I watched an ass ton of movies this week, and that’s an exact measurement. A sampling:

1. Immortal Beloved. I believe Beethoven actually did leave behind a mysterious letter addressed to “My Immortal Beloved”. As far as I know, however, it did not lead to a melodramatic love story that, if it didn’t excuse it, at least made sense of his lifetime of douchebaggery. Therefore, this movie is terrible history. That said, it was a really pretty movie, Gary Oldman is a badass, and dude, it’s Beethoven. I don’t care if it’s uncool, I love the evil bastard.

2. The Great Gatsby. Mia Farrow makes me happy. Can’t help it. Robert Redford too. No way this could stack up to the book, but that’s the magic of Fitzgerald and his twit of a narrator Nick “I’m a complete ass-hat but don’t know it” Carraway, isn’t it?  But man, it was pretty. Just like I pictured it in my head.

3. Pan’s Labyrinth. Obviously I loved that one, and I don’t have to tell you why.

So okay, three films that in scope, script, and purpose don’t have a lot in common. But the thing that left the most lasting impression on me about all of them was the same: production design. Yeah, the script and the acting are just as responsible for leaving a lasting overall emotional impression, but I’m clearly a person who likes shiny things, what with the art history degree and all. I remember art direction, even in these– two of which are hardly among the most visually stunning films I’ve ever seen (one of which very likely is, but again, obvious).

But writers have to do it for me too. Figuring out the aesthetic of a shiny new fantasy world is production design on the page, and when someone does that right, I’ll forgive their book almost everything else. The list of authors I consider successful at it is way too long and predictable, but you know what I mean.

And so my revelation for the week is that I need to spend more time writing descriptions*, sketching**, and collecting source photos*** for anything I attempt to write that requires worldbuilding. And I probably need to branch out and find new ways of doing this, since I’m obviously clueless.

So help me out, if you can. What do you do to make the picture in your mind complete, when you’re writing in some world other than the one you (officially) inhabit? What details from the movies and books that created a lasting visual impression on you were important?

*Which will of course never make it into the story itself, but are always a huge help to me.
**At which I used to be decent, but those brain cells have apparently atrophied. Doesn’t stop me when I get an urge, though.
***Of the general “The aesthetic is similar to this building, this pottery, this blah blah blah…” variety.

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Now playing: Franz Liszt – Ballade No.1 in D flat, S 170 “Le chante du croisé”
via FoxyTunes

Like the rest of you, I have a Pet Project. You know. My first Big Girl Book. The Book That Taught (and Is Still Teaching) Me How to Write Books. The book that’s staring down the barrel of an 11th draft and doesn’t flinch. The book I drafted in, wait for it, 2001. Before I knew what paranormal romance meant, I was churning out a big old lovefest chock full o’ blood and violence uncomfortably juxtaposed with Austen-esque moments. (See, I’ve come back around and I’m doing it again… sort of. Anyhow.)

It’s the book that I queried first, thinking f@$k it, it’ll be a learning experience. People were so unexpectedly encouraging that I didn’t despair at the rejections– even the ones that came after partial requests. If anything, it convinced me that if I worked, I’d get there some day. I wrote a bunch more books, but kept editing this one with both the advice of those total strangers who were nice to me, and my friends who’ve been helping me out all along.

It’s a tough sell– paranormal romance is popular now, and there’s a market for LGBTQ (nothing like a little bloodlust in your homoeroticism. I think Braham Stoker would agree with me there…), but only the first book is remotely relationship-centered. The second one is meant to be action/adventure. The third weirdly philosophical. The fourth is pure batshit angst. The final is the clusterf@$k that brings it all together and blows up the(ir little) world.

Hard sell indeed. Glad I didn’t know that back then, or I might never have started. And I’d be so bored without it.

Not sure if I’ll ever query it again, or if it’ll just be my baby, but at this point, does it matter much? It’s not going anywhere. So when I saw how pretty the rad Izzy Illustration looked on the page for The Audio File project, there was really no way this wasn’t going to happen. All projects need love, and some more than others, so I asked the lovely and talented Corinne Duyvis to cook one up for the MC of my pet project, which for now goes by the overarching epic title The Family.

Even if you hate pretty vampires and paranormal romance on principle (which you probably should, all things considered), have a look, because Cory is a wizard at character interpretation. He’s a bookworm and a gamer and a sociopath, and honestly kind of a stupid son of a bitch. But he makes a nice decoration, I think you’ll agree. Witness the blond glory of Liam Corchoran.

ETA: Full disclosure. I just re-read that paragraph that said, “I might never have started it” and got a little voice in the back of my head going, “Yeah f@$king right.” This is what I mean about being bored without it.

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Now playing: Felix Mendelssohn – The Hebrides Overture, Op.26, “Fingal’s Cave”
via FoxyTunes

This is to be a post of excuses, I’m afraid, as only a few thousand words made it out of me this week. It started out as a fun week (company!) and ended up– er, let’s call it vexing, since it fits the book I’m writing, huh? I’m not really vexed anymore, but I do feel uninspired. Unless it’s inspired to watch a bunch of movies, which is all I want to do today. Tonight may be a different story, but I make no promises to myself (since I’m usually expected to keep them when I do).

