Research; or, The Devil Is In The Details

Posted on December 8, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Ah, research.

One of my favorite things about writing a historically-based story is the fact that so much of the world-building is already done for me.  After all, if for some reason, I need to know what a pocket watch from 1873 might look like, thanks to the Internet, the answer is just a few clicks away.  Go to Google, type in “Pocket watch 1873”, click “Search” and then “Images”, and voila!  A pocket watch from 1873:

1873 Pocket Watch - face view with open crystal

Not only that, but there is, in fact, a gallery of pictures of pocket watches, showing them from various angles.  So you can see how the back opens for the key (for winding), and all sorts of other details you never imagined.

(People under the age of 25 will never understand just how cool that is.  But that’s a post for another day.)

But if you’re a research geek (and I am), you can use the Internet to figure out all sorts of cool stuff.  For instance, in my current WIP, Book 3 of the Winterbourne series, I needed to be able to describe the MIT campus in 1875.  I knew, from info I’d found on the web, that the “Boston Tech” campus consisted of just one building at that time.

I had maps showing where the building was:

Early MIT map

It’s the middle building; the one on the left was not built until 1883.  The one on the right, the Natural History Society’s building, did exist in 1875.  It’s described as being similar in design as the main building, though smaller.

I even had a picture of what the building looked like:

Rogers Building circa 1883

The photograph dates from 1889; the “new” building was later named the Walker building,  In 1875, the Rogers building had not yet been named.

So I had most of my info.  Except for two things:

First, a poke around the MIT website yielded a timeline of the school’s history.  And that says that in 1875, they built a gymnasium:

MIT Gymnasium

And, for my purposes, even more squee-inducingly, in 1876, they built a Women’s Chemistry Laboratory. DUDE!  How cool is that?  I’ll probably babble more about that later, but here’s what it looks like:

Women's Lab

Note that both pictures show the same distinctive tower in the background.  The building to the left of the Women’s Chemistry Lab appears to be the gymnasium from the previous photo.  Cool!  Except…

The map I had (above) makes no mention of either building.  Erh?

More poking of the internets got me this map, from 1905:

MIT Map 1905

The (by then named) Walker and Rogers buildings are plainly visible in the upper right corner.  But the gymnasium was shown as being blocks away, on Garrison Street; it’s possible that the chemistry lab was expanded and repurposed to be the mechanical laboratories building.  Hmm.  But a re-reading of the descriptions of the gymnasium and chem lab shows that they were torn down in 1882 and 1883.  So they couldn’t be the buildings shown on this 1905 map.  Then where could they have been?

I set that mystery aside for the moment and turned my attention to other matters.  I knew from my reading that the Rogers building was torn down in the 1930s (along with the Walker building).  But the Natural History Society building was still supposed to be standing; and since one source described it as being similar to the Rogers building (a.k.a. “Boston Tech” in 1875), I decided to go have a look at it so I’d have that reference for what the Rogers building looked like.

Okay….
Natural History Society Building

Okay, comparing that to the picture of the Rogers building above, I can see the described similarities.  And from that, I think I can extrapolate what the Rogers building must have looked like in 1875.  Cool.  The (really ugly) grey building behind the Natural History Society building is where the Rogers and Walker buildings once stood.

And then I spotted it.  Off to the right of the screen, sticking its head above the buildings on the adjacent street…is the top of the same tower that appears in the pictures of both the gymnasium and the chemistry laboratory building!  That’s when it hits me:  I can probably use Google Street View to triangulate on that and figure out where the two buildings must have been!

So using Street View, I “stroll” down Newbury Street to Clarendon Street, until I’m “standing” with my back to where the Walker building would have been…and here’s what I see:

Clarendon Street

And when I compare the details of the roofline of the building to the left, as well as the views of the tower that I get when I move back and forth across the street, I discover that the gymnasium *must* have been where the Walker building later stood.

Then it hits me:  The gymnasium was torn down in 1882, and the chem lab in 1883.  The Walker building was built in 1883.  So although none of the information I could find ever actually says so, the two older buildings *must* have been torn down to make way for the Walker/New building.  Mystery solved, and I’m all squee over finding all of the pieces and putting them together!

What cool bits of research have other folks done for your stories?  Ever had to play detective to find the information you needed?

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The Recipe For Success; or, The Cookbook Project

Posted on December 7, 2011 by sheilamcclune

So I had written this great entry, about how I had turned my mom’s process for making stuffing into an actual, written-down, reproducible recipe.

And then WordPress ate it.

So at some point, when it’s not already the wee small hours of the morning, I’ll try to re-create that.

Instead, I’m going to talk a bit about recipes in general, and getting them organized.

Now, in the beginning, we had recipe cards (okay, if you define “beginning” as “in my lifetime”).  Recipe cards were Good and Useful things; you could organize and file them neatly away, and most recipes would fit on a single 3″ x 5″ card.  But they weren’t without problems.  For one thing, they’re easy to misfile.  I was never totally clear on whether the recipe should go behind or in front of a tab, for instance.  And even once you get that straightened out, temporary dyslexia can result in the Apple Strudel recipe getting filed under “S” for “strudel” rather than “A” for “apple”.

Not to mention that if you don’t have great handwriting (and I don’t), you can end up with a bunch of illegible recipes that no one can cook, because no one can figure out just what that mystery ingredient is supposed to be.

You can type on recipe cards, of course.  But when all you have is a manual typewriter with no correction function (as I did when I was about eighteen), that can prove to be more painful than hand-writing them.

Then along came computers.  And with them, more opportunities to misplace recipes.  (I don’t know how many times I’ve had to look up the Broccoli and Velveeta Cheese recipe now.  But I keep losing it.)

Thanks to computers, I’ve gone through an evolution from having recipes stored in a flat text file to having them neatly organized in Master Cook.  Because one of my goals, you see, is to end up with a cookbook when all is said and done.  One containing all of my family’s favorite recipes, plus some I’ve gathered along the way, plus some I’ve made up.

One of the problems I’m running into is deciding which recipes I ought to include and which I should leave out.  I’ve got recipes I’ve had since I was a teenager, because they sounded good, but which I’ve never actually made.  (I mean, c’mon, everyone needs a recipe for fortune cookies, right?)  I’ve got some that my mom gave me that I’ve likewise never made; these are mostly desserts, and I’m just not much of a dessert person.

And there are some that are for foods that I make often and dearly love, but which I’m not sure belong in a collection of family recipes.  Things like recipes I’ve learned or created in the SCA–reconstructions of ancient Roman, Medieval, and Renaissance-era dishes.  Some are quite tasty, even though they might sound strange (Tarts in Ember Day, anyone?).  Some, of these, like Digby Cakes, have become a staple for the holidays.  But should I put them in my “all-purpose” cookbook, or would they be better off in a separate cookbook of their own?

Hmmm…or maybe I do the cookbook in two parts, and have one be modern and one historical?  That has possibilities, too.

