I’m Ready for My Close-Up, Mr. DeMille

17 Thursday Jul 2014

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Never been interviewed before in my life, but there is a first time for everything and yesterday I did an interview with fellow writer and my fountain pen addiction supplier, Nathaniel Cerf, for his blog on The Pen Market . Check it out, if you’re so inclined. It was a blast to do although I didn’t much like having my picture taken! I always blink, so in order to keep my eyes open, I end up with a goofy expression!

And if you love fountain pens, definitely check out his site. He offers some really sweet vintage pieces, many that are even affordable for us working writers!

I’m off now to the grocery store. I should probably wear my Wayfarers and a hat so I don’t get mobbed by the paparazzi! 🙂

Me, incognito?

Me, incognito?

Illegitimi non carborundum!

Don’t Think About Writing…

13 Sunday Jul 2014

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How Not to Think About Writing

How Not to Think About Writing


After last week’s momentous book launch, I decided I deserved a weekend’s worth of down time. I’d been going 4-40 since January and felt exhausted. All I was looking for was two days of doing nothing. Makes sense, right? Recharge the old batteries, gather steam for the next project. All good.

What was it Bobby Burns said? The best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley, wasn’t it? Yeah… turns out the old Scot was right.

So I blow off my WW meeting on Saturday morning because of a rum tummy. Tried to sleep in, but His Admiralship wanted breakfast at five freaking thirty. Got up, fed the pushy poodle, then tried to go back to sleep. Kept thinking about scenes I needed to add to Book 2 of the mystery series. Not wanting to lose the ideas, I grabbed my bed side notebook to jot them down — and promptly spilled my water glass into the open drawer of the nightstand. *sigh* Got up, cleaned up the mess (yes, thank you, Nelson, you were very helpful trying to lick up the water), then tried again to go back to sleep. Remembered I hadn’t made notes. Got up again and jotted down my ideas.

At that point, I was wide awake. But I had promised myself I wasn’t going to do anything writerly. So I went downstairs, put the kettle on, made some tea… and started thinking about a scene in my fantasy novel. Nope. Stop it. Not doing any writing today. Stood there for a moment and noticed that the kitchen cabinets needed cleaning. Got out the orange oil and did a spot of cleaning.

Two hours later, the kitchen gleamed. As did the bathrooms and the floors. And as I scrubbed I found myself wondering what my character Charlotte would use for degreasing since oranges weren’t available in medieval times… stop it. Stop thinking writer-type things! Maybe, I thought, as I got up off the floor, knees aching, I should take a little nap.

Oh, wait, not so fast. I needed to take the oriental carpet to this shop my husband found in Lakemoor for cleaning. Lakemoor? Where the devil is Lakemoor? Oh, says he on his way out the door to work, it’s just up 47, take a right on 120. Right around the corner.

Over an HOUR LATER, I finally located the small burb of Lakemoor, but the only thing at the address indicated was an autobody shop. I drove up and down the street for twenty minutes (I’m sure people thought I was either loony or casing the joint), but there is NO cleaners. So I drove back home. But the drive wasn’t completely wasted because I figured out the tricky escape bit for the fantasy novel. Oh damn. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about writing…

So I got home shortly after noon, at which point, it was time to rouse the teenager and get some food down her gullet before she becomes an unholy, crabby mess. That accomplished, I thought, okay, NOW I can sit down and do… um… work on the fantasy novel? No. No writing. Okay, I’ll um… oh I know, I’ll dump book 2 of the mystery series into Scrivener and… oh, yeah, no writing. So… um… er…

I dithered on the couch for about twenty minutes, trying to think of something to do that wasn’t writing related. I even pulled out my Kindle to read something. But I couldn’t settle on what to read. Except that book about how to writer faster… but wait, that was writing related.

Bottom line, I’ve apparently forgotten how to just sit and do nothing. Well, at least anything that doesn’t have something to do with writing. And you know what? I’m pretty okay with that. Turns out, I LOVE writing. Even the icky revision part. I’m actually itching to dive into the editing of Book 2. Maybe this revision won’t take me six months, like the last one, now that I understand the process!

