Making Time, Finding Time, Having the Time of Our Lives

Once upon time when I worked in retail, I noticed that whenever a day seemed to go slowly for those of us womanning the cash registers, customers would complain about how the day was dragging. Conversely, when the day seemed to fly by for us, customers would also comment on how fast the day was passing. I started taking an informal poll then, asking people if the day was moving fast or slow. With but a single exception, the days went either fast for everyone or slow for everyone, which made me think that time was variable, though somehow our bodies and artificial timekeepers managed to key into the new time speed, so there was no way of knowing that time moved at different rates.

Oddly, time is no longer variable for me. It speeds up and keeps speeding up until I wonder how twenty-four hours manage to fit into a single day. Except when I write, of course, then it seems as if time doesn’t exist.

Time is a major factor for all of us. People often ask me how I juggle promotion, writing, and offline life, but the truth is, I don’t juggle very well. I always drop a ball or two so that a single ball is kept in the air at a time. (Am I mixing metaphors?) Right now my offline life is taking precedence (nothing particularly good or bad, just work). I am doing almost no promoting, not keeping up with my discussion groups (except for this one), doing a single blog post a week, and yet all that and more used to fit into a few hours a day. Now it barely fits into a week.

So, let’s talk about time. How do you make the time to write? For those of you who are published, how do you find the time to promote? How do you make sure that you are having the time of your life when you are writing, or does it become work after awhile? If you don’t want to talk about time, feel free to talk about any aspect of writing or your writing life.

Let’s talk.

My writing group No Whine, Just Champagne will be discussing this article during a live discussion about writing and the writing life on Thursday, January 21, 2010 at 9:00pm ET. I hope you will stop by our Writing Discussion #96. If not, leave your comments here. I always enjoy seeing what you have to say.

The Scent of Channel Number 5

Lately in online discussion groups I’ve been coming across the attitude that only the story counts, that a few errors more or less in a book make no difference. Perhaps. I’ve been told that there are three errors in Daughter Am I, three in More Deaths Than One, and one in A Spark of Heavenly Fire. Of those seven errors, two were the replacement of the letter el with the number one and one was the replacement of the number one with the letter el, so I don’t really count those, though apparently others do. Someday, perhaps, I will get them corrected. But that’s not the point of this little discussion. The point is that although errors are hard to eradicate completely, some errors do count.

I was reading a thriller the other day, one of those convoluted stories with a dozen endings as if the author couldn’t figure out which ending he wanted to use. There were three crimes, all dealing with the same group of people yet none of the crimes were related. One of the crimes was a kidnapping, and though I know who did the kidnapping, the story was so complicated I still don’t know who instigated it. Despite all the flaws of the book, the one thing that took me out of the story was a typo. The author tried to set the scene using smells — the aroma of an expensive cigar, the smell of leather chairs, the scent of Channel Number 5 lingering in the air.

Channel No. 5? Makes me wonder that smells like. The English Channel? Salty, perhaps a bit fishy, perhaps a tinge of pollution? Maybe it’s a clean scent — after all, what do I know about the English Channel. Or perhaps it’s the smell of a television channel, though I’m not sure what that would smell like. Or perhaps it’s the smell of a gutter or a conduit. Not quite the feeling he wanted to portray! And if I hadn’t been so taken with the idea of Channel Number 5, I might have learned who the kidnapper was.

I Asked and You Answered. Thank you!

A couple of days ago I posted a plea for interview questions to submit for my Blog Radio interview on Thursday at 12:30 pm CT, and you generously came up with some wonderful suggestions. I don’t know how closely the moderator, April Robins, will follow the list, but it should give us a great starting place. Thank you all very much!

Here are the questions I submitted:

You are the moderator or co-moderator of four successful Facebook groups. How did you get started, and how did you end up with four groups? What’s the secret to your success with the groups?

How much time and organization does it take to be active in online communities?

Is your Suspense/Thriller writers’ group only for suspense/thriller writers?

Does it make sense to join a FB group, like the ones you host, if the writer writes for the YA audience?

How do you balance your time between writing, blogging, promoting, moderating 4 groups, and other day-to-day responsibilities? Do you have a written schedule or “to-do list”? How do you keep up with it all?

You have three books published. What’s next?

What is the most common question you are asked by fans or would-be writers?

What are your writing goals for 2010?