The other alternative, of course, would be to eschew paper altogether, and just look for some means of storing my recipes on-line, in the “cloud”.  But part of me likes having the printed copy at hand, so I can annotate it as needed.  And with the availability of print-on-demand, I can even get decent-looking printed copies for not all that steep a price.

I’ll keep you all posted as the project progresses.

In the meantime…are there other cooks out there who have attempted a recipe book project?  How did it work out for you?  What editorial standards did you use?  What tools did you find useful?

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Dragon Friday #9

Posted on December 3, 2011 by sheilamcclune

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 9

The dragon’s words slammed into me like a freight train, leaving me gasping for air.  “Not…true…here?” I said, feebly.  “But…then…where is ‘here’?  Aren’t we under Denver International Airport?

The dragon’s great maw opened wide.  Its laughter shook its entire body, and me with it, until I was certain the vibrations would bring rocks down from the unseen ceiling overhead.  When it finally stopped, wheezing for breath and blowing brimstone-scented air over me, it said, “Are there dragons in your world, little hoo-mun?”

“Well, generally, no,” I had to admit.  Though I’d had a boss once….

“And has there ever been a cavern underneath your–what did you call it?–your airport before?”

“No, I don’t think so.”  I didn’t get to DIA a lot, but I think I’d have heard of a cavern like this.  Especially since the train track apparently led right into it.

“That is because you are no longer in your world.  You are in mine.”  It swung around so that we were facing back toward the train.  “Do you see that greenly glow?”

“Yes.”  And it looked awfully far away.  Especially with the dragon’s words echoing in my head:  No longer in your world…no longer in your world….  I whimpered.  “So what is that thing, anyway?”

“That’s a Fae Gate.  You must have come through it to get here.  Though I must admit, I thought all the Gates to your world were closed.  At least, they’ve been closed for the last thousand years.  But I know there used to be a Fae Gate here, once upon a time, and so I check on it from time to time, you see.”

“From time to time?  How often is that?”

“When I think of it.  Perhaps every three or four years.”

“Of course.”  Just my luck, to pop through that gate-thingy on the very day the dragon came a-calling.  “Look, can we at least–”

“Hello-o-o?” a voice called from the darkness below.  “Hey, lady, are you still out there?”

For a moment, I couldn’t imagine who it could be.  Then my bruised pubic bone reminded me: the guy from the train.

I was saved!  “Help!” I screamed.  “I’m being kidnapped by a dragon!  Help!”

There was a long, long pause.  One in which I could hear water dripping somewhere nearby, drops plashing into a pool far below.

“You’re…what?”

Before I could answer, the dragon interrupted.  “You didn’t tell me there was another hoo-mun down there!”  We started to move back toward the train.  Quickly.

“Get back in the train, you idiot!” I yelled.  “Now!”

“What?”

But I couldn’t answer him, because the dragon’s claws tightened around me, squeezing every last bit of breath out of my body.  I struggled, but in vain.  I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even cry.  And Lord knows I wanted to do all of the above.

The next thing I knew, I was plunging toward the ground, still pinned in the dragon’s claw, still fighting for even a sip of air.  The green glow grew brighter.  But my vision had gone all blurry.  I tried to focus, but couldn’t.  All I could think about was my body’s screaming need for air, Real Soon Now.

The claws around me loosened abruptly, so much so that I nearly slid out of the cage-like paw.  I dragged breath into my lungs as I struggled to hang on to the nearest claw.  I had to pull in three more ragged breaths before it registered in my brain that someone was screaming, and two more after that before I figured out that this time, it wasn’t me.

“What’s wrong with it?”  There was an edge of panic in the dragon’s voice.  “Why won’t it stop screaming?  You stopped screaming.  Why won’t it stop?  Make it stop, little hoo-mun!

Squinting into the darkness, I could see that the dragon was holding the man from the train in its other claw.  His arm was bent at an awkward angle; his screams made my throat ache in sympathy.

“Put him down, Dragon.  But gently.  He’s broken.”

“Broken?”

“He broke his arm when we crashed through that gate-thingy.  Put him down.  Please.”  The man’s screams had reached new heights of agony, and I could only imagine the kind of pain he was in.

“He will stop screaming if I do?”

“Yes.  Just please, put him down.”

The ground loomed closer once again, and the dragon laid the man gently down in a flat spot within the radius of the Gate’s green glow.  The man rolled onto his side, curling around his broken arm.  His breath came in weak sobs.  “Oh, God.  Oh, God.”

“Are you all right?”

“What is that thing?”  The man uncurled long enough to look up to where I still hung from the dragon’s claw, about ten feet above the rocky floor of the cave.

“I told you, it’s a dragon.  But are you all right?”

“I…don’t think….”  And he projectile vomited across the cave floor.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then,” I said.

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NaNoWriMo 2011 Wrap-up

Posted on December 1, 2011 by sheilamcclune

So the madness known as NaNoWriMo is over for another year.  I’m kind of sad to see it end, just when I was getting into the swing of things:  spending half an hour writing every day before work, blogging about my daily progress on LiveJournal, going to a weekly write-in (and meeting some cool peeps), building my NaNoWriMo circle on G+ (and meeting more cool peeps).  I’m going to miss all of that.  Well, maybe not all.  I might still get up early some days to write before work.  But it won’t be the same.

I do have to send a special shout-out to one of my friends, though, a lady who goes by the handle “denied” on the NaNo boards.  She was ~12,000 words away from finishing as of yesterday morning–and by the end of the day, she had crossed the 50,000 word mark!  I’m so proud of her and happy for her that I could just about bust.  Way to go, lady!  Never give up!

I did accomplish a couple of personal goals with this year’s NaNoWriMo.  One was to post a daily status update to my LiveJournal, and the other was to continue posting here at least twice a week.  I even managed to keep up my Dragon Friday postings, though a couple of them ended up being Dragon Sunday postings instead.  Going forward, I think I’m going to continue to post writing-related entries here on Thursdays and Dragon Friday entries on Friday, but I may add a regular Tuesday entry, having to do with some other aspect of creativity, as well.  I’ve been neglecting my other creative outlets this month, so I may compensate by having a burst of jewelry or Christmas Ornament making in the next week or so.

Some stats for this year (since I’m a data person in Real Life):

Total words written:  (53,513 according to MS Word)
Average Words Per Day:  1,784
Best Day:  3,514 (11/13/2011)
Worst Day:  351 (11/12/2011)
Biggest “Lead” (amount beyond average 1,667 words per day needed to win):  +5,261
Smallest “Lead”:  -1,760

(Interesting that my worst and best days were adjacent to one another!)

So not my most inspiring November ever, but not as bad as it could have been.  Given that my mom had major surgery early in the month, and then we had to take five days out at the end of the month for a road trip to visit the other set of parents, it’s really not bad at all.

However…I’m massively unhappy with what I’ve written so far.  Yes, there are words.  There are even some good words.  There are some good characters, and even a few decent plot points.

