Now THAT’S perspective!

At least at the moment. (No collaboration, either, Zero. LOL!)

I spent yesterday in hot and heavy emails with my friend, Nene. Her offer to help me figure out a storyline was very kind, and I wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass.

Having to put one of my ideas into an email in order to explain what I felt lacking, I realized I had quite a lot of story already there. It was only the one crucial plot point that I missed. Nene brought up an idea and a plot twist to set up the situation I needed for the rest of the book.

Now if I can actually write the entire thing out without getting stalled…

I’m getting nowhere.  Fast.  Can’t seem to focus anywhere.  I have a number of projects to edit or begin editing, twenty plus storylines I’ve thought of over the years, and nothing wants to settle down to be written.

UGH!

Going over my past writing doesn’t seem to help me do much more than realize how much my focus has dissipated over the years.  I’ve fallen in love with my characters too much, I can’t torture them the way I used to, and that results in books that are lukewarm.

I need a fresh infusion, but damned if I know where to get it.  Collaboration comes to mind, but with who?  And how?  I haven’t collaborated on anything for over twenty years.   It wasn’t easy then, it certainly won’t be easy now with the current crop of writers who’d be interested.  (And the one or two I’m interested in asking …  Well, suffice it to say, I’m shy, dammit.)

I’m about ready to take this iBook and beat myself over the head until it’s bloody.

Well, after three days of writing . . . piddly, mewling, crappy writing . . . I decided it all sucked.  Crammed it together on a file titled ‘cuts,’ and started again.

That’s what I needed to do.  Just busted out a thousand words in an hour that’s a lot more powerful than before.  I’m liking it.  (But then, I’ve always like Dusky, and this is from her POV.)

I realized that I was simply recreating the same scenes the same way with my first attempt.  I needed to get in and really work it from different angles.  I also think I’m going to stick with Dusky for a while longer rather than pop into an intro of Shannon.

Yep.  I think this will work much better.

The old standby at the park blocks rather than the new coffee shop in my life.  Had to head up to OHSU this morning for a blood test, then ran a couple of errands.  I was closer to here than home, so here I am.

(Looks like I just got here in time, too.  The place is packing up and there aren’t many places to sit.)

Going to have a go at finishing the second chapter of Red Wolves.  I still don’t like Shannon Elias’ character, despite my intention to rough her up some.  Spent part of this morning wondering who to style her upon.  Maybe if I have someone in mind it’ll be a tad easier.

The neverending search for a place to write, somewhere out of the way to shake up my recent bad habits of cruising the internet at my desk, has resulted in a cheaper alternative than a coffee house.  Here I sit on my balcony – internet access enabled, but not a distraction – with my iBook, my iPod, and my second cup of tea.  Doesn’t cost me $4.50 a day, and mocha is bad for me anyway.

The Bridge Pedal is today.  Right now, I’m watching two levels of it.  Those on the Broadway Bridge above me are heading east.  Below me on Naito Parkway are either the stragglers or leaders; I don’t know which because I haven’t a map handy.  (LOL!  I just saw a unicyclist go by!  That’s gotta be rough – no coasting for that guy!)  I have absurd hopes of seeing one of the guys I work with … he asked for today off so he could participate.
Yesterday saw the completion of two scenes for the new Red Wolves cyberpunk novel.  Only about 1500 words.  Couldn’t seem to get too excited over the next scene, which is the second character, Shannon Elias.

One of the many reasons I disliked this book was because I didn’t like Shannon.  She’s too damned good, too innocent.  Going over her character bio and recalling my feelings for her, I’ve decided she needs more grit and less trust.

Additionally, the original backdrop was a second civil war in America, a war predominantly fought between Big Business and the Government.  It’s been eight years since I first wrote this.  Today’s current events makes this premise very implausible.  If a civil war broke out, it’d be between the haves and the have-nots.  Instead, I’m going to declare an overall decline of the government’s ability to take care of its people, and leave it at that.

Time to get writing…

Here I sit at the Urban Grind coffee house in the Pearl District.  I was impressed with the funky little place the last time I was here.  Unfortunately, thats’ when I got so deathly ill and I haven’t been back since.

But today I have a purpose.

Last night while online, I became bored, really bored.  I think I’ve reached the end of my writing vacation.   The stack of books to be read remains the same height no matter how many I weed out of it, but I’m not so fired up to read anymore.  (I know.  I hear you.  “It’s about TIME!”  My wife agrees with you.)

I’ve been working my way through the Into the West miniseries.  Yesterday morning as I finished watching episode four, I got a major hankering to write.  Or rewrite.  Or something.

One things I’ve always said was that I didn’t care for CyberEpic.  People ask if I’ll ever publish it; my response has always been a resounding “no!”  When I wrote it, I knew what the average white American knew about American Indians.  (Well, maybe a little bit more, but not all that much.)  Now, however, I’ve done a mountain of research for the writing and rewriting of Tiopa Ki Lakota.  There are so many more things I can put into CyberEpic that was denied me by my previous ignorance.

