Writing Insanity

Writers Block and the Evil Inner Critic....or why I fell in love with the nuclear bomb......

2008-11-05T18:31:00.001-05:00

here it is, Day 5 and I'm freaking BLOCKED!!!!!! I'm staring at the 8000 or so words I've already put out, and I'm blank. I cannot pull out what I have had running through my head the last few weeks. And what I have pulled out? I don't think it's good enough...or my Evil Inner Critic, who is NOT a nice person btw, doesn't think it's good enough. It's a mess.....bits and pieces that I have to connect up and I'm at a loss as to how to connect it up! Heck, 6 paragraphs are pure babble! An entire section of dialogue is so wooden you could build a bridge out of it and prove it's a witch (because, you know....witches are made of wood).

ACK!!!!!

Why do I do this to myself? Why can't I beat the living daylights out of the Evil Inner Critic, smash down the wall that is Writers Block and just run with it? What is wrong with me???????????

Kick Off Party

2008-10-31T15:41:00.002-04:00

So last night was the Offical Toronto Nano Kick Off party, and a good time was had. I should know better than to order a grown up sized meal though, I can never finish the damned thing. (Oh, and note to self. Do not order a pot of tea in the evening. You will not sleep.)

I got to meet a few Nanoer's that I didn't meet last year (and one mother/daughter duo who taught me that right here in Toronto one can learn medieval archery and swordsmanship. Seriously. How kick ass is that?)

I took pictures, but as it turns out, I'm a terrible photographer. I hope I get better and soon!

Anyway, it's (does math) 8 hours and 15 minutes to the Offical Start Time of Nanowrimo (being that midnight is actually a brand spanking new day....and it will be Nov 1! YAY!!!!!) However, I won't actually be writing at midnight....see, Ghost Hunters Halloween Live starts at 7 pm on Space, and this is the first year we get it aired in Canada, and it's on until 2 pm. Yeah, a live 7 hour televised ghost hunt. I like Ghosts. :)

I wonder how many hats I can churn out in 7 hours?

(oh, and check out my blog roll, I've added many a nanoer!)

2 MOAR DAYS!!!!111elebentity!!!!!1111

2008-10-29T19:34:00.002-04:00

So, it's two more full days to go until Nov 1 and the start of NaNo. I'm itching, itching to write. I can't remember being this bouncy and excited about writing in general. Honestly.

So how am I coping with it?

Well, there will be several warm heads on homeless people this winter. I've been knitting winter hats, their destination is Street Knits, a roots level organization, started by a knitter, which collects hand knit items like hats, socks, mitts, gloves, even sweaters, and distributes them to Toronto's homeless population. I've been knitting hats to keep me from cheating and writing before Nov 1.

Tomorrow is the big to-do for the Toronto NaNoers, we're meeting at The Butler's Pantry, chowing down and sharing the collective enthusiasim. Much fun to be had!

So, two more days, several hats later, maybe even start another pair of socks (or finish some of the socks started months ago). EEK!!!

That time of year again

2008-10-26T10:52:00.003-04:00

So it's that time of year again. NaNo begins on Saturday, and I've plans to attend the Toronto NaNo party on the 30th (much fun was had last year!), and musing on attending the Inner Critic on the 1st, where you make a playdough version of your inner critic to lock it up for a month, thus allowing you the freedom to run with words....frankly I think that's something I really should do, as I'm highly critical of my writing, and at times I get so bad about it, I find myself in a vicious block.

I wonder if it's against the 'rules' for me to smash my playdough inner critic should that happen? :) My loving husband has a nice hammer, it'd probably feel good to smash the inner critic until playdough splatters the walls.

Ah, the visual.

Anyways.....I'm hoping to be a thousand times better about keeping up this blog this year, really chronicaling my descent into madness and my efforts to create a ripping good story in 30 days. See, the first year, although I did not win NaNo (hell, I don't think I reached 6,000 words, never mind the requisite 50,000), I consider the story I started to have very good bones. I still toy with that one, and plan to eventually finish it.

Last year? *shudder* We shall never speak of that novel. It is the Novel That Shall Not Be Named. While I surpassed the 50,000 mark (thanks to participating in the Word War), it was an absolutely HORRIBLE attempt at stringing a story together. It shall NEVER be seen by the eyes of others and shall forever languish in the depths of the Gigabytes of my computer.

Although one day, when I stop with the pathological hate of it, I might pluck back the inital idea and start over.

Maybe.

This year, the story hit me out of the blue while watching a program on the Discovery (or was it the History?) channel about Robin Hood and the cultural impact the stories have had. Yes folks, I'm turning Robin Hood upside down. Good bye men running about the forest, hello women! I'm itching to write it. I've got my female Robin Hood all plotted out in my head, who she is, why she's in Sherwood, etc, etc. I've been diving into English laws of the era, and the social structure and I'm itching to start writing. I'm bouncing in anticipation for Nov 1.

This year, not only am I going to love my little tale, I'm going to surpass 50,000 and STILL love it. This year, I'm not going to bury my novel after the month is over! I'm actually going to let others see it, read it, comment and critic it! I'm going to continue on it!

Big goals.

Oh yeah, and I have to find the time to make my Christmas gifts too.

Maybe I should invest in some coffee companies?

I'm lazy and now I'm paying for it.

2007-10-16T10:55:00.000-04:00

No, I'm not really paying for it. But I *am* lazy. Well, lazy at blogging that is.

Anyways, it's coming up to NaNoWriMo 2007 folks, I've got the plot, characters, setting, everything ready to go this year! YAYS! Romance novel this time around, see that there post from April sitting below this one. Yeah. THAT.

Wow....

2007-04-06T10:34:00.000-04:00

It's been FOREVER since I last posted here. Bad me! *hides cookies*

So.....what's been up with me in my writer's mind?