But there’s an awful lot that I felt I was writing just to make the daily word count.  There are conversations, even entire scenes that aren’t necessary to the plot.  This is beyond just rambly (because rambly is normal for me, and I could handle that).  This is bad enough that I can’t even tell where I need the story to go next.  My main character seems to have spent the entire book so far wallowing in self-pity; her love interest has been spending his days brooding darkly.  It’s bad enough that I haven’t even wanted to go back and read the whole thing from the beginning.  Which tells me that it has to be bad, since I’m usually itching to do that once I get past about 35,000 words–and it’s usually the first thing I do on December 1.  Nor am I eager to get on with the next bits of the story, so eager that I’d gladly give up sleep and food to get there (which is where I usually am at the end of November).  So that tells me that this story is broken, and badly so.

Part of the problem is that the story so far lacks focus.  I’ve had strong themes and character arcs that have run through the last two volumes of this story, ones which have made it easier to find the bits that need to be included and skip the bits that need to be skipped.  I haven’t really found those yet for this story; or rather, I think I’m finally starting to see the them, but they’re buried under too many useless words.

So I think I’m going to do something drastic and unprecedented:

I’m going to stop writing on the story for the time being, and start whittling away at the bits that don’t need to be there.

Because until I do that, I don’t think I can have any clear idea as to where the story is headed (other than the inevitable climactic scene that has been living in my head for two years now).

I want to make it clear, I’m not giving up on this story.  I just need to dig it out of the underbrush and get it back on its tracks.  I think I see what I need to do.  Now, to make it happen….  Wish me luck!

Anyone else ever finish a writing challenge and really hate what they had written?  How did you tackle the problem?

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NaNoWriMo: Crossing The Finish Line

Posted on November 29, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Well, I’ve done it.  I’ve collected 30 NaNos (1 NaNo=1,667 words) to make one NaNoWriMo (50,000 words).  In fact, it’s a little more than that, and I’ll probably add more to the final word count tonight and tomorrow.  But for all intents and purposes, I have crossed the finish line.  (I’ll post the final stats tomorrow around midnight.)

I had really hoped to finish up while we were on our recent road trip to Scottsdale, but events conspired against me.  (Though I did get darned close!)  So I really finished up at lunchtime yesterday.

Which is not to say that the story is anywhere near being finished.  (So what else is new?)  Though I did have a flash of inspiration that let me condense a good half-dozen (not-yet-written) scenes out of the story yesterday.  So I am perhaps a quarter of the way through the story.

I know that a lot of what I’ve written so far this year desperately needs editing, more so than in other years, I think.  Not sure why, except that I’m having a harder time than usual seeing the plot and themes in this one.  I know the basics; but looking back on the first two volumes, they seem a lot “denser” to me, somehow.  It’s probably just because both have had at least a little editing, so they seem more polished to me.

And, of course, my style during NaNoWriMo does tend to ramble on a bit.  This week, I am also editing the first chapters of Book 2, so I can submit them to my critique group, and it rambled, too.  I’ve already cut out a good thousand words of excess wordiness, and that was from chapters that originally came out reasonably tight and polished.  I can’t wait until I get to the next bit, which includes the infamous 5,000-word description of an airship!

So my plan is to submit this year’s manuscript for verification sometime tonight, just to make sure I get it done.  I’d hate to wait until tomorrow and have the website crash or something like that.  And then I can collect my winner’s badge and certificate, to add to my collection.

Any other NaNo’ers out there?  How’d it go?

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Dragon Friday #8

Posted on November 25, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Woo-hoo!  Look, it’s Friday (yes, barely) and I have a Dragon Friday ready to go.  So without further ado, I bring you:

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 8

Relief flooded over me.  I hung limply in the dragon’s paw, remembering its yard-long teeth.  “Thank you,” I said.  “I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have enjoyed being eaten.”

The huff of air I felt might have been a snort of disdain.  Or it might have been a chuckle.

But before I could ask what the dragon meant to do with me now that eating was off the table, so to speak, I felt myself moving through the air again.  Casting a frantic glance downward, I saw the greenish glow of the train wreckage receding into the distance behind us.  “Wait!  Stop!  Where are we going?”

“Why, back to the warren, of course.  I can’t wait to show you off to all my friends.  They’ll all want hoo-muns of their own, especially after they get a whiff of you.”  I heard/felt the low rumble of its laughter once again.  “They’ll be green with envy.”

Friends?  Oh, no.  That probably meant…. “B-by friends, do you mean other dragons?”

“Of course, little hoo-mun.  Who else would live in a dragon warren?  Although, when I think about it, I suppose you will, too, now.”

I finally began to struggle against the claws that caged me in.  “Oh, hell to the no!  Put me down, right now.  I mean it!”

The dragon paused.  “Put you down?  But if I do that, you’ll attempt to run away.  Won’t you?”

“Ummm.”  Well, yeah, I thought.  Probably about as fast as my feet will carry me.  “Look, it’s nothing personal, but I did have plans for the weekend.  Big plans.  I’m supposed to be flying to Boston to hook up with my boyfriend from the internet….”

The claws around me tightened momentarily, and the glowing ruby eyes floated in front of me once again.  “Hoo-muns can fly?  But how?  You have no wings.  Not that I could see, anyway.”  It held me between thumb and foreclaw, my feet dangling freely in the air as it examined me from all sides.

I gulped and clutched at the claw, discovering in the process that they really were only sharp on the pointed end.  “W-we have machines.  They’re called airplanes.  We sit inside them and they fly.”

“Flying machines, hmm?  There used to be a Gommish wizard down by Southhallows who had one of those.  Beautiful thing, it was, with its gasbag and gondola.  Too bad, what happened to him.  Truly.”

I wondered what a Gommish wizard might be, but was afraid to ask.  “Why?  What happened to him?”

I lurched abruptly up and down by about six feet, and realized that the dragon had shrugged.  “No one knows.  He got into his flying machine one day…was that four years ago, or was it five?  I can’t remember.  It was after Quonundray had hatched her clutch, so it was at least six years ago, but Ryturnia and Treodbur hadn’t mated off yet, so more than three years ago.  And it was in the summertime, I remember that, because it was hot.”  The dragon shook itself—and me.  “I suppose it’s not terribly important, is it?  Anyhoodle, he flew off to the east, over the sea, and simply never came back.”

Claws slid firmly back around me as the glow of the wrecked train faded even further behind us.  I began to shiver.  “No, stop, please, I told you.  I don’t want to go with you.  Take me back and put me down, now!”  I tried to make my voice as firm and matter-of-fact as I could—which of course meant that it squeaked on every other word.

“But I don’t want to put you down.  I want to take you home with me and keep you and show you off to all of my friends.  I’ve always wanted a pet hoo-mun.”

Alarm bells clanged in my head.  “Pet?  Oh, no no no!  I can’t be your pet.”

“Why?  Are you already someone else’s pet?”  A low rumble echoed in the chamber around me, and I realized that the dragon was growling.  “Tell me who it is, and I will fight them in a duel to the death to claim you.”

For a moment, I toyed with the thought of telling the dragon that I still belonged to my mother; I’d have paid good money for a ticket to that duel.  Reluctantly, I said, “We hoo—er, humans aren’t pets.  No one owns us.  We’re free people.  We belong to ourselves.”

