting words on the screen.

So Fey is going to read my pages on Fairville as I write them, and bully me into writing more.

It's sad, but it's come to this. I need a keeper.

Thank god for girlfriends and chocolate. The universe would collapse without them.

How do parents write?

Ever?

I tried to do my usual hour or two at the laundromat this week, and found myself with a nine-year-old boy attached to my aura. He was very nice, very interested in every single thing I was doing, even polite--in a nine-year-old boy sort of way.

And I couldn't concentrate enough to write a thing.

I have a whole new respect for parents who manage to have writing careers.