Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 20

They must be desperate to distract me. That’s what passes through my mind as I see Trala climb over the edge of my desk. I feel dumber just being near her. Maybe that was their plan. Hmmm.

“What can I do for you, Trala?”

“I’m supposed to ask you a question today. This paper said so.” She holds up a heavily creased flyer.

“Oh joy. What’s the question?”

“If you could meet one fictional character from any book you’ve ever read, who would it be?”

“Interesting question. I’m going to go with none of them. I like my romance men on the page. No one is near as attractive and sexy all the time in real life. And really, most of them are trouble at first. I really don’t need that sort of aggravation. I’ll leave that to the female romance lead.”

A low, loud sound comes from behind a distant pile of paper wads. I glance over there but don’t see anything.

“What was that?”

“What? I didn’t hear anything.” Trala blinks her big blue eyes.

“Uhh, ok then. Well, fantasy novel guys could be fun too, but I’ve read how often the wash – not near enough. And their teeth? Ok, so that might not be mentioned on the pages, but we know. Same with pirates. All well and good on the page, but no sir. Not live.

“I can’t think of a female character that I’d be anxious to meet in person. We’d probably hate each other in short order. Vampires? Umm no. Safer on the page. Sci-fi guys? Hmm. Most of them are on the run, violent, have troubled pasts, a price on their heads, serious issues, weird gifts… yeah. I’m going to pass there too. I’ll keep enjoying characters on the page where I can put them down when I want to and spend time with them when it works out, and totally on my terms.”

A second deep throaty sound is cut off by someone shrieking. “No really. What’s going on over there?”

“Oh nothing. Probably just Marin harassing the Barthomians. They’ve been trying to tame dust bunnies.” She rolls her eyes. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard off.”

“Yes, it is.” And I don’t just mean the bunnies. Those Barthromians need some direction. And that didn’t sound like Marin or dust bunnies. Unless they were really big dust bunnies. I need a spy.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 19

I flick the card reading stealthily off my keyboard and peer around, finally spotting Nekar. The card reading invisibly doesn’t do a very good job of hiding him.

“Might as well come out. I can see you.”

“Damn. I need bigger cards.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that would help.” I drum my fingertips on the desktop. “So, what have you seen up here?”

“Nothing.” One of the cards in his hand drops.

dishonestly

I hold up the card and shake my head. “Nice try.”

“I was just doing some research. Really.”

None of the cards leap out to give me a clue so I just nod.

“Ms. Wildstar said you wrote that Mox guy into your new novel. I wanted to see if there as a place for me too. We’re not that different, me and him, you know.” He glares at the laptop. “But I couldn’t figure out where the hell you have your novel file. Your writing folder is a damned mess!”

“It’s organized chaos. It works for me.” I pick him up and set him far from the tissue box. “Sorry to say, it’s because you and Mox are not all that different that you will not be written into this novel.”

Repetition was an excuse they’d all come to accept, but in all honestly in this case, it’s because they aren’t the same at all. What kind of deluded image does this guy have of himself? Mox was a good guy. Nekar was a bad guy. He never even had a somewhat middle ground, for goodness sake!

“While you’re up here, do you have a question to ask me?”

“It’s not my turn, but the schedule seems to be off, so sure.” He pulls a copy of the flyer from a pocket in his coat. “Which authors or books have inspired your writing?”

In this case of this particular novel and main character, I’d have to say Steven Brust’s Vlad Taltos series. Assassins and dry wit are two of my favorite things. I happened to be reading the series when I changed the direction of Trust many years ago, switching everything from Ms. MC to Mr. MC’s pov.”

“I could do dry wit. I’ve also killed people,” Nekar offers.

“I know.” I pat him on the head. “But we’re back at that repetition thing again. You should run along now before you end up in a sticky situation.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 18

Twenty-five uniformed men march onto the desktop. One steps forward. “Excuse us, She Who Taps The Keys. We are looking for our Captain.”

“You and everyone else. Haven’t seen him.”

“He was supposed to ask you question today. He hasn’t been here yet?”

“I said I haven’t seen him. Is there something else, or can I get back to writing?”

The man turns and looks to the others. Several of them nod. He turns back to me. “Our beloved Captain has been missing for over a week. No trace of him has been found. We can only assume something horrible happened. We request your permission to elect a new captain.”

“A guy goes missing for a week and you’re all set to replace him? Not big on waiting are you?”

He leans in close and give me a conspiratorial nod. “I’ve rather had my eye on the position for years.”

Could it be? One of my impotent evildoers has a drop of ambition? Perhaps there is hope for them after all. “And just what kind of captain would you be? I’d like to see some changes. You Barthromians have been stagnant for decades.”

“Oh, me too.” He grins, which makes his eyes sparkle and a dimple show up on his cheek.

“Cut that out. Don’t ever grin again.”

“But,” he pouts, “I have so many plans. I have a vision!” He spays his fingers out and raises them high. The sparkle and dimple return. “New uniforms, something blue like Delilah’s eyes, and with some sequins! We’re so sick of these drab things! And pencils! We want pencils. One for each man, so we can play tic-tac-toe to hone our strategic skills. And that one,” he points to a blushing young man, “he would like to open a shelter for the dust bunnies. You see, they’re just lonely and misunderstood! They could be trained. They could become wonderful pets!”

I just sit, blinking, amazed at this glimpse into the Barthromian mind. Amazed, no, perhaps disturbed. Yeah, probably more that. “While I’m thinking that over, ask today’s question.”

“Of course.” He snaps to attention. “Who is the antagonist in your novel and what drives them?”

“There are several. The ex-best friend who has a chip on his shoulder the size of his dead wife and child. Kess, a returning bad guy who was good for a brief section of the last novel and is back to being bad, though perhaps reluctantly. He is trying to give the star system better leadership. It just happens not to jive with Mr. MCs vision, nor are his tactics appreciated. And then there’s the Council. Still there and still wanting expansion and domination over the known universe. Isn’t that what armies and plentiful resources to sustain them are for?”

He puts a hand over his gaping mouth. “They sound evil.”

“And you don’t. Request denied.”

Twenty-five sulky Barthromians shuffle off the desktop.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 16/17

"Scorpius, I’m going to toss day sixteen’s question to you since no one came up here to ask it. Wait, you can’t ask questions, you can only answer them."

Okay, I’ve got this then since we’re already running a day behind. Turns out this is as darn appropriate question.

What else do I have going on in my life and how much is it shafting my efforts to win NaNo?

Well, we all know that I buried my superwoman cape last year. However, here’s a quick glimpse into a single week’s obligations beyond my own writing of 50k.

Monday – Young Writers Program student meeting , grocery shopping for me and my mother-in-law, Boy Scout meeting and work
Tuesday – Girl Scout meeting, worked late on an installation job, Hosted a write-in for adult NaNo participants, shopped for upcoming PTO event items, girl scout project supplies, NaNo celebratory chocolate, and donation for food drive for son’s school, and one other meeting that I had to cancel on because of the write-in.
Wednesday – Young Writers Program student meeting, picked up CSA veggies, worked, watched Survivor with family – oh hey, we’re all in the same room for a whole hour!
Thursday – OMG nothing but work (thanks to the fact we cancelled a PTO meeting.)
Friday – work, host evening online write-in for adult NaNo participants, help with PTO movie night and somewhere in there transport teen son to evening school party. Clone self?
Saturday – Transport son across town to afternoon boy scout event. Spend a couple hours with daughter at an activity orientation. Work in the yard / clean up garden / work if I have to.
Sunday - Spend some time sitting in the same room with husband during our one night of evening tv time. Catch up on laundry, dishes, cleaning and making sure kids have homework done, have cleaned themselves, their rooms and their clothes.

There, we’ve got that one covered. Still no one up here? Now I’m getting concerned.

“Hey,” I rip the masking tape from the Barthromian captain’s mouth. “I guess today is yours even though the schedule said that you have tomorrow. Do you have a name? I mean, I didn’t write you with one, but I’m getting sick of referring to you indirectly.”

He rubs the masking tape residue from his lips. “Chuck.”

“Uhh, really? That’s not very, I don’t know, alien sounding. Or terrifying. Come on, you’re the leader of the bad guys.”

