Happy Holidays

Since I'm currently still not writing anything for paid publication, I decided to continue the holiday theme, giving you guys a taste of my meditations during this joyous season. I know I'm not the only person enduring horrific sadness inspired by midwinter celebrations; our numbers give rise to the phrase "holiday depression syndrome" with good reason. In my case, I'm a writer. I cope with everything at least in part through writing. So here is what I wrote today.

Grief is so odd. It has individual life and rhythm, independent of stages, schedules or expectations. It can hide away for years, lying in wait until it decides to ambush. It dons camouflage, blending with other issues, passing as something less acidic if not completely innocuous. The unexpected break from cover is part and parcel of the devastation, even when you logically know it should be there. Even when you know you’re grieving and why—even when hell and havoc are familiar, when you’ve already done this so many times—even then grief outwits you and repeatedly destroys you. On days you expect to mourn so hard as to be nonfunctional, you sail through with flying colors because grief changed the plan. On days which pose no obvious problems, presenting no identifiable triggers or potentially painful encounters—you collapse, besieged by a random Blitzkrieg of anguish.

Grief has no mercy and no antidote. The only way out is through, and after enough hours, days, lifetimes of despair, it begins to feel like home until it doesn’t anymore.

Grief has no redeeming qualities. People talk about learning from it, but grief teaches two lessons only: endurance and defeat. A loss that leads to grief can perhaps teach from events surrounding it, or not. But the grief itself, the desolate void loss leaves, teaches nothing but how to blindly, doggedly continue struggling until bludgeoned into bloody submission.

And yet, you can’t hate it. Grief isn’t evil or unnatural; it isn’t the enemy. Aside from cause (loss) and effect (sadness, anger), grief is emotion and association neutral. It’s elemental; it just is, like cold in winter and heat in summer, earth underfoot and sky above.

Grief endures forever, imprinted on and permeating the heart and mind. It’s ageless, timeless…the wasteland underlies everything. Shrinks babble about acceptance; perhaps that’s what they mean. Once you understand life as sorrow and joy intermingled and indivisible, two sides of the universal coin, you’ve found acceptance. I wouldn’t know; I still spend days howling in the wilderness, yearning for what I never really had and will never have the illusion of again.

I think that’s what grief is at bottom: the end of all illusions. Stripped, stark, bare and defenseless, grief is a soul exposed. And it fucking hurts, y’all.

No random question for the day. I'm not in the mood.

Getting to Know You...for Christmas

I’m going to take a minute and not write about writing, mostly because I can’t think of anything to say about it that I haven’t already said. Could the previous sentence get any more convoluted? (There’s your token comment about writing.)

Instead I want to make a random post about Christmas. Keep in mind that I am not Christian, so while the state makes December 25th a holiday, it isn’t my holy day. Nor am I any particular form of pagan, so I don’t get excited about Winter Solstice or what have you. But like many people who grew up in the Western Hemisphere, I have memories and associations with Christmas, so since I am basically lazy, I am using a “Christmas edition of getting to know your friends” as a blog entry today. Enjoy, and if you like, copy, insert your answers and pass it on.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?

Gift bags or boxes. Much easier. Also recyclable, and I have a thing about responsible paper usage.

2. Real tree or artificial?

Artificial. I prefer keeping real ones in the ground, where they benefit the environment.

3. When do you put up the tree?

If I put one up, usually right after Thanksgiving to get it over with. I didn’t put one up this year. Having a tree, to me, is a thing to do for the kids. I have no more kids at home.

4. When do you take the tree down?

Again, if I put one up, taking it down is a New Year’s Day ritual.

5. Do you like eggnog?

Meh. Depends on the alcohol in it. I prefer my alcohol with other mixers, though.

6. Hardest person to buy for?

Used to be my mother. She's gone now, so -- no one.

8. Easiest person to buy for?

All of them. My other family members make no bones about what they want/need.

9. Do you have a nativity scene?

Not any more. I once bought one I thought was cute, but displaying it became hypocritical many, many moons ago.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards?