My cage floated toward the dragon’s eyes, now smoldering more brightly than ever, but shading to yellow instead of red.  “That may be true in your world, hoo-mun.  But it is not true here.”

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NaNoWriMo Update, Week 4

Posted on November 25, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Ahh, gliding into the home stretch.  I’m at over 45,000 words now, so while I haven’t exactly blown anyone’s doors off with my writing speed this month, I’m still moving forward at a reasonable pace, and, barring any disasters, should finish easily by the end of the month.  In fact, I might even finish before we get home from our Thanksgiving road trip to Arizona.

Of course, when I say “finish”, I am, of course, referring to the NaNoWriMo 50,000 word count goal, and not the novel in its entirety.  That, I’m afraid, is going to be another 100K or so down the road.  (What else is new?)

I’m not as happy with this year’s effort as I have been with previous years’.  That may be because I’m having more trouble than usual getting Inner Editor to shut up and stay out of the way.  But in the last couple of days, I have managed to write most of a pair of intertwined scenes, ones that are occurring simultaneously in different locations.  There are moments that are sweet and funny and a little tense; hopefully, they will make readers happy down the line.

But I do feel as though the story is finally hitting its stride.  I’m (mostly) not having too much trouble deciding whose POV each scene should be in (though I did have to re-cast one scene today where I discovered that we needed to be seeing it through Nicolas’ eyes, rather than Celia’s).

This week’s write-in was good, too.  I didn’t increase my word count by as much as I did last week, but I think I socialized more.  And I still made it to 2,000 words that day, anyway.

So that’s pretty much the state of my NaNo.  Anyone else NaNo-ing and wanting to share their experiences?

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Naming Issues; or Why Did You Call Me That?

Posted on November 23, 2011 by sheilamcclune

As usual, as I plow through NaNoWriMo, character names are proving to be somewhat problematic.

For the most part, the new characters I’ve added so far have allowed themselves to be named without too much of a fuss.  One entire family, in fact, pretty much popped into my head and told me what their names were going to be.  The only outlier in that group is younger brother Lucas, whose cousin–definitely a Lucinda–may be too much of a “name twin” for him.  I may end up changing him to something else.  We’ll see.

I was reasonably happy with the name of Celia’s landlady, Hortense Herbert, who was widowed when her husband was eaten by a tiger during a visit to India.  Or at least, I was until I had her in a scene with diplomat Kel Herzhik, and it struck me that Herbert and Herzhik are too close together.  And because “Tarmanian” names are a bit of a pain to come up with, I didn’t want to change Kel’s surname (annoying as it is to type–darn those Tarmanian names, anyway!).  So I renamed the landlady to be Hortense Graham instead.  I think it still works.

My bigger problem stems from an issue involving two characters introduced in Book 1 of this series.  One appears near the beginning of the book:  “Mrs.” Lydia Chattisworth, the Matron of Women Students at the Royal Academy.  I thought it fit her well.

And the second is Nicholas’ little sister, Lillian Fletcher, who gets introduced about halfway through the book, and who was only ever supposed to have a minor role in that story, and then go off into hiding with her parents.  The name exactly fits my mental image of her, and I can’t imagine changing it at this point.

The problem is, on the way back from Tarmania, Celia and Lillian bonded, and Lillian decided to stay around.  Since she needed a guardian, and since Celia’s father, Dr. Winterbourne, had decided to stay on at the Academy campus, it made sense for him to be it.  Meanwhile, Dr. Winterbourne looked around and realized that the woman he really wanted was right there in front of him.  So Lydia became Celia’s step-mama.

Which means that Lillian and Lydia end up appearing in a lot of scenes together.  And when even I, the author, have a hard time keeping those two “L” names straight in my head, it means that one of them needs to change.

So it may be time for another “name the character” derby.

I have had two names suggested so far:  Flora and Suzanna.  But I’m not sure if they’re quite right.  The name needs to be a little stuffy-sounding, to reinforce Celia’s preconceptions about what a “matron of women students” ought to be like.  But it should also be sweet and romantic enough that you could imagine her husband whispering it as a sweet nothing in her ear.

I’ve been considering the following:

  • Abigail
  • Claire (not sure if the alliteration of “Claire Chattisworth” works, though)
  • Dorothy (is that too close to “Eudora”?)
  • Edwina (again, too much like “Eudora?)
  • Gladys (which I like on its own, but…”Gladys Chattisworth”?!?)
  • Louisa (again, possibly not enough differentiation from Lillian)
  • Margaret (but never Maggie!)
  • Matilda  (I do have a minor character named Tildy already, but she could be renamed.)
  • Rebecca
  • Winnifred (might be TOO stuffy)

Does anyone have any thoughts?  Opinions?  Suggestions?

In other words:  Help!

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And Now The Ball Is Rolling; or, More NaNoWriMo Progress

Posted on November 22, 2011 by sheilamcclune

I just realized, going back and looking at my NaNoWriMo update from last week, that I really didn’t provide much of an update at all.  So I should probably remedy that!

As of this morning, I was a few hundred (well, fewer than a thousand, anyway) words shy of the 40,000 word mark.  Hopefully, following my write-in tonight (which I’m running off to right now), I’ll be across that line and into the final 10K.  Which is not a bad place to be with just over a week left in the month (eeek!)

And how’s the story doing? Welllll…it’s rambling along like these stories do, trying to find its true voice and path and meaning.  A couple of characters have surprised me–I did not expect Jamie Dixon to be invited to move in with Nicholas Fletcher and Kel Herzhik (a diplomat sent from Tarmania to “provide Nicholas with access to Embassy services, if needed”–in other words, to spy on him), but it happened, and since it makes some of the story exposition easier in some ways, I decided to let it.  Some things I had planned out for later in the story are happening much sooner than I anticipated, but I think that’s okay, since the story is off to a bit of a slow start.  And I’ve already determined that I’m going to pretty much delete the first chapter and move the beginning of the story to the point where Celia’s airship lands in Cambridge–probably before I even let my alpha readers read it.  Which is too bad, given the fact that I tweaked the opening sentence about a hundred times, but it is what it is.

As for story arcs, I’m pretty sure one of them is going to be Celia finding the strength to stand on her own and be an adult–and learning that sometimes, that involves difficult decisions.  Which I kind of knew, anyway, coming out of the last book, but she’s affirmed it a couple of times already.  But I also think Eudora and Adja, for all that they were pretty independent before, are also going to be finding strength they didn’t know they had, and will also be facing some tough decisions.

Lillian Fletcher is going to learn some lessons about the human heart and its capacity to love, as some of the young men around her test that capacity.  And Jamie Dixon’s going to learn that what he thought he wanted might not be what he wanted after all.

Nicholas…well, he has one of the most difficult journeys of all.  He’s going to learn that he has a breaking point, and just what it feels like to have someone push him past it.

So the folks on this side of the Atlantic have told me more or less what they want from this story.  The folks on the other side have been a little more vague, but they’re going to be in the spotlight more as the story progresses.  War has come to England’s shores, and they’re going to find themselves tested in different ways.