“No, I think I’m sticking with Chuck. I rather like it. And truly, I do appreciate that you let me pick my own name, especially after that Glicfip debacle.”

“And now you’re being polite and using words like debacle. Where did I go wrong?” I drop my head into my hands. “Ask the darn question.”

“What time period is your novel set and is it on this world or another?”

“It’s in the future, in another star system, and takes place on several planets.”

“Very nice. Sounds like a story I could really get into.”

I slap new piece of tape over his mouth. “Nice try, Chuck.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 15

“So Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him, we meet again.”

He scowls. “We do.”

“Well, aren’t you extra surly today? What brings you to the desktop?”

“The Barthromians are missing their captain. Do you have anything to do with that?”

“Me?” I take a second to reassure myself that I’ve securely re-taped and gagged the annoyingly good captain to the backside of the tissue box. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should ask your friend there.” He points at Scorpius standing next to my laptop.

“Scorpius is a bobblehead. He can’t talk.”

“Oh, but I think he can.” Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him approaches the still figurine. “So, Scorpius, have you seen the Barthromian captain on the desktop within the past week?”

He gives Scorpius a little tap under the chin. “See, he says yes.”

“Now that’s just cheating.” I knock my chair into the desk. Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him staggers. “See, now he says no.”

“You just slammed into the desk!”

“You hit him under the chin to make him nod!”

“Is she lying about the captain, Scorpius?”

“Oh come on!” I spot a glob of something shiny on his coat and point at it. “What’s that? It looks like a giant blob of mucus.”

Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him turns slowly to look the glob on his shoulder. “That’s nothing. Say, umm, do any of your characters have a disability or mental illness this year? That dysotopian novella you did a couple years ago, the one with the mentally handicapped guy, uhh what was his name… Anyway, that was fascinating.”

“No, but thanks. So really though, what is that on your coat?”

“Must have sneezed. Woo, yeah, not feeling so well. Probably should go lie down.” He runs for the edge of the desk. “Wouldn’t want to get you sick. We’re only halfway through NaNo.” He dives over the edge.

I look to Scorpius. “Think their still up to something out there?’

He nods.

“Yeah, me too.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 14

I peer down into my pen cup, realizing it’s been a long time since I’ve used any of them. With my handwriting being so atrocious, it’s just better I stick with typing whenever possible. Wow, these things area really dusty. “You guys still alive in there?”

Delilah shrieks, “Get me out of here! I have baby dust bunny bites all over my legs!”

“The confession first.” I reach down in there and wait until I feel paper between my fingers. I scan the scrawlings on the paper. “A revolt, huh?”

“That was the plan, yes,” says the Barthromian captain. “Now, if you don’t mind, I believe this girl has been traumatized enough. Keep me if you must, but let her go.”

I sigh. “Chivalrous behavior? Really? You’re supposed to be evil!”

“It seems you failed miserably.”

“So did your plan. Mox won’t be helping you.”

Satisfied when both characters look suitably dejected, I extract Delilah from the cup. “Now then, I suppose you want to go back to your beloved Glicfip.

She nods emphatically.

“Two things then. First, you have a question to ask me.” I hand her the flyer.

Delilah scans the list of questions and then clears her throat. “Is the sexuality of your characters a large part of your novel’s story? If so, are there characters who deviate from the heterosexual “norm”? In what way?

“A large part? Not exactly. There is some sex between two characters who have been involved for several years and are now engaged. She’s currently holding out now until the big day and that’s causing some definite frustrations on Mr. MC’s part. I haven’t run across any characters who operate outside the hetrosexual norm in this particular novel. It doesn’t feel needed for this plot.”

“What the second thing?”

“If you say a word of what happened up here to anyone down there, I’ll write Glicfip into a novel with his own personal harem.”

“You wouldn’t!”

I tap a few keys. “Try me.”

She scurries off the desk without so much as a glance at the captain still stuck in my cup.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 13

“Ms. Wildstar, how nice to see you again. I hear you’ve been on a little vacation.”

She smiles tightly and grips the edge of her seat on the stack of dusty CDs. “Not really. Those stupid boys don’t know what they’re talking about. You know they were never developed for their minds. All they were meant to do was get horribly murdered so Mr. MC would be more sympathetic to Ms. MC.”

“I suppose so.” Ms. Wildstar’s mind wasn’t all that developed either, but I didn't point that out. “So what can I do for you today?”

"Ms. MC was supposed to describe Mr. MC for us, but she couldn't make it. Something about not being able to get a sitter because she's stuck on a buried, hidden spaceship with her kids."

“Ah yes, she’s in a bit of a predicament at the moment. So are you going to take her place?”

“No, I brought someone else to do it.” She slides off the CD stack and goes to the edge of the desk where she motions to someone below. “Someone you haven’t talked to yet this month.”

I take a quick inventory of my discarded characters. They all seem to be covered. Hmmm.

A man in his late twenties with dark skin, hair and eyes climbs into the desktop. He stands protectively near Ms. Wildstar.

I wrack my brain and finally arrive at a name. “Mr. MC’s brother’s best friend, Mox?”

“So you do remember me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s scrambling. There’s a reason you were left out there undiscovered in wads of yellowed paper. If she remembered you, she’d have brought you to live with us years ago.”

I tap my chin. “Interesting. I’d not thought about you in years. It’s been drafts.”

“Yeah, I saw some of the new stuff when we were making our way here. Much better. Rather sorry I’m not in it though.”

“I’m intrigued. What do you have to tell us about Mr. MC?”

“He was a nice young man, responsible, striving to be like his brother. But when Chesser died, the poor kid was left at the whims of Ms. MC and she ruined him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, and you’re working from old information. He truly does love Ms. MC and she him. She doesn’t pull him into her troubled world until years after she did before. He’s his own man now. Sure they’ve had some rough times, but in this new novel, he’s doing the best he can in a world were everyone seems bent on ruining the happy little life he and Ms. MC had set up for themselves.”

“Wow, that doesn’t sound near as bad.” He leaves Ms. MC’s side and sits on the CD stack. “I never liked Ms. MC before but she sounds much more sympathetic now.”

“That was my intention.”

Ms. Wildstar stomps over to his side with her arms crossed and a scowl on her young face. “You said you were going to help us. Now you’re sitting her all chitty chatty with She Who Taps The Keys. This was not part of the deal.”

I put on my benevolent smile. “Mox, it seems like you were a decorated soldier, dedicated and loyal. You had a lot of skills Chesser used while you were on missions together and when he died, you did your best to give Mr. MC some guidance.”

He sits up proudly and puffs out his chest. “That’s me.”

“You know what…” I glance at my laptop.

“No! No, no, no!” Ms. Wildstar runs toward my keyboard.

“I have the perfect place for you in this novel.” I quickly type his name.

Mox vanishes.

Ms. Wildstar stomps on my keyboard. “That wasn’t fair! You! You know...” She shakes her fist at me.

“Know what?” I smile at the utterly frustrated teen.

She bites her lip and lowers her fist. “Nothing. I have to go.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 12

Two pairs of trembling hands lightly touch my desktop. The boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up appear seconds later. “Excuse us, She Who Taps The Keys, we are looking for some of our friends who have gotten lost.”

“Haven’t seen anyone since yesterday. How’s your project going?”

They look at each other and then back at me. “What project?”

“The one where you ask me questions, of course. What did you think I meant?” Maybe I should grab them too. Nah, there are enough people wondering where the two are that I already have.

“Oh, that. Quite well I think,” says one.

“Marin and Nekar have been happy with everyone,” says the other.

“Have they now. What about Ms. Wildstar, is she happy too?”

“Haven’t seen her-”

“For a couple days,” finishes the other.

“I hope she’s not missing too.”

“No, she’s off-”

The other one jabs him in the side with his elbow. “She’s taking a break.”

“Of course. I’m sure she’s tired after arranging this project.”

“She had help.”

“Did she?”

“Um, we’re supposed to ask you a question today,” says the one who did the jabbing. “If you were behind on your word count and were going to pull and all-nighter to catch up. What would your playlist of inspirational music look like?”

The pens in the cup begin to rattle. I talk a little louder to cover the noise and put my hand over the cup, stilling the pens inside. “Seriously? Didn’t we cover this with the last question you two were up here?”

“I suppose we did. So no music then?”