Either, as the mood hits me. I don’t do many.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?

Too many to mention. My beloved mother was notorious for silly, junkie gifts from Walter Drake catalogs. And candy that she liked and I didn’t.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie?

The Polar Express. I totally identify with the kid’s doubt. And even when he thinks he’s got proof that Santa exists, it gets ripped away. Welcome to the real world.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?

Only when I must.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?

I really can’t recall.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?

The last several years we’ve done a Mexican feast. We like it. Enchiladas (multiple kinds), tamales, rice, beans; build your own tacos, fajitas, tostadas and nachos; quesadillas…we end with cheesecake.

16. What color of lights do you prefer on the tree?

White. Keeps things simple.

17. Favorite Christmas song?

“Oh Holy Night” is a living memory of my mother. “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” is nice and boisterous and vigorous. “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” and “We Three Kings” are reminiscent of Gregorian chant; cool registers. Ditto "Oh, Come Oh Come Emmanual." “Angels we have heard on high” is musically glorious.

Frankly I just love music, even Christian music.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?

Used to host the crowd. This is changing. Don’t know what the future holds.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?

Yes.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?

Angel. I like magical protective figures, even though they’re practically worthless.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?

Always morning, in the past. Santa doesn’t come ‘til kids are asleep on Christmas eve. Again, things are changing. Don’t know what the future holds.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?

Christians trying to dictate all midwinter celebration acknowledgements (Merry Christmas vs Happy Holidays vs Xmas controversy), who apparently feel justified in cramming their chosen celebratory form down everyone's throat in public (nativity scenes in government buildings, prayer at workplace parties, etc.) and private...if your friends aren't Christian, may I gently suggest you don't send them "Jesus is the reason for the season" holiday cards? They go straight in the trash, wasting your money and time, and a living tree. On the other hand, "May you and your family be blessed now and in the coming year" usually isn't offensive. If you're unsure about someone's viewpoint, ask. Otherwise, have your celebration as you prefer, and leave the rest of us alone.

(Stepping off the soap box now...)

23. Favorite ornament theme or color?

When my children were at home, every year each of them received a new commemorative ornament of some kind. The tree was a mishmash of memories and I loved it. They are all gone now, and their ornaments with them. Other than that, I like sticking to the greenery theme—you know, the original pagan meaning of life enduring through the cold.

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner?

See Mexican feast above

25. What do you want for Christmas this year?

Peace and goodwill seem appropriate and beneficial, no matter your religious choice or lack of it. Of course, becoming Supreme Dictator of the World would be good, too.

Last call for entries for the Lonely Hearts Mountain book giveaway! Send email entries to romancebyrachelsmith@yahoo.com with “Me, me, me, pick me!” in the subject line, by December 24, 11:59 pm. Barring interference from the Universe, the winner will be notified December 26.

And the random question of the day:

Oscillate my metallic sonatas with your plan for the Panama canal:

Only after you explain to me how and where you obtained or developed musical compositions containing elements that conduct electricity and heat, and form cations and ionic bonds with non-metals. And how you get them to rotate. Yes, I know big words, too.

Love me, Love my work...Not.

It’s been a while since my last post, and for that I apologize. Holidays and other train wrecks have disrupted my blogging schedule. Although, to be honest, I don’t have a blogging schedule; I do this as the impulse hits me. Readers are lucky for anything they get.

Anyway. Abandoning the festive mood for the moment, let's address something relevant to writing. Over the last few months, reviews have come in for Lonely Hearts Mountain. They are what I consider mixed, meaning: No one has absolutely dissed the book, but some reviewers have pointed out flaws, while describing it overall as an entertaining read. And you know what? That’s okay.

I can’t remember and am too lazy to look, but I may have said here before that fiction writing, for me, strongly resembles channeling. It’s not a purely intellectual exercise. The characters tell the story, and I act as their scribe. Only after they’ve spewed the first draft onto the hard drive (via my fingers and keyboard) do I go back and look at things like sentence and paragraph structure, chapter organization, POV shifts, etc. And even then I seldom jerk with characterization and plot.