I have for now set aside God's Gate. I never actually sat down and worked out a plot outline nor developed some main characters (never mind secondary). I did get some excellent feedback from people who have read it, which strengthened my confidence in my skills and abilities, but I know that I have to work on some weak points. Like, oh...knowing what the hell I want to have happen in the story. :) Besides, another tale has taken over my mind, and that's where my focus is. I will eventually pick God's Gate back up, just not sure exactly when. I just got very tired of blocking every time I reached a point where I didn't know what I wanted to do with the story and the characters.

The new tale is a Historical Romance, set in the year 520 amid the struggle for territory between the Britions and the incoming Saxons. I have a full plot sketched out and am in the process of researching the era as best I can and sketching out my characters. The tale within the plot is already forming in my mind, so I feel beyond good about when I actually start writing this one.

I joined a couple of academic lists, one Anglos Saxon and the other Arthurian, where I have posed some questions about era and events and territory, in the effort to place things as closely as possible in my head. And I told my husband that I wanted to take a trip to England this summer if we could do it financially to the area in question so that I can see the lay of the land for myself and possibly even pop into certain ruins and archeological sites to help me visualize what it once was. For God's Gate, the setting was easy, cause I live here. This as yet untitled tale, well, I've never been to England. Right now I'm working off of pictures, maps and other people's descriptions. I hope we can afford to go!

So, that's the update in a nutshell I suppose. Oh, and so ya'll know just want kind of information I've been seeking in my research, here's the questions I've posed to those academic lists!

1) Cerdic, who is viewed as the founder of the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom of
Wessex, appears to have actually been either British or mixed
British/SaxonBlood. According to the books The Anglo-Saxons, The
beginnings of the English nation by Geoffrey Hindley, and A Brief
History of British Kings and Queens by Mike Ashley, he is of the Gewisse
tribe from the area of the Welsh Marches. Is there an academic paper or
mention in some publication that would elaborate on this? If not, I
think I could manage to create some reasonings/events that would lead to
his invasion in 495 with Saxon mercinaries that wouldn't be all that
unfeasable. But I'd like to try to function within the realm of
historical possibilities.

(note, in referring back to certain reference material, the area the
Gewisse are associated with is actually the Upper Thames region. This
of course can help me with creating his motivations for invading with
Saxon mercinaries)

2) Cerdic's son/grandson. Cynric. Is there any general consensious as
to which he is?

3) According to the ASC, in 508 Cerdic defeated King Natanleod at the
Battle of Netley. I found a community near Southhampton of that name.
Is it reasonable to assume this is the general area?

4) After the Battle of Netley, it's noted that King Natanleod and his
men retreated back to Venta Belgarum/Winchester. Is it known how long
they remained in the Winchester area before moving west as the Saxons
under Cerdic expanded? Or were they simply absorbed?

5) I found reference to a rural village called North Charford being
named Cerdicesford after the Battle of Netley. Was this for a brief
period considered the Saxon stronghold/capital? If so, for how long do
you suppose?

6) I found reference to Dorchester-On-Thames in Oxfordshire being the
capital of the Kingdom of Wessex before 634 when it was handed over to
the church by King Cynegils and the capital moved to Winchester. Around
what period would the Saxons have made it that far north from the
Southampton area? (as per my note in question 1, this appears to have
been right smack in the traditional area of the Gewisse)

7) Silchester/Calleva Atrebatum. I know that current (or as current as
I know of, I've only so far skimmed the website) archeology says that
this particular town was totally abandoned at some point after the
Romans left Britian. However, I stumbled over reference to it also
being a stronghold of British resistance to the Saxon push between 495
and 519 (when Cerdic founded the Kingdom of Wessex). How likely is
this? If unknown, is it historically feasable for me to use it in my
novel as a stronghold for the British tribes of the Artebates (who's
capital it was) and the Regnenses (and possibly the Belgae)?

8) By 520, approximately how much area did Wessex cover? (I'm working
with modern maps of the area in order to help me place the story in my
head, and plotting geographical points on them). In other words, how
much land did the Saxons control? What towns?

9) Religion Question. What I know of early Christianity in the British
Isles is mostly regarding the Irish Church. Do you recommend any
particular publications to help me with the Church in Britian around
this time period? My female protaganist is British and Christian, the
male Saxon and Pagan. While I have resources to help me approximate
Saxon religion and belief, I need to juxtapose this next to the
Christian. And what books I do have focus, again, on the Irish Church.

Been a while

2006-12-03T12:21:00.000-05:00

Well, NaNoWriMo is over. Didn't make 50,000, barely squeeked to 10,000. Ah well. Better luck next year. Cause now I have a whole year to work on those parts of my brain that bring me to a standstill. You know, talking myself down, self doubt, all that good stuff. :)

The story will continue to be worked on until the bitter end, whenever that may be. And I'll keep this blog going for it and other things that I'll write. I've got an entire fantasy world budding in the back of my head.

I promised a while back to Angel that I'd post another excerpt, and I was going to do it yesterday, but didn't get around to it, so for you hon, here it is!

Terrence pinched the bridge of his nose, his cameraman behind him, as the pair stood in front of Detective Marshall Grant. “What the hell is going on in this city anyway?” The reporter muttered as two uniformed officers shooed away a group of people who’d come out of the bar down the street to find themselves eyewitnesses to a murder investigation while trying to find a cab. “Another one that we have to fudge the story on? This is bad Detective…real bad.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that?” Marshall huffed, practiced eyes watching everything around him. “But this particular murder is going to fall into the hands of our special friends, and like the others, its real details can’t be related to the general public. We’d have mass hysteria on our hands and the Mayor doesn’t want that.”

Terrence sighed and waved a hand at his cameraman, who turned off the camera. With a municipal election coming up in the fall, and after the summer of the Gun, the last thing the current municipal administration would want was another round of panic. And even if the potential rival candidates wanted to use these fresh murders as proof that the Mayor couldn’t handle crime, Terrence doubted sincerely that they’d want to use this. Not if they had even a hint of what lay beneath.

“The usual then?” The reporter ran a hand through his hair, peering over the detective’s shoulder, trying to get an inkling of the state of the body. Hard to see when it was deep in the alley, people milling around it. He did get a sense of a great deal of blood each time the flash of the FIS camera went off.