So today, Sunday, I took a breath, allowed myself to think a few writerly thoughts, then did my usual Sunday errands (grocery store, making a few casseroles for dinner during the week, putting my lunch things together for Monday, etc.). And for dinner, the family and I went out to The Claddagh for a good old faux Irish meal. I even treated myself to a pear cider. Yum!

Tomorrow, however, it’s back to work. Both to the evil day job and as a writer. And I can’t wait!

Is there a hobby or avocation you itch to work on when you’re doing other things? Is there a project you can’t wait to get back to or consumes your thoughts at any given idle moment? I’d love to hear about your favorite things. And thanks for dropping by!

Illegitimi non carborundum!

Now We Do the Dance of Joy!

11 Friday Jul 2014

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My first book is now live on Amazon and will soon be available on Nook.
You can see it here: http://www.amazon.com/Restless-Natives-Gooden-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00LOUPR4Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1405091962&sr=8-1&keywords=nan+sampson

To celebrate, here is a Flashback Friday moment. I am doing this in my office right now. 🙂

Well, the way it started… And then… But meanwhile… So finally…

29 Sunday Jun 2014

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Image

I’m finally getting through the last of my beta comments on my soon to be published mystery novel.  It has been so wonderful at the same time it’s been unbelievably hard.  Yet, the final set of comments were quite the most instructive.  The first few sets, while really incredibly valuable, mostly addressed spelling, grammar and those ‘well, duh’ spots, where I lost the plot, or made little (or not so little) mistakes.  All important stuff that I could not have lived without.  The final beta reader, however, honed in on my ‘bad writer habits’.  Trust me, when you’re confronted with those nasty things, there is a moment where you think, ‘oh dear heavens, I totally suck’.

After that initial reaction, though, you become eternally grateful to that beta reader for teaching you an invaluable lesson.

What, you may ask, are my nasty little bad writer habits? The biggest one is beginning sentences (sometimes five and six a page) with a conjunction.  Page after page after page.  You know those words.  And.  But.  Well.  So.  I even caught myself doing it in this post and had to go back through it and change them all (See, SW? I’m making progress!). 

Then there are the deadly “ings” – the overuse of “ing” words.  Dozens of those to plow through.  Or more.  I’m too scared to count them right now.

The prospect of going through every page in my WIP to find them and, in most cases, fix them, is daunting indeed.  Makes me want to buy a ginormous (jeez, that word made it through spell check… when did that become a real word?) bag of cheesy popcorn and eat the whole thing in one sitting. GAH!!!!!!!

I gave myself today off.  Tomorrow, however, is another day.  I will be using my trusty word processor’s “find” function to its maximum capacity – burning through the literary equivalent of dilithium crystals.  I hope the word engines can take it.  I may even have to call Scotty in Engineering for ‘more power’!  (Sorry, yes, I know, I had to reach for that one.)

What are your bad writer habits?  Is there a word or set of words you have to excise from your writing during revision?  Or are you the sort who can catch them as you write?  I’d love to hear about your bad writer habits – I’m sure I can learn from them.  Plus, it serves the purpose of making me feel not quite so incompetent!

Illegitimi non carborundum!

I’ve Become an Embarrassment – Who Knew?

25 Wednesday Jun 2014

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Not Now Mom, I'm Playing MInecraft

Not Now Mom, I’m Playing Minecraft

So apparently, I am a complete and utter embarrassment to my twelve-soon-to-be-thirteen year old daughter. Not that this wasn’t to be expected, but I was completely confused as to the source of the embarrassment. I mean, it’s not as if I were old, doddered around in a sweatshirt decorated with cats in a basket (no offense to my cat-loving friends) and black orthopedic shoes, went on and on about life before the invention of the telephone, and waxed poetic about the days when everyone learned cursive… okay, wait, I’ve done that last one… okay, waxed poetic about the days when there wasn’t an internet… oh damn, done that too… okay, how about: waxed poetic about the days when we read by candle light. (Hah! Got one!)

And it’s not as if my daughter’s friends don’t know that we’re a family of flag-waving Geeks. Come on. We’re third generation Geek in our household. And my daughter is normally proud to be a Geek. She games, she loves SF, she digs zombies, she groks Star Trek, she wants a Tardis for her bedroom and sleeps with a plushie Creeper. I thought, perhaps foolishly, that our Geekness might even make us one of the “cool” parents.

So when my daughter and her gamer-geek friend Isabella were in the living room playing Minecraft one afternoon and having a discussion about Thor and other comic book/movie heroes, I made a comment – a sort of throwaway comment — as I was passing through with a basket of laundry about how in my humble opinion, I thought Wolverine was hotter than Thor. I had no idea I was stepping on the proverbial adolescent land mine.

First, I got the look. If you’re a parent, you know the one. The “Oh. My. God. Mom! I can’t believe you said that out loud! And in front of my friend!” look. The look that makes you want to shrink down to the size of a baby dust mite and disappear under the oriental rug. Then, she actually got up, excused herself, and took me into the front hall, where she gave me the look again, followed by a terse, sotto voce , “Mo-o-om! Spoken through her teeth in such a way that makes a one syllable word into a three syllable word. Then she rolled her eyes, stomped back into the living room, flung herself dramatically onto the couch next to Isabella, and apologized on my behalf.

Apologized!

Wait, what?  So maybe they think Thor is hotter… he’s younger, after all.  That’s okay.  Me, I prefer dark-haired men, and anyway, aren’t I entitled to my opinion? So I was left standing in the front hall, holding a basket of dirty towels, looking puzzled and ashamed and quite unaware what exactly I had done wrong.

After Isabella left, I was read the riot act. Apparently it is the height of uncoolness for a mother to think that anyone is hot. And especially anyone in a movie. I’m too old, I was told, to be a fan girl.

Too old?  Too old?! Um, NOT!

Listen toots, I’ve been a “fan girl” since age 6, and I fell in love with Davey Jones of the Monkees. And I’ve been finding yummy men to crush on ever since. But I guess I won’t be sharing any of those crushes with Girl Child #1 anymore… at least, not when she’s with her “crew”. Heaven forbid I embarrass her!

Embarrassed your teen lately? Share your stories here. I’d like to feel like I’m not alone. And any ideas on revenge would be appreciated too!

Illegitimi noncarborundum!

So, an Astrophysicist, a Radio Show Host and a Biologist Walk Into a Bar…

16 Monday Jun 2014

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My Heroes

Can you name your top five childhood heroes? And Wonder Woman and Isis don’t count – I’m talking real, flesh and blood people, not comic book superheroes. I can name mine. In fact I can name quite a few more than five. And sadly, many of them have left us now.

I am keenly aware of this after the passing of Casey Kasem this past weekend. Mr. Kasem was a fixture of my youth. First, because he was the host of American Top 40, which I listened to loyally every week. I had a radio on my bike and I would ride around the neighborhood (whichever neighborhood that was – we moved frequently as I was an air Force brat) and listen to the show. Casey was always there, no matter where I was , a constant in a world where everything was always changing. I could always count on Casey to be my radio friend. And of course, he was the voice of Shaggy Rogers from my all-time favorite cartoon, Scooby Doo. I actually did a paper on him for some school assignment, about how he came from a family of immigrants, and following a dream he never let go of, made himself into a household name. But it wasn’t the fame that drove him. It was doing the thing he loved doing. For the budding writer that I was, that was a message that found a home in my heart.

Then there were the other heroes. Carl Sagan, who was taken from us way too soon.  Stephen Jay Gould, who made evolutionary biology fun.  Gerard K. O’Neill who taught me that we already had what we needed to make a home in space.  Roger Zelazny, who showed me that my weird story ideas were no more weird than his.  Isaac Asimov, who was just freaking brilliant in more ways than I can count… Yes, I was an odd child. My heroes were in large part scientists, writers, visionaries. People who saw the world that COULD be, not necessarily the world that was. People who looked beyond what everyone else saw.

Over the years I’ve watched them all fade away, and the world gets a little bit dimmer each time one of them passes.

But I refuse to be defined by loss. So it’s time to find new heroes. Time to find new visionaries, like Carl Sagan’s successor, Neil deGrasse Tyson, who is totally ROCKIN’ the new Cosmos series. But I gotta tell you, it’s been tough for me to suss them out. We are surrounded these days by celebrities but for me, celebs aren’t heroes. So I’ve been finding it hard to hear the voices I’m listening for over all the noise.

I spent a little time feeling old and sad this morning.  We all have those moments. But all of my heroes persevered in the face of defeat and I can do no less. So I’m now on mission to look deeper, search harder, and with renewed intent for the visionaries of today – the pioneers of our tomorrows. And I’ll be sure to post my new list when I’ve nailed down at least ten of them.  Neil is currently at the top of my list, followed in short order by Michio Kaku (seriously, what is it with me and physicists?), paleontologist Paul Sereno and fellow author Samantha Warren (who has more courage and drive than anyone else I know)…

Who were your childhood heroes? Why did they inspire you? How did they shape the you of today? And who are you finding now to inspire you? Share them here so we can all be inspired! Thanks!

Illegitimi non carborundum!

“Is That Even a Thing?” (How To Talk Young Even if You’re Not!)

12 Thursday Jun 2014

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A little Thursday funny for you, care of one of my favorite bloggers, Little Miss Menopause (aka, Stephanie Lewis). ‘Cuz that’s just how I roll! (Did I get that right, Stephanie?)

Little Miss Flawed's avatarOnce Upon Your Prime

photo-379“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.”  The first time I heard that, I thought Tiffany, my flirtatious neighbor, was talking about an affair she started with our mailman. Seemed plausible – –  a while ago she confessed she had “a thing” for him ever since he delivered a large package.  Turns out casually remarking,”it’s a thing” has nothing to do with attraction or sex.  It’s a way of reporting that something is now extremely popular – – a big fad.  In this case, she was confirming that you can order crazy sounding drinks off  a secret menu at Starbucks.     However if it’s such a secret, how can it be so widespread??

“No,”  I retorted to 45-year old Tiffany, who obviously thought she was so young and “with it,” she even changed her name from Theresa.  “You can DO your OWN thing.  Or drink Coca Cola.  It’s the REAL thing.  …

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A Mutinous Morning – Or How I Was Forced to Walk the Plank

06 Friday Jun 2014

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Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson

Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson

Nelson and I had words this morning. Well, okay, I mostly listened while he barked his dang fool head off. And if you’ve never been on the receiving end of a poodle scolding, you have no idea how ear-bleeding it can be. You’d think miniature poodles, being smaller dogs, would have a yappy little bark. But you’d be wrong. They’re exceptionally loud and pitched at this absolutely piercing tone. And the Admiral (normally known as just Nelson, unless he’s in a mood) is a rather insistent communicator, particularly when it’s time for his rum (and by rum, I mean his morning’s ration of 2 dried sweet potato fries – I don’t actually give the Admiral spirits :)). I admit I was a little slow after turning off the alarm. It was, after all, o-stupid thirty in the morning and I was still trying to find two socks that matched and, oh yeah, where the *bleep* did my glasses get to after they fell off the bed last night?

So we had words. I first asked that he use his indoor voice. Didn’t work. Then I made him sit, hoping following one command would lead to him following another – you know, like, “no bark”. And indeed he sat, then got up again and started in on me some more, going on about how inappropriate it was for a mere Lieutenant to be giving commands to an Admiral. That’s when I snapped (followed quickly by a popping sound as my eardrums burst). Alas, I had forgotten that snapping my fingers, which I’ve always had trouble with anyway, is a hand signal for him to stand on his hind legs and walk in a circle. Which he did, then became even that much more insistent for his rum. He’d done a trick, after all, he informed me LOUDLY. The treat should be forthcoming. Pronto.

Meanwhile, around us, the rest of the family slumbered on in their hammocks behind their closed cabin doors. Or at least pretended to slumber because unless they’re dead, there’s no way they could have slept through the Admiral’s tirade.

So I did what any seaman would do in the face of irreconcilable differences with their captain. I became insubordinate. I refused to give him his share of the rum. He accused me of mutiny. I told him I was going to rouse the rest of the crew and we were going to make him walk the plank.

I won’t repeat his reply – not in polite company and besides the shrillness of it would make YOUR ears bleed. But suffice it to say I wound up on the plank (and by plank, I mean in my car on the Kennedy at rush hour, which is the same thing, right up to and including the man-eating sharks), and the Admiral managed to get the somnambulistic 12-year old bo’sun to give him his rum after I’d gone into the drink (and by gone into the drink, I mean gone to work).

There is no justice on this ship. I’ll probably have to spend the weekend swabbing the deck. Oh, wait, I’d have to do that anyway, no one else cleans the floors around here. And I say again. There is no justice on this ship. Grumble, grumble, grumble, mutiny, mutiny, mutiny.

Hope you’re all having a better Friday! And if you don’t hear from me over the weekend, it probably means I’ve gotten myself locked in the brig.

Illigetimi non carborundum!

The Hero Returns (with the Elixir)… or “I’m Back”

04 Wednesday Jun 2014

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From the film "Poltergeist"

From the film “Poltergeist”

It’s true!  After over a week of radio silence, like the scary ghosts in Poltergeist, I’m back!  With a vengeance!

Not sure how many of you have read the incredible book by Christopher Vogler, called “The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers”, but reading it was one of those crystallizing moments in my journey as a writer. If you haven’t read it and you are a writer, I highly encourage you to do so. In it, Mr. Vogler utilizes Joseph Campbell’s concept of the mythic hero’s journey as it relates to story telling in an absolutely magical and instructive way. And for those of you who are NOT writers, I’d recommend Joseph Campbell’s book, “The Hero’s Journey”. I guarantee it will be paradigm-shifting for you!

But I digress (Golly, me? Digress? Impossib– Oh, look, a dog.).

The last stage of the Hero’s Journey is called “Return with The Elixir”. And it implies that the hero has completed her quest, manifested the necessary metamorphosis, and comes home victorious. Cue the feasting and the dancing.

Thusly have I returned, after a week of the most intense and focused work I’ve ever done on a novel yet, also victorious. My novel is complete, revised and out with beta readers. I have never been so excited – and yet so terrified – at any point in my career.

I spent all of last week virtually internet free. I took some vacation days from the evil day job.  I didn’t check emails, I didn’t check Skype, I didn’t log onto Facebook or Twitter or even WordPress. I just glued by ample posterior to the booth seat at my local Panera Bread, plugged in my laptop and worked. Six hours a day for five days. The only time I got up was to either refill my cup of decaf, to make room in my bladder for MORE decaf, or to vacate the booth in favor of a smaller table during the lunch rush. I had all my notes lined up (big shout out to Holly Lisle — for her HTRYN course!), had my copy of Scrivener open and I just jammed through it until I was done. BTW – Scrivener is an indispensable writer’s software tool.  Check it out at http://www.literatureandlatte.com.

Now, on the other side of the whole journey, I DO feel like the returning hero! It was a transformative process, unlike anything I’ve ever been through. It isn’t often these days that I get through an experience and really feel changed by it, feel a major sense of accomplishment. But this was definitely one of those moments for me. And now that I know I can do this once, I’m already gearing up to revise the second novel in the series after Camp Nano is over in August.

What have been some of your defining moments? What was the feat that brought you home as the victorious hero, bearing the magic elixir? I’d love to hear about them!