Guess what happens? Sometimes I wind up frowning over a plot sequence or device. Sometimes I snort in disgust at a character’s behavior. Sometimes I roll my eyes and think, “Really? What idiot is gonna buy that?”-- referring to whom you like, literally and figuratively. Editors, readers, reviewers…will they pay for it? Will they find it believable? Will they enjoy, it, even?

Who the hell knows? Not me. Who cares? Not me, again.

Don’t get me wrong. I want to write good books, meaning books that will sell and entertain, sometimes possibly even educate. I work hard to do that, and learn more about how to do it every day.

At the same time, I know my limitations and I know the real world. I’m not writing gilded classics here. At best, these are nothing more than entertaining stories. Not everyone will like them, all the time. Some folks will hate them, for a thousand different reasons. In the case of Lonely Hearts Mountain, one reviewer felt certain events moved along too quickly. So did I. (Who gets engaged after knowing someone for only six days? Seriously.) Another got really irritated with the female protagonist’s stupid decisions. So did I. (Dumbass, there are men with guns up on that mountain. Stay off it, for God sakes!)

And that’s okay. In the real world, in real life, events sometimes move quickly. We don’t always handle them well. Sometimes we make stupid decisions. Sometimes who we are beneath a façade--good or bad, in-character or not--becomes evident only in specific situations.

Story characters are people too, and they don’t always get everything right. Neither do I: as an individual, a writer, and their scribe. And still, that’s okay. One reviewer said she was glad I wasn't angry when she mentioned the story's flaws. Seriously, folks, if anyone out there really can’t acknowledge occasional less-than-total-perfection in themselves or their work, I know a few good shrinks you can speak to.

In the spirit of holiday giving, I’m offering a free PDF copy of Lonely Hearts Mountain to one reader, chosen randomly from everyone who emails me to enter the drawing between now and December 24, 11:59 pm (2359 for you military folks) per the email time stamp. Send email entries to romancebyrachelsmith@yahoo.com with “Me, me, me, pick me!” in the subject line. Barring intereference from the Universe, the winner will be notified December 26.

Not that I actually expect anyone to enter.

And finally, the random question of the day:

That can't really be a fish you're standing on, can it?
Only if it looks like one. Does it? (Yes, I briefly worked as a semi-shrink.)

**UPDATE**

I posted this entry, went to look at it on the page, and realised that the blog now has three actual followers. So henceforth I will cease whining about how no one is reading. Seriously, CJ, BJ, and Lori, you made my day. Thanks.

But I still bet no one enters the drawing for the book.

I Lo-o-o-ve My Editor

That is, I love her at this moment. An hour from now I may not. But right this minute I love her almost as much—perhaps more than—my own children. Why?

Simple. She pointed out a flaw in a story.

If you haven’t been down this road, you may not immediately grasp how this is a loveable act. Bear with me.

If you follow the blog you know that several months ago I submitted a novel, and have been waiting to hear from the publisher since. The eventual answer was a very nice “No, thank you.” With rejection came insights passed on from acquisitions readers, consisting of several concrete jewels, including this bit: “the opening with descriptions of the landscape didn't grab them at all…”

That’s not earthshaking, is it? Except…the opening wasn’t about the landscape. It was meant to introduce the main character in her current role, illustrating her immediate decision-making process, in which the landscape played a part.

I think I mentioned last post that I’m not terribly analytical when it comes to writing. I can be systematically solution-oriented about every other issue on earth, but I struggle to dissect my own work. My initial response to the above was: “Huh? I can’t change that! That’s where she is; that’s what’s going on!”

So then, of course, I went into my cave, where several unrelated incidents prolonged my stay.

What do you mean, what do I mean, I went into my cave? I have a personal cave, don’t you? Of course you do. Everybody’s got a cave. It’s your haven when life is hard. Your cave is the place—physical or otherwise—where you regroup and mull it over, perhaps while outwardly pursuing mundane affairs, or conversely, neglecting myriad responsibilities while indulging in nonstop Facebook games (er-hmm).

