Arrant Nonsense

And I get to reiterate that brew pubs have the best food on the planet. Two nights, two different breweries, and both places had food to die for.

Yes, I've been scarce online; planning on being home tonight, in case anyone actually missed me. kurukami, if you've been able to hold off on watching True Blood, I should be able to watch that with you tomorrow night.

The framed!werewolf story has a title now, so I guess it's a matter of checking markets and seeing where to send it first. Oh, hey... that looks good. Wish me luck.

And now I should start the Next Thing. Something with fewer logistical problems than a cowboy who falls asleep in the Old West(ish) and wakes up a hundred years later. As amusing as the notion is, I'm not sure I've got the chops or the ambition to tackle something like that.

Twenty-five years ago today, I said "I do" to my handsome and talented Hubby. Here's to another twenty-five years (at least). I love you, Hubby. ♥♥♥

We are back, o flist. Fun was had, a zoo was visited, food was eaten, trails were hiked, museums were visited, and books were bought. I haven't checked LJ since we left, and I don't know if I will ever catch up. I'll probably have a vacation report later, but right now I'm just trying to recover while doing laundry, because the Hubby has to work tomorrow and thus needs clothes.

Five mile hike, y'all. And it didn't end where I expected it to. *bangs head* But it was cool anyway.

I also stuck an END at the bottom of the framed!werewolf story. And then I ran it past the Hubby, who wanted "more." Especially in the part where he first finds her body. Which, yes, I get, but dammit, I need to be paring this thing down, not adding more words.

So now I'm in "madly editing" mode. Hopefully I'll be posting something for the Usual Suspects later in the week to rip into, and then I'll give it to my Writing Buddy.

Came home to another rejection in the inbox, flipped the story pretty quickly (once I formatted it to plain text, AUGH), and now it's another waiting game. Twelve stories out making the rounds right now. Whee...

Uh-huh. My less-than-badass game designer?

Yeah, take a guess as to what kind of games he designs. Go on. He told me, JUST NOW.

As he points out so eloquently, there's different kinds of geeks.

There's the geeks who design things like, I dunno, Tetris and Text Twist.

And then there's the geeks who design first-person shooters. You know, the kind of geek who enjoys blowing shit up and going out to the range and firing all kinds of different weapons, checking for verisimilitude.

I now have to decide if this all goes to shit for everyone, or if we all back down and get to live.

Is it a Romance, or a Tragedy?

Why, yes, again.

I hammered out 1100 words yesterday and am probably going to cut a corresponding number from earlier which does nothing to advance the actual plot. I'm banging on 5,000 words right now, which was really the upper end of what I wanted to do with this. I do like what I wrote yesterday, as that did advance the plot--which is now galloping toward a conclusion.

However, I'm not sure this is the conclusion I should be aiming at.

Tim is all "Rawr, gonna kill 'im naow, kthx. Then perma-wolf, if I can manage that."

But a simple revenge story seems... cheap. Too simple. Dare I say... boring. Killing the alpha's mate, in order to take away from him the same thing he took away from Tim, is twistier, but still pretty damn standard. And I'm not sure Tim's the kind of guy who'd kill someone who was (relatively) innocent in order to exact vengeance.

Going to the police is problematic at best and would be a disaster at worst for a whole host of reasons. From the "I'm a werewolf" aspect to "I know where her body is even though it wasn't me who killed her, really, it wasn't." DNA in this case would be... I don't even know. As a wolf, he licked her face and her throat. If they found any of the bad guy's DNA, it would be a miracle.

So, he's isolated. No one in the pack has truly accepted him yet, and he's there on sufferance more than anything else. He can't tell anyone else without putting them in mortal danger from a guy who's already killed once.

Dammit. My plot has run into a brick wall that combines "sucky storytelling" with "practicalities."

And I really wanted to finish the first draft of this today.

I'd heard about this little internet tool called "Write or Die" but hadn't ever tried it out.

Considering the fact that I only managed a paltry 174 words yesterday, I decided to implement Write or Die this evening, especially since no one is in the Word War Room this time of night (usually). We take our prodding where we can find it, yes?

If you stop typing, Write or Die gets ANGRY--the screen goes pink and progressively scales up until it's red. And then it plays... the Banana Phone song? What is that I don't even. You start typing again JUST TO MAKE IT STOP OMG. EDIT: Okay, I just did another round in "Kamikaze Mode." If you stop for too long, it erases what you've been typing and keeps erasing it until you start typing again. EVIL. 600 words that time.

And, okay. I'm going to call my initial use of it a "rousing success." In half an hour, I wrote 527 words and moved my plot forward. I think that may be some kind of record for me. And I realize that the Shiny will no doubt wear off this thing with use, but for tonight it worked and I am pleased as punch. Tim has had a try/not-quite-success cycle, and now it's time for him to up the ante a little.

