7 Things you never knew about L.T.

"When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves."
--William Arthur Ward

My friend Rebecca over at Becoming tagged me for the "7 things you never knew..." post. Thanks, my friend. Now I have to think of 7 things about myself that are both interesting and new--and stuff like that hasn't happened in ages. (Ages! I'm old! But that's not new...and lots of stuff on this list probably won't be new to some of you.)

So here goes:

1. I have a cat named Italics that I actually just call Lil Fluff. She's a Wal-Mart Box redemption that I couldn't walk away from, much to the General's dismay. She is more bullwhip than cat because of her enchanting bouts of frantic (and uncoordinated) tail-lashing. She also so happens to be a Were-Cat. Should the scent of meat permeate the air, she will be there. Should hamburger ever cross the threshold, she will be there. Should ever a chicken be baked---She will be there.

2. I have frequent nightmares. 3-4 times a week, usually, and I have had them since I was a little girl. All of my dreams (good & bad) are super-detailed. I can remember all of them and describe them at length. Last night's nightmare was about an airplane crashing into our neighborhood and wiping it out. Somehow, we survived that but the sheep (that we do not actually own) did not. Or most of the neighbors. Some dream-figure-outers might say that I don't like my neighbors...

3. I'm pretty darn loyal. Loyal to those I love, loyal to book series, loyal to authors, loyal to my favorite eating establishments. It's one of the few traits I have that I'm proud of. (Of course, one could argue that my "loyalty" is really a lack of adventure. I'm going to keep thinking of it as loyal, though. Makes me look slimmer in the mirror.)

4. I'm a bad hen. My eggies don't work like other hen's eggies and I'm having a hard time gettin' any more chicks in the roost. But you won't hear me cluckin' about it much because the farmer's put a rubber band around my beak. (Enough farmyard analogies, anyone?)

5. There sits upon my desk a book of poisons. It details many things about poison.

6. One of the best Valentine's Day gifts I ever got was a mini-bag of Cooler-Ranch Doritos. No, it's not because I'm a hog-beast who needs to voraciously maul food every minute of the day. It was because that Valentine's Day was a tough one and $ was non-existent but somehow, He found a way to get something...just to say "Love You."

7. (Thank heaven! It's almost over!!!!) My lifeline during one of the most difficult times in my adolescence was a small vial of men's cologne. I would fall asleep at night holding this little black vial and literally count the hours until dawn. I still have it. I've exchanged holding onto it for holding onto it's owner instead.

Phew!!! I survived. Barely. And now the cycle of torture begins anew. I am supposed to list 7 other victims to the dastardly list and here they are:

Melodious Mama (whose tunes are melodious!) over at Melodious Mama

Houdini (awesome friend!) over at Through My Eyes

Scarlet Knight (my wonderful writing buddy) over at Paper & Parchment

Homesteading (one of the most touching writers) over at A Little Bit of Everything

Keith Fisher (Who I adore to read) at LDS Writer's Blogck

James (who is both witty and brilliant) over at Syncopated Musings

And James Dashner (one of my all-time favorite authors) over at The Dashner Dude

All right, you've been tagged. Now what? Post your 7 things and then tag 7 others. Sorry guys, it's the name of the game. (Really, I'm really sorry but it IS kind of fun!)

J.D. may not have time because he's a busy man writing books to delight readers such as myself. But I thought I'd tag him anyway because I would like to know 7 things about him. Everyone else...I get to stalk you until you do post your 7 things. GWA HA HA HA HA!

Have a good one, guys!

L.T. Elliot

Conceit and Courtship

"Either a writer doesn't want to talk about his work, or he talks about it more than you want." --Anatole Broyard

Feeling that way about me yet? That's ok. I feel that way about me sometimes too.

Today I'm going to share with you a little secret. I'm conceited a tiny bit. (How one can be conceited in a tiny fashion is beyond me. Doesn't conceit come in heaping portions?) I have this giant dream for my writing career. Since I was about 14 years old, I've known what publishing house I want to be with. Their logo is on the spine of many books in my library because when shopping in a specific genre, I can usually depend on them to publish stories that appeal to me. Once or twice I may have been disappointed (although I can't currently think of a single time.)

The company's name is Tor. Yep, Tor.

Okay, I hear some of you rolling in the aisles. (Consider yourself lucky I don't have a power of attorney for any of you. I'd pull the plug in a second! Ok...I wouldn't. But I'd think about it! Real hard!) Some of you aren't aisle-rolling but perhaps you're eye-rolling. *cheese* And the rest of you are probably saying, "What's a Tor?"