Regardless, I went into my cave. And finally, two weeks later, between rounds of Farkle and voting for my Sorority Life sisters, I had a Eureka Moment.

“Well, duh, Rachel. If the acquisitions readers think they’re reading a landscape description instead of a character description, then you have written the introduction WRONG. You need to rewrite it so that they are drawn into a mercenary captain’s decision as to where her troop should camp, in unfamiliar territory with her possibly vengeful, supposedly immortal husband on their trail.”

Yup, that’s more than landscape description.

So I rewrote the introduction. I don’t know whether I rewrote it enough, but I certainly wrote it with clearer vision and purpose than I possessed the first time—or even through the 5,333rd edit done before the most recent submission.

See, this is why editors are good, people. Even when they tell you things you don't wanna hear. Much as I love my beta readers, they didn’t—maybe couldn’t—express this truth to me. My local writer’s group gave the story first place in their yearly competition. But three sucessive publishers have rejected it. Each gave it apparently serious consideration, which tells me there is something worthwhile in it, if I can just make it shine. Only the last publisher pointed me solidly to the flaws, giving me a better product to market elsewhere.

So, yes. I love my editor. (She is my editor for other works, if she isn’t for the one under discussion.)

You know what? While we’re analyzing, it just hit me that the character’s initial placement in the landscape is also an allegory for her position: caught between two worlds, essentially isolated…

Damn. It’s amazing what a little analysis can yield.

And now, the random question of the day (remember, I don't generate these. I just push a button and answer what comes up.):

When you've got water stuck in your ear, how do you get it out?

Um... tilt your head sideways? Do you even have a day job? No? Not surprised.

Brand Me, Baby

The thing I feared has come to pass. No one is reading this blog, and without readership/feedback/interaction it becomes an online journal where I quietly process my writing adventures. I began with the idea of connecting with readers, but perhaps I’ll get some much-needed self therapy, instead. For writers, insanity is a predisposing factor, exacerbated by the job.

Which introduces today’s post, if in somewhat rambling fashion. (Talkin’ to myself, remember? Who cares how much I ramble? Shut up.) In terms of connecting with readers, newly published authors are advised to establish their author “brand”. Several things here, so hold your breath, kids, we’re goin’ in.

First, “brand” appears to be the current hot marketing buzzword. I friggin’ hate buzzwords. After seven years in the non-profit sector, constantly hassled by state, federal and other funding agencies to use the proper buzzwords in grant and report writing, buzzwords make my skin crawl. What’s wrong with variety? For craps’s sake, people, we’re selling creative command of language! Hmmph.

‘Nother thing. I’m from Texas. Y’all say “brand” around me, and I get visions of being tied up and held down by sweaty, dusty men, wielding red hot irons. Now, I don’t mind the sweaty dusty men, and in some very specific circumstances might even experiment with letting them hold me down and tie me up, but hot irons do nothing for me. I’m sure they’re exciting for some folks, but that association just makes me want to run away, far and fast.

All of which is to say: I am reluctant to be branded. I have commitment issues anyway; why should this differ? I don’t want to be known as a contemporary, historical, paranormal or mainstream author, who does whatever-all-my-stories-in-those-genres-have-in-common, or whose characters have whatever qualities I can’t appear to avoid.

Yes, there is an argument for letting readers know what to expect: likeable characters, great descriptions, angsty villains, snarky heroines, what have you. But when I analyze my craft too deeply it disappears. Really. I suspect that, like me, my writing doesn’t want to be pigeonholed or even relied on to deliver much of anything. When I start trying to define it, it simply goes away. If I concentrate on branding, I’m not writing anymore. If I’m not writing I’m not a writer; if I don’t write I don’t publish. If I’m not published I’m not an author….I’m the looney chick in the corner, mumbling to myself. Somewhat like this blog.