“Damn straight. And hurry up. The Special Unit is on the way and they can’t be seen on film.”

Drake sank onto his leather sofa, balancing his right foot on his left knee while caressing the soft chocolate brown hide with his hand. His eyes never left his visitor, whom he noted kept a careful eye on Red. Dante too seemed to be watching the petite enforcer, although Drake was quite certain it was for slightly different reasons. “Tell me Chan…what is the reason the Honourable Society of the Dragon had for refusing me my cut?” Even as he asked the question, he picked up a sleek black remote control and turned on the stereo, Wojciech Kilar’s Brides filling the room at a low volume.

Red couldn’t help but giggle. Especially considering that Chan jumped slightly when the music started. Classical generally wasn’t her taste, but this particular piece was all right.

Drake winked at her. “I’m waiting Mr. Chan.”

Chan cleared his throat, dragging his eyes away from the young woman towards her boss. He might be making a serious mistake, but then, she wouldn’t dare to attack in the man’s living room.

Would she?

“The Honourable Society of the Dragon felt that perhaps your cut was slightly higher than what you receive from others within the city.” Chan laced his fingers over his stomach. “And since the leadership of our Hong Kong branch changed hands recently, we thought it wise to bring the new Shan Chu up to date on the Toronto Branch.”

“And your new Shan Chu decreed that payments were to cease?” Drake’s voice held a dangerous edge to it, and Dante moved away from the bar to stand beside Red, one hand lightly on her slender shoulder.

“He did.” Chan confirmed, his back straight.

Red snorted, the soft breath ruffling the hair that hung in her face. She didn’t believe half of what Chan was spouting, and her entire demeanor showed it. “Yer Shan Chu woulda been better off negotiating.” She muttered as Dante’s fingers tightened slightly on her slender shoulder.

Drake glanced briefly at her and returned his gaze to Chan. “In fact, I do believe we sent a gentleman in to begin proper discussions. Did we not?” Under Dante’s fingers, Red’s shoulder stiffened.

Whelp....

2006-11-24T13:52:00.000-05:00

I isn't gonna make 50,000. It's the 24th already (where the HELL did November go?????), and I ain't gonna hit it. I don't know what my end number on the 30th will be, but it ain't gonna be 50,000.

Ah well. Next year? :)

I'm still going to carry on with God's Gate though. And this blog. Because, you know, I have to whine somewhere, right? lol.

Guilt sucks

2006-11-19T18:36:00.000-05:00

I think I've become afraid of my own story. I've more or less convinced myself that I won't hit 50,000 words, and now I shy away from opening the damned file to work on it to at least get as many words written as I can. Why do I do this to myself? I get started on a story, get confident about it, then convince myself of something negative and shy away from it.

Wee update

2006-11-16T11:45:00.000-05:00

So I was writing the other night, and found myself facing a massive block.

I get Kellie & David to the crime scene, and David asks Kellie to open herself up to the psychic imprint of the area.

And then it hit me. I don't know the first thing of how a psychic would do that! Gods did I feel like an idiot.

Well, I went to the paranormal forum I moderate on (Ghostvillage for those wondering), popped into the General Board and posted a query to the members who have pyschic abilities. Got a good response, now I just have to read through what I got (printed and tucked into my scribble book) and then write it out in a manner that will be a good read.

Gotta love it when you have contacts like that, eh? :)

I do feel a little on the guilty side, I'm still under 10,000 (although once I actually write the above mentioned part, I'll be over). Right now I have this horrible, terrible feeling that I simply will not hit 50,000. I'm not going to give up if I don't, don't get me wrong. But I'm wondering if I can actually, at this point, hit 50,000 by the 3oth. Maybe I shouldn't have poked my head into the NaNoWriMo forum to see all these people at 30K and 40K already. Kinda made me feel a little shitty, although it's not the fault of those people.

I sent a copy of the story to my parents and my brother & sister-in-law. Mommy says I'm a good writer. Gotta love mommies! Dad hasn't had a chance to read it yet, he's been more than a little swamped. I've not heard a word from my brother & sister in law, but that's alright...lol. I still lubs them. ;)

I love it when the news creates inspiration!

2006-11-13T09:51:00.000-05:00

Another Toronto Star article

Every morning I pop into the Toronto Star online, I have for a few years now. But due to the nature of my novel, I suddenly find inspiration in articles such as the one linked above. :)

What I could do in literary terms with the above!!!!!! Consider it printed and tucked into my scribble book. (yeah, the scribble book...a journal where I scribble thoughts for the book...and tuck away things like this. Oh yeah, and a picture of Drake. Guess who's face I used!)

For Angel

2006-11-12T12:34:00.000-05:00

Cause she asked for more. Excerpt the Trois.

Kellie hated flying. Not that she held a fear of flying, nor did she believe in the slightest that a terrorist would pick the plane she’d be in. No, she just really hated airports, crammed full of tourists and business people coming and going, security guards and people who were supposed to be in Customer Service, overly loud and somewhat garbled announcements, screaming children, sounds that often started to overwhelm her. Toronto Pearson International Airport was no different from any other airport she’d been in. Really, there were days when she wished she could actually fly on a broom like her ancestress’ were accused of doing.

Never mind dealing with Customs. If the slender and delicate blonde wasn’t with the organization she was, she’d have long ago been placed on a No Fly list simply due to her impatience with Customs. It hadn’t been that tiresome this time around, thank the Gods, but she was tired, jetlagged from the time jump between Edinburgh and Toronto, and more than a little concerned by the cryptic text message she’d received from Beverly, her direct superior.

Return to TO immediately. Services required. Situation is critical.

That worried the young witch to no end. When she’d left for assignment, the vampire Drake and his coherts had been relatively contained, quiet. God’s Gate had the situation under control, and firmly believed they were cutting off several of the centuries old criminal mastermind’s avenues.

Apparently he’d tricked them. Really not an unusual situation. All one had to do was look into his file to realize how many times he’d lulled someone into a sense of complacency only to strike like a viper.