“I have been inspired by certain songs, such as when I was working on the novel you two came from, but no, not when I’m actually writing. No music. In fact, even when I’m plotting while driving around town, I turn the radio off.”

“Silence. Got it,” says the one with the loose lips.

“But you’re not good at it,” mutters the other one as they creep back over the edge of the desk.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 11

I unfold the flyer I took from the pocket of the Barthromian captain and look it over. Other than a letter B next to day 18 and 22 there aren’t any clues to be found. Delilah didn’t have any pockets but even a pat down didn’t produce anything of use. “Are you two comfortable?”

Delilah and the Barthromian captain blink twice.

“Good. If you’re ready to talk I’ll gladly remove some of that uncomfortable tape.”

They blink again.

“Looks like today’s question is about collaborative writing.” I rip the tape from their mouths. “Since no one has come to ask it yet, I’ll just take this one.”

Something jabs my foot. I clamp my hand over the two characters taped side by side to my tissue box. Glancing downward, I spot Glicfip poking my sock with a half bent open paperclip. “Can I help you with something?”

“Have you seen Delilah?”

“Not since she asked her question yesterday.”

“I’m supposed to ask you one today. Mind if I skip it? I’d really like to keep searching for her. I’m starting to get worried.”

“We can hope the dust bunnies didn’t get her. That would be such a shame.”

Glicfip pales. “You don’t think… No. She’s got to be around here somewhere. I’ll keep looking.”

“Okay then. Good luck.” I wave as he sets off town the paper wad lined paths.

Once he’s out of sight, I turn back to the characters squirming and mumbling under my hand. “Now then, about this collaborative writing thing. No, I haven’t done that and I’m not into roleplaying games. However, I’d suggest you two get on it.”

I pull the tape off of their bodies and drop them in the pen-filled cup. The useless flyer goes in too. “You have until tomorrow to write me a full confession on the back of that or you’ll be playing the role of dust bunny food.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 10

With the Barthromian captain taped securely to my pen box and turned to face the black wastelands behind my desk, I patiently await my next visitor.

Delilah hoists up her low cut dress to better cover her ample cleavage and smiles. “Hello.”

“Is that the dress Ms. MC used to wear to that year end party?”

“Yeah, you cut it three drafts ago. Ms. Wildstar wanted it, but she couldn’t fill it out like I can.” She spins around.

“Indeed. I don’t think Ms. MC even did it such justice.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” I smile. “How does Glicfip like it?”

“He loves it. Oh, and thank you for giving him a new name. It’s much easier to say. And it sounds so different.”

“Like he comes from a whole different planet or something.”

“Exactly!” She grins.

“So what can I do for you today?”

“I’m supposed to ask you about manifesting your love of writing when you’re not doing Nano.”

“You mean, my other project outside of NaNoWriMo?”

Her grin hastily downgrades to a wavering smile. “Yes, those.”

“I think we both know that I write all year, well, other than the summer months. Those are often too busy and filled with interruptions to get much done, but if something really has me fired up, I’ve been known write even then. I also enjoy critiquing writing for other people when I’m in a non-writing mode, which sometimes happens between projects or when I’m on an editing/revising binge.”

My pens begin to jangle in their plastic cup set into the empty tissue box. Delilah jumps.

“What was that?” She wraps her arms around herself. “Are there dust bunnies back there? Trala says they’re horrible and mean and ugly! You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“I’m not Glicfip, dear. I’ve killed characters. Many of them. Even ones I really like when it serves a good purpose.”

The box bounces. Then pens bounce with it, thunking up and down.

“Maybe if you had something important to tell me, I’d be more inclined to protect you.”

The girl looks around wildly. “I don’t know anything important. Really, I don’t. I should go.”

“So soon?”

She dashes for the edge of the desk, but the tight dress confines her steps. I grab her.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 9

Still yawning, I’m peacefully going about my wake up and check my email routine when someone climbs over the edge of my desk. The captain of the Barthromians straightens his uniform and paces my desktop, his heels clicking with each step. “So, who did you tell?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, you told others. You can’t hide it. We know.”

“Who knows what? Of course I talk to people.” I really need to start drinking coffee or maybe ring my desk in barbed wire until I’m ready to be sociable.

Click, click, click go the heels of his polished black boots. “You know what I’m talking about. Who. Did. You. Tell.”

I close my laptop and sit forward. “Talking slowly is only effective if you also yell. At least, that seems to be the general consensus. How about you stand still?” I grab him by the legs and pick him up. “Now, just what are you ranting about this early in the morning?”

“Reliable sources have reported that you have been spreading confidential information.” He pushes against my hand as if he actually thinks he could break free.

“Regarding what?”

“The project code-named NaNoWriMo. Ms. Wildstar said no one was to speak of it. Especially not you.”

I squeeze a little more. “Project, huh? I suppose I have been talking about NaNoWriMo, but that was kind of the point of this month—to share my writing experiences with others.”

He freezes. “Writing? You’re talking about… writing?”

“Yes, I’ve told everyone who will stand still long enough to listen about NaNoWriMo.” I bring him up close to my face. “People know to leave me alone this month because I’m stressed enough to snap heads off with all I’ve got going on in addition to NaNo.”

“Oh.” He dons a winning grin. “My mistake. So sorry. Would you mind putting me down now?”

“I don’t think so.” I grab my roll of masking tape. “I can interrogate too.”

After taping him to the tissue box that holds all my pens, I sit back. “So, just what is project NaNoWriMo?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about it. The memo said so.”

“Especially not to me?”

“Notto you.” He bangs the back of his head on the box, and lets out a growl. “Damned typos! They’ll be the death of us all.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 8

When I see Ms. Wildstar on my desktop, I’m only mildly relieved. “Been awhile. Where have you been?”

“Hanging out with Nekar. Why?”

“Why did he and Glicfip switched days? Was he too busy hanging out with you? Speaking of which, I know you two always seem to be near each other, but hanging out? Really?”

She shrugs. “Glicfip had to get a haircut on his assigned day. You know how he is with looking good.”

I have to wonder if Nekar has been coaching her. She’s awfully nonchalant if she is truly hiding something.

“With Xander gone, I needed someone to talk to. Glicfip and Delilah are often busy. All Trala does is rave about the dust bunnies and the boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up are rather attached to one another.”

“As in tied or glued together or attached?”

“Yeah, that.” She cocks her head and a sly smile creeps across her face. “You didn’t know? I thought you knew everything about all of us.”

“I do.” For the most part, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I was just making sure they’d not fallen into a vat of glue or tangle of masking tape when the dove off my desk the other day.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have a question for today or did you just come up here to annoy me?”

“What’s your word count? It’s supposed to be 13,336 today.”

“Well, it’s not 13,336. I did manage to squeak in over 10k last night thanks to some word wars. Weekends and Mondays are not good writing times for me. Too many people at home and too many obligations to juggle. Today, I should be able to pound out some words.

“Famous last words?” She smirks

“Ha. Ha.”

“I should get going then. I wouldn’t want to distract you.” She waves and dashes to the edge of the desk.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 7

As I sit here, waiting at my desk, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll see Ms. Wildstar today or if she’ll scrape up yet another discarded character to stand in her place. The boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up clearly didn’t want to be up here. I really have to wonder what she’s bribing them all with.

My wondering comes to an end as I see a hand and then a head pop over the edge of the desk. “Welcome, Bulky-short-haired-hot-tempered-violet-ex-partner-who-sold-out-Ms-MC-and-caused-her-serious-emotional-harm-before-she-hunted-him-down-and-killed-him.”

He stands up and shakes out his dusty clothes. Scars from his adventures in the dark wasteland behind my desk stand out starkly on his face and arms. He scowls. “You really remembered all of that?”

“It is your name. It’s my job to remember.” I make sure my notes are covered with my hand and smile confidently. “So what question do you bring for me today?”

“I’m supposed to ask you where your favorite place to write is. But really, I wanted to ask you for a new name. This one is total crap*!”

“Now, now, no need for that. I suppose, since I gave Glicfip a new-”

“Wait, what the hell did you just say?”

“Glipfip?”

He shakes his head. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“It’s also my job to be cruel.”

“Have you ever considered that your job requirements sound a lot like mine?”

“Can’t say that I have, but now you that mention it… Mine doesn’t pay near as well though.”

