Things are moving along with my little Plaguebringer, though it’s mostly organization for the last few days. I’ve run out of my first half outline and am now cobbling together an outline for the second half. And by outline, I mean:

-Ronan sulks, Elan scoffs
-Cami and Oz– in bed!
-Rufus makes his escape w/ Book of Import
-Ilidh beats the crap out of bad guys

I’m so specific, I know. But I can’t figure out the pacing when there are a million balls in the air without something, at least. And this way, I don’t feel like the thing is already written before I get it done, right? Er, right.

So for something slightly different, today’s little bit is brought to you by Adolescent Angst. Oh Prince Ronan, nobody loves you. Especially not when you go out, get drunk, and end up in a tavern of dubious repute. It might make people wonder, and you know what they do to boys like you :/

“Gods. I’m not saying you can’t have fun, but–”

“I know what you’re saying, Elan.” Ronan looked up and held his eyes. “And you’re right, I fucked up. I’m too old to act like that; too much depends on me not ending up impaled.”

Elan’s face darkened. “That won’t happen.”

Ronan picked at the bread. “Yeah, I’d have to get laid first.”

Or get laid by the right people, at least. Osgar and his endless supply of willing women. Ronan loved the guy, but you had to wonder about someone who thought the answer to all life’s problems could be found between a woman’s legs.

Elan still looked disturbed. “You will. But not right now.”

“That’s everyone’s favorite thing to say. Not right now, Ronan.”

“I remember.”

Ronan stared down at the plate, not wanting to see the patronizing expression. What was he, 22? 25 at the most? Old man Andrej, all right.

It’s crap being 16, innit, kid? Don’t worry, it gets better.

In about ten years.

—————-
Now playing: Arctic Monkeys – Fluorescent Adolescent
via FoxyTunes

Most of my weekend was spent being fabulously lazy and hedonistic, but then, that’s what weekends are for. Parts of it, however, were spent on actual productivity. Plaguebringer is back in swing, though it’s mostly just plotting, planning, and scripting. I might’ve mentioned this before, but a lot of times when a scene involves dialogue, I write it out as a script, stage directions and all. Then when I read it back to myself, it’s easier to figure out of something sounds hollow.

Not easy enough that I actually catch it, but you know. Closer. Also keeps me from rambling– as much as anything can.

Anyhow, the movie in my head is captured that way, and I can go back and fill it in. Anyone else do that? I’m sure some of you must read your stuff out loud? Why yes, yes I am looking for dialogue tips, since it’s a horrible weakness of mine, it’s true. You found me out!

Mm over the weekend I found a home for my orphaned story The Dubious Magic of Elliot Prince, or Cemetry Gates! Jodi Lee’s Ante Mortem project is the place for it, and I’m ever so pleased. So far I’m sure Aaron Polson and Natalie L. Sin are in the lineup, so–

Eee!

Celebration time. Pretty sure I posted this after I wrote the story, which feels like ages ago, but hey, it’s the Smiths. (And Highgate Cemetery– spelled properly, even!– which is in London apparently. And is not the cemetery in the song, but is obviously beautiful.) Anyhow, one of my favorite Smiths songs, and my inspiration this time around:

It’s also the one I quoted at Danielle on her cool cemetery field trip post. Ugh, what have I become? Sorry, it’s just stuck in my head after this weekend. Can’t help it.

I wrote one called Caroline, No about the same time, but it’s been hanging out in the proverbial drawer until very recently. There was something vague that bugged me about it, but I think it might be fixed now. So if I can think of somewhere to send it, and they actually want it, hey– you get some Beach Boys action. (Don’t all cheer at once. Hey, I like the Beach Boys, dammit.)

As previously mentioned, Plaguebringer service was temporarily disrupted this week by an urge to revamp and resubmit an MS from my recent past, Wolfton Paranormal. I never gave up on this book– I’m not sure I ever will, if I haven’t given up on the vampire books from 2001 yet– but after the (really awesome) conference last year I made a bunch of changes and then needed to let it rest. A good submission opportunity comes up and gives me a kick in the pants. I work well under pressure. (Mind, the pressure here is my own, but that’s just as well for me as outside pressure. Not sure if that makes me lucky or insane.) Anyhow, we all like to have at least one novel in the query stage, right?

So today, a bit from that little world, since I’m still picking at it before sending. Weird fact (of very little interest): my story in Voices, The Mirror, starred an Alternate Universe version of Jeremy, my narrator, and his best buddy Alex from Wolfton. But The Mirror is the “If everything went as badly as it possibly could” version. Wolfton is the “If only most things go as badly as they possibly could” version.