“Kellie!” a soft masculine voice caught her attention, and Kellie quickened her step towards the paunchy man who’d called her.

“David.” Kellie smiled, releasing her suitcase to hug the psychic, relishing the human touch of an old friend. She’d worked with the soft spoken Scot many times, and had idly wondered that he hadn’t been sent with her to the Scottish city. “I understand that there’s something going down?” she whispered the question in his ear, dying of curiousosity, but not really wanting to know either. Sometimes she wished she’d never been born with the powers she had so that she could live a normal life. She liked to morbidly joke that her hair was such a pale white blonde due to the things she’d seen in her line of work, never mind she’d been born a Nordic Blonde.

David’s hug tightened slightly, all but crushing Kellie’s slender frame in his embrace. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, I have been out of town.” Kellie quirked an eyebrow, the silver hoop pierced through it catching the harsh florecent lights of the terminal. “Care to bring me up to speed?”

“We don’t exactly know the half of it either.” David grabbed her suitcase, leading his fellow investigator out of the airport, even at 2 am the place was bustling with tired travelers, and that made it impossible to discuss what they did know about the situation. “Wait until we’re in the car and I’ll bring you up to date.”

Kellie followed the stout Scot, beringed hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans. “Sounds alright. I need a Timmies. And my bed.”

“No bed for a while I’m afraid.” David’s voice was slightly regretful. “Although I do have a nice double double for you. We have to go downtown.”

“Bev is that insistant that she has to brief me at this hour of the morning?” Kellie was aghast. Normally Bev would let her get some sleep before the briefing and debriefing, despite the fact that the two women were usually at loggerheads with each other, dancing around like a pair of cats determining territory and status.

David shook his head. “No, we aren’t going to see Bev right now. A call came in from the Homicide squad, and you and I are the ones going to the scene.”

“Homicide?” Kellie shook her head, the fringe of pale blonde hair dusting across her violet eyes, a few strands catching in her eyebrow ring. “David. What the hell is going on? It was quiet when I left. The only activity going on had nothing at all to do with Drake. Were we wrong?”

“No, we were right about that. This is something else altogether.” The pair had reached the parking lot now, and Kellie realized just how hot it still was. She’d heard there was a bit of a heat wave in Toronto, and they weren’t kidding. David was already starting to sweat, and it was past 2 in the morning. “It appears as if Drake has declared war on the Society of the Dragon, or if not him, his enforcer Red has.”

“Red? What the hell happened to Kent?” This sudden change in the heriarchy of the city’s vampires threatened to give Kellie a headache. Red had been a non-entity as far as God’s Gate was concerned. The vampiric child of Thomas Kent was still in her own mortal lifetime, and why on earth would Drake choose what amounted to an infant to replace one of the most dangerous men in the city?

Something was very strange.

“Red seems to have pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes.” David sighed, reaching the car and unlocking the trunk. “Except perhaps Kent’s.” The sound of her suitcase landing in the trunk was a dull thunk, followed by the distinct click as David closed the trunk and locked it again, motioning for Kellie to move to the passenger side door. “I’ll begin at the beginning as we drive, just permit me to navigate our way out of this godforsaken labyrinth.”

Kellie laughed, although the usually sweet sound was tinged with her own foboding. If Kent had met his final death, and Red was more than anyone had bargined for, things might be critical indeed. Especially if the petite, angelic faced red head was responsible for the death Homicide had called them in to look at. She was silent, yet brooding as David drove out of the parking lot and through the labyrinth like streets that lead away from the airport and onto the 427.

“I do hate driving in and out of the airport.” David griped as he shifted gears once they were on the highway. “Now, to start, someone took out Kent about three weeks after you left for Scotland.”

“That would take balls.” Kellie mused as she enjoyed the Tim Horton’s coffee that David had picked up for her. Gods but she missed the taste of the quintessential Canadian coffee. “Kent was a tough character. Vicious and violent. I didn’t think anyone living….or unliving…had what it took to take him out.”

“Apparently someone did. It was almost ritualistic, as if the killer…or whoever ordered the killing, wanted to send a very specific message to Drake.”

“And how does Red figure into this? I mean, she’s younger than my grandmother, hell, she’s about the same age as my mother! And you’re telling me Drake made her his enforcer? Wouldn’t that be a first? I’ve not yet heard of any of the vampire ‘families’ having a woman for an enforcer, nor someone of her age.”

“Like I said, she took everyone by surprise. We think she figured out who was likely behind the killing, which means that Kent had done more than take her into his bed and give her the Gift. He was training her.”

“And who would that be?” Kellie set the paper cup in the cup holder and gazed at David expectantly.

David sighed. “Well, the Society of the Dragon, as far as we can tell, since that’s who her victims worked for. They had a long standing and binding agreement with Drake to operate in the city, rumour has it they stopped giving him his cut. Kent went to convince them to change their minds. Nights later, he was dust. A week later one of the Vanguard was found in an alley with his chest torn open and his heart missing.”

Kellie winced, her stomach rolling slightly. Even Kent hadn’t perpetuated such a violent act. And yet David seem convinced that the tiny female vampire had done so. “Red did that?”

“Her or one of the boys. Once Kent was out of the picture, the entire rank and file lined up behind her. We think they may have to a man refused to take orders from anyone else but her.” The Scottish psychic spared a glance at the tattooed and pierced witch in the passenger seat as he changed lanes, the exit to the 427 South fast coming up. “I have been to each of her….the crime scenes. Her rage is so palpitable it’s left a near permanent imprint on the areas the bodies were left in. Abe has been monitoring Paranormal forums on the internet, and even untrained sensitives have picked that up.”

“What are untrained sensitives doing in at a crime scene?” Kellie’s tongue snaked out to toy with the silver hoop piercing the middle of her lower lip as she looked at her friend. A transport truck, the driver intent on getting his load to its destination, sped past them, filling the pause in their conversation with the roar of the diesel engine.