“That’s because you don’t actually have to deal with the dead bodies. You just make the rest of us do the dirty work.”

“Good point. So you want a new name? How about Bshhtvep?”

“I’ll pass. Keep the mouthful. We’ll see how long you can keep it straight.” He glances off in the distance and nods.

I spin around in my chair and scan our paper-filled surroundings. “Who are you nodding to?”

It’s far too quiet out there. The adverb crates are unattended. Ms. Wildstar’s paper stack is vacant. The corners are empty, as are the paper wad lined pathways. Not even a whisper or crinkle of paper reaches my ears.

“What are you guys up to?”

“Just doing our jobs, like you.” He smiles.

I have no idea what Ms. MC saw in this guy. He’s slimy. Not literally, that would be messy.

“Didn’t I ask you a question?” he asks.

“Um, yeah.” I keep my eyes on him and the far too quietness below. “I have this desk but I also like the freedom of not being tied to one place. I write in bed, on the couch, at the kitchen table, sometimes the stairway if it’s the one pseudo quiet place I can find in the house while still keeping in touch with what’s going on with the family. They tend to get annoyed when I shut myself away in here for hours on end. Though, I usually try to write when they’re gone because I’m more productive then.

“I’d say we’re done here. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He grins as he climbs over the edge.


*was severely edited to be all ages friendly.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 6

“Almighty She Who Taps the Keys, we are reporting for duty.” Twenty-six extremely pale men in dirt-colored uniforms snap to attention on the desktop.

I have to remember to give Ms. Wildstar credit for recruiting even the Barthromians in her efforts to delay her next visit. Or maybe she’s up to something. “What’s Ms. Wildstar up to these days?”

“Sorry ma’am, we weren’t written to be spies.”

“Right. What were you written for again? Oh yes, to be bad guys. So be bad and do something you weren’t written for. Come on, break the mold.”

All twenty-six of them stare at the desktop. The leader quietly says, “We don’t know how.”

“You’re worthless. All of you. Not that it should be a surprise. You’re here.” I sigh. “Fine, what’s your question?”

“What do you find most stressful about writing 50,000 words in thirty days?”

“Getting my work done when I’d rather be writing. Too often, writing wins. Which means work piles up and then I’m running around swearing at everything until I’m caught up again.”

“It’s all about time management, ma’am.”

“Yes, well, when you can find the time to be bad, you get back to me on your time management advice. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 5

Two bare-chested, seventeenish looking boys peek over the desktop. “Excuse us, are we in the right place?”

“This is different. Can’t say as I’ve seen the two of you up here before. You boys-who-don’t-get-blown-up tend to stick to the corners of the room. Ms. Wildstar is really making sure you all get a turn, isn’t she?”

They nod nervously and stand at the very edge of the desk.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to blow you up again just for asking a question. Out with it.”

“What are two-” starts one boy

“Songs from your playlist that-” says the other

“You feel are connected with your novel-”

“And why?”

“Wow, you guys are a regular little interviewing duo, aren’t you? That’s really annoying. Maybe I should blow you up again.”

One backs up half a step and teeters on the edge. The other catches him, pulling him back to safety.”

“I’m kidding. Maybe.” I shuffle through the items on my desktop. “Where is that music device… Behind the Scorpius bobblehead? He says yes, but he always says yes. No. Behind this awesomely foiled sun and moon birthday card from six years ago? No. Behind my repurposed empty tissue box that holds pens and pencils? No. Oooh that’s right. I don’t have one. I write in silence. I love silence. How the heck am I supposed to hear you guys yammering in my head if I have music playing?”

The boys yelp and fling themselves over the edge.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 4

Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC sits on the edge of my desktop, panting. “That’s a long climb up.”

“Been awhile since you’ve been up here. You should spend less time ogling Delilah and more time exercising.”

“I exercise with Delilah all the time.” He winks.

“And she weighs all of, what, a hundred pounds after downing a sheet cake? You might want to try something with a little more resistance now and then. And no, I’m not talking about broadening your sexual exploits.”

“Oh come on, look at me, I’m ripped. I don’t need weights.”

“That’s because I wrote you that way. Keep dining on fantasy ‘food’ and I’ll have to write you some bigger clothes. Don’t you have a question you’re supposed to ask me?”

Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC pulls out a paper from his pocket. “Yeah, why do I have this hideous name when the other characters you’ve pulled out of here for their names have vanished?”

“Because I’m She Who Taps the Keys, that’s why.”

He crosses his arms and taps his foot. “Oh look, I’m He Who Taps His Foot.”

“Fine. Because I recycled other aspects of their characters along with their names, but I haven’t had a need for a playboy fighter pilot. You’re stuck here in character purgatory, buddy.”

“Then I demand a new name before I ask my all important question.”

“Uhh. How about Glcfp. That encompasses enough to help me remember who you are without being such a mouthful.”

“Seriously? Glcfp? How do you even pronounce that?”

I grab my sharpie and fill out a new nametag. After slapping it on his chest I lean back and look him over. “Yep. That works. You are hereby known as, Glicfip.”

“You realize that’s still horrible, right?”

“Take it or leave it, Glicfip. Ask your question already.”

“What is the genre of your novel and why did you choose it?”

“I chose it because it’s a sequel and I kinda need it to be the same genre. Which is sci-fi by the way.”

“Fair enough. Can I be excused before I end up with an even stupider name?”

I wave my sharpie marker at him. “Probably a good idea.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 3

Nekar stands at one end of my desk, his jaw tight and his narrowed eyes gleaming. “You.”

Ms. MC stands at the other end of my desk looking equally as perturbed. “You.” She glares at me. “When you invited me out here, I didn’t think it was to help you dispose of these cast offs. I mean, that’s not a problem, but I thought you said something about an interview.”

“I did. Nekar, cut the western showdown bit and do what you came up here to do.”

“You can’t honestly expect to interview her.” He throws down Stubbornly and Adamantly on the desktop.

“Hey, it was supposed to be Good-looking-cocky-fighter-pilot-that-once-slept-with-Ms-MC-and-was-violently-killed by-Mr-MC’s turn, but you switched days. Not my problem. Get on with it.” I shoo him toward Ms. MC.

They eye each other with distaste.

“I could come back another day,” Ms. MC says.

“No, just get on with it, Nekar.”

He says through clenched teeth, “Tell the people who you are.”

“I’m Ms. MC. Idiot. Why don’t you tell them who I am?”

“I know who you’re not anymore. We’ve got your eyes, nails and body armor floating around here. How the hell did you even fit in that? I suppose prancing around in a skin-tight suit while doing the Council’s dirty work was a little too sexy for you?”

“I don’t prance and I don’t do sexy.”

“But Mr. MC finds you attractive anyway. How nice for you. I suppose he’s into you for what’s on the inside.” He throws a card at Ms. MC.

She peers at it. “Sarcastically? As if we hadn’t picked up on that? This is why you didn’t make the cut. You’re redundant.” She looks to me. “Are you sure I can’t kill him? I have a pulse pistol right here. It would only take a second.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it would be to clean Nekar bits out of my keyboard? No thanks. We better wrap this up before someone gets hurt. Nekar, thank Ms. MC.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” He hurls an armload of adverbs at Ms. MC and jumps off the edge of the desktop.

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 2

“Trala? Hey, so, uhhh, what brings you up here?” I look at once pretty woman now covered in dust bunny remains and cobwebs. Her cherished blue dress is tattered. Scratches cover her legs and arms.

“Didn’t think I was still around did you? Thought the dust bunnies at me, I bet. You said they were cute and fuzzy! Lies! They’re vile little creatures. And their teeth!”

“They are? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize they’d gone wild.”

“Yeah, right. Ms. Wildstar says otherwise.”

“Did she send you up here? I wondered where she’d gotten off to.”

Trala wipes some of the cobwebs from her hair and flips her long dark locks over her shoulders. “She gave me this flyer and told me to ask you a question about some Nana na mo thing.

“It’s NaNoWriMo, but nevermind, wouldn’t want you to sprain something. What’s today’s question?”

She squints at the flyer. “What is the title of your story?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s an odd title.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Next I’m supposed to ask why you choose that title.”

“Because I don’t know what the book is called yet!” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Hey Trala, have you ever heard the term TSTL?”

