Birth of a Book

So, 20,000 words into the third book in the Heiress at the Door series, I hit a wall. Part of that is probably because I was going through a divorce, didn’t believe in happily ever after and was trying to just manage my real life, forget imaginary characters. And anyway, I hadn’t sold a book yet so there was no deadline.

But time heals all wounds, and as soon as I started feeling emotions again, my fingers itched to hit the keys. Except, the book was still wrong. For one thing, the hook to the series is, you know, an heiress at the door. But the heiress in this book is never at the door. Not my fault. We came up with the hook after I’d started writing this one.

Me: Um, do you think it’s a problem that both of these books start with an heiress at the door?

Regan: No, they’re different books. I think it’s your hook.

Me: That could be cool. I could play with that.

Regan: I think you already are.

And so it went. But, no door. Also, there’s a princess in this one and I’m still dealing with some of the harsh reality of my life. Really, a princess book? Would that even work?

So I put the old file away, threw away the old plot cards completely, and was going to start over at the beach. Until…

Snarky Daughter: Why are you going to the beach in winter?

Me: To plot a book and figure out the blog and stuff that I keep ignoring here to do really fun stuff like grocery shopping, vacuuming and laundry.

SD: How do you plot a book?

Me, looking at the ceiling: Um, with index cards and colored pencils

SD: Can I watch?

Me: Sure, but you can’t stop me from banging my head against a wall. It’s part of the process.

I went to the beach, and I thought about the characters, and I did some of the basic stuff upfront. But I didn’t pull out the index cards and pencils. Snarky Daughter and I did that for an hour and a half tonight. I think I have maybe 7 cards filled out.

The skeleton of a book.
The skeleton of a book.

Now understand, here’s how I give birth to a book. I figure out how many chapters are, and I spread out blank index cards in a grid on the table. Three scenes to a chapter, so three cards per chapter. I set the grid up so there are turning points evenly spaced throughout the book.

And I start thinking of all the subplots in the story: hero’s external goal, heroine’s external goal, love story, three turning points, happily ever after… The list goes on and on (which I think was the reason the book wasn’t working last time). Then I just start writing basic stuff on the different cards. Here are the scenes I know need to happen for this subplot. I do it for each subplot. And each subplot gets a different color, so that as I start moving the cards around, I can see if I’m getting too much of one plot in one part of the book and spread it around.

When Snarky Daughter started yawning, we called it a night. I may have killed her writing aspirations, although I stressed that this is not how every writer does it. I then outlined how Regan does hers (hint: no cards or colored pencils, but I think she uses the wall).

SD: You put a lot of work in before you start writing.

Me: Yep. I need to know I have a full story before I sit down. I need to know I have a book.

SD: Why?

Me: Because editing during the process and making changes is more painful that sitting at the table now.

SD: So how long will this take?

Me: Until it’s done. I have to have half the scenes drafted on the cards before I start.

I have 7. I’d say I’m out of practice, but in explaining the process to SD, I realized I know a lot about the book, I just didn’t want to take a lot of time writing it out while I was explaining it to her.

If only I could control my real life with colored pencils and index cards. Hey, I can see the happy ending. I just don’t know how to get there. Yet.

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Changes is Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes

So, I realized something this morning after a long walk on the beach snapping over 100 pictures of the sunrise. No, I don’t know why I had to take so many, and since I forgot the cable to download them, I’m not going to know which six are any good until I get home. Ah, the mystery!

OK, I realized two things.

#1 God meant for me to live at the beach. I thought I needed to live between the beach and the mountains so I could have a choice. Screw that. I’m meant to be here. This is where I run whenever life gets me down. Luckily, life tends to get me down in the winter when the rates are good and the cold breeze reminds me of Northern California, so it’s not a huge hit to my wallet, and I get to stay in nice places with great beds.

#2 You can’t be a writer and stop reading. You have to make time for both.

That’s hard to do. Between the day job, the writing I haven’t been focused on (hence the trip to the beach), feeding the kids, running errands, cleaning… well, you get the idea. During the week, I spend 11 hours a day either at the day job or commuting to/from it. By the time I get home, feed the kids and hear about their days, and do physical therapy (for a few seconds of stupidity on a ladder), I have, at best, 2 hours to pay bills, check email, write, work out…. And weekends are spent with at least one full day of errands that couldn’t get done during the week.

But reading has to be in there too. Turns out, that’s part of the job requirements of a writer. But lately, I haven’t been filling the creative well. I haven’t been reading blogs, books, or anything more than the headlines on CNN.com. Small wonder my creativity has dried up.

So part of my “home” work this weekend, you know, at the beach, is to find blogs worth reading, and catch up with some authors who always make me laugh. Jenny Crusie and Susan Elizabeth Phillips, don’t fail me now!

Who are the favorite blog and book authors you turn to when you have to escape?

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A Flock of Parrots Put My Head in the Sand

So, between Boy Scout Popcorn, Girl Scout Nuts, and preparing for theĀ  Heiress and Her Fake Fiance release, I might have gotten a wee bit stressed. When stressed, do I do all the stuff on the To Do List so that I can relieve the stress? Heck, no.

I cook. A. Lot.

Tuscan Lemon Muffins. Coconut Chocolate Chip Cookies. Butternut Squash Risotto. Black Bean Soup. Roasted Winter Vegetables. Welcome to my Sunday.

Seriously, I made all of those things in about four hours on Sunday.

Several years ago, a published friend of mine told me a story about a writer who had gotten a book deal. And she froze. Couldn’t write. Sort of freaked out about the whole thing, because it suddenly hit her. This was REAL. It was really happening. And worse than that, now… she had to do it again. Oh. My. God.

At the time I thought, WHO could be that crazy? Um…yeah.

I was trucking along without fear right up until I received my book cover. Opened up my email a few weeks ago (I’d only been checking it 100 times a day waiting for the cover to arrive), and there it was. Reality was staring me in the face.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a beautiful cover. Karl Warren did a great job. I love my cover. But it’s a cover. Something the rejected manuscripts holding doors open throughout my house don’t have.

At that moment, I had my Oh My God moment. But with popcorn and nuts, I was able to do my ostrich impression and put my head in the sand. Funny thing about that is, life keeps going. Line edits still have to be done. New books still have to be written. Reviews have to be garnered. Blogs have to be…ignored. Oops.

I mentioned I flipped, right?

So, I allowed myself some time in the sand. But now it’s time to brush the sand out of my hair and get back to it. Because it’s my dream. I’ve worked hard for it, and it’s time to enjoy the moment.

So, you want to see the thing that sent me over the edge? Here it is!

Photo of Heiress and Her Fake Fiance by Kimberly Hope book coverIsn’t it gorgeous? I’m thinking of having it painted on my office wall. Well, I would but more often than not, my “office” is my living room, and I don’t think Snarky Daughter and Scout Son want to explain that to their friends.

But it’s nice to finally have something in hand to show that I’ve achieved this dream.

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