That doesn’t change the fact that I still hate the title and the story.  LOL!

Today I begin writing a new novel, tentatively titled Red Wolves.  Same basic plot, same general characters, but I’m writing it from scratch.  I’m sure some things will remain the same, and others will change drastically.  Those of you who dearly adore CyberEpic, be warned.  Or be cheered . . .

When I first wrote that novella, I didn’t outline any of it.  Given my recent discovery that perhaps outlining isn’t for me, Red Wolves will be a return to those roots.  I have no idea where this story will go, or where the characters will take me.  Maybe it’ll help fire up my inspiration, and put me on the good written path I started on so many years ago.
A girl can hope.

I also found the bestest book in the whole wide world today!

The Lakota Dictionary, compiled and edited by Eugene Buechel and Paul Manhart.

I’m in love! * SQUEE! *

Or, My First Fan Encounter.

I responded to a comment to today, and thought this would actually make a decent post about idiocy…  I’ll just quote the majority of the text:

My first encounter with a fan went HORRIBLY. I attended the local SF/F convention that year, Orycon, and my wife staked out a table in the lobby to do free rune readings. (Drumming up future paying clients and all.) A woman stared at her nametag, finally braving the question, “Do you write lesbian romance?” My wife told her no, but that she was my other half.

An hour later, my wife arrived at the Dealers’ Room, where I’d been ensconced as assistant. Apparently, this woman had followed her because the next thing either of us know, she stepped right up to me and spouted some wonderful and verbose stuff about Tiopa. My response? “Wow! Did you think of all that off the top of your head just now? Or did you take time to think about it?”

hangs head I know. It was terrible. As soon as the words were outta my mouth, I wanted to shove a very large sock in. I signed her program, I think. I don’t remember, since I was embarrassed at my lack of social graces.

For the rest of the convention, we’d pass in the halls or happen to attend the same panel. She never spoke to me, nor I her. There were wary glances and vague nods of acknowledgement, but nothing more.

I’m pretty sure I lost a fan that day.

This was several years ago, and I don’t remember her name.  I know she worked at Powell’s bookstore.  Everytime I go there, I look for her, but haven’t seen her yet.  She’s probably moved on a long time ago.

But if you’re reading this, please accept my very belated apologies for being a dork.  You truly scared the hel out of me at the time!

On the hearing front…

Visited the Tinnitus Clinic yesterday.  Seems there might be some sort of correction possible.  If it’s doable and it works, my loss would be raised up to moderate rather than serious to profound.

We’ll make an appointment today with the surgeon for a meeting.  The doctor I saw yesterday said that exploratory surgery may be necessary.  I may be out of work for a week or more.  Now’s the time, since it’s supposed to be slow for the next three weeks.  After that, all bets are off.

Susan Butcher loses battle

by CRAIG MEDRED
Anchorage Daily News

Published: August 5, 2006
Last Modified: August 5, 2006 at 09:21 PM

Far from her Alaska home and the dogs she loved so much, four-time Iditarod champion Susan Butcher died Saturday in a Seattle hospital.

She was 51 years old and the mother of two young daughters. She had been waging a battle against leukemia for a year and a half, but sometimes not even the toughest warriors can win.

Continue Reading…

I’m in a small gift shop with my wife.  The woman behind the counter is an old friend we accidentally ran into, and hadn’t seen for awhile.  Beside me is a notebook with my current project, a writing pen, and a brown marker that I’ve been using to edit as I go.

Some guy comes up and stares at the marker.  Then he picks it up and reads the gold writing on it: D Jordan Redhawk.  He says he knows this name, this is the name of a writer.  Then he whips out the latest edition of Warlord Metal, opens the front pages and shows me my autograph.

As is the way of dreams, I know that the autograph is one I did at a bookstore.  All I did was sign every copy they had in stock.  It wasn’t personalized.

Since he doesn’t know who I am, I humor him and pluck my marker out of his hands.  Then I return to talking to my friend.  (I know . . . Rude of me, huh?)  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him slide his hand across the counter and snitch my pen!  That bastard!

He immediately turns away and heads for the door.  I intercept and demand he return my pen.  He’s clutching it to his chest, but WM is held loosely at his side.  In retaliation, I swipe his copy of my book.

Opening it to the cover page, I suddenly have a ballpoint pen in my hand.  I tell him we’ll make an even trade.  My marker for a personal autograph in his book.

He stammers in confusion, fist still wrapped about my marker.  I offer to show him my ID to prove my claim, but first I sign the book for him.  It’s obvious that it’s the same handwriting as the original autograph.

Then I woke up.

~~~

So, what the hell was THAT about??