“No. Why?”

“You should go look it up. I think you’d find it enlightening.”

Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews 1

Ms. Wildstar sits primly on the edge of my container of paperclips and rubberbands and clears her throat. “So, She Who Taps the Keys, I hear you’re doing this NaNoWriMo thing again.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“The flyer you threw down at us last week. You know, the one with thirty questions and the scrawled note to elect someone to ask them. Now I see why you type all the time. It took three of us to decipher your handwriting.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. My handwriting sucks. I freely admit it.” I rub my hands together. “So what’s the question for day one?”

“We all know you’ve done this before, but go ahead and tell us just how long you’ve been insane.” She coughs. “I mean, how long you’ve been participating.”

“This will be my sixth year. I’ve made to 50k every time. It will also be my fifth year coaching students through the Young Writer’s Program and my third year as a Municipal Liaison for my local region. I stay very busy during November.”

“We know. We hear you. Clickty-clacking all freaking morning. And talking to yourself. Do you even realize you do that? And would it kill you to get take a shower and get dressed before plunking down in front of that thing for hours?” She jabs a finger at my laptop.

“It might.” I glare at her. “I think we’ve have enough of this little interview for today.”

November won't be quiet

November has usually meant a silent blog for me due to NaNoWriMo taking over my life, but not this year. No sir. My host of discarded characters have decreed that they'll not sit quietly and be ignored.

Frankly, they've been rather secretive lately. I don't trust them to sit quietly and I certainly don't dare ignore them.

In hopes of flushing out what's going on behind the paper piles, I've devised a project that will keep them busy and, in theory, allow me the chance to flush out a few clues as to what their up to. Wish me luck.

Stay tuned for Victims of the Knife: The NaNo Interviews. Coming Nov 1.

Victims of the Knife: Grief and Zombies

Ms. Wildstar looks around cautiously. "Did you hear that huge whoop last night?"

Nekar nods. "I think it's safe to say she finished the rewrite."

"That means we're not going back in, are we." She sits down on a stack of paper and rests her chin on her hands. "We're stuck here while Xander is off having fun."

Nekar pats her shoulder. "Don't worry. I hear she might be working in the sequel during NaNo. There's still hope for us. Besides, you wouldn't like Xander now. He's older and only has a few speaking lines. He's not even the same man...err...boy."

"She rewrote him? My Xander?" Tears roll down Ms. Wildstar's cheeks. "I'll never see him again. We had so much fun together--searching for discarded technology, feasting on fantasy "food", acting out that cut scene where Ms. MC got to dress up and then she and Mr. MC when to that fancy party and then they-"

"I think we both know what happens next and I really don't need to hear the details. You're half my age for goodness sake. You know how long its been since I got to be in a scene like that? Four drafts ago. At least. You do not want to get me aroused."

Ms. Wildstar sniffs. "You really think there's hope we might get into the sequel?"

"Uhh, no. Not a chance." Nekar laughs.

"But you said there was hope."

"I was lying. I do that. But we might end up with some new friends."

"Wait, did you say NaNo was coming?"

"Yes, but if she does go with the sequel, I doubt we'll end up with NaNo zombies this year."

"But if she doesn't..." Ignoring the threat of paper cuts, Ms. Wildstar grasps the edge of her seat in white-knuckled terror.

"We'll need weapons." They run off toward the tower of precariously balanced paper wads as if the zombies are already at their heels.

The weasels have arrived

As NaNoWriMo season approaches Rippy McWeasel, our region's mascot, and I have been busy screening weasel recruits. These wily little creatures must have what it takes to become rabid cyborg attack weasels, hellbent on keeping writers in line during the November writing frenzy. It's not an easy task to keep a distracted writer on task. So many gadgets, and that darn internet and "just one more thing before I open up my WIP file". Shiny chickens, jobs, obligations, families, all those things that get in the way of writing time. Well, these weasels will have none of that. They must be heartless, able to withstand sobbing and ranting, pleading, rationalizations, deals one made with ones self, and downright bribery.

It's not every weasel that is prepared to become one of Rippy's elite rabid cyborg attack weasels. No sir. It takes years of training. That's why most weasels must take on cyborg parts to keep going after their natural lifespans would have taken them out of action. Yesterday, this first batch, stood on their stubby little feet for hours while Rippy instructed them in the ways of keeping writers in their seats.

To begin their field training, these weasels will be sent out into writer's homes this November. They will experience a NaNo and all that can distract a writer from writing 50k in thirty days. And in December, they will have either proven themselves worthy or slunk off into the shadows to live in shame.

So if you're contemplating NaNo this year, sit down and write your 50k. You wouldn't want to condemn one of these little creatures to failure, would you?

Victims of the Knife: The Storm

Ms. Wildstar looks up from her dinner of fantasy novel cast off generic "food" and grimaces. "Is that thunder?"

Xander cocks his head a listens for a minute. "Hail?"

Nekar shakes his head. "She's writing again. About time. Just be glad she's on the laptop and not that old keyboard that sounded like a herd of elephants on speed."

"What are elephants?" asks Xander. "Are they similar to those gun-toting camels we heard about in the interview with Marion Sipe?

"No. Nevermind. I forgot you were from another planet."

Xander sets is plate on the ground. "So are you."

"Yeah well, I've been around a lot longer than you." Nekar picks up one of the freshly fallen paper wads. "Anyone see any new discarded food scenes? I'm sick of this bad food joke crap we've been stuck with for months."

"I haven't read much of it yet. The wads keep falling. I almost got crushed by a 3k pile of words yesterday." Xander looks up warily. "Anyone find any armor? Maybe a helmet? I don't care if its fantasy or sci-fi, as long as it protects my head."

"Nope, sorry," Ms Wildstar says as she finishes off her meal. "It's mostly been arguments and heavy paragraphs of character thought. I think I found a ration bar if anyone wants one."

Nekar shakes his head. "I'm not that hungry." His eyes grow wide. "Xander! You're fading!"

"YES!" Xander performs a double fist pump, full on mentos grin and leaps into the air. "Our gracious and wonderfully talented writer has found a role for me in the rewrite! I'm back in!"

Nekar hurls a paper wad at Xander as he vanishes. "Suck up."

Plot bunny zombies are going to eat my brains!

It's been a busy and productive week around here. I've been gleefully murdering darlings left and right. Nine chapters have undergone my knife over the past week. Three scenes have been gutted and plundered. Two were sold as slaves and one is locked a closet. It wasn't even my closet. Someone is sure in for a surprise!

Why rewrite three scenes that I've loved and toted about proudly for years? Well, I'm still conquering the episodic feel issue as well as the whole Mr. MC must take charge of the plot issue. I ended up two hours behind at work yesterday thanks to Mr. and Mrs. MCs combining three scenes into one (and I only counted that as one in the gut and plunder count. Woohoo!) intense and definitely character defining scene. I'm still loving it a day later so it can't completely suck.


On the NaNo prep front, I wrapped up project zombie with a horde of plot bunnies, pumpkin heads, cats and folklore zombies! I'm hoping these tiny zombies will go well in the upcoming raffle. Check out this book to make your own zombies. Next sewing project: Weasels. Lots and lots of weasels.

ZOMBIES!!!

With school (finally) back in session, it's time to dive back into writing and begin planning this year's NaNoWriMo regional events. While I have yet to accomplish any writing that is post worthy, I have made strides toward NaNo plannning so we'll go with that for today.

Which brings us to zombies!

Zombies make great raffle prizes. Who doesn't love the lurching, brain-craving, partially decomposed undead?

Books don't just attack me at bookstores. Oh no. They lurk at craft stores too! I saw this cover and couldn't resist.

Next week's project: Plot Bunny Zombies!!! Just look at their cute guts dripping out of their flufffy little bellies. Auww.

August Readingfest - OUCH!

As my readingfest frenzy creeps toward its end --September, with the kids back in school should see my back to my quiet writing time-- I finished George R.R. Martin's A Feast for Crows. I'd only read that one once before and I was amazed at how much I'd missed my first time through. It may be that I'd forgotten more than I remembered after six years, but I have a feeling it was more a case of devouring the book and missing subtleties of the plot lines. Having read the first four books now in close succession, the forth felt the weakest, mostly for the simple fact that it was only half of what was going on during that book's timeline.