At bottom, I don’t want to let perceptions box me in. I write what I like because I like it, because it calls to me and lives inside my head, demanding release into the world. That’s it. Not because it fits a brand or a definition or anyone else’s idea of what’s popular or hot or “good”. Don’t get me started on “good”.

But if the world insists on a brand, here goes: I write in multiple genres. Most of my stories will feature some form of romance, although not everyone will consider all of them romantic. They generally challenge authority in some form.

There you go. That’s it. I’m bouncing around, thumbing my nose through smudged, rose colored glasses.

Come to think of it, that’s pretty accurate: ADD, commitment issues and internal conflict, through and through.

And the random question for the day:

Do you believe that forks are evolved from spoons?

Nope. Look at the shape. They clearly evolved from fingers. Spoons evolved from palms.

A Writer's Life, Redux

What a mixed up day. It started out horrible, and wound up bearable. My computer cratered this morning, which anyone who follows my Twitter or Facebook heard more than they wanted to about. It took about 3000 words of a new story I was actually beginning to like down with it into the grave. The techies are pessimistic about recovery. Then my breakfast blew up all over the microwave, after which I put together a mish-mash of old computer components to make a halfassed-useable stop-gap system (pardon the typos courtesy of the ancient keyboard). I finally decided to blow off steam by playing an online game, and was absolutely obliterated in it.

And yes, folks, to top it all I'm still whining and still stressing because 1) I didn't place a story I wanted to--I got some good feedback and will try again elsewhere, but it's discouraging. And 2) supposedly placing a different story two weeks ago still hasn't yielded a signed contract or any info re publication dates or for that matter confirmation of placement from the publisher.

In other words, I'm frustrated.

On the other hand: My daughters are nice people. My son is doing well in school. My friends are kind and encouraging. Once I wailed like a baby, some folks in the online game came through to help me. My husband and I got take out for a nice dinner. My dog loves me, and my cat is purring in my lap as I type.

So I guess, all in all, I'll survive. Don't you wish you could quit the day job for a glamorous, creative life like mine?

Today's Whine

(Note: If you are a writer, publisher, or any person otherwise connected with the publishing industry, you may prefer to skip this post and go directly to…wherever you were originally headed. You’ve already heard this crap a hundred times from a hundred other whiny authors, and probably won’t find it amusing, educational or elevating. On the other hand, if you are one of my fans—I have some? Yes?—or even more astounding, a family member, feel free to keep reading. You like to hear me whine. You know you do.)

Having achieved phase one of every writer’s dream (signing a few for-real contracts) I recently embarked on phase two of said dream: I sally forth to sell my book(s).

Hold up, there. Didn’t I already sell them? To a publisher?

Yes, but…in the internet age of indie press, marketing is the writer’s responsibility. You know how every job description has a core of rigidly intrinsic responsibilities which directly determine whether you’re promoted or fired? And every job also has at least a few much more relaxed, creative—and thus enjoyable—elements?

Guess which is marketing and which is writing, in this scenario?

At least for me. Others may feel differently about it, but I enjoy writing far more than selling, partly because I feel at least competent when writing. There’s nothing like the combination of social marketing and computer tech ignorance to make me wanna hide my head in an old manual typewriter for a while.

So let’s see. Thus far, I have built a web page from scratch, joined twitter, myspace and facebook, started a blog, figured out how to link posts from twitter to myspace and facebook and vice versa, figured out enough about RSS feeds to post linked blog updates at least three different places, listed the blog in a following-type app through facebook, found author’s pages at Amazon and figured out I can post bio, pic and yes, blog updates there, found message boards at Amazon and announced myself on the new author’s thread, joined a Yahoo romance authors publicity self-help learning type group, chased down book reviews at sites my publisher didn’t already solicit, joined a professional organization, made plans to attend their yearly convention and entered their writing contest…

I’m sure there’s more. I’m just tired, looking at the list. And I already know that tomorrow I will start working on a newsletter.

Did I mention that I’m basically an ultra shy technophobe? That I live in mortal fear of interacting with people I don’t know and have serious self confidence issues? No?