“Given the events in the North of the city last summer, the media tends to get on top of all violent activities that occur, either praying that it is or isn’t another summer of violence.” David smoothly slid in behind the truck and then into the next lane, taking the curve down to the 427 South. “And these murders are violent. Each one the same. Young men, members of the Society of the Dragon, found in an alley in Chinatown….blocks from your house by the way, be prepared for that…” David tossed Kellie a teasing grin. “Their chests torn open, and not by any instrument. And their hearts missing. It’s all the police and God’s Gate can do to convince the media to report the facts differently than they are.”

Kellie groaned, picking up her paper coffee cup and closed her eyes against the city landscape that sprung up suddenly along the highway. “Fucking brilliant. A vampire with revenge issues is roaming in my neighbourhood.” David laughed suddenly, and Kellie opened her eyes to glare at him. Technically she wasn’t in Chinatown. She was in Kensignton Market…but nothing really separated the two areas, and they shared a few alleys, the same with the Market and Little Italy. “And she’s fucking sanctioned by the Big Man himself.”

I'm a wee bit behind

2006-11-10T19:36:00.000-05:00

So I'm a wee bit behind. Although I'm at 100% health wise (well, except for a nagging cough that has consistantly woken me up at 3 am every night this week), and I have the entire outline for my story in my head, and I can even muse and ponder and work out paragraphs and the like while knitting, on the streetcar or lying in bed right before I fall asleep, I'm having some problems getting from my head to my keyboard.

In other words, I have to catch the creative wave that I can so easily see and I keep missing it by a few feet.

I wrote about a page last night, and it was a struggle to do that. So today I have not touched it, just allowing myself to ponder and muse and not pressuring to hit the keyboard.

Tomorrow I write. And hopefully catch that creative wave.

Toronto Star Article

2006-11-08T13:43:00.000-05:00

What's Toronto's Story?

The above linked article was in the online edition of the Toronto Star on Sunday Nov 5. In essence, it raised the question as to why Canadian, and Torontonian, authors did not set their novels in the city of Toronto. Some of the excuses/reasons dumbfounded me.

Not enough writers born and raised here?

So? Neither was I. I was born in Guelph, Ontario. But I've lived here 10 years and trust me, I stopped feeling like an outoftowner 9 years ago.

Too Big?

Ummmm...we're smaller than New York or London, England. So frankly, that doesn't tread water with me. The fact that we have many ethnic neighbourhoods? So? That's what gives us part of our character, the fact that in one 45 minute walk from work to home in the evening, I can go from the Financial district to a shopping district, to Chinatown, Kensington Market, Portugal Village and Rua Acora (a Brazilian neighbourhood). That Little Italy is blocks from my house, as is Roncenesvale, an Eastern European neighbourhood.

I mean, a novel set in New York doesn't encompase the entire city, so why a novel set in Toronto? A novel set in London, England might only focus on the East End or the West End....so why not a novel set in Toronto's Little Dehli or in the University Of Toronto's massive campus along College Street?

Too big doesn't cut it.

Don't want to upset Vancouver/Montreal/other Canadian City.

So? See, the above really is more of a statement of apology for Toronto exisiting if you ask me. "Sorry I'm from Toronto, I'll set my novel in Edmonton.". Fuck that. I don't care if someone I never met in Vancouver gets their knickers in knots because I wrote about vampires in Toronto. If they want a novel set in Vancouver, sit down and write it and don't whine because an author living in Toronto used it for a setting in their own.

Of course, this is pretty typical of Canada. We're always apologizing to each other and the world for who and what we are. And I don't know why.

Toronto doesn't have much of a mythology attached to it.

Alright. So we don't have a "Gangs of New York" kind of history, or the rich tapestry of New Orleans, or the ancient history of London, England. But we have our myths, our local legends, our ghost stories. We had the War of 1812 right here. American forces took over Fort York and burned our parliment buildings, then located here. There's the tale of the lighthouse keeper at Gibralter Point who was murdered over bootleg whiskey. Ambrose Small who disappeared right off the street right here in Toronto. The tale of the University of Toronto stonecutters who fought over the love of a local girl, resulting in the murder of one of them. Lake Ontario has ghost ships, and some would say an area akin to the Bermuda Triangle. There's Cabbagetown, once called the worst Anglo Saxon slum in the colonies back in the 1850's. Underneath a massive skyscraper near the Royal Ontario Museum is a mass grave from a 19th century epedemic.

And that's just the tip of the iceburg.

Too British?

Funny, that never bothers anyone setting a novel in London England.

Brutally ugly?

That particular writer must be blind.

Maybe, just maybe, some writers have blinded themselves to the multiple possibilities that exisit within the boundries of Metropolitan Toronto? Because we aren't New York or London, or Los Angeles or Venice or Tokyo. But we aren't less than them either. And it's time we collectivally admitted to that.

Excerpt the Duex

2006-11-08T11:18:00.000-05:00

Because Angel begged....lol. Second excerpt.

Toronto was a bustling city, lively and full of energy and possibility. A young city, it was taking steps out onto the world stage like a hesitant debutant, eager yet shy. Drake had watched it grow from a frontier town all but centred around a fort that was now a tourist attraction, into the vast and sprawling multi-cultural city it was now. And currently his back was turned to it.

Literally.

His dark eyed gaze was fixed on the small lights of the Toronto Islands, a peaceful scattering of islands just off the harbour, and beyond them the lights of the various boats that were anchored on Lake Ontario for the night. His faint reflection showed in the floor to ceiling windows of the living room of his penthouse as he stood there, hands clasped behind his back as one of his visitors shuffled nervously.

The sound drew Drake’s attention away from the Islands, and he glanced to the right, handsome features etched in grim amusement as he looked at his associate and the tiny woman standing next to him. The visitor shuffled again and coughed slightly, an older man dragged in by the woman, still standing beyond Drake’s vision. His associate grinned back at him, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned casually against the chrome wet bar. The woman had her small hands jammed into the pockets of her black cargo pants, brilliant scarlet hair spilling over her face and obscuring the face of Che Guevara imprinted on her tank top.