Hmmm…for a story that seemed overly simple when I started out, it has gotten awfully complicated!

How are other NaNo’ers doing on their stories?

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Dragon Friday–er, Sunday, #7

Posted on November 20, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Yep, that time again.  Two days past that time, in fact.  So, without further ado, here is:

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 7

As I started to back numbly away from the bar, six more bars slid in front of me from the other side, in roughly even intervals from shoulder to thigh, all seven together forming a cage and trapping me against some sort of leathery cushion that had appeared behind me.  My heart raced; I hated feeling trapped.  “Hey.  Hey!  Let me go!”

In response, the bars slid more tightly around me, squeezing the breath out of me.  I wanted to struggle against them, to try to break free, but my stinging, bleeding hand reminded me of the sharp ends and I held still.

The cage around me rose slowly into the air, taking me with it through the darkness above.  In the greenish glow of the strange curtain, I could see the wreckage of the train dwindling below.

I’d like to be able to say that I didn’t do the girly thing and scream at that point, but I’d be lying.  I also wanted my mommy very badly, which was saying a great deal given that we hadn’t spoken in three years.  But at least I can truthfully say that I didn’t pee my pants.

When I and the cage around me stopped moving, I strained to see in the dim green light from below.  All I could make out at first were two darker patches in the dimness in front of me, side by side, about two feet high.  I heard a sound of rushing air and a low rumble.  Then the view shifted, and as my eyes grew more accustomed to the dim lighting, I was able to make out a smooth, shiny orb hovering in the air in front of me.  It helped that the orb glowed a little, a warm ruby-red color.  Its light seemed to soothe me, and I began to relax, just a little.

And then the orb blinked, and if I’d had room to recoil in shock, I would have.  It wasn’t an orb; it was an eye, the biggest freaking eye I’d ever seen.  It was at least half as tall as I was, and as I watched, it glowed more brightly—and so did the other one, just a few feet further away.  In their light, I could see more of the enormous face in front of me: eyebrow ridges, muzzle, ears, nostrils—oh wait, those were the dark patches I’d seen before—and teeth.  Not just teeth.  Teeth.

These were the biggest, nastiest-looking teeth I’d ever seen, longer than my arm and slightly curved, coming to needle-sharp points at the ends.  The skin on my arms crawled at the thought of those teeth piercing my tender and all-too-shreddable flesh.

Every instinct in my body urged me to run, to get away from the thing as fast as I could.  Not that it made a difference.  Even if I did get free of the cage around me—which I suddenly realized was not a cage at all, but a giant paw, with seven sharp claws—I’d fall to the ground, who-knows-how-far below.

It was not the kind of fall human beings were designed to survive.

As I stared at the gigantic eye in front of me, I began to shiver.  I was going to die, I realized.  Torn to shreds by those needle-like teeth.

No, I tried to reason with myself.  If the creature really wanted me dead, all it had to do was squeeze a little harder.  I could barely breathe as it was; a few more ounces of pressure ought to do me in.  The fact that I was still gasping at all told me that the thing must not want me dead.  Yet, whispered a more fatalistic part of my brain.

The nostrils moved toward me and sniffed me again.  The eyes glowed even brighter, and as I caught another whiff of the fireworks smell, I suddenly put the pieces together.

“You’re a dragon!”  It came out a little louder than I’d intended.

The eyes blinked their surprise.  Then, I swear to God, the thing smiled, showing me more teeth, this time molars that looked more suited to grinding than shredding.  “A very astute and accurate observation,” rumbled a voice so low that I felt as much as heard it.  “And you…”  It sniffed me again.  “I’ve never encountered your kind before, but from what I’ve read, I must conclude that you are…a hoo-mun.”  More sniffing.  “A female hoo-mun.  A maiden, most specifically.”

I felt my face go beet red.  “That is none of your goddamned business!”

“Oho, but I think it is.”  The sniffs turned into deep, savoring inhalations.  “You do smell every bit as delicious as the ancient tomes describe.  Delicate, really; rather like sunrise, mixed with hope and dewfall and delbow blossoms.”  It gave another deep, savoring sniff.  “With a hint of…hazelnuts, I believe.”

I gulped.  And then, as much as it pains me to admit it, I whimpered.  Trembling?  I did that, too.

A deep rumbling sound echoed around me.  It took me a moment to realize that the dragon was laughing—at me.  “Worry not, little hoo-mun.  As delicious as you smell, I don’t plan to eat you.  Your kind are far too rare for that.”

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NaNoWriMo, Week 3

Posted on November 17, 2011 by sheilamcclune

This past Tuesday, I finally summoned my courage and did something I’d been wanting to do since my first NaNoWriMo back in 2006.

I attended a write-in.

You know how it is, the first time you venture forth to take part in some kind of group activity:  You feel shy and awkward, not sure if you’ll fit in, afraid you’ll make some kind of gaffe or faux pas that will cause all of the seasoned veterans to regard you with scorn or ridicule.  You worry that you read the date or time wrong, and you’ll end up at the wrong place or at the wrong time. You wonder what you’ll do if you show up and it’s clear from the start that everyone there simply doesn’t like you.

Well, okay, maybe you don’t feel all of these things.  But I do.  Acutely.

Often, when I’m in this sort of a situation, I do what most people do:  I call for backup.  An intimidating experience somehow becomes less intimidating when you’ve got a good friend (or spousal-unit) by your side.

But in this case, none of my geographically-close friends are doing NaNoWriMo.  And Beloved Husband, when queried, was afraid he’d distract me.  (He was also afraid he’d be bored, since he’d more than likely be the only person there not writing.)  He’s probably right on both counts.

So on Tuesday, with my netbook bag slung over my shoulder and my car keys clenched in my sweaty palm, I approached my local Panera Bread.  I was heartened by the sight of a bunch of people clustered around a table near the back of the restaurant, heads bent over glowing laptop screens.  Doing my best to look casual, I strolled to the back.

“Is this the write-in?”

“Yep.  Pull up a chair.”

I did, shoving my chair under the end of a string of small tables that had been pushed together.  (I later figured out that the reason for the cozy configuration was so that folks who needed it could reach the power strip plugged in overhead.)  Then I went and got some food for myself–and some herbal tea–and came back.

Everyone else was focusing intently on their computer screens, earbuds stuffed in their ears, so I sat down as quietly as I could and whipped out my netbook.  Everyone else was working on larger laptop models, so I felt a little outclassed, but I like writing on my netbook.  It’s small and light and easy to carry around.

I quickly powered it up; while I was waiting, I shoved a bite or two of my sandwich into my mouth.  I decided against getting out my headphones (my playlist is on the desktop computer at home; I haven’t loaded it onto my netbook yet, but I will).  Then I, too, started tapping quietly away at my keyboard.

Twenty minutes later, everyone finally came up for air.  We chatted a little about how our writing was going, and how many words we’d written while we were there.  (My 350 was pretty pathetic compared to some of the others’ word counts, but I’d arrived late, and was trying to eat while writing, a process that never works very efficiently for me, since I touch-type.)  But after only a few minutes, everyone was back at it again.