Glad you asked! Tor is an imprint of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC. They publish mainly SF/Fantasy books and include great authors like: Piers Anthony, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradley, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Orson Scott Card, Jacqueline Carey, David Farland, Terry Goodkind, Tracy Hickman, Robert Jordan, Stephen King (one of his fantasy books), Mercedes Lackey, Jack London, George R.R. Martin (not the SOIAF books), L.E. Modesitt Jr., Elizabeth Moon, R.A. Salvatore, Brandon Sanderson, Bram Stoker (It's true!), Margaret Weis, and many more.

The list above is alphabetical and only includes some of the authors on my bookshelves. This list is also specific to Tor publications only. Many of the authors listed have books with other publishing houses too. I recommend all of the ones listed above and could go on for days about authors from other publishers. (Another time, my friends. Patience. Precious...precious...*)

Those of you who weren't aisle/eye rolling before are in stitches now, huh? Well, that's too bad. Despite the distinguished (and daunting) list of authors above, I am determined to join their ranks. This is where the conceit comes in. Not only do I want to be published but I want to be published with the best.

Besides their impressive client list, Tor has a reputation for good business sense. Many of you involved in the writing world may be aware of the industry crash in September/October of last year. Everyone's taken hits. Tor is a division of Macmillan, which has had major restructuring as of late. Tor is one of their only divisions that is remaining its own entity and not being gathered under one modus operandi.

Business aside, the people running the show over at Tor are fascinating, fun people. Patrick & Teresa Nielsen Hayden (editors) not only have a great blog (and many other fun links) but help run Viable Paradise, a renowned yearly writing workshop in Martha's Vineyard. (Check out THEIR BLOG. Links can be found on the right-hand side under the "More What" header. I love The Evil Overlord Random Plot Generator!)

No---I'm NOT stalking Tor. I'm informed. You wouldn't marry someone without getting to know them, right? Well, publishing is like marriage to a writer. And someday soon, I plan to woo.
Conceited? Yes. A little. If you've been following along (and can read the title of my blog) you know I'm a dreamer. But in the words of John Lennon, "I'm not the only one."

Want to know more about Tor? Click any of the links below! "Because Knowledge is Power!"**

Macmillan:Tor
Tor.com
Tor at Wikipedia
Kristen Nelson's Blog A literary agent who remarked about Tor and whose post fueled my own.

* Ref. to LOTR, like you didn't know
**School House Rock. Yeah, I'm old.

Drugging the Hero

"A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?" --Albert Einstein

Quick apology here, readers. I looked back over my recent posts and I'm seeing lots of fluctuating emotions.  Please keep in mind that I generally try to post at least 2-4 days apart. (Hopefully that can justify some of my weirdness.)

It's Monday and it's a whole new week. I've got a fresh slate, been rejuvenated by a weekend's respite, and am clear minded for a little while. I'm happy to report that I've made some headway with chapter 13. That Drystan is giving me a headache but I'm returning the favor. (Gwa ha ha!) I thought it might be fun to put a little status report up about where I'm currently at in the manuscript. I'll try not to give too much away.

For those who don't know, my genre is fantasy. I love reading it, writing it, watching it, gaming it, and pretty much anything to do with it. It's not everyone's cuppa tea and I'm cool with that. But it's my cuppa and "I like the cookie!" (name that movie)


Current word count (according to MS Word): 57,000 on the dot! Wow! That worked out nice.
Completion guesstimate: I'm about 1/3 of the way through. (A little over that.) I'm planning on about 150-200K words for the end result.

When the heck will you be done? Barring further arguments with a certain character, I hope to be finished by...we'll go with July. I'm hoping. I make no guarantees. But I'm hoping. Really, really hoping. I'm going to work my tail off to do it.

My current drawbacks are character emotion. My main hero and the main heroine are VERY different people. They wouldn't like each other in normal settings. Ever. But they don't really have a choice and that makes it real fun. It's like tossing two cats together in a bag and spraying it with the hose. But switching between their perspectives can be difficult. I get used to writing in the heroine's voice and when I have to switch, it's like I have to plug into a whole new brain.

Any writer can tell you that in order to make a character believable you really need to make them unique. Well these two are unique and Drystan doesn't like sharing brain space so I have to drug him up in order to sneak around inside his head. The drugs are beginning to take effect though and that means some quality writing is ahead of me. Hooray! I'm evil. Gwa ha ha ha ha!

I'm off to annoy my hero. Have a good one, everybody!