The air smelt of human blood, and Drake knew it came off of the woman as much as from within the visitor. She’d struck again and she didn’t care and didn’t feel satisfied just yet. “Red, if you aren’t careful, the wrong people might start to ask questions.”

The seemingly genial warning was offered in a smooth, deep voice, the faint accent unreadable in its origins. No one knew just where Drake had originated from, it was his own secret, and his looks helped him in that regard. His skin tone, paled over the centuries, could be Mediterranean, Latino, Greek, even Arabic. His eyes were dark and unreadable, the planes of his face seeming to have been sculpted by one of the great artists of the Renaissance. His hair was dark, and currently bore carefully placed streaks of honey blonde, framing his face and spilling over his broad shoulders.

“Wrong people ask wrong questions I’ll fuckin deal with them.” Red muttered, green eyes peering out at her boss through the vivid red veil of hair. “Right people ask the wrong questions, I’ll deal with em. I got it under control.”

Red was a tiny woman, a perpetual teenager with the face of an angel, and one of the most vicious and violent beings Drake had ever come across. And she was less than a century old, less than half a century. And in her position within his organization for only a year, and already, despite her taste for personal vengeance, indispensable. Which was rare in Drake’s world. Perhaps it was due to her own personal vendetta being fully in line with what Drake wanted anyway.

“So long as I don’t have to take control.” Dante muttered, not even looking at the woman by his side, his steady gaze having moved from Drake’s still form to the shuffling and sweating visitor standing in the middle of the living room.

“Fuck off.” Red muttered, pushing away from her place next to Dante and flopping herself down in a club chair. Dante only grinned, winking at Drake who allowed himself a ghost of a grin at the brief exchange. Red all but snarled. Typical of the two. At least she knew they took her seriously. “I think, however, I’ve been effective enough to convince Chan here to capitulate.” Red’s chin jutted towards the visitor, an older Chinese man who had been watching the exchange through hooded eyes, nervous, but not necessarily afraid.

“Ah yes, Chan.” Drake smiled and finally turned to face the visitor. “I trust Red was an amicable guardian on your trip here?”

“Red….” Chan eyed the small woman slumped in the club chair, and his look hardened. He would have to look into paying her back. “It is very rare that a man in your position would entrust a youth such as herself, not to mention a woman, in such a vital area of your organization.”

“Misogynistic bastard.” Red hissed. She didn’t move, but even a child could see that she was primed to pounce. That’s what she hated, especially with the older ones. They looked at her, a small woman, young, still within her mortal lifetime, and viewed her within whatever ancient morals and cultural dictations they sprang out of. Thankfully, Drake changed with the times. Red knew full well she’d not be able to deal if Drake regarded her in a social context older than the country they lived in.

Drake raised a hand, stilling any further outburst from his enforcer, not once taking his eyes off of Chan. “I like to spring the unexpected on others.” He purred as he moved away from the expanse of windows. “And Red is unexpected. In more ways than one. You must admit she does her job exceedingly well.”

Chan nodded, although with slight reluctance. “Aye. She does.” Much to his dismay, Red only smiled, an expression that didn’t reach her snapping green eyes.

“So, has The Honourable Society of the Dragon decided to return to giving me my cut of the profits, as per the long standing agreement?

Chan’s attention returned to Drake, his almond shaped eyes, rimmed with crow’s feet narrowing slightly. “We have.” He muttered.

Random Rambles

2006-11-07T11:53:00.000-05:00

I'm 90% better today. Still have a cough and occassional stuffed-upedness (I don't care if that's not a real word, it is now cause I used it so nyah), but I'm getting better.

Oranges are tasty. *munches happily on fat juicy orange*

I've been getting some good feedback on my wee tale, which is doing me wonders. I have this horrible tendency to get really down on myself with regards to my writing, and honestly I have no idea as to the root cause. Just one of those things I suppose. I've actually written very little since I came down with this cold, but my muse hath returned and a scribbling I shall go! No panic yet still, it's only the 7th and I can catch up to the average I should be at word count wise.

I had a link to a Toronto Star article and my own rebuttal here, but when I came in to edit it (have the link show up in one of the words), it got eaten somehow. I will redo it later, since it was pretty valid methinks. But the article in question is

AHCHOO!!!! Cough Cough Sniffle Wheeze

2006-11-04T12:53:00.000-05:00

By the end of today I should have 6668 words written. I have about half of that right now.

And I caught a cold, probably on the streetcar. I am congested, stuffed up, have a cough and puffy eyes. Blah. I did, however, manage to talk myself out of the old "It's not good enough, I need to fix what I've written, it's crap" that I was going through. It doesn't have to be perfect, that's not the point of this entire crazy month. The point is to release the creative muse and pour out the bones of a story and to try to hit 50,000 words, which really isn't the length of the standard novel.

Pefecting comes after a few edits, AFTER the bones are in place. The creative process is maddening, but I have to remind myself that right now it doesn't matter if an aspect of the story changed totally a few pages apart. That can be fixed later. (yes, I'm pretty sure I did that....lol)

I guess its kinda like motherhood....there's no point in making your child a doctor when they're still a fetus. My story is an embryo right now. It needs to slowly form and develop, and yes, change a little here and there as the inspiration hits during the writing process, and I can't worry about it being a perfect little infant when it's no where near that point.

And I'm bloody sick. I'm going to try my damnest to hit 6668 words before I go to bed for the night. After a nap and some medication.

Oh dear

2006-11-03T10:45:00.000-05:00

I didn't write a word yesterday. Not. One. Single. Word.

It's mostly due to what I posted about yesterday, and it was something I HAVE to work through (since this seems to be a common occurance for me, thinking back, it's this very thing that stops me short every time).

I've been repeating to myself over and over....It doesn't matter at this point. The goal is 50,000 words and to plunk at the very least a rough rough draft down on paper. Giving away too much or not is not at issue here. Just writing it, getting it out is the issue here. You know what you want, you know how you want it to generally unfold. Clean up, padding and editing can take place later.