Tappitta tappitta tappitta.  I finished my half-sandwich, started my half-salad, which I acknowledged was a strategic mistake.  Too hard to eat while writing.  Next time, I’ll do soup and a half-sandwich; I can spoon soup in pretty easily.  But I was amazed at how quickly the words started to pile up.  Before I knew it, I had left my 1,667 daily word quota in the dust and was pushing 2,000.  Nicholas Fletcher was having an awkward conversation with Professor Runkle (president of MIT in 1875).  And I was actually enjoying myself.

Everyone came up for air at 20-minute intervals or so.  We exchanged snippets of information about what we were writing (I admitted to writing a story that takes place in the Victorian era, and pointed out that the flowery language is great for piling up a word count).  Three of the other eight people there admitted that they had burned down entire villages (in their stories) in the interest of keeping their plots moving.  I was forced to admit that I had no plans to burn anything down, but I did have a character who had been eaten by a tiger, which they all thought was pretty good.

By about 7:45, writing had ceased completely, and we were all chatting.  I learned that the young lady sitting across from me, whom I had taken to be a college student, was actually only fifteen.  Most of the others admitted to being twenty-something, though the one man there said he was thirty-five.  I’m guessing I was the “old lady” of the group, but didn’t confirm it.

Since the restaurant closed at 8:00, we had to pack up and get out soon after that.  But I had survived, and I had even managed to write about 1,600 words while I was sitting there (bringing my word count for the day in at about 2,200 words).  Not too shabby!

So yes.  It wasn’t so scary after all.

I think I’ll go back next week.

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More Spiff; or Maybe I Just Wanted Some New Userpics

Posted on November 15, 2011 by sheilamcclune

In order to celebrate reaching the halfway point on my NaNoWriMo word count (currently at 26,648), I decided to celebrate by making some new icons / userpics:

First, a re-do of my “Keep Calm and NaNo On” icon.  I wasn’t quite satisfied with it before; the font sizes weren’t quite right.  This one is better:

I also fiddled with the background a little, because I noticed that the “keep calm” signs were lighter in the middle and darker at the edges.

Next, one of my NaNo buddies over on G+ made a pithy remark the other day, and I thought it deserved to be turned into a userpic:

It seemed a good sentiment for NaNoWriMo.

The plotter vs. pantser question came up at the write-in I attended tonight, so I thought I’d state my opinion on the subject:

Yep.  In case you can’t tell, I’m a pantser.

One for those annoying people in your life, especially when they tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time writing:

Yeah.  Go ahead.  Piss me off.  You’ll be sorry!

And finally, not really a NaNoWriMo or writing-based sentiment, but my friend Rivka said this the other day, and I thought it needed to be shared:

Which pretty much says it all.

As always, if you want ’em, take ’em.  Comments and credits are nice, though….

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NaNoWriMo, Week 2.5

Posted on November 14, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(This started out as part of last week’s entry.  But then I decided that I really had two separate entries, so, Bonus!  Extra Week 2.5 Entry Today!)

Last time, I talked about potential excuses for why writing wasn’t happening.  Let’s focus instead on goals.

So…how am I doing with those, you ask?

I set out a couple of informal goals for myself at the beginning of November:

1) Never fall behind pace.  Yeah.  That lasted what, about three days?  But I have managed to catch up, at least.  Now if I can just build a bit of a cushion….

2) Track progress daily in LiveJournal.  So far, so good.  Haven’t missed a day yet.  (If you’re on LJ and want to read these entries, drop me a note in the comments, and I’ll add you to that filter.  If you’re not on LJ…sorry.  Because these entries sometimes contain story snippets, I keep them locked down to just people who are in my writing filter.  Note, you can create an LJ account for free….)

3) Get to an organized write-in.  Another great plan that has yet to come to fruition.  Between visits to the hospital, yard clean-up, and other time-sensitive tasks, that has yet to happen.  Perhaps on Sunday.

4) Keep up with blogging here in the meantime.  Again, so far so good.  I’ve been posting my usual Thursday writing post, and Dragon Friday, and a few other things as well.  Though Dragon Friday may be turning into Dragon Saturday.  We’ll see how it goes.

5) No computer games until daily word count has been achieved.  Another win.  I actually treated myself to a game of Catan the other night.  (Fell asleep three turns in, but hey….)

6) Stay on diet & don’t succumb to the lure of snackage; don’t bribe self with food rewards.  Doing reasonably well with the diet thing.  I’ve been trying to keep good snacks within reach — rice cakes and carrots, mostly.  I’ve also been drinking herbal or decaf teas — unsweetened — while writing.  (Has the bonus of keeping my fingers warm, too.)

——————————————-

So it would seem I’m doing reasonably well with goals.  Not perfect, but life rarely is.

Be they related to NaNoWriMo, writing, or life in general, what goals have you set for yourself lately, and how are you doing with them?

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Dragon Friday–er, Sunday, #6

Posted on November 13, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Better late than…well, okay.  Better not late, but it is what it is.  So here’s:

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 6

“No, don’t!” the man cried.  “It might not be safe out there.  What if you trigger another rockslide?”

“I’m not going to touch anything.  I’m just going to take a quick look and see how far we are from the station.  I’ll be careful.”  The doors finally slid apart far enough to let me squeeze through, and I stepped out onto a rocky cave floor.

Wait.  The tunnel’s floor, ceiling, and walls had been lined with concrete.  But there was no sign of concrete here, not even scattered crumbs of it.  Beneath my feet lay rough, unhewn stone, scattered and piled with rocks that ranged from pea-gravel to boulders.  I sniffed: wet rocks and stagnant water and a hint of bat guano, scents remembered from a long-ago trip to Carlsbad.  Though I also caught a faint scent of…fireworks?  Weird.

I turned first toward the glowing green curtain, but it was clear that, at least on this side of the train, it covered the entire tunnel opening from which the front half of the train car had emerged.  Cautiously, I stepped forward to examine the edges of the curtain more closely.  Maybe there was a way to squeeze past, if we were very determined.  I squinted; through the curtain, I could make out smooth concrete walls, a low ceiling, and the side of the train car through the green glimmer, but not even the smallest gap between concrete and curtain.  “Damn.  Well, okay, then.  Concourse B it is.”

As I turned to see just how close we were to the Concourse B train station, though, it finally penetrated my aching skull that the space I was in was far too large to be a collapsed train tunnel.  The wavering green light from the shimmering curtain did not reach as far as the walls and ceiling of the vast cavern.  I could only guess how far away they were, but now that I’d taken a few steps away from the train, I could feel a gentle breeze against my face.  I was obviously nowhere near Concourse B.  A cold chill rattled my spine.  “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I murmured.

I rubbed the sore spot on the back of my head.  I’d hit it pretty hard; perhaps this was a hallucination?  I turned back toward the train.  No, it still looked like the airport train, except where a boulder had crumpled up the nose.  So where was the train station that couldn’t possibly be more than a hundred yards away?