L.T.

Rewrite Fights

"Writing and rewriting are a constant search for what it is one is saying."

--John Updike

My manuscript and I are fighting. For three days, chapter 13 and I have been at an impasse. I want to move forward and it wants me to rewrite the beginning scene all over again. I tell it:

"Hey, we're already on the fourth revision, ms. I'm not doing it again."

to which it replies, "Oh? You think?"

and I'm all, "Don't go there, baby. The General is the Gandalf of computers. You don't want to know what he can do to you."

and ms says, "Bring it on! You talk tough, L.T. but you always come crawling back to me."

So I cry a little, because it's so true.

And we continue in this vein of schizophrenia until I give in and cut the beginning scene. I save all my cut scenes in a separate folder because I'm aware of my waffling ways and know that at one point or another, I might find myself wandering back to what I've previously written. Sometimes it's quite useful and other times I find myself ROFL over the ridiculous things that came out of my attempts.

An epiphany struck me just now. The schizo-wars almost always occur when I begin writing a scene with this particular character! Oooh...that naughty little... I'd threaten him but Drystan is the kind of character who'd look over his shoulder at me, raise his brows and say, "Best of luck with that." And I'd need it too.

Aside from the obvious truth of this cliche, I wonder if this chapter 13 business is all in my head. Am I struggling with this chapter because subconsciously I'm superstitious? Other writer friends of mine have recently struggled with their chapter 13's too. Are we all just crazy? Yes. Yes, we are.

There are a plethora of reasons I (and anyone with an opinion) could give you for why a person gets stuck in certain parts of their novel. "The middle slump," or "improper planning," or "lack of tenacity." I could go on and on. I know I'm a harder critic of my own work than anyone else could be so I don't fear advice but I have to ask myself, Am I stuck because I'm being a perfectionist? Am I denying the harsh truth that I don't know what I'm doing? Am I blogging right now in order to avoid working?

Darn it. Shouldn't have asked that last one.

Want a laugh? Check out Libba Bray's Rewrite Post I chuckled myself silly!!

Tales from the Battlefield

"Sickness comes on horseback, but goes away on foot." --William C. Hazlitt

I neglect you, dear readers, due to impoverished health. I blame my body. For some reason or other, it seems to have forgotten that it is supposed to be invincible. Bad memory, I suppose.

Relatively germ free on Sunday night, I was struck Monday morning. A sneak attack. I rallied the troops and we made a stunning effort at retaliation but somehow, the illness snuck behind me and we were crushed by that old military maneuver; The Hammer and the Anvil.
Resulting losses are too devastating to mention.

I spent an indeterminate amount of time on the battlefield, consciousness flickering like a guttering candle, and listened to the sounds of my fallen comrades. They fared better than I, their wounds less egregious. We were rescued just after nightfall. Our brilliant General snuck stealthily onto the field, recovered our failing bodies, and disappeared like a huff of breath in the chill winter air. The General's armor is clearly superior to mine own, as he remains stalwart and unmovable. He has provided nourishment and rest but had to leave us to recover alone; heading back to do as he must. He is, after all, the General.

My fellow soldiers seem to be recovering more steadily while I try to resist the lure of darkness. It would be easier to surrender. But my companions are impatient and demand nourishment. I am their superior. It is my duty to look after them, especially while the General is away. The medics ply us with their concoctions but they are slow to act. It will take time for us to recoup from these losses.

But we must recover. There are battles to be fought, wars to be won, and accolades that must be ours! This enemy is powerful but must be stopped. If we fail...it could spread over the land and thousands could be lost to its awesome power. No! We must prevail! We will deny the wicked overlords of the Instacare and their cruel minions, the co-pay.

The task has fallen upon me, dear friends. I alone will suffer this misery so that I can spare you and all others who might otherwise fall under the cold shadow of illness. This sickness must die with me.

Stay back! Do not try to dissuade me! Just promise me this one thing: when you gather with your loved ones and fear no infection, when you breathe and are not hampered by the need for abrasive tissue, when you pass a doctor and flash that shiny apple at him...remember me.

And let the wind whisper...Elliot.

[No! Not "Elliot" from E.T.! Me, people! Me!]

"But I beneath a rougher sea..."

I am not carbonated.

I am not bubbly, fizzy, airy, or refreshing. You will not experience a satisfying burst of flavor or have your taste buds eerily imitate Meg Ryan in a diner when you get your first taste of who I am.

In short, I'm not a cheerful, uplifting, addictive personality.

