Stacia Kane

1. Have lots of houseguests.

2. When houseguests leave, decide you deserve a day or two spent just sitting around doing nothing.

3. Decide to cook an elaborate meal.

4. Decide you’re going to have this one totally mapped out before you start, so you can write it quickly.

5. Decide just writing it all out in your notebook isn’t good enough.

6. Decide you need notecards to write each scene on, and you can then rearrange them as needed.

7. Go to three different stores looking for notecards.

8. Decide you need colored notecards, not plain white.

9. Spend half an hour deciding what color-coding you’re going to use.

10. Start writing scenes on the cards.

11. Get distracted by TV.

12. Put the cards up, because the baby wants your pen.

13. Get great new idea for hero’s motivation. Scrap all notes and start again.

14. Decide you deserve break. Shop on internet for things you won’t buy.

15. Get cards back out. Wonder if this card thing is actually such a good idea. What if one gets lost?

16. You really need to rewrite synopsis in notebook to match notecards. Two copies is extra security.

17. Some scenes include both blue for emotional development, and green for straight action like conversations. Which color do you use? Ponder that for a few hours.

18. Decide to put a note on blue card to go with the green card.

19. Check to see when the yellow cards for big action fall in the book.

20. Check to make sure there’s enough pink cards for sexy moments.

21. Reread notebook to make sure story makes sense, because it looks weird written out on cards.

22. Catch up on emails.

23. Remember it’s been a while since you’ve updated your blog. You used to do it every day. Better get cracking.

24. Realize you’ve forgotten three or four great blog ideas you had.

25. Get out notecards. Decide to write blog ideas on them from now on.

26. Blog.

27. Get the notecards back out.

28. Put them away. You need to update the music on your iPod.

29. You also need to download some cds into the computer.

30. Oh! Time for another little break.

*Actual steps may vary. I haven’t quite finished avoiding the new work yet.

How do you avoid getting started? I love writing. I just hate writing first chapters.

So we went to Bristol yesterday. (For reasons beyond my control, I was unable to go today-I had to attend a child’s birthday party. Anyway.) We had a BLAST. It was a pretty small show, but lots of fun. Hubs was over the moon because of the large number of sketches and signatures he got, and I was happy he was happy. Plus everyone was very nive.

In particular one artist, who has inspired this post. Unfortunately, because of what I’m about to say, I can’t reveal his name. It is a shame, because I am convinced he is one of the sweetest and funniest men ever. Almost as nice as Gene Colon, who we met a few years ago who tried to force us to take money for the Princess’s college fund.

Anyway, we spent about an hour chit-chatting with this particular artist. He was a HOOT. At one point we were looking at some of the pages he’s done (comic pages, that is, the original art for them) and one of them had a sex scene. Tastefully, beautifully done, but clearly a sex scene. He told us the original instructions from the writer called for a “sex montage” on the page…then clarified it to say, “Actually, he misspelled it and asked for a ‘sex montaque’.”

We all giggled and joked as I realized that that is the perfect pen name.

So that’s it, guys. No longer am I December Quinn. From now on, I’m…

Sex Montaque.

Imagine how much fun that would be:

“That’s Montaque. Sex Montaque.”

“Wicked Love” by Sex Montaque.

“Have you met my friend, Sex Montaque?”

Wheee!

(Of course I’m not really changing it. But how awesome would that be?!)

Not one of you got the Spinal Tap reference in the title of my last post?

I’m disappointed in each and every one of you.

Well, my mother has left. She called last night so we know she got home safe and all, so hopefully things will get back to normal around here. Of course, we’ll be in Bristol this weekend, but aside from that we will be home.

Didn’t get any writing done on the train back from London at all. It was early anyway, but I confess I spent the ride wrapped up in reading Rumbelow’s “Ripper” book. (And check out that alliteration, baybee!)
Mom and I took a Ripper Walk with Donald Rumbelow, who is the biggest bestest Ripper expert and wrote a fantastic book on the subject (The Complete Jack the Ripper). It was really good. Fun and interesting and a little spooky at times. I highly recommend it, and I’m eager to take other Walks (they have a couple about medieval London that look particularly interesting).