All right, I told myself.  Deep breath.  If we can’t get to Concourse B, we’ll just have to find a way back into the train tunnel.  Did I dare circle around the end of the train to check out the other side and see if perhaps there was a gap in the curtain there?  I remembered what the guy in the train had said about triggering another rockslide, but the ceiling was so far above me that I couldn’t imagine anything I could do that would affect it.  Still, something about the huge cavern made me edgy; I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.  I decided to exercise the better part of valor and return to the train car to wait for help to arrive.

As I stepped toward the train, though, a bar slid horizontally across my chest from left to right, blocking my path.  It looked like wood, or maybe horn; it was about six feet long, slightly curved, with a ridge down the length of it.  “Hey, what?”  I reached for the end of it, to push it out of my way, but jerked back almost instantly.  “Ouch!”  The tip and about the first foot of the thing were razor-sharp.  I gazed at my bloody hand in shock.

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Link Salad for October, 2011 (Better Late Than Never!)

Posted on November 13, 2011 by sheilamcclune
Buffalo Chicken Salad

A Buffalo chicken salad I made once. Gotta do that again!

Just realized that I never got around to posting my “link salad” for October.

So here’s what I found:

Ten Reasons Not To Write Your Novel

How to be Miserable as an Artist (oops–link now repaired!)

What To Do When Feedback Makes You Cry (yep, been there, done that)

Agent Rachelle Gardner on Agent Referrals and How To Find An Agent

How To Raise Your Characters Above The Status Quo

Eight Basic Writing Blunders

Does Every Good Story Really Have The Same Story Structure?

25 Questions To Ask As You Write (courtesy of Chris Tremlett)

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NaNoWriMo, Week 2

Posted on November 10, 2011 by sheilamcclune

It’s Week Two of that insanity known as National Novel Writing Month.  (Wow, it looks weird to type it all out that way, instead of NaNoWriMo.)

This time last year, I was singing the Week 2 Blues.  Which is not uncommon among NaNo’ers.  Week 1 goes great:  You plunge into this year’s story with eleven months’ worth of pent-up enthusiasm, and for the first 5-7 days, the words just pour out onto the page and everything’s wonderful.

Then you have to surface for your first breath of air, and somehow, after that, it’s hard to get back in stride.  The ideas that flowed trippingly from your fingers mere days ago now seem mired in hardening concrete, where nothing short of dynamite can blast them free.

Eventually, things do pick up again, and by Week 3, you’re humming right along (hopefully).  But first you have to survive Week 2.

Except, this year, I seem to have swapped Week 1 and Week 2.  Last week, I was up to my ears in molasses, and it’s been mighty cold here.  This week, it’s as though the story, realizing that something was poking at it, stirred to life, lifted up its head, opened its eyes, and said, “Oh!  We’re going now!  Right!”

I don’t claim to understand it–

No, no.  I lied.  Now that I think about it for a minute, I can come up with several possible reasons for it:

1)  Story direction:  In the past, while I haven’t had detailed plans for each story, I’ve had a vision of where I wanted the story to go, and some of the steps it needed to go through to get there.

This time around, my vision isn’t as clear.  I know where the story needs to end up.  And I know a few of the things that are going to happen on the way.  But the story arcs for the various characters aren’t as well-defined, and my themes haven’t even begun to coalesce yet.

On the other hand, the introduction of some new characters this week, along with some possible intrigue, seems to have helped.  Here’s hoping, anyway.

2) Changes in process:  I know that in the past, night-time has been my best time for writing.  But that’s not working so well this time around.  I keep falling asleep instead of writing.  So now, I’m trying to get a few hundred words down first thing in the morning, and a few hundred more at lunchtime.  So far, it’s working.

3)  Changes in health/lifestyle:  Two months ago, I was diagnosed with high blood pressure and edema.  As a result, I am now dieting, exercising, and, per doctor’s orders, trying to spend at least a little time every day on my keyster with my feet elevated.  Sadly, placing my body in that position only seems to inspire one activity:  sleeping.  Which means no more sitting up late and writing all night for me.  Which means…see previous point.

4) Family issues:  Between a parent on one side having surgery during November, and the ones on the other side deciding to relocate, thus necessitating a trip to Arizona over Thanksgiving, the month has the potential to get “interesting”, in the Chinese sense (as in, “May you live in interesting times”).  Squeezing in some writing time around all of that has been/will be a challenge.  I’ll just need to remember to take advantage of small pockets of downtime, and when I do get chances to write, do my best to stay focused.  Building up a little more of a cushion might help, too.

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Obviously, pursuing a goal–whether it be writing or something else–isn’t always easy.  But it’s up to you whether the obstacles life dumps in the road in front of you turn into excuses for your failure, or objects in your rear-view mirror on your way to success.

How is NaNoWriMo treating the rest of you?

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And The Magic Happens; or, Add New Characters And Stir

Posted on November 9, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Toiling away on my latest NaNoWriMo endeavor, I was beginning to despair.  There was an awful lot of recap happening, and not much in the way of new development.

And then…I introduced some new characters.

Joshua Newton’s entire family full of them, to be exact:

Obediah Newton:  Joshua’s father, who was a doctor, until he lost an arm in the Civil War.  Now he teaches at a college for women who want to become doctors.  (Yes, this really existed in Victorian-era Boston!)

Mary Newton:  Josh’s mother.  So far, she hasn’t told me enough about her character for me to know her.  But she seems like a kind soul.  I think she will become a surrogate mother-figure for Celia and Lillian.

Adam Newton:  Joshua’s uncle; works at the Boston Airship Landing Field.  A good sort of fellow.

Jane Newton:  Joshua’s aunt; nearly a decade and a half younger than her husband (Adam), she is his second wife (his first having died in childbirth).  She is a bit of a troublemaker and a gossip.

Amanda Newton:  Joshua’s sister (two years younger), she is studying to become a doctor.  I think she and Eudora are going to become friends; and I think Jamie Dixon might form a bit of a tendre for her, much to the annoyance of both Celia and Lillian.

Lucas Newton:  Joshua’s brother (four years younger, and the same age as Celia).  Not quite sure where he’s going yet;  Lillian may start to flirt with him to make Jamie Dixon jealous.

Lucinda Newton:  Joshua’s niece, and Adam and Jane’s daughter.  Age 12.  I think she’s going to end up hero-worshipping Lillian Fletcher.

And voila, just like that, magic!  A couple of plot points in my story are laid out, a couple of others have changed direction slightly, and while I was at it, the ultimate fate of one of my characters has completely changed.  (Nope, not going to tell you which one, or from what to what, but the new fate is right, so darned right, I wonder how on earth I never saw it before.)

I don’t think I’ve ever had an entire batch of characters just fall into a story so completely formed before.  It’s a little unnerving, but on the other hand, it’s very much the “shot in the arm” that this story needed!

Have other folks out there ever introduced new characters into a story before, only to have them change the story’s direction?