I have to repeat this over and over, gotta get around this bend. And today! It's bad enough I have to pound out about 5000 words today just to catch up!

Procrastination or fear?

2006-11-02T11:43:00.000-05:00

I haven't written a word this morning. I've had the opportunity, and I've only just now (right before I started this entry) opened the file.

Either I'm putting it off or I'm afraid of my own story. Weird.

I was flowing last night, except for the section which happens at Toronto Pearson International Airport. I've never been there and had to guess. I'll have my husband (who has gone through Pearson) read that part and help me with the description of the airport.

I think I'm wondering if the conversation between Kellie and David in the car enroute to downtown is giving away information. Probably not. They're talking about the murder that opens the story. That actually doesn't give away the main plot, but it might dive too early into the details of one of the subplots.

Hmmmmmmmmm

Fuck it. I think it should be alright.

Maybe.

GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Word Count!

2006-11-01T20:57:00.000-05:00

2893/50,000

Sweet.

Here's the opening exerpt!

It had been the hottest day of the year, humidex reaching 45 degrees C, and even at 2 am it hadn’t dropped below 38. Detective Marshall Grant loosened his tie, feeling the sweat dripping down his back, plastering the light cotton shirt to his skin. The alley was narrow, dank and damp, stinking of the green bins from the Chinese grocery that fronted the alley stored back there in between the weekly garbage pickups. The green bins had been removed hours before, but the stench of rotting food lingered, mingling with urine, dog droppings, and the smell of the neighbouring fish market.

But none of those smells, usual for the large and busy Toronto neighbourhood, could even begin to cover over the stench of death.

Marshall sighed, wiping at the sweat trickling down his temple and stared at the body being studiously photographed by FIS. A young Chinese man, couldn’t be more than 18, handsome by any culture’s standards and well built. He was sprawled on his back, his finely sculpted features frozen forever in a grimace, dark almond shaped eyes staring blankly at the graffiti covered wall. The flash of the camera illuminated the horror with each click; his chest had been torn open. Not by any blade or surgical instrument, and not by an animal. Blood pooled and festered under the body; his ribcage snapped in half and pried open.

“Heart’s missing.” Jake, the FIS investigator looked up at Marshall, one eyebrow raised. They’d been seeing far too much of this particular style lately.

“Another one? He got the tattoo?” Marshall inched forward, nose wrinkling at the smell. “Shit but they stink when opened up like that and left out.”

Jake beamed his flashlight on the body, the blood glistening under the glare and seeming to come to life. Beyond the alley were the faint sounds of a city that never really slept, the chatter of drunken partygoers leaving the various bars and nightclubs at last call. “Right there, left wrist. Same as the others.”

The light bared to the eyes of the investigators the simple tattoo on the inside of the left wrist, smooth black lines done by the hand of one who was intimately familiar with the ancient continuous style, the symbol of the dragon. “Another one for the Special Unit.” Jake muttered, a shiver running up his spine.

“Yup.” Marshall drew back, the stench of rotting human flesh threatening to overwhelm the veteran police officer.

“They give me the creeps.” Jake handed his camera to another FIS member and drew back to join the homicide detective. “You think they know who’s behind this?”

Marshall dabbed again at the sweat that trickled constantly down his face, short-cropped hair glistening. “They know. And thank God it’s their territory. Don’t think I could handle it myself.”

“Detective!” A uniformed officer approached, coughing slightly as the smell from the body sprawled in the alley reached him, his youthful face turning slightly gray. “Media’s here.”

“Fuck.” Marshall patted Jake on the shoulder. “Keep working, gotta keep the media happy and keep the details out of the news. Franklin, call in and ask for the Special Unit.”
“Yes sir.” Franklin backed away, glad for the command that would take him away from the horror of the alley.

thunk

2006-11-01T13:22:00.000-05:00

Ever get going on writing something, you're steaming along, all is working well and then *thwack*......nothing? I fucking hate that. I *know* what I want to happen in the section I've suddenly hit a wall in, I *know* what's going on, but the words are not coming.

Fucking hate that shit. GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!

On the upside, I've churned out 1,138 words this morning. I might just skip over the blanking section for the moment and move to the next section, and fill in the missing part later when it finally decides to show up.

It begins

2006-11-01T09:35:00.000-05:00

How does that saying go? Today is the first day of the rest of my life....well...the rest of my life this month anyways. Yes, today kicks off NaNoWriMo, and I don't think I've ever been more ready than at this moment!

Although I have noticed since opening MS Word that the cursor on a blank page makes a sound very similar to the turn signal on the old cars....click clack click clack.

I suppose that's in my head.

Ok, a couple of work related things to deal with and then I'm up and running! I'll post the opening excerpt tomorrow!

Two More Days! ACK!!!!!!!

2006-10-30T10:22:00.000-05:00

Two more days to NaNoWriMo and my stomach is twisting and turning in fear and anticipation.

I think I have everything together, enough to get started and run with it anyways. Main characters, secondary characters, plot, where I want plot to go, acceptance if plot goes in a different direction, setting, locations, mood....all that stuff. I have been trying to silence a character I created many years ago who does not fit into this story, but it's kinda hard. Heh. She's, well.....dominant.

I also find my mind running a few other stories, and I'm hoping they kinda stay to the side for the month. I'll let them out after Nov 30. I hope they listen to me.

I have not managed to finish all the knitting projects I had hoped to get done prior to the start of November, but now I'm looking at them this way...meditative knitting. The ones left on the needles are pretty simple and straightforward, no fancy lace or cable or intarsia. So I can, when blocked on the writing front, settle down with the yarn and sticks and as the yarn turns into a garment, I'll let my mind relax and find it's creative zone again.

Well, that's the plan anyway.

I'm still a little hungover from the wedding I went to on Saturday. I'm afraid to slip back in time and figure out how much I drank, but it was several big glasses of very tasty white wine, and I had a fantastic time. The bride and groom looked so very happy. It was in what we think is usually a gallery of some kind, right downtown. Small, funky and elegant. Congrats K & C and have a wonderful life together! (and I didn't bawl my eyes out unlike in September when my little brother got married.)