I spent a lot of the weekend doing research reading, since I’m getting into some of the meatier medical bits, and I left most of that crap for later in favor of general research on social norms (which is to say: deviance) and the like. I read an entire book on Sunday, a treatise from the 1830s on embalming cadavers for use in educational dissections. Want some weird dreams, read that, then watch Dexter all night. Wow. Made me wish I could write Bizarro when I woke up.

Also, since Cate outed me, today is indeed my birthday, and some might say it’s the last to which I should admit. I’m 29! So here’s my birthday report on the state of The Resurrectionists:

58768 / 80000 words. 73% done!

And for the little excerpt, Tom has the misfortune to wander into a meeting of the Ladies’ Philosophical Society– they’re finished, but only half out of the room. After engaging them in intellectual debate, he asks Rebecca what she thinks…

“I don’t believe there can be a right answer.” Becca paused briefly to consider giving her opinion, but decided against it for the sake of Hannah’s nerves. “But it’s a very dull question that has only right and wrong answers.”

He smiled–one of those rare smiles that sometimes slipped through when he seemed to forget to be awful for a moment. “My god, Miss Appleby, I believe I’ll make you my new favorite philosopher.”

Becca laughed, but Hannah glared. “Are you making fun, sir?”

Brandon’s eyebrows went up. “Do I seem to be? It’s only my face–I’ve been told it invites argument.”

Melisande giggled yet again. “I think it’s quite nice, Mr. Brandon.”

This was an obvious lie.

Saucy little minx, that Melisande. Probably even convinced herself she wasn’t lying.

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Now playing: Beethoven, Ludwig van – Sonata No 17 in D minor op 31 No 2 ‘Tempest’; 3. Allegretto
via FoxyTunes

Things are a little wild here (in a good way), but due to settle down Sunday. The good thing about that is that when I open my Thunderbird RSS feed there’s always something new and fun to read. The bad thing is that I’m really behind on email. Still, I just wanted to drop by and point out a few things of import that went on this week.

-I read Cate Gardner’s The Sour Aftertaste of Olive Lemon too fast because I couldn’t stop. I had to go back and do it again slowly to savor the infamous aftertaste again. This is another one you definitely want to snag if you can. I can’t say much without giving the ending away (that’s always a good sign, too), but it’s lovely and strange and the most singular mix of defiant and sad. Find it here.

-We can now pre-order Strange Publications’ 52 Stitches. If you’ve not been reading them as they come out, you’re missing out– but that’s all right, sometimes things are just better printed on paper and held in hand. You’re a purist, I can tell.

-The Grants Pass launch and signing party happens tomorrow afternoon (well, technically tonight, but you know what I mean), Aug 22, in good old Washington State. Being in the other Washington myself, I don’t get to meet up with these fabulous people and pretend to be fabulous by association — but for details hit up the lovely Jennifer Brozek’s LJ.

There will be cake. And plague. Well, not real plague, but a book about it. So Plague Cake– who could refuse?

You can order Grants Pass from Morrigan Books here. My story is called Boudha, as I’ve no doubt mentioned here repeatedly. It’s about a girl in a predominantly Tibetan Buddhist neighborhood in Kathmandu, the one in which I did a lot of growing up once upon a time. One of those places you never really leave. So anyhow, there are monks. And… er, also plague, actually.

In completely unrelated news I got a new computer. It’s really beautiful and makes absolutely no sense, being a Vista machine. But I don’t care because now I can finally play The MMO of My Choice with reckless abandon– which is to say without blue-screening the thing. Or at least, I’ll be able to once it finishes updating in three years.

Happy weekend, y’all!

I have company this week, so I’m mostly unplugged. Just dropping in to report on the madness. Which is to say, the current progress on The Resurrectionists, my (triple) love story with lots of guts and zombies and things thrown in at odd intervals.

56392 / 80000 words. 70% done!

And that’s why this week was a little bit mad. But now that I have fun writerly company, all shall be well.

For this excerpt we return to Team Idiot– Paul and Tommy– having a late night in the dissecting theater. This is what happens when my I’m buying tickets for Kennedy Center events between writing scenes one day:

“Then I shall procure your experimental pig,” Paul said. And there it was, all very simple.

He was about to suggest they return home—the hour was advanced enough that Hannah might worry for him—but was interrupted by an idea. He faced Tom over the dissection table and its decaying cargo. “Dartmoor’s promised to see The Marriage of Figaro in our box this Saturday. Won’t you come with us? If you talk to him yourself, I think you’ll see what a help he’d be.”

Tom raised his eyebrows and pulled the sheet back over the dead man’s soon-to-be-anatomized skull. “You know, Paul, I’m not much for the opera. But I do make an exception for Mozart.”

As you should, Tommy, as you should. Nothing facilitates mad science like a little quality time at the theater. And enjoy that Experimental Pig, my friend. (Not sure why I left that line in there, except that it looks even more ridiculous than it actually is out of context. Sorry.)