Which of your books was the hardest to write/most research intensive? What’s the biggest writing challenge you’ve ever faced?

How did you decide your genre?

Please stop by April Robins’ Blog Radio show Red River Writers Live — Savvy Designs on Thursday, January 7 at 12:30 pm CST to hear my responses. You can also call in with additional questions. The call in number is (646) 595-4478. Hope to hear you there!

Brag Time!

I know I said my time for self-promotion is past, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t brag, and wow, is this something to brag about! I just saw a review on Goodreads.com for More Deaths Than One, and either Mickey Hoffman’s resolution for the New Year is to be kind to other authors, or she really liked the book. I’m going with the second option. Thank you, Mickey! I hope everyone reads the review. It’s the sort of review we all dream about and seldom see.

“What are you waiting for? Read this book. Now. “More Deaths” is much better than any “bestseller” out there. The plot is constantly surprising and intricate, the characters draw you into the tale and the overall writing is top notch.” –Mickey Hoffman, author of School of Lies.

You can read the first chapter of More Deaths Than One by clicking on the More Deaths Than One tab at the top of this blog. You can also download the first thirty percent of More Deaths Than One free from Smashwords. Hmmm. Do you think I mentioned the title enough?

Interview Questions Wanted

I am going to be a guest on April Robins’  Blog Radio show Red River Writers Live — Savvy Designs on Thursday, January 7 at 12:30 pm CST, and I need to supply ten interview questions. A few of those questions have to relate to the facebook groups I moderate or co-moderate, and the rest are up to me. I like a freewheeling interview, where we just talk rather than do a Q&A, but I can see that some guidelines would help. I will talk about my Facebook groups and how I ended up as moderator for four of them. And I will talk about how generous the members of all the groups have been with their time and expertise during the discussions, but beyond that? Haven’t a clue. If I were still in my blog tour/self-promotion phase,  I could feed April questions about my books, but that phase seems to have passed. I’m just me again, not an author on tour, and so I’m plumb out of questions.

Any suggestions?

Oh, and if you haven’t yet joined one of my Facebook groups, I am extending a personal invitation. Well, it’s more of an impersonal invitation, since I’m posting it here and not sending it to you individually, but still, it’s an invitation.

Suspense/Thriller Writers

Second Wind Publishing

Genre Book Club

Help Support Independent Publishers

And, of course, there is my live chat on Thursday evening at 9:00 pm ET. Always a lively discussion! So, feel free to join this group, too: No Whine, Just Champagne.

Whole Lot of Forgetting Going On

I find myself in a peculiar situation. For two and a half years, I lived for the Internet. First thing in the morning, I went online to see what was going on, checked again in the afternoon, and then spent all evening and late into the night in cyberspace. Most days I posted to my blog. That was always one of my favorite things — being able to say what I wish for everyone (or no one) to read. So it came as rather a shock when I checked my blog today and discovered my last post was ten days ago. Ten days! Whatever happened to my addiction? How is it possible that after all that time, I started forgetting to go online?

This has happened before. When I was younger, I used to run a mile every day. Did that for years. And then one day I simply forgot, and that was the end of my running. Same thing with writing — for eight years I wrote almost every day, sometimes two and three times a day. And then one day I forgot. And that was the end of that for a couple of years. To get back into the habit, about three weeks ago I started writing a page every night (mostly stream of consciousness, not fiction, but still it’s writing). And then one night I forgot. I was half asleep when I finally remembered, so I turned the light back on and did my page.

So, back my peculiar situation. I had resolved to cut back on Internet time — I really was spending way too much time here — and now I have to resolve to spend more time. Or not. I could just go with the flow, I guess, and see what happens, but going by past exerience, nothing would happen. I’d simply disappear.

Hmmm. That could make an interesting story, though perhaps it’s been done. The idea seems familiar, but if I ever read such a book, I forgot.

Wishing You a Boring, Perfect World

For some reason, the spammers have found my obscure Quantum (Uni)Verse blog where I post “frozen thoughts.” (They’re not really poetry, and they are not new writings. They are thoughts I once had that are now, well, frozen.) These spammers are clever — instead of the obvious gibberish that so many spammers use, these are quotes, some quite interesting, so I am leaving them on the blog. One that I received today said, “I guess we’d be living in a boring, perfect world if everybody wished everybody else