Six Days

2006-10-26T09:43:00.000-04:00

I think I'm all better now. Just been a wee bit giddy the last few days (although Wicked has indeed given me a fine idea for a comedic short story someday, see the comment he left in the Seven Days post!).

I'm almost ready to start this thing, yesh, almost ready. Debating if I should house Drake in a 19th century building in Old Town Toronto or in one of the garish new condos they've slammed up along a portion of the waterfront. A 19th century building, or even one of the 18th century or Georgian era buildings in the area around Yonge and Front would be deliciously Gothic, and suitable for a dark, seductive and mysterious vampire of unknown origin, but he's also a very modern guy despite being about 400 years old, so a streamlined condo in the sky with a view of the Toronto Islands from the plate glass window wall of his minimalisticly decorated living room would suit him too.

Especially since he takes care of certain 'business' at home. The uber modern setting might be a nice backdrop for that. Contrast and all. Would also piss off the Condo Owners Association for the building....lol.

Kellie's home setting is Kensington Market, this tiny little quaint neighbourhood bordered by Chinatown and Little Italy. Originally this place was a Jewish neighbourhood, and the original synagouge (sp?) still exists and is still in use. From Jewish it became Irish, Italian, Chinese, and so on and now it's very much an artist's and student's paradise. I love me some Kensington Market!

All in all my fingers are itching, and I'm trying to resist the urge to whip out some scenes that occur later in the tale, I want to start from the start and let things unfold, which honestly would be a very new process for me....lol.

Oh yeah, and note to self. Look into cost of new computer tower. Mine is slowly dying a slow and painful death and it would fair kill me if it crashed permanently during the month of Novemeber!

Seven Days

2006-10-25T11:31:00.000-04:00

Still can't get that "Vicious gang of Keep Left Signs" out of my head. Yes, I watch far too much Monty Python, right now I'm giggling non-stop over the idea of putting in a gang of wayward grannies.

Short entry today as I have a large amount of work at the office today. Shall update this eve!

You watch too much Monty Python when......

2006-10-24T21:29:00.000-04:00

So I was musing over a mentioned character in my tale, one who is already dead, much like the Leafs tonight. I had been thinking that prior to his death, he was like the enforcer for Drake, this big tough guy.

So I was sitting there, knitting a hat, ignoring the (at the time) 3-0 Ottawa score on the Leafs game and writing sentences in my head that would be used to describe him, and this popped in and WILL NOT LEAVE.

"Kent was a massive giant of a man, infamous for his own violence in addition to using the resources at his disposal within the vicious gang of keep left signs."

Eight Days

2006-10-24T09:52:00.000-04:00

So I think I got the word out about this blog to everyone. Note to self, Daddy and Daddy-in-Law will be reading, try to keep it PG. Well, as PG as I can given the plot of the story anyway....aw hell, ya'll know I'll be swearing.

I had emailed my friend Celeste yesterday with a rough outline of the plot I'm going to work with, she liked it muchly. So it's not a total loser plot afterall....Gods but I can be harsh on myself.

At any rate, I'm setting it right here in Toronto, because a) write what you know and b) I don't recall ever reading a novel set here. Well, apparently there's a graphic novel series set here, with much of the action centring around The Dance Cave, a nightclub in the Annex, but I've never gotten my hands on those.

Anyway, here's the rough plot:

Toronto's underground criminal element is under the iron grip of Drake, a mysterious 400 year old vampire who's origins no one is sure of. As well as Toronto proper, he has control of the GTA, most of Southern Ontario, and strong ties with Montreal and portions of New York State. The simple fact that organized crime is under the control of supernatural creatures such as vampires in most of the world, various governments have come together and set up a group of witches, psycics and other people with supernatural powers who work hand in hand with, and sometimes over, official organizations such as the FBI, Scotland Yard and CSIS, as well as local police. This is God's Gate.

Despite Drake's total control over his realm, a Japanese vampire who created the Yakuza (I'll change the name of this criminal group), wants to move in and take over like he did Vancouver.

Fearing a major and very public war between the two sides, God's Gate sends in Kellie Haas, a powerful witch, to go undercover within Drake's organization in an attempt to difuse the situation, or barring that, at least provide the necessary information to remove the key players...permanently. But she ends up in over her head, falling for Drake, and he her.

Hmmmmm....thinking on it now, and given the large Chinatown that Toronto has, perhaps I should switch from a Japanese style gang to the Chinese style Triad? Might make more sense, plus I get to use all that cool stuff one usually associates with mysterious Chinese groups.

I also have this horrible yet delicious temptation to set a key moment at the Air Canada Centre while a hockey game between the Toronto Maple Leafs and the Montreal Canadiens is going on......oh but that's so tempting! Hell, it's starting to form in my head. Perhaps I should research the layout of the ACC, since I've never had the privilage of going there.....

Nine Days

2006-10-23T16:26:00.000-04:00

It is the final countdown. 9 Days to the start of NaNoWriMo 2006. The first time I have ever attempted such a thing, 50,000 words in 30 days.

I have a working plot, provided I don't go chicken out of it before hand. I *think* it's alright as far as plots go, well, today I do anyway. It's got vampires, organized crime, supernatural crime fighters, love, hate, jealousy, lust, greed. You know, the best of human kind really.

I'm alternating between wanting to vomit from fear and bouncingly eager to get started (is bouncingly even a word? Or did I just make up a word? Note to self, use bouncingly in ordinary conversation, see what happens).

If you must know what NaNoWriMo is all about, check out the main website, http://www.nanowrimo.org and see who else besides me is insane.

I set up this blog on purpose, see, I need one place where I can just dump it all, the esctatic highs, the depressing lows, the breakthroughs, the brick walls, the post count. Blogger blog = attempts to drink the hemlock laced drink.

Note to self. Put blogger url into NaNoWriMo user profile.

Note to self. Tell friends about this blog, or end up talking to yourself.

That is all.

I think.