September 19th, 2006

bear by san

We don't want a bucket of blood. Just a cup is all we can use.

Avast! It's talk like a Viking pirate day, me mateys.

Okay, I made the Viking part up, didn't I, arr? But I'd look a right fool if the wolf-boy started calling his fellows lubbers three-quarters of the way through the book, aye, so I'll have to limit me pirate-talking to the wide binary seas of the internets!

Today, I celebrate Genre Piracy by pillaging for reviews and comment! (And wine and fine art.)

oldcharliebrown reprints a comment on Eidolon by Terri Windling, aye, as great a pirate queen as ever sailed the Caribbean.

dmorr says Scardown and Worldwired are 'perfectly readable,' which will keep you in ship's biscuit if you don't mind the weevils. Cap'n Jenny is a mite surprised she comes across quite so bulletproof as all that, though. Aye, well, mayhap bullet-resistant.

xterminal liked The Chains that you Refuse. Arrr! And xterminal braids slow-match into her beard, so you fear her!

(It's a sad truth xterminal identifies that Bear can't write two things that sound alike, aye, 'tis so, a failing of this sailor. It was a subject of much mirth among her mates that, in earlier days, she couldn't get keel-hauled by the same captain twice.

Fortunately, in this industry, boats are forever sinking or being recrewed, and new boats are being captured or taken privateer, and I seem in later years to have discovered how to hit the same market twice, aye. But a foolish consistency is no hobgoblin for THIS small mind, me darlings!)

Ozhorrorscope reviews Interzone 203, including "Wane." Kind of. In passing. (Laurell K. Hamilton?! Avast! You fuck one vampire, you're tarred for life.)

And lenora_rose is reading Blood & Iron. I am such a creepy stalker. I'd giggle, but it's unpiratical. And not very Viking, either.

(Why is it never "Avaunt!"?)
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bear by san

If nobody hates you, nobody knows you're alive.

blackholly blogs on helpful writing tips, including "Cultivating your inner perv". Or, yanno, shamelessness.

Which is just what I needed to hear, considering I spent most of last night working on the most unnerving sex scene ever. Yeah, the not-precisely-consensual erotic-asphyxiation one.

The ew just never stops.

But in the first draft, I ducked it. And in the semi-final draft, it had to be done.

See, the thing is, people in books do horrible things. They have horrible trainwrecks of lives. I'm not just talking about their sex lives here, either--when I say "kinks," below, I mean it in the wider slang sense of "irrational loves and hates."

They have these horrible trainwrecks because it's interesting. And if I'm sitting there as a writer worrying "what will the neighbors think?" well, I'm in the wrong line of work.(*) Because the only real sins for a writer are dishonesty, and dullness.

See, I spend a fair amount of time writing about things that aren't my kinks, as it were.  Because most of my characters aren't me, not even a little bit. (mcurry likes to provoke me by proclaiming that Jenny is a Mary Sue. I'm like, yeah, because she's just like me only idealized, and I would totally want to be her. No freaking thank you.) But that means I have to get into the heads of people who want very different things than I want.

So yeah, I know perfectly well that when I write a scene that makes me uncomfortable, somebody's going to assume they know something about me because of it. Hell, half the time when I write something that I completely agree with, people assume they know things about me, and they're wrong. (Case in point, the small bastion of readers who have been so busy railing against my presumed side in a particular argument that they haven't picked up the deconstruction of certain commonly held dichotomies that, as far as I'm concerned, is Blood & Iron's major excuse for existing. Which isn't to say their readings aren't, yanno, valid, but I find them entertaining as hell.)

Anyway, I have a character to finish strangling. Be back soon.

It ain't a joke.
It's an epitaph.



((*)N.B. This does not grant you latitude to behave like a prima donna in your personal or professional life, though some of us seem to think it does.)
evile overbear

When we commence to novelize, we are not as smart as we think we are.

Write it seven hundred times on the inside of your skull. It will save work later.

To wit: I am a restructuring fiend in this bit of book.

Boy, the rigorously alternating POVs (wolf, fighter-type, wolf, historian, wolf, fighter-type, wolf, historian) in the first draft of this book were a really stupid idea. Nice, Bear. Where did you get that particular bit of structural dumbass from?

This is much easier if you just let things happen chronologically, and tell them from the POV of the person who is most likely to notice them going on.

Well, live and learn.



When I went to bed last night, all the glitter balls were in the living room. When I woke up this morning, all the glitter balls were on my bedroom floor beside the bed.

Mebd was busy bringing me gifts while I slept.
bear by san

so suddenly madness came with its whiskered wolven ether pangs

And that is the By the Mountain Bound revision finished, except for two scenes I need to add at the beginning. And at least one structural issue that truepenny identified that probably needs patching, or at least the usual twigs and dead leaves shuffled over it.

We don't want the readers noticing the tiger pit ahead of time, after all...

Whew.

It's down to 369 pages, which will probably be close to 380 or so when the additions are in. And I apparently learned how to write on page 321. Because it sucked much much less after that, except for the last scene in the second-to-last chapter, which is, though the perversity of how books get written, actually the oldest part of the novel.

Or was, before I tore it out and rewrote it from scratch, more or less.

Since it has to match the first scene in All the Windwracked Stars, this involved a lot of flipping back and forth between files. When I am rich, I am getting a bigger desk.

And a pair of flatscreen monitors.

I declare tomorrow a blinking Day Off. Oh yes.