Good. I’d hate for anybody to think I’m struggling with this.

Random question for the day:

Your bow is not broken but you've run out of arrows. How can you fake being a bard?

Um...sing?

A writer's life for me

I am trying so hard to be disciplined and mature. You see, at the moment I have three different novel submissions at three different imprints, in three separate stages of the submissions game. The first is one that I just submitted a week ago. The genre is a slight departure for me, and thus the story went to an imprint I haven't dealt with before. I scrupulously tried to follow all their submission guidelines, and received a nice reply, letting me know the submissions package had been received. With no prior experience of this publisher, though, I have no feel for how long their evaluation process really takes. My best bet in the situation is to put the submission out of my mind and go on with life, forgetting about it as much as possible. "We'll know when we know and not before" is the pertinent attitude.

That's do-able. I've done it before when I had to, about all kinds of things.

The second submission was made oh, I guess a couple of weeks ago. Because it went to a company I have a prior relationship with, because it is the second series installment of a currently contracted novel (with this company) I am fairly confident of acceptance, unless I made some stupid mistake I'm not aware of, unless it somehow doesn't fit the company's needs, unless the first installment doesn't sell worth a tinker's damn...but either way, I'll know nothing for 90-120 days. And I won't query until then, either.

It's time to start working on the third installment of the series, giving myself periodic pep talks, the while.

The third submission was made eight months ago. I have queried on it twice, and am reluctant to do so a third time. The editor has been very good about answering my queries, and is very open about the company's acquisitions process. As far as I can tell , my submission must have done well so far, apparently making it most the way through the reviewing/acquiring process. The work hasn't been rejected yet--but it hasn't been accepted, either.

That's nail-biting time.

Notice that nowhere above did I say that "I" have or haven't been accepted, rejected, or published. I hear about writers who confuse their work with their self worth or identity, and about those who refer to their work as their "baby(ies)". I do my damnedest to avoid both. My babies are all grown, thank you very much, and my self worth and identity rest on other things besides one novel, or even the entire body of my work.

Regardless, I am twitching.

Oh, did I mention that I've entered two titles in the EPIC award competition? You know the one. According to the EPIC website (and a quick cast around the web bears it out) the group sponsors "one of the premier contests in the e-book and e-publishing world". Finalists from this years entries will be announced in the first two weeks of November, less than a month away.

When I was a kid, imagining my future as an author--and more recently, before I left the day job--I pictured long, intense but peaceful days at the keyboard (typewriter, for childhood daydreams. I'm dating myself, here). I conjured blissful images of pouring out story after story, with no blocks, distractions or even bodily needs to interrupt. I did not imagine myself frazzled and fretting, unable to concentrate, skittering wildly back and forth between editing, contest submission preparation (local, not EPIC), checking email, twitter and facebook in rotating succession, and scrubbing the bathroom/washing dishes/hoeing the winter garden patch--because I can do those things in tiny bites, with no ability to settle down and focus whatsoever.

I think I forgot to say that I have ADD, and I quit smoking a few months ago.

If we go a month with no further update to this blog, would someone please send paramedics to my house? They're likely to find me in a slobbering, quivering, drooling, mass, slumped over the keyboard, with a pack of cigarettes stuffed in my mouth, fingers chewed down past the first knuckle and my hair on fire for good measure.

Random question for the day:

(Seriously. This is the one that came up. I had nothing to do with the selection, other than clicking a button.)

You've written a hit musical! How will you avoid having fame go to your head?

Are you nuts? I've been waiting thirty years to let fame go to my head. See above.

10 Ways You Know a Story Was Written by Me...

I ran across an interesting concept on another writer’s blog. She’s much better known than I am, so this topic is more pertinent to her than me, but she said to pass it on, and since it grabbed my attention and made me think, I will.

I’m still debating whether everything on the following list is in every story I’ve written. I write romance: contemporary, historical, paranormal and science fiction—and occasional mainstream stuff, too. I think it’s fair to say that much of the following applies to most stories I’ve written. The few examples I can think of that totally defy the pattern are all a) unfinished and/or b) unpublished.