Anyway, no work done on the short. But I started my new WIP, the next novel, on Saturday night and I’m pleased with it so far. Of course, anyone can be pleased with the meager 1300 words I have so far, but still.

So there you go. A little update.

I’m also currently reading a book called “The Second Wives Club” by Jane Moore. Not bad so far. It’ a subject that interests me particularly, being a second wife with a stepdaughter, which is why I gave the book a try. It’s okay, but it’s very chick-lit. I don’t have an issue with chick-lit. There’s some of it I really like. But this almost feels like it’s trying too hard to have that particular type of voice, and it’s very girly, which bugs me a little. We’ll see.

I have a huge TBR pile right now, anyway. I think I’ve got twenty or thirty books in it–Mom and I did some major book shopping. I found a secondhand copy of Stephen Dobyns’s Boy in the Water that I’m really looking forward to, because I adored his Church of Dead Girls. Although I’m thinking Boy might have to wait until fall, because it’s just that kind of writing, if you know what I mean. We’ll see.

What are you reading next? What’s in your pile that you’re saving for a special occasion?

(And everyone better be able to identify where that reference came from! Leave it in the comments.)

These next two are from Chepstow Castle in Wales, which is fantastic. There were a few more of me, but I photograph so badly so you don’t get to see them. I do, though, have one more pic to post, which I didn’t in this post but I will, of the window at the Tower of London’s White Tower that Gruffydd ap Llewellyn fell out of.

But these are Chepstow. Lovely. (And yes, that’s me and my Princess. We’re in a fireplace.)

Going back up to Hertfordshire today, to spend tomorrow in London with my Mom. So I’ll be back Monday at some point, then I’ll be gone again Tuesday. Normal life resumes (sort of) on Wed.

At least until the weekend, when we go to Bristol for the comic convention.

Also, my good friend went into labor this morning.

SW Vaughn had a great post about the antisocial qualities of writers. That’s me all over. I just want to sit at home and work. I don’t wanna go anywhere or do anything. I’ve been all over the southwest in the last week-Dartmoor, Bath, Cheddar, Wales (which was just as exciting as I’d thought, but we were only in the Southeast. I’m making hubby take me to Gwynedd, though, which he’s okay with because he wants to go to Portmerion [I think it's spelled] where they filmed The Prisoner. That’s not far from Dolwyddelan or Dolbadarn, so I can see my castles and he can see his sci fi stuff. A perfect vacation. Anyway.) I’m actually getting sick of being in the car, and I love road trips. Although I admit they’re not as much fun when I’m squeezed into the back seat with two children, the closest of hom keeps elbowing me.

So there you go. I will have photos in my next post-Stonehenge and Chepstow Castle.

OK.

Look, I know that when people ask “How’s your book doing?”, it’s because they care. They’re trying to show an interest in what I’m doing, or whatever. But can I just say, this is kind of an irritating and offensive thing to ask?

Because it’s akin to, “So, is anybody actually buying that piece of shit thing you wrote?” Or, “So, how much money are you making now?”

Seriously, guys. Asking if I’ve gotten any new reviews is fine, if your interest is actually in how the book is being received. But I get all tense and weird and it hurts my Private Bone (which is a part of me that gets creeped out when I’m expected to share things with other people, and not, as it sounds, a dirty new body part. Get your mind out of the gutter, pervert) when I’m asked how the book is doing, or if I’ve gotten a royalty statement lately, or whatever.

(Although I must admit, I am now enamored of the phrase “Private Bone” and want to use it as much as possible. So look for that to turn up somewhere in my work. I swear it. I’ll give a prize to the first person who finds it.)

Is that odd of me? Am I really so private as to be a cypher, or am I justified in thinking this is a bit rude for someone to ask?