It's book five, A Dance with Dragons that I have to thank for the fire red sunburn on my back today. Just a couple chapters at the beach...and one more...maybe just one more. Roll over? I can't read on my back! Just one more chapter.

I'll slather myself in aloe and read from the comfort of my couch in air conditioned house from now on. Or acutally remember to apply sun screen. That probably would have been a good idea too. Hmm, staying inside, yeah, that's a safer option, I think.

Book five of A Song of Ice and Fire promises to make up for the partial story of book four by relaying all the character's stories we missed in A Feast for Crows and then concluding by twining them all together again so we can happily lead into book six--which is promised in the opening notes. I just hope it won't be another six year wait. Ahem. I'll try to be patient. Besides, I have another few days of reading until I reach the end and the long wait for the next one begins.

Something I've noticed along the way: weasels. They're everywhere in this series. Particularly in book three, which is filled with them. Rippy McWeasel is not particularly pleased with the way his kind are portrayed in these books. I've told him to be quiet and bide his time. NaNoWriMo will be here soon and his time to shine will come.

August Readingfest

A couple weekends ago we took a long weekend road trip to Chicago. This trip reinforced the facts that I am NOT a big city kinda girl and that my TBR pile has gathered dust for far too long. To keep my daughter busy, we had stopped at the video store to stock up on DVDs for the long ride. As we wandered through the family video section I spy City of Ember and something clicks in the back of my head. Huh, that sounds familiar. Why? Oooooh! I have that book... and its sequel... in my TBR pile... from 2004. Behind much? Umm yeah.

The problem with buying books from a book club blurb is that I occasionally a smidge misled. As I sat watching the movie, I realized, I'd unwittingly purchased two YA books. I'm not a huge YA fan. I know, I know, YA is hugely popular right now, but I like my books dark and twisted or erotic and with plots that keep me guessing. As for the movie of City of Ember, I enjoyed watching it with my eight year old daughter. The effects were disappointing in the main action scene, but otherwise, it was pretty good. After finishing the movie, I vowed to clear these books from my stack.

The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau was slightly darker than the movie and not filled with the hand holding reminders and explanations that plague some of the YA I've encountered. While I admit I kept waiting for something dark, sinister or twisted to happen, (it didn't) the plot and its ending was still gratifying in it's own simple way. I wish I could share what drove me to purchase the book in the first place, perhaps it was just the post-apocalyptic flavor, but that several years ago so I don't remember exactly. Apparently there are two more books in the series now that I was not aware of until writing this post. If I happen across them, I might have to pick them up as I will be passing these books on to both of my kids (13 & 8) to read. With both a teen girl and a boy as the MCs this book fits a wide audience. If you enjoy YA and have five to six hours you'd like to spend in a book, this one might be for you.

The People of Sparks This sequel picks up right where City of Ember left off, with Lina and Doon experiencing the outside world for the first time in their lives. This book makes you think a little about all the skills and knowledge we (and our children) take for granted. The moral of the story was a shade more in your face than I prefer even in books for kids, but it did have a character twist that I didn't see coming so I must give credit for that. Another quick read and perfect for my kids. Now I just have to keep them off their laptops long enough to pick up a book.

With two books read in two days, I was feeling far too accomplished. I'd waited a long time (too long because the newest of the series is now taunting me from the top of the TBR pile), but I finally allowed myself to sink into the sumptuous feast that is George R.R. Martin's A Clash of Kings. Since I'd just watched Game of Thrones on TV, I didn't need to refresh myself with the first book of A song of Ice and Fire. This was my third time through the early books of this series, but I wanted everything fresh in my head so I could fully enjoy the fifth book when I get to it. The series should have been named A Feast of Words and Characters. If you have not yet allowed yourself the utter pleasure of reading this fantasy masterpiece, indulge yourself. Go on. Do it. Now.

July Readingfest 3

I'm thinking this reading frenzy is going to continue into August since it's not looking like Camp NaNo is going to work for me then either. At least I'm getting my TBR pile thinned out a little. A very little. But hey, it's constructive and it's progress. This week I was the crazy lady at the county fair, walking around with a book in her hand, reading for ten minutes here and there while my daughter rode the rides.

To finish out my mission of completing the entire Dune series, I sought out Winds of Dune. This is the story of Lady Jessica that continues on after Paul of Dune. For those of you who have questioned the necessity of these newer Dune novels, on this particular one, I agree with you. While Paul of Dune delved into major questions about what drove Paul to leave his new empire behind and disappear into the desert, the few further answers revealed in Winds of Dune could have been tucked into Paul's novel. Filled with what felt with a lot of repeated information, this novel didn't give me the same compelling urge to devour it as the other did. If you're a big fan of the House Vernius plotline, you'll find the answers to all those pesky little questions that have popped up since back in Dune: House Atreides and all the newer books that have followed. If that's not a priority, I'd recommend Paul of Dune and moving on to Children of Dune.

After finishing Hunters of Dune -- which is one of those novels you go into knowing that it's going to end with only half the story told thanks to the author's notes -- I was in such a lurch to find Sandworms of Dune immediately, that I read the last page, set the book down and picked up the phone. I called my local book consignment store (where I'm selling all my leftover NaNoWriMo bookdrive novels) and asked if they had it. They didn't. So I sucked it up and drove to Barnes and Noble.

I can't tell you how long it's been since I've bought a new book off the shelf. Years. This is the problem with reading and critiquing so many other peoples novels, belonging to a book club and living close to a used book store, I don't get out much in that sense. When did the price of a paperback rise to $9.99?

Sandworms of Dune was everything I'd hoped it would be, a well-told, satisfying conclusion to the entire series, old and new. If you can image all sixteen Dune books in a neat stack topped with a bow, that's pretty much what finishing Sandworms of Dune felt like. I was a little concerned when I read that many of the original characters were back (as gholas), trapped aboard a giant no-ship, jumping around the universe to hide from a mysterious unknown Enemy -- you know the nameless, unknown bad entity that hasn't done anything really yet but everyone fears just cause they feel the Enemy is "bad". Granted, there were a few points that seemed obvious to me before the characters figured them out, but as a whole, the novel worked and the series now feels complete.

Wrapping up an epic that spans thousands of years with so many main characters, both good and bad, was a tall order, but Brian Herbert and Kevin Anderson managed to do it. Hooray! And now I can set the Dune universe on my bookshelf, take a deep breath and move on. What will I reach for next?

July Readingfest 2

Everyone benefits when I'm in reading mode. Well, everyone but my discarded horde and my current characters in limbo that is. My dog gets to go to the dog park where I can sit on a bench and read. My kids get to go to the beach, ChuckECheese, the park, and get to see me without a laptop attached to my person. My tub gets my attention with lots of long baths (though my shower probably misses me). My husband takes joy in not hearing the constant clickety clack of my fingers on the keyboard. Me, I'm getting a tan and feeling a little more accomplished with each book I take off my TBR pile.

I finished Jacqueline Carey's Naamah's Blessing since my last post. LOVED IT. And was overjoyed to have a strong ending to that trilogy with the promise of a new one to come. If I have to nitpick at something, it would be the overuse of single sentence paragraphs. Every chapter seemed to end with them and they were also scattered throughout. But really, that's digging for something to nitpick just to be fair.

Then I dove into Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson's, Paul of Dune. As much as I love Dune, this book has tragically languished on the bottom of my TBR pile since its release in 2008. That's how behind I am. Eek! This was a great point to dive back into the Dune universe. Reading of any of the previous books wasn't necessary, as necessary information was neatly tucked in. Of course, I had read all the previous books, but it's been a LONG time since reading the original six books. Focusing on Paul and the years between Dune and Dune Messiah, we learn the events that turned Paul Muad'dib into a terrifying ruler that brought massive change to the universe. Nitpick: The jump between childhood years and present day was jarring and off-putting at first but well indicated.

Currently I'm halfway into Hunters of Dune, also by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson's. The long awaited first part of the divided Book 7 of the original Dune series. Thankfully, this book also does a great job of inserting necessary snippets to jog the memory since Chapterhouse Dune was published in 1985 and I likely read it within a couple years of that. Yeah, it's been awhile. Easy to follow and as enjoyable as all the new Dune books have been, I have found nothing significant to nitpick on. Yet. The chapters are blessedly short, making it a perfect read for the constantly interrupted like myself. With a myriad of characters to follow, there's something for everyone as we follow the spiderweb of plotlines that clash and smash their way toward the climax of this awesome and inspirational series.