Which is to say that it’s a bit dark at times, but not horror.

The television flashed, off then back on. Jeremy felt it again, that cold something creeping up his spine. He shivered and looked over his shoulder.

Something black danced there, thick and opaque. A long string of darkness connected the nebulous, half-formed mass of it to the darkened surface of the Champagne Girl mirror, sagging and stretching with spittle-like elasticity between them.

And this is why you should not trust mirrors, my friends.

While I’m talking about Voices, how about some more self-promotion? If you’ve wanted to pick up some Morrigan Books titles, including that one and Grants Pass, you can now get e-editions at Drive Through Horror. I have Dead Souls and Phantom Queen on the way to me in print just now because their books are always so, so pretty, but I know how addictive e-readers are. Or so my mother tells me, since that was her Christmas present this year.

I got a stepper. Something is wrong with this.

—————-
Now playing: The Beatles – Something/Blue Jay Way [Transition]
via FoxyTunes

(or The Progression of My Week, During Which A Work of Fiction Last Seen Over a Year Ago Was Prepared For Submissions Anew)

Stage 1: Nostalgic Affection
Oh, how I missed this book. These characters are like dear old friends. I’m so glad to see you all that I’m actually excited to edit, that I may introduce you to my actual friends some day. Joy!

Stage 2: Optimism (or The Idiot’s Contentment)
Well there are some problems here– man did I suck a year ago– but I can definitely make something of it. Tally ho!

Stage 3: Trepidation (or The Dawn of Intelligence)
Hm, more problems than I thought. Better go back and start from the beginning again and make sure I’m being consistent. And go back again. And again.

Stage 4: Disillusionment and Despair
Oh god, I’m getting nowhere, there are just too many issues. This book is terrible, my writing is brittle and pathetic, and no one will ever love these characters! Woe!

Stage 5: Heroic Resolve
Okay, fuck it. I liked it once, I’ll like it again, someday. I will finish, no matter how many hours I spend. And I will finish by tomorrow, dammit.

Stage 6: Rewrites in Earnest
You know what, it’d be a lot faster just to rewrite this whole scene. Or these five scenes. And maybe rearrange the ending a little. Yeah, hey, this is kinda fun.

Stage 7: The Forgetful Trance
Write fix write write write write fix write fix fix write– what do you mean it’s dinner time? I haven’t even had lunch– oh. Damn.

Stage 8: Victory Is Mine
Oh my god, is it really done? Really? Really?

Oh fuck it, I don’t care if it’s done. I’m done. Love you, baby– time to go back out into the world.

*hits send*

—————-
Now playing: Muse – Exogenesis: Symphony, Part 1 (Overture)
via FoxyTunes

Updatey is not a word, I know. But it’s descriptive, you have to admit.

This weekend I’m fixing up an oldish manuscript for submission, Wolfton Paranormal. (Which I know is an incredibly vague title, but it’s meant to be more of an overarching one, as of course, what’s an urban fantasy without a sequel or three in the works?) I love going back to something after a year away from it, it feels like visiting an old friend I missed like crazy, and I’m always convinced that this one– whatever it is– is my favorite, and I can make something of it if I just keep at it.

Well no, my first will always be the favored child, I have to confess. I wouldn’t be writing now without it. But I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels that way.

Anyhow, since I was at it, I figured I’d update the little project page for it over there on the sidebar, and then figured what the hell, might as well do ‘em all. So I did some tweaking and finally, finally gave Scripped its own page. About goddamn time, seeing as I’ve had the thing edited, polished, and out with a lovely publisher for a few months now. Poor neglected novel! Don’t think I don’t love you, Jonah. You know I do.

Then I updated the Short Fiction page to show the latest developments, including the upcoming Necrotic Tissue bite, and the Scenes From the Second Storey project with Morrigan Books– on that latter, the Aussie version is the one that’s up on the Morrigan site. I’m in the international one to be edited by Mark Deniz and Greg Ballam and it’s still TBA time-wise. I’d try and convince you to wait on that one, but the Aussie one looks delicious. I’m thinking buying both is the only logical course of action.

Right, but I had a point here that doesn’t involve shocking narcissism. That is that if your name isn’t over on that sidebar, and you have a blog/site that with which you’d like me to trade links/have been trading links and I’m too freaking slow to notice, please let me know. It’s a beautiful list, and I use it in concert with my trusty Thunderbird rss reader to keep up with y’all, so don’t be shy.

—————-
Now playing: Arctic Monkeys – Dance Little Liar
via FoxyTunes