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Timing Is Everything; or, I Thought I Was A Night Person…

Posted on November 8, 2011 by sheilamcclune

I think I’ve learned something about how I NaNo best.

Last night, after a long and fairly eventful day, I came home and parked myself in front of my computer at around 10:00 pm, with every intention of squeezing out my daily NaNo (1,667 words), or even a little more.

Two and a half hours later, after about half an hour’s worth of doing the head-bob, I finally gave it up as a bad job and accepted the fact that yesterday’s word count was going to be 722 words, and not the hoped-for 2,000.

This morning, biological need rousted me out of bed half an hour earlier than usual.  So I thought, why not try to get some catch-up in before work?

I more than caught up.  I even put a few words aside for later.  In about an hour.

And then, at lunchtime, I added another 400 words or so to the count in about 20 minutes.

Huh.  This is a change.

It’s not that I was never able to write in the morning or at lunchtime before.  But my best writing always happened after 11:00 pm, when Beloved Husband was snoring happily away in bed.  Sometimes I’d go until 2:00 or even 3:00 or 4:00 am, pounding happily away at my keyboard.

But, apparently, not this year.  This year, my writer self has turned into a morning person.  And that’s totally unfair, since the body we share is most decidedly not a morning person.  It desperately wants to stay in bed where it’s warm and cozy and cuddly.

Hmmm.  Need to figure out how to reconcile these warring priorities.

Has anyone else found that their most productive writing time has changed at some point in their life?  What caused the change, and how did you deal with it?

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Dragon Friday #5

Posted on November 5, 2011 by sheilamcclune

(Sorry this is a little late, guys.)

The Dragon, The Wench, and Her Wardrobe
(working title)
© 2011 Sheila McClune
Part 5

“Ow!” I yelped.  It took me a moment to identify the source—or rather, sources—of the pain:  one of the pole-hangers had landed more or less in my lap, and the back of my head had simultaneously cracked into the window behind me.  Bits of broken safety glass rained down around me.  “Son of a…”  I rubbed the incipient bump on the back of my noggin, trying to focus on my surroundings, but everything had gone all green and shimmery, like we were underwater on an alien spaceship.  “What the hell…?”

“Oh, God.  Sorry,” mumbled a male voice from somewhere around my crotch.

I looked down to see a head of dark, curly hair in my lap.  Judging by how things felt, the man must have conked his forehead on my pubic bone.  It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the back of my head, but it was still painful, not to mention embarrassing.  “Look, do you mind…?”  I shifted my hips, trying to give him a hint to move along.

“God.  I’m really, really sorry.”  I felt him stir, then groan in pain.  “Oh, shit.  I think my arm’s broken.”  He rolled onto his right side, and in the dim light, I could see that he cradled his left arm to his chest.  Blood ran from his nose and dripped onto his t-shirt.  I guessed he was about my age, but it was hard to tell in the weird green light.

My Girl Scout first aid training leapt to the fore.  I disentangled my legs from around him and slid to my knees beside him, fumbling in my bag for something, anything I could use as a sling.  “Can you move your fingers at all?”

He shook his head, wincing.  “No.”

I finally came up with the plastic rain poncho I’d carried around for years and never used.  Ripping it out of its package, I shook it open and tried to find some corners to tie together.

He watched me with a puzzled expression on his face.  “What’s that for?”

“I’m making you a sling.”

He laughed, but with an edge of hysteria in his voice.  “Oh, come on.  The EMTs’ll be here before you get that figured out.  Why don’t you go for help instead?”

“Oh.”  Embarrassed, I dropped the poncho and tried, shakily, to stand.  My head ached, and it didn’t help any that the car was tilted down toward the front end, throwing my balance off.  I turned to look and saw, for the first time, the minivan-sized lump of rock that had shattered the train’s front window and halted our progress.  “Whoa.  Looks like the tunnel collapsed.”  Then I turned and looked the other way, and that was even worse, because the far end of the car was obscured by a greenish, rippling curtain of light.  “Gah!  What the hell is that?”

The guy on the floor turned to see where I was looking.  “Holy crap.  Either I hit my head harder than I thought, or we’re in an episode of Stargate.”

Cautiously, I stepped closer to the barrier.  As far as I could tell, it cut the train car more-or-less in half.  I stopped abruptly when I spotted a pair of legs sticking out of it, down at floor-level.  The legs were moving, wriggling around.  As I watched, they started to disappear into the green curtain.

“Wait, stop!”  I threw myself at the legs and grabbed, trying to tug the person back to my side of the curtain.  I didn’t know what that thing was, but it only made sense to me that people—even halves of them—shouldn’t ought to pass through it until we knew it was safe.

But the legs had other ideas.  They kicked, frantically, and finally broke free.  I fell backwards onto my rump.  “Oof!”

“What is it?  What happened?”  The man’s voice from the other end of the car was sharp with worry.

“Someone just got sucked into that thing, whatever it is.  I tried to stop them, but…”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”  I stood up again and approached the curtain of light.  It rippled like water, except that it was poisonous, bug-gut green.  This close to it, I could almost see through it, at least enough to make out the outlines of the rest of the train car and some blurry figures moving around in it.  I couldn’t quite bring myself to touch it, though.

Looking to either side, I could see that the curtain only seemed to extend a little way beyond the train car.  “Hey, I wonder if we can get around that thing if we go through the tunnel?  Or if nothing else, we can’t be all that far from Concourse B.  I’m just going to check and find out.”  I grabbed the nearest door and began to push on it to get it open.

* * *

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NaNoWriMo, Week 1

Posted on November 3, 2011 by sheilamcclune

Well, here we are in November, which means it’s now NaNoWriMo.  I’m plugging away on my novel, staying on pace, but not building up much of a cushion.

Part of my problem is that I haven’t been able to get started writing very early in the day.  I had grand plans, you see.  I was going to stay up late on Halloween and try to get an hour or two of writing in before going to bed.  So while I was waiting for midnight to roll around, I decided to work on some more userpics.  Which was a fine plan…until I dropped off to sleep at about 11:45.  Woke up groggy and disoriented at about 2:00 am with my netbook still on my lap, and just gave it up and went to sleep.

And then we had shopping plans (needed to hit a few post-Halloween sales so we could restock on little treat bags and toys to put in them, that sort of thing) and I didn’t get to sit down to start writing until about 10:30.

Needless to say, things haven’t improved since then.  But I’m still keeping pace (so far), even though what I’ve written so far is awful enough that I really do want to start over.

So to console myself, once I’d made my word count last night, I made a few more userpics:

         

And I also rounded up as many of my past NaNo userpics as I could find and plopped them all into my Flickr folder.  Which you can find by clicking on the “Eat.  Write.” icon below:

NaNoWriMo-Eat Sleep Read

And finally, I’ve changed my banner for the month of November.  I’ll be using the one I made for NaNoWriMo all month this month.

And that’s probably enough procrastination for one night.  Back to making NaNos….

(Anyone else NaNo-ing?  How’s it going?)

Posted in Photography and Graphics, Writing | Tagged , | 2 Comments