Writer Brain...

I’d like to just call it ADD, but I’m pretty sure this has something to do with being a writer. I’m all set: big mug of coffee, writer hat firmly in place, two paragraphs into rewrites for chapter six… when suddenly, I need to know all about nuclear submarines. Most of my kindred author friends would respond with, I know, right? So off to the interwebs I go to hit up the Google gods for words of wisdom, much like climbing the temple steps of Delphi to consult with Apollo’s oracles. The answers I find are, all at once, vastly more thorough than oracle riddles, and yet, still obscure enough that I’m still not quite sure what the hell I’m doing… three hours later. 

Oracles. The original magic 8 ball.

The answer is "not likely." In my hand? Oh, that's just a laurel branch.

I'll take my payment in the form of Doritos and Cheez Whiz now.

About this time, a Facebook notification pops up, and like a sucker, I have to look. Someone in my writing critique group has posted something awesome. I’m reminded of the anthology we’re thinking about putting together. Research mode dissolves into brainstorm mode, and I start thinking about future projects we might do. A few of us write morbidly comic urban fantasy. There are reapers and zombies and vampires, oh my! So some word play on death would be fun. Like Dead Sexy or something less cliché…. Maybe a fun twisty pun on a sensual expression like ménage a trois? But how should it be manipulated? I look up the literal translation…. a household of three. Not too smutty, honestly, but the French words hold more weight here in the US. So something like ménage a morte could work, right? Or does that sound too much like necrophilia?

The website I’m researching the origins of ménage a trois on has links to polygamy, polyamory, and polyandry sites. One of my best friends has two husbands… so I follow the link, thinking I might find something fun to share with her. I read some legendary tale about a woman from ancient times (whose name I can’t pronounce) who had five husbands who were all brothers. Literally, brother husbands. This page has more links, from temple prostitution to concubines to ancient cultural norms. Another hour slips by.

I finally look up at the clock and realize it’s after 3am. FUCK. I have 300 words… and I still don’t know how many goddamned people it takes to operate a nuclear submarine. I click back on the first page I found with a cutout diagram of a submarine… and notice a little link in the sidebar for mini submarines, for leisure or research purposes. I click it, and my brain explodes. I delete the 300 words I wrote four hours ago and vow to start over fresh in the morning.

I'd still like to know how many freaking people it takes to run a sub... but I'm starting to think that might be classified information. Or maybe the Google gods are smiting me. Either way, my ADD/Writer Brain has given up. The book must go on.

Wishing you all visions of sugarplums.... unless you're a writer too. In that case, may the Google gods bless you and keep you well informed. Amen.

Submarines, the Plague, & Bad Timing

Hey, it's March. Crap. How'd that happen?

I know you all were expecting a new Lana adventure by February, but I have a perfectly reasonable list of excuses for why it's going to be another month before PSYCHOPOMP is ready...

1. Submarines. Well, not just submarines. There was some oddly unexpected and complicated research involved with this book. Submarines, for example, which I know nothing about, came into play. My first instinct was to just write that nonsense right out of the story... but I'm pretty stubborn and not really known to bow out of a good challenge. On top of that, there were more Greek deities and Latin incantations... I think my next series should be about real estate or bartending, stuff I actually know already and don't need a million years to research.

2. The Plague. I brag about my immune system a lot. A LOT. It's been years since I've been really sick. So I didn't think much of it when my husband came home with cooties... that he soon passed onto our kiddo, who is now on antibiotics. A couple weeks around my germy loves, and my ninja immune system finally cracked. I now have cooties too. My throat is itchy and feels like it might close up. My eyes are swollen and red. My sinuses feel like they're filled with lava. It's not pretty. 

3. Backwoods Armageddon. You may have already heard about the apocalyptic redneck adventure I'm coauthoring with my husband. Yeah, guess whose idea it was to write it simultaneously while working on Lana? Mine. Face palm. Never. Ever. Again. One book at a time. That's my new mantra.


So I could probably whine and carry on with a dozen or so more excuses why I missed my deadline. I sound extra pitiful with a cold too, so you might even feel sympathetic towards my plight. I promise I'm doing my best to get things finished up for release at the end of March. Extra heartfelt apologies for the delay, especially to the awesome few who have emailed, Facebooked, Tweeted, or stopped me in the parking lot of the grocery store to ask when the next book will be out. You guys keep me going, even when it seems I'm on the verge of death. Which is exactly what a cold feels like when you haven't had one for some time. 

Since I don't want to leave you entirely disheartened with me until the end of March, I will at least be doing a cover reveal and excerpt next week. And I might even do a video if my throat doesn't close up first. Until then, stay warm, stay healthy, and stay tuned!

xoxoxo