97 posts tagged “novel”
Can anyone think of a website that mentions interesting blogs? I need a throwaway reference in a piece of dialogue in the edits I'm doing to my novel. I had put in boingboing, but that highlights any odd thing found on the net, it's not about "here's a cool blog, check it out." Is there such a site?
Now that TK is safely on the road to recovery, we can turn our minds to more frivolous things again.
Today was a dedicated writing day (once I got home from my morning yoga class), and was diligent at it, because I'm going to get edits on the novel that's being published soon, so until those come, I figured I should blitz away on the current novel I'm working on. I spent a good deal of time up on the penthouse level patio, only coming back down when I needed to recharge my battery, and took a break for about an hour to go see a photo exhibit nearby that one of my yoga classmates had photos in. (After all, if I want people to come to a book launch for me, I should show support for their talents, too, and the photos were really quite excellent.)
And it was a reasonably good writing day in that there were no lengthy stretches where I couldn't think of what to write, and I even came up with some funnish sentences. Since I didn't remember to post an FSotD last weekend after writing (though I did pick one out from that session), I'm posting it now, too:
Naomi pinned him with the kind of look that, had David had been a bug (and her expression pretty much suggested he was), it would have speared him in flight, dunked him in formaldehyde, and impaled him to a board under glass before he could stop flapping.
She spoke with more forced airiness than her heating system at home.
“That’s right, just a regular work day around here,” Naomi said in a peanut brittle voice—too sweet, rather nutty and ready to crack
I don't think that middle sentence is quite right yet. It's about a word off. Suggestions?
It's nearly 9 p.m. here and I've only come down from the patio again to make a quick dinner. I feel like I've earned a break (I have Superbad taped and two library books I'm very close to finishing), but I'm also thinking, "Well, this has been going pretty well all day, why stop now?" I hate these decision points.
That Jane—cagier than a boarding kennel.
So I did a little more writing this afternoon and came up with this FSotD:
Walton’s crisis of confidence was pants-crappingly total.
Here's the little mystery patio on the penthouse level of my building. And part of the view from it (10 floors up).
I thought it would be bigger. I took this standing against one wall. That's my knapsack on the table, and my teeny laptop on the chair in the shade.
Here's the view straight south. That's Lake Ontario in the background, and the white domes in the middle distance are the tennis club where I go for Saturday yoga.
After writing, I went down to feed the boxcar cats, so that I don't have to go before work tomorrow morning. It's been a lovely day here and as I approached, I could see four of the cats out sunning themselves on the stairs of one of the boxcars, so I stopped and got a photo.
It was only after I downloaded the photos at home that I realized you can actually see FIVE cats in the photos. (I hadn't noticed the Blanca underneath in the shade when I was taking it.)
Now, having had dinner (and made more red velvet cupcakes -- normal style, not roses -- while it was cooking), I'm loafing for the rest of the evening.
I'm more productive on the writing front today. I buckled down at 10 a.m., and ignored Vox and the internet until I deserved a reward for accomplishing something. So, only looked in a few times in the morning.
I write my novels out of sequence, and though I have 3/4 of it written, some chunks of it haven't been placed in their rightful spots in the manuscript yet. So this is what I started with today -- and have so far got a lot of floating scenes placed. Here's one of the funnest sentences I found in the scenes I was pasting in:
The hamsters on the wheel in Naomi's brain lost their footing again with an audible squeak that came out of Naomi's mouth.
After a couple of hours of that it was time to take Tumbleweed to the vet. It's a nice day, so I walked him up (35-minute walk). Now I'm back, and about to go see the penthouse-level patio in my building, with laptop under my arm, in case there's a good place to sit. I had no idea there was such a patio here, and I've lived here for four years. There was a notice about it now being open, so maybe it's the first time they've made a patio space available.
And once I'm up there, I shall get to work on a new scene, now that I've got some momentum going.
Update for the Friends of Tumbleweed, I'm glad to report the vet says his mouth looks "fantastic" and his weight is up.
I've been getting some writing done here at my friends' cottage this weekend (though not huge amounts -- I'm picking my way through the climactic last act and knitting existing bits together), and have a few FSotDs for you. In no particular order:
Shooting from the hip in, let’s face it, unfamiliar Arab robes put on just to look scary to a narrow-minded white guy, fucked big-time with all those rapid reflexes Zane had honed in training.
It could have been performance art, so stunned and uncomprehending was the silence that followed, above and below.
Somehow, having the only weapon he’d been worried about in his possession still didn’t dial Zane down off of Threat Level Apeshit.
The internet connection isn't great here, so I'll wait till I get home tomorrow to upload a great oriole photo and video of me feeding a chipmunk out of my fingers.
It's a long weekend here in Canada, and I took this afternoon off to add to it. I'm catching the train to Belleville later this afternoon t go and join my friends D & R at their cottage for the long weekend. Real downtime!
This is the view from their back deck, where I sit and watch bunnies and birdies and chipmunks and rest my urban eyes on refreshing fractal images instead of rectilinear ones for a few days.
It may look grayer and damper than this, since it's not predicted to be a sunny weekend, but it's still time away, with D feeding me fine stuff (she's chef-trained) and both of them thinking I'm a great guest because I don't expect them to entertain me.
Speaking of decks, my kid sister provided me with these at the Mother's Day get-together.
Yes, the next seven books in the seafaring Aubrey/Maturin series, of which I've already plowed through one and a half since Sunday. I'm tempted to bring several and do nothing but read all weekend, but I'm also mindful of the great expanse of writing time the cottage offers, so I'll be working on the new novel, too. And rewarding myself with virtual turns upon the quarterdeck with Jack and Stephen.
We have all the conveniences up there except internet, so I won't see you peeps on Vox till sometime Monday. Take care!
This is rom the edits I was making today on the novel that's coming out in the fall, not the usual one I've been working on. But I figure, hey, I spent time writing, I still get to post an FSotD:
“It’s kind of an urban legend thing. You can’t Mapquest an urban legend.”
That is all. I'm off to see Iron Man.
Further to my post Friday night about book news, I realized that if my book is now in the publisher's catalogue, it must have an ISBN number now. Sure enough, it's right there, only I was so caught up in the other info that I missed it first time around.
So my official number ISBN 978-1-894917-66-7. It doesn't bring up anything yet, if you google it or plunk it into an ISBN search function on a book site on the web, because they haven't pre-sold it yet (my understanding is the sales reps just recently got the info on it, and apparently are quite keen on the book).
I started saying last year that the only tattoo I would be likely to get, if I was so inclined, would be my ISBN number of this, and possibly future books. It's a number that will always truly be associated with me.. Like how parents tattoo their children's names onto themselves, or Angelina Jolie tattoos the latitude and longitudes of the places her kids were born onto her arm.
Which reminds me -- another book I'm sure I'll never have enough time to write is sort of an Illustrated Man kind of collection of short stories about the stories behind some really out there tattoos that people all get from this one tattoo artist.
Gotta go start my Sunday chores. There's cats to be trapped.
1. I got an antibiotic prescription today for the Alien in My Chest That Will Not Die.
2. It's Friday.
3. I am re-booked to go to my friends' cottage on the LONG weekend later this month.
4. I finally know a little more about when my novel is due out. Instead of just "fall 2008" (their last "fall" book in this imprint came out on November 29), I've been told my release date has been narrowed down to somewhere in late August or mid-September. And I've seen my book in the publisher's catalogue that got sent to me this week. This is getting just a bit realer now.