One final disclaimer: if you’re a shrink, professional or amateur, don’t even try to pick apart the neuroses behind these themes. Seriously. I’ve got my own MA in psychology. If I want analysis, I’ll pay for it.

1. Some character, somewhere, will have serious Daddy issues. Dad may be abusive, remote, disapproving, completely absent, an unrealistic saint or a psycho…but for at least one character, he figures highly somehow.

2. Mom is either really okay, or doesn’t figure much at all, for anyone—unless of course she’s the central character. Then she’s a powerful lady who probably has Daddy issues.

3. Children don’t stay with birth families. They are fostered, orphaned, adopted, on their own, stepped into blended families….but seldom with both the birth mom and dad.

4. Generally accepted ethics, beliefs, long standing customs and traditions— particularly god(s), their religions, priests and priestesses—are challenged as to existence, relevance or motives…but not accepted/followed without question.

5. People don’t stay put. They move around. They immigrate. Or emigrate. Or go on long journeys. But they don’t remain quietly in one place.

6. Someone's sexuality has been abused. Sometimes through rape, sometimes in other forms. Sometimes through enforced ignorance, repression and denial of innate human needs/desires, which is an insidious, too-often socially acceptable form of sexual abuse.

7. Heroes want to make everything okay for heroines. Heroines won’t let them. This is grandiose on his part anyway. He’s probably got too many commitment issues to make things really right for anybody. If he doesn’t, she does. Can we pair grandiose delusions and commitment issues in one item?

I think so. It’s my list and they’re my stories.

8. I identify more with male protagonists than female. Does this come through to the reader? I don’t know; I thought I’d throw it in here though.

9. There will be violence. Violence or the threat of it is very likely to be or have been a fact of life for one or more central characters, but in every story someone will die from it or come damn close.

10. Sex will not be the answer and will probably take place before it “should”. (I’ve been accused of throwing people into bed together “too soon”. What’s that about anyway? Is there a universal time line? Aren’t we all just fumbling around, doing the best we can? Oh, sorry. That’s another rant, for another day.)

And the random question for the day, from the profile section of the blog--I really like this feature, can you tell? -- is:

You've been entered in a shadow puppet contest. What's your best pose?

Oooh, I like this one. But--this is a family blog. You do not want to know my best pose. And I don't want to put it out there on the web. Nobody's payin' me for that.

Finally

Yay! And boo...
I have a blog. And I wound up going to one of the pre-made, cut and paste, do it our way or die blog sites after all. So much for all the garbage in earlier entries, transcribed from the page in my web site. I could have deleted them and not transcribed them here, banishing them to computer limbo land, but I decided to keep this honest if, if I'm going to do it. And the truth is, I didn't want to do a blog this way. But I couldn't figure out another way that wasn't more work than I wanted, so here I am.

Also in defiance of info given below, there is now a guestbook on the website. In case you haven't seen it elsewhere, my author's website is romancebyrachelsmith.com. Go there. Leave a note on the guestbook. I command you.

And finally, contradicting the post immediately preceding this one, if you care to check dates, no I didn't post every week as I said I would. But I'm posting now, and having posted now, I consider my current obligation complete. We'll start being interesting next time. Have a good night.

PS. If you want interesting, I've decided to do the answers to random questions from the profile, and post them in the blog periodically. Those look fun. Here's the first one:

For your birthday, your aunt gave you a maple syrup dispenser shaped like a rooster. Please write her a thank-you note:

Dear Auntie: When did you get back from the grave? How did you do it? And what significance does the rooster have in announcing your debut as an undead citizen, of whatever variety you've chosen? Please, please drop me an email. I'm dying of curiosity (whoops, beg pardon). We really must get together soon. Over coffee, perhaps? Do you still drink coffee?

Blogging?

