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Posts from the ‘WRITING: LIFE’ Category

Early Birds Get Word Time

But more importantly, quiet. And coffee. Especially coffee, but mostly just an hour without children clamoring for attention. Good news on that front! Wee-er Dave will be rocking mornings at the local Montessori next month when Wee-Dave starts preschool. I’ll get them up, fed, and dressed (cold, dead, and lifeless hands, non-Oxford comma heretics!) and to their respective babysitterslearning establishments, and then I’ll have a blessed three hours(ish) to write. Every day.

I’m so excited I can barely sit still.
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Breathe

I don’t know if life is dropping on anybody else like the proverbial measure of squarish building things, but it is me. Mom and Pop Dave had a great visit. Caer Dave is sparkling (ish), Dave wrote (a bunch: short story and several space opera chapters), much goodness was accomplished, and Wee and Wee-er Dave had ALL. THE. FUN.

Which is part of the problem. They are now having less fun, and taking this out on each other, which really means they’re taking it out on me. But I also received a call (half an hour after Mom and Pop Dave drove orft) asking if I was actually planning on bringing the car in to get the collision damage fixed. YES! Yes, I am. Called the insurance to clear up a final question, call the rental place to confirm pick-up, get the littles set, and loaded, and start the car. Start. The. Car.

The car isn’t starting.
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Get Out Before It’s Too Late

Actually it’s never too late to cut out these associations, but the sooner you recognize them and do so, the less risk you run of getting hurt. Some of them can be damaging to your health, most of them to your career, and all of the ones I list will waste your time.

What? Oh, I’m talking about writers’ groups, of course. Those voluntary associations so many people encourage you to join. Your fellow writers, they say, will cheer you on when you’re experiencing an enthusiasm sag, will warn you if your story seems to be taking a wrong turn, will brainstorm with you over a sticky plot point, and – if necessary, which of course it wouldn’t be for any readers of this blog – gently explain the difference between imply and infer.

Oh, wait. I can take care of that last one right now.

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All Is Chaos and Disorder

Or, Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone, Again
Redux

It was gorgeous in the PNW when we took Mrs. Dave to the airport to wend her way elsewhere. Baker was out, the Olympics crowded the far horizon, and Rainier dominated the sky as we sped southward. Nary a cloud in the sky. I could wish I’d gotten more sleep, but such isn’t our pattern, and I’m learning to deal with that. Even the littles seemed cheerful, which lasted right up until we left Mrs. Dave at the curb.

Mrs. Dave is fine, though still pretty wiped from all the travel. On the other hand, we haven’t seen the sun since we got home. Coincidence? I can barely rub two sentences together today, so this is likely to be pretty scattered. My apologies.
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With a little help from my friends…

Let me cheerfully destroy an illusion for you: I’m not a super guru of blurbs. I just write more of them than the average writer, so with slightly more practice, I have gotten slightly better skills. (for values of… I think I’ve written around 40? that are on books on sale, not counting practice blurbs on books that are already published, or blurbs that were written as examples and authors then used the example to craft something else for their own.)

But there are times I write real stinkers, too. And there are times like yesterday afternoon, when I am still completely exhausted from cleaning the house and Day Job, on top of the exhaustion from LibertyCon, on top of the exhaustion and pain of the months of dental medical adventures, when it’s time to give up and ask for help. Read more

Owning your success

The last thing I told you was to take it easy on yourself. Now, I’m going to tell you to do something that’ll come hard to a lot of you: Own your Success. Read more

Fighting off the Black Dog

So I was having a dose of the black dog – the beast behind your shoulders – that stalks every writer I’ve ever met. Sometimes they’ve turned on the beast and driven it back to its cold lair… for a while. But in the small hours when you’re looking at that blank screen, when that royalty statement that shows the book you thought bound to break out sold far less than you dreamed, when the words seem elusive and meaningless… take a sniff. You’ll smell his fetid breath, as he creeps closer. Read more