Of course, that means that my goal of 5,000 words is probably too damn low--seeing as I just blew right past 4,300 words and I don't see wrapping it up in the next 700. But then, this is a first draft. It is permitted to be wordy and sucky. Perhaps I shall leave the scene with the police coming to his door out, as I'm not sure that actually adds anything other than realism. To my werewolf story. Yeah.

Maybe. I think I've figured out how he can get the memories back, and a try/fail cycle for that.

What he's going to do with the information is up in the air right now, however. Perhaps a silver bullet to the alpha's head and then perma-wolf--if perma-wolf is something he can even do. At least I've figured out why he was covered in her blood and had it in his mouth even if he didn't kill her.

I may even finish the first draft of this by the end of the week.

And I blew past 3700 words today. *headdesks*

I somehow managed to blow right past 2800 words in this thing, and now it's knocking on 3K. I've written a new opening scene that establishes both the characters and the conflict. I've reconciled her death with what actually happens, since that's more fleshed out.

Now I have to figure out where it's going to GO.

Because I have no earthly idea. I don't even know if this guy killed her. But I'd like to get there in under 5K.

WHY do I do these things to myself?

Oh well. We get paid tomorrow, and that means a trip the bookstore with my 40% off coupon, my netbook, and a javanilla shake to see if I can rattle something out of my tree.

I'm now wondering if I started the Framed!Werewolf story in the wrong place.

As I said in a comment to the lovely and effulgent sunnyd_lite, we're always telling new writers to "start where everything changes for your character."

Everything changes for Tim when he gets werewolf-ized, which happened about six months (I can tweak that and probably will, for the purposes of length and dramatic tension) before the events in my (putative) first scene. Lacey's death is the olive on top of the crap sandwich his life has turned into.

I need to start over, clearly. Who bit him, why, and how is he not dead? Who is Tim, what was his life like before he got wolferized, who are his friends, what does he do for fun? How is he reacting to the whole mess, and what does he do when it really goes pear-shaped for him? Because the answer to "what's the worst thing that can happen?" is "waking up next to the dead body of his girlfriend with her blood in his mouth and no memory of what happened." Her death is the building dropped on his head.

That right there, I think, is the story I need to be telling.

Stuck? Stuck! STUUUUUUUUUUUCK *cue crying and massive freakout* Fortunately, we won't need to call the fire department. Unfortunately, the cure for my personal "stuck" won't be as easy as pouring warm water over my tongue.

I am the last person on Earth to flinch from dropping a building on a character's head. I do that all the time (Hi, Ben! And Alex. And Clint. And pretty much every character I've created ever with the possible exception of my spaceship crew, who seem to exist for the sole purpose of screwball comedy), at least metaphorically.

The problem is that this poor guy got the building dropped on his head in the opening scene, and now I don't know how to make things so very much worse for him. I want to. I need to. I just don't know what the Next Thing should be. It's like my Well of Hurting the Crap Out of My Characters has gone dry or something.

This is bad. This is very very bad.

CRUDBUNNIES.

Okay, the fact that the "frustrated" picture for my mood theme is Obadiah leaning over the character played by Peter Billingsly fills me with glee. Just sayin'. I solemnly swear that I did not plan that.

on the Framed!Werewolf story.

I still have no idea where it's going. My protag continues to be cute. I haven't graced you with a snippet in awhile, so have one:

"You will shut up except when you're saying that you don't know anything." His grip on my shoulder was painful. "Which you don't. For all you know, a bear got her and you stumbled across the body after the fact."

"And that's why her blood was in my mouth." I wasn't buying what he was selling. "Just so you know, Jesse, I'm a terrible liar."

"That does it," Sharon said. "We should kill him. He's a danger to the whole pack." She stood up suddenly enough that her chair crashed to the floor. She was taller than me, and I automatically cowered, swallowing hard.

"Stand down, Sharon," Jesse said. He sounded mild, but his eyes were hard as iron. She only held his stare for a moment before finding her chair, righting it, and sitting. "Tim," he said, and I twitched. "No more nonsense about going Lone. You're not equipped for it, not yet. Maybe not ever." His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. Carrot instead of stick. "It takes awhile for a new wolf to gain control and memories. Sometimes it never happens. That's why we have a pack."

"Okay," I whispered hoarsely. "But what about Lacey?"

"You let me worry about her. That's why you have an Alpha."

Poor Tim.

In other news, I'm still madly subbing. Got a rejection (eight-day turnaround; very nice, I wish everyone was that fast) and flipped the story right away to a snail-mail market. 10K is an awful length to try to sell. Just so you know.