I'm only funny in a morbid manner. Even attempting humor that borders the realm of the "usual" provokes awkwardness and a NY symphony-sized orchestra of crickets. I will never emerge from the cocoon into a social butterfly. I may not ever emerge from a cocoon at all. I am a person of limbo. I am between that state of complete shut in and life of the party.

I'm as addicted as many of you to the soda-people; those happy, bubbly people who never seem to have a bad day. Now and then, I find myself imitating a barnacle and attempting to cling to their personalities; secretly hoping that I can go all vampire on them and leech their joy. But like all vampire's, one bite does not an immortal make. It takes a lot of bloodsucking and you never become a human; despite the wish.

After a time, the truth rears its ugly head. No matter how I cling, I cannot be a Pepsi. I'm a closet puppy & baby lover. I might like an ice cream cone but you won't see me skipping down the walk.
The sad truth is that I only think I want to be a Pepsi but too much of it sours the palate. My vampire/barnacle self feeds off of the pop-people for a while and the kidney doesn't take. My body rejects it. If you're carbonated, don't take offense. I love your happiness, I crave it, and I'm insanely jealous of it. I just can't be you. That isn't to say that I'm never happy but my happiness is a well-shaken aluminum can.

I may be deceived but the ratio of emotional vampires in comparison to Soda-Hosts seems to indicate that the de-fizzed could feed for a long time. Perhaps it's because the bubbly are more healthy, well adjusted, emotionally well people. Perhaps it's because other emotional vampires have found the cure. Perhaps it's a smaller, lonelier world than I knew it was.

I considered closing my blog today. Self-doubt falls on all of us some days and I found myself asking, "Why am I really doing this?" I know why I started it. I started this blog because I'm a writer, I enjoy writing, and someday soon my manuscript will get picked up and published. If I sound cocky, let me disabuse you of the notion right away. It's sheer determination and little else. Anyway, I figured that when my ms was sent to the printer, I may (hopefully) have a few readers who want to know more about the author. That's why I started.
Why am I still here?

I'm not sure. I don't know that it's doing any good or of any value but what I do know is that my voice is unique. Perhaps my style isn't but my voice, my self...is different. And that--that might be valuable to another emotional vampire out there. I am not a crusader. I am no "dark knight" performing selfless deeds and I am not deluding myself into believing it. There are elements of the selfish behind my reasons for continuing to blog; it's therapeutic and entertaining.

But if I could have a hope for this blog it would be that my voice, my personality, my difference...might be a balm to someone else's soul. The thought that another person might read my words and quietly sigh within themselves, find a tiny haven in the similarity, and believe that they are not the only shadow dweller--that idea is the premise of the entire dream.

[Today's title is from The Castaway by William Cowper]

Nocturnal Farming with Raw Meat

"The heights by great men reached and kept
were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night."
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The quote above was chosen today for 2 reasons. 1-It's a quote about persistence. 2-The last line: "were toiling upward in the night."

I "toil" a lot at night. My late-night toiling can rival some owls I know. The whole "early to bed and early to rise..." bit has never been one of my practices. It makes my mother crazy (and a few other people I know too.) However, I am resolving to like myself better this year and one of those resolutions is to stop beating myself up for some of the habits I have.

In addition to that, I do some of my best toiling during the wee hours. I enjoy writing late at night because the world is silent; otherwise occupied. The children are sleeping all snug in their beds and 1's and zeroes are filling my hot spouse's head. During these late-night writing sessions, I have my 3 pets for company and the host of loons in my head who want their story told. The loonies prefer the solitude as well because they know they have my full attention.

But back to the 1st reason of this post's quote: Persistence.

Despite the cozy solitude of my clacking keyboard and a distant hoot-from-without, sometimes it's hard to force myself to sit at my computer and work. There are blogs to read, books to read, funny youtube videos to watch, games to play, and any other random pop-up that happens across my screen. It's hard to glue my hind end to the seat and focus on my story.

So what do I do now? I've got the story idea, I've got characters, I've got an outline...etc. How do I keep my brain focused?

First, a minor break to pat myself on the back. This last year I have written more than I have in the last 13 years. (Yes...13 years. It's terribly sad. I could have been published by now if I'd been more persistent!) We're talking about better than 100% improvement. (I suck at math so I'll figure it out later and posts stats then.)

"That's great!" You say, "But you're still not done, right?" No. I'm not. And thanks for making me feel like a garbage-fish. (j/k! Don't leave!) The good news is that my story is no longer a slab of raw meat on the counter. It's been happily simmering away in the crock-pot and we're about a 1/3 of the way through. "A year?! And you're only 1/3 of the way through?! DUDE! Get to work!" Hey, I said that I wrote last year. I didn't say it was quality writing. *Sheesh.