Special Guest: Marion Sipe

Please give a warm welcome to Marion Sipe, author of A Sign In Blood. I'll try to keep my discarded throngs at bay while we do this interview. They're used to me ignoring them lately. Just don't look any of them in the eye and we'll be fine.

With A Sign in Blood, what did you have the most fun writing?

The ending. It still gets me every single time I read it. I hope it does the same for others, but just knowing that it hasn't lost anything for me, despite my having read it at least a dozen times, makes me grin. So, it's my favorite part of the book, and the part I enjoyed writing the most.

When you can enjoy your own story even after all the hard work and multiple readings, you know you've created something wonderful. Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?

I learned a lot of things, actually. Liral and Chadri are characters of color and through writing them, and researching in order to write them, I learned a bit about the subject. The rewriting and editing always teach me something new and through it I think I gain a better grasp of the craft. Even if it is just a little each time. Getting crits for the story taught me a lot, too, and really made me look at things from different angles, which is always fascinating.

Writing and editing seem to be an endless learning experience don't they? Speaking of which, you know I'm a NaNo nut. Have you ever participated in NaNoWriMo?

I did several years ago, and then again last year. I had a great time and made some really awesome friends. I won, too! I actually wrote something like 135k in a single month. It was glorious, but exhausting.

135k? That is glorious! What's your favorite NaNo Pep Talk?

Lemony Snicket did a pep talk last year and I still have it in my inbox! It's really fantastic, and I re-read it whenever I need a boost. It never fails to make me grin, and to keep me writing, which is, I suppose, the point of a pep talk! :-D

We all need a little motivation now and then. What gave you the idea to write your book?

I can't remember. It's been so long, I really have no idea what that initial spark was. It could have been anything, really. I know that, somewhere after I had started writing it, I got stalled and then I saw this wonderful documentary about deserts and that got me back into the story. I find deserts fascinating, and being able to build one really hooked me.

What kind of readers will enjoy your book?

My hope is that there's something for everyone, but I think we all want that for our books. I think people who enjoy an immersive world and complicated characters will enjoy A Sign in Blood. And, of course, the hardcore fantasy readers to whom 300 pages is a great start. :-D

Sounds good to me. What research did you do for the book?

For this book specifically I researched deserts, mountains, gunpowder, a variety of plants, toxins, several cultures, camels, cavalry, and a bunch more stuff. But I would have done all that anyway. I enjoy the research, too. I just hope that I did it justice.

I'm trying to imagine how that all comes together. Gun-toting camels clashing with the mountain camels who employ toxins! Ok, probably not. Ahem... What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

A great big smile? Honestly, I'm not sure. I hope readers enjoy the story, and I hope it makes an impression, but there's not any one thing in particular I'm trying to say. I hope it makes people think, it certainly did me.

Thanks for stopping by, Marion! My discarded characters must like you, they behaved the entire time. Or maybe they're quietly plotting how to get ahold of a herd of those gun-toting camels...

You can purchase A Sign In Blood here Amazon or here B&N or here Smashwords

July Readingfest

While many of my fellow writing pals are off at CampNano, I'm stuck in a work schedule that leaves my creative brain fried and my fingers reluctant to go anywhere near my laptop. I did manage to get away for a long holiday weekend to take our first official family camping trip.

Other than some majorly rude and annoyingly obnoxious camp site neighbors, it was a wonderful experience. The weather was perfect. We found interesting fossil rocks, played in the sand, paddled around in a canoe and cooked food over the fire. Good stuff. I also brought a book and tried to get a little reading done.

Honestly, I did more carrying the book around intending to read it than actual reading, but having the leisure to do so did manage to rekindle the urge to read for enjoyment that had been lacking due to critiquing for the past couple years and trying to get my own writing done. Once home and the camping gear put away, I sat down and poured through the sand speckled pages. Then I picked up another and read that. I just cracked open a third. I've declared this month my Readingfest.

I'm hoping to work through some of my towering TBR pile. So far I've conquered:
The Barbarian by Judith French A good romance tale with a little lite history on the side. Other than feeling, from the amount of backstory inserted, that this was a book two, I didn't find much to distract me from enjoying the story of Alexander's wife, Roxanne, her hidden child, Ptolemy's need to outshine his dead brother, his missing bastard... oh and, of course, the hot barbarian prince who rescues her. I enjoyed the fact that this was a more mature romance in that Mr. Hottie had adopted and raised two boys on his own and both of the MCs were on their second marriage. No heaving-breasted virgins here, no sir.

For the past two days, my head has been stuck in Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. While formulaic like I've found the Carpathian series generally to be, it was still an enjoyable, quick read. Stong-willed and perpetual loner Tempest finds herself employed as the mechanic of an eccentric band, who are all secretly Carpathians (not exactly vampires). When their large, domineering bodyguard declares she is his lifemate and bonds them together, she must come to grips with kissing her loner lifestyle goodbye for all eternity. Lots of sex seems to help her adjust. The dialogue felt stiff in places and the descriptions repetitive, but overall, I wasn't complaining.

This morning, I dove into the long awaited Jacqueline Carey's Naamah's Blessing which arrived in my mailbox yesterday. Having reached chapter eleven by lunch, I've already laughed and cried. It took Puss in Boots eyes and much tugging from my daughter to dislodge me from the book in order to get my motherly duties and work day going. I marvel at Carey's skill at weaving so much emotion into her characters and creating such a wonderfully detailed world. I'm sad to see another of her trilogies close but anxious to see if another will follow. More gushing on this novel when I finish it. Which will likely be tomorrow at this pace. Who needs sleep?

Reluctant Blogcation

I hadn't intended to take time off from all you fun folks, but working ten hour days, including weekends, has slaughtered my free time like a chainsaw dual in a defunct summercamp filled with half-naked, beer-drinking teens.

While I love paying my bills, I miss my writing time and wandering around on the internet. My back would prefer me sitting on the couch rather than running up and ladders and lifting heavy things. The rest of me would like that too.

I hope to be back soon!

Fill in the blank fun

I'd love to say that writing is going along as wonderfully as previously reported, but I hit a wall a week ago and am back in idea percolation mode. This mad lib, supplied by the ever lovely and talented Elena Solodow conveys my issues pretty darn well. But no, really, my MC doesn't die. Honest.

If you'd like to participate in the mad lib fun head over to her blog right now. Maybe not right now, but in a few minutes.

Dear Main Character,

Just writing to tell you how much I appreciate what you do. I know it was tough getting past that total chapter rewrite #402 last week, but you made it through.

(Just to let you know, there's another one at the climax of the novel. Hope that's all right.)

I know you said you’re really sick of me rewriting your scenes, especially when I replace the ones where you had a good time with Ms. MC and I appreciate your feedback. It's always good to hear from your characters, but I really feel that you’re stronger with these new scenes that are rife with conflict and showcase your strengths, okay?

This novel is about you defying ‘the man’ and getting the girl, plain and simple. If you feel it's not right for you, we can part ways now. I know there's a couple secondary characters who would love a promotion.

So for tomorrow's writing session, let's focus on getting past this chaos of plotpoints I’ve written us into and figure a way to bring them all together to a resounding climax. I really love the way you have an attitude with the bad guys, but make sure you don’t start that with me this time, otherwise you might get killed off a little earlier than expected.

(Oh, no. You don't die in this book. Don't worry.)

(Really, would I lie to you?)

Anyway, MC, thanks again. Always know I'm here for you, except when I have my "sudden inspirations".

Yours always,
Jean

Six Sentence Sunday: Not Another Bard's Tale 5

In this last excerpt from Not Another Bard's Tale, Ed, the Evil Overlord in disguise, has infiltrated the motley band of heros as they travel to his keep in the hopes of defeating him. Harold, the bard, has just finished a rather disparaging song about evil overlords getting killed by heros which Ed took a bit of offense to.

Harold said, "Usually the ones not loved by their mommies, some deep emotional childhood scar that twists them, bad grades in school and hanging out with the wrong crowd, that sort of thing.”

Ed’s mouth hung open and when he finally gathered the wherewithal to close it, he sputtered, “That’s not how it is at all, I’ll have you know.”

Bruce gave him an odd look. “You some sort of expert on evil overlords, Ed?”

Ed gritted his teeth and continued on his way. “Just seems like with a man so evil as Darkious Maximus, Evil Overlord Extraordinaire and Master of the Nine Darknesses, would be carved of deeper stuff than your typical evil overlord material.”

If you've enjoyed Not Another Bard's Tale, you might also enjoy my short story, The Employer, which is available in the The First Line.

Check out other fabulous SSS excerpts here.

My weekend back to nature adventure

Is it just me or does that look like a mob of Ents?

Being overwhelmed with work as I have been lately, I needed a little break from home, laundry, all those little things you see around the house that need doing when you have a spare moment and even my laptop. Actually, everyone needed a break from their computers. So, this weekend we set off on our first family camping experience.

I grew up camping. It's what we did two or sometimes three weeks out of the summer. We landed somewhere new, wandered off, made friends, stood barefoot in snake infested swamps to catch turtles, went swimming, got rained on and didn't care, built rambing sand castles for hours, and slept like the dead. Somewhere in my later teen years the camping bug was lost and road trip vacations took over.

When I had kids, we started off with the road trips. Fun getaways, but expensive. I was looking for a change, and so this year, Santa brought us camping gear. Yay Santa! I spent most of my free time last week digging through memories of what supplies we had with us when I was a kid and more than a few hours running from store to store to find the best prices on those items. Fully outfitted (I hoped), we set off for a one night dry run (close to home and a store) at our property.

We set up the tent in no time. This huge, 3 room tent gave everyone the privacy they wanted and offered plenty of room to store our stuff inside. It might not look very big here, but its 10' x 18'. That's a tent!

I did a quick check of my flower garden (filled with a the overflow from home) and found it flourishing. The Japanese iris are four feet tall!

The creek has become quite overgrown, but we did get to wake to frogs croaking, ducks quacking and what sounded like an entire aviary of birds singing. A wonderful sound to tell about later, but not so appreciated at 6am.

Breakfast over the fire. Yum!

When we weren't getting eaten alive by the rabid mosquitos, we explored. The bark had fallen off this tree to reveal generations of insect artwork.

Sadly, the trip had some work involved. The grass hadn't been mowed since last fall (my husband's job) and our stick pile had grown into a mountain thanks to multiple wind storms last year. My task was to make a dent in this:

Which I did, but only a small dent. That mountain is huge. The big logs were saved for future camping trips, but the sticks went into the fire. I might have been away from my laptop, but you know what my mind was doing while my body was chucking wood into the fire? Working through upcoming scenes. Even without my laptop, it seems I can't go a day without writing in some form or another.

The kids had fun and we accomplished a good amount of work. We had everything we needed except a bug bomb for all the mosquitos. I'll call the trip a sucess and am ready to head out for a longer trip next time. But, after all that packing, setting up, hauling sticks, breaking camp, and unpacking, I'm going to do this:

Need a warm up to start your writing day?

There's no right or wrong really and you have one word and a minute to type away. Try oneword.com and let the creativity flow.

My only wish (Who is so boring that they truly only have one wish? Really? Come on.) is that it would cut off after one minute. Like NaNo word wars, I get so busy typing that I don't notice the little message at the bottom of the screen telling me that time is up. I need constant prodding like write or die so that I pay attention. However, I do like the word prompt and the idea of the quick warm up. Stopping to read the other entries on the same word prompt just opens up a whole new distraction -- which my writing day really doesn't need. At all. No sir.

It is a neat idea though and did spark some interesting thoughts. Just don't come back and complain that I offered a new outlet for procrastination. Ignore the other responses and be productive!

Game of Thrones

So I'm a little late to the game. There's a reason though. Knowing how much I love George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books, I knew this HBO series was going to be pure visual crack. Hearing how much everyone liked it so far only make the urge to dive in worse. But I've been writing, and wrapped up in my own little world, I've been able to keep the urge for distraction at bay. Until this weekend.

After Friday off writing because of a sick husband at home and too much work to do, then a long weekend of yard work, errands, a few buckets of sweat and a lot of sore muscles, my body cried out for an excuse to sit on the couch. I sat there, chewing my lip and wringing my hands, contemplating sneaking upstairs to begin the series alone on my computer. I could watch as many episodes in a row as I wanted, when I wanted. Oh joy!

My annoying voice of reason squeaked that this was a bad idea. I needed moderation or my writing time would get swallowed by GOT episodes.

I mentioned the series to my husband, who had not read the books and knew nothing about the series. Thankfully, he offered to check out the first epsiode with me. He liked it. Now (as I set here biting my nails and flogging myself) I'm stuck waiting for him to have the time and inclination to watch the second episode. Oh voice of reason, how I hate you right now.

Maybe I could watch them and then pretend I hadn't when he gets around to having time to view them. Yes. Yes!

Ok, that would only be even more annoying than me jumping up and down on the couch naming characters, explaining everything about them during the first episode and physically restraining myself from shouting out spoilers. Best to take a deep breath, savor the first epsiode and get some writing done. Right?

Right. But I still hate you, voice of reason.

Six Sentence Sunday: Not Another Bard's Tale 4

The Evil Overlord's minions are holding a job fair. When the turn out isn't as good as expected, complaints about the lack of advertising surface. The publicity department produces a scapegoat...err...volunteer to explain their illegible 'banner'.

“How were we to know that the crows would clean them off so quickly? Do you have any idea how much time went into attaching all those corpses to the keep? Those walls are high and making words out of bodies isn’t easy! A lot of extra effort went into dotting the I’s with heads too. Though, it kind of loses the effect without the actual eyes in place.” He kicked at the stones underfoot.

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.

Six Sentence Sunday: Not Another Bard's Tale 3

In this week's excerpt, we pick up just after Bruce has escaped from Jonquil, a lonely troll-fairy who just wanted to love him. Bruce didn't feel the same way.

“It tried to suffocate me in its cleavage!”

“Trolls have cleavage?” The man with the harp seemed to ponder this. “I’ll have to remember that for my ballad.”

“Maybe they call it trollage. The point is, the damned thing tried to kill me.”"

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.

Welcome to the writing zone

I've officically crossed over into the writing zone. It's been a long time since I've been this deep into a novel. NaNo, my usual novel churning out time is filled with in-person meet-ups and online writerly fun. Short story and revision periods are accompanied by critiquing and chatting online with other writerly types. Full on novel writing? Well, I crawl into the back of my writing cave and turn into Gollum.

Signs you've crossed the line into the writing zone:

-You send your kid to school, knowing they don't feel well, so you can have your morning writing time. (Hey, he didn't have a fever, and wasn't throwing up or bleeding. I did tell him I would come and pick him up if he really needed me to.)

-You are a notorious do-not-disturb-before-10am weekend person but now wake up at 7am to write in silence while everyone else sleeps in.

-You have always been night writing person, but when life hands you a quiet morning schedule, you find yourself staring at a wide-awake morning writer person on the mirror. When the hell did this atrosity happen?

-You bring your kid to the money pit known as Chuck E. Cheese on a busy weekend and hand her $10 so you can have half an hour of writing time surrounded by the not quite white noise of fifty pizza-smeared kids screaming in glee. Sadly that half an hour also included turning in the tickets and five minutes of picking out trinkets. (We'll know I'm in real trouble when I sink to giving her $20.)

-And the final nail in the coffin: You are a professional procrasintator but now barely get on the internet because you'd truly rather be writing. (Sorry, all my usual procrastionation sites, I'll be back... eventually.)

Six Sentence Sunday: Not Another Bard's Tale 2

This week we meet Olga, swordswoman extraordinaire and protector of Svetlana, her sister, the chosen one of the Sheep God.

Olga took an offered sword from the crowd and approached Bruce with a gleam in her eye. Her skirts swished with each step forward. She slashed at him with all the force of a hardened swordsman.

He scrambled to block her, his wrist reverberating with the power behind her blow. Realizing she meant business, he tried to stop watching her chest bounce with each thrust, and concentrate more on making himself look less inept. He swore she tugged her blouse a bit lower just to taunt him.

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.