Why is blogging so difficult for me? I'm a writer! I write novels! Why then, do I struggle to periodically post a few words online?I don't know. Maybe because a blog isn't a novel. I always said I couldn't write short stories, and my blogging block appears to bear it out. Part of the problem is that I really figure no one's reading. I mean, what am I blogging about? My life? How utterly boring to anyone but me. You'd think the presumed lack of public interest would be freeing. Similar to a journal that no one will read, so you can write anything you please in it. With my luck though, if I approached blogging in that light, someone would not only read my entries, but find them horribly offensive. I"ve looked at other writer's blogs. Most seem to have no difficulty generating blog topics from week to week or month to month. They pose questions for their readers to consider (and answer) and host contests with a wide range of prizes. I bow down before their efforts, and still walk away uninspired, if not outright intimidated. But autumn is the season of renewal, for me. My birthday happens soon, and I always use it the way some folks do the New Year, to evaluate and commit (or recommit) to changes I'd like to make and goals I'd like to achieve. In that spirit, I hereby formally pledge to blog about something a minimum of once a week, at least until the end of this year. At that point, I'll re-evalute again. So if anybody's out there, stay tuned.

Web site frustrations

I give up chasing the elusive guestbook. I really wanted to have one; I really don't want to wreck my health and alienate everyone I care about, while locked into an obessive love/hate relationship with my computer for day after 18-20 hour day. I have tried every possible means of building one in Expression Web, including copying code line by line from the official Microsoft tutorials for things like building forms in the software. And guess what? The tutorial directions were just as full of coding errors as my freelancing drag and drop.Some day, some brave techie will push beyond that horizon and publish the results online. When s/he does, I'll copy them. Until then, I'm damned if I'll pay Mr. Bill Gates a single penny for an email tech support session. I mean, let's face it: A) His techies already told me how to do it wrong in the tutorials and B) Mr. Gates already got enough of my money for the stupid software. So I've taken down the broken guestbook, and eliminated the links from the website. But I'm still a writer, still a wordsmith, still a storyteller. Without some sort of audience to my work, I'm just the crazy chick mumbling to herself in the corner. So please, if you were here, if you liked the look of the site or a book--or if you hated either one, or anything in between--please take the time to drop me an email comment. I really do enjoy feedback, whether or not I always agree with it. Until next time. I'm off to breath some fresh air for a while, after which I might get some sleep, for the first time in a week.

A web site is born!

Well, I finally finished the web site. Sort of. It's definitely been a wild ride so far. I could have gone with one of the free hosting sites that has lots of templates to work with, and didn't for several reasons. If you're really interested in knowing the reasons, email me, and I'll delve into that later, here. DON'T try leaving comments in the guest book yet. It isn't functional, and I'll fix it as soon as possible. But so far as building the site goes, there is nothing so humbling as learning something new. It's great for letting you know how much you don't know. And just as an FYI, don't let anybody tell you that Microsoft Expression Web 2 is a "pick it up and use it" program. Might be for some folks. Wasn't for me. Another part of the experience was digging around online after I'd mostly built the site and finding lots of objections to some facets I incorporated in it. (No, I never read the directions first. Who does?) At the risk of offending someone, somewhere, I have to say that the site remains as designed unless I find some compelling reason to change it. The objections were mainly to things like cluttered pages and bold colors, bright contrast, etc. Again, there are several issues here, and if you really want them, let me know, but regarding color and contrast, one big factor is I don't see so good. The bold colors and vivid contrasts are necessary for me to get the work done on the page. So I apologize if they give you a headache, but otherwise they weren't going to get done at all. This particular page might or might not turn out to be some sort of blog. It will probably evolve as we go along. If and/or when I find a better format, I'll use it, and I'll try to stick something in here about once a month or so. If there's some particular subject you'd like me to address, again, email me. So anyway, voila! Here's the site, in the early stages of evolution. The books are beginning to appear on it, and those pages seem to work fine. There will be more books in the future, if I can persuade some publisher(s) to it. Hope you enjoy the site; hope you read and enjoy the books. Have a wonderful day.