On a serious note, I did write a lot last year and not all of it was for the specific project mentioned. I've also learned much about the craft of writing and have had to scrap a lot of stuff after some of my critique groups. Yes, my book is only beginning to cook and you'd get food poisoning if you read it now but it won't be that way for much longer. Now that I've got a lot of things out of the way, it's time to make like a tractor and plow on through.

So how do I keep my tractor in the field? Well, I don't have all the answers but I'll share one of my recent sources of a "persistence high." My awesome writing buddy, Carolyn V., just finished a draft of her latest project. I, being the fortunate pre-screener of her works, have had the pleasure of reading it; start to finish. I can't even tell you how AMAZING it is to be there for the journey. The thrill of reaching the end, of seeing it all come together, is like watching universes form after a particularly large cosmic collision. (No, Carolyn. Your manuscript is not being compared to a gigantic accident in outer space.)

Her novel (which is incredible, by the way) and its completion have spurred my own desire to reach that place: The End. That shouldn't sound so phenomenal to me but it does. The ending; the summation of a wild and fantastical journey. I could blab on forever about all the possibilities that are opened up by the ending of a first (or 2nd or 3rd) draft. I liken it to a beautiful painting. You may have passed the studio several times while the artist was feverishly painting up a storm but when you see it hanging there in the gallery--it takes your breath away. And the glorious part to me? I'M the painter! I get to go back and make it look even more breath-stealingly-FABULOUS!

My point is: A little blood in the water frenzied many a shark. Some healthy competition can help keep your tractor running and eventually bring in a nice harvest. And for me, it isn't even really about "competition" so much as it is seeing someone I care about have the success they deserve to have. Sure, I have a pinch or two of jealousy but mostly, I'm just so thrilled about the process. It's one of the coolest things I've ever had the privilege to witness. Thanks Carolyn! You're a rockin' awesome writing buddy.

For now, dear readers, I must return to the bat-cave and await nightfall.

Best of luck in all your endeavors,

L.T. Elliot

*"Sheesh" is currently one of the most popular words in my son's vocabulary. You might find it cropping up unnaturally often until he finds a new way to express displeasure with me. =]

Brave lil' Resolution

"An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in.
A pessimist stays up until midnight to make sure the old year leaves." --Bill Vaughan

But which am I?

I'm both, I should think. I've got some resolutions for the New Year but I'm enough of a pessimist to already wonder if I'll keep them. I'm crossing my fingers for myself. Feel free to join me or give me a thumbs down. (Some of you know me too well.)

However, I will share one of those resolutions with you today. Finish that book.
And that one's a doozy.

I'm a terrible procrastinator and I'm lazy too. (No! You're too flawed! Turn away! Turn away!) I don't like it any better than you might but I need to be honest. Hopefully it will force me to change some of those habits. Regardless, this year's resolution is very important to me. I started this blog, after all, because of my writing career. I've been looking back over my shoulder at the years stretching behind me (and that's getting sad too! I'm old!) and wondering what picture I'm painting of my life.

I can't even say that it's half finished. It's more like one or two dabs of paint on an otherwise empty canvas. *Sigh*

Certainly there are things that I have accomplished and there are many things I am proud of (family, friends, my relationship with my spouse) but I am referring to my own personal goals--completely unconnected with the other stuff. This is the selfish stuff, the things I want just for me. (See? Selfish. Another little flaw.) I believe that my family canvas is a gorgeous riot of color, varied shades of vibrancy and even a few darker hues. When I step back from it, I am moved with a deep love. Regardless of those swishes of black and gray and even angry red--that particular painting always stirs me.

My selfish portrait is currently being out shined by kindergartners.

Which brings me back (didn't think I'd get there, did you?) to my resolution. Finishing. This is going to be the year for me. I am determined to finish something. Even if it sucks rocks. Even if Oscar the Grouch wouldn't welcome it in his bin. Even if I end up using it to line the cat box---I will finish it. My other resolutions might fall by the wayside but I am determined to make this one cross the line. It might hate me by the time it breaks the tape, but break the tape it will and become The Little Resolution that Could.

Wish me luck.

And right back at ya,

L.T. Elliot

"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better [person.]" --Benjamin Franklin

*I took the liberty of changing "man" to "person." For completely unselfish reasons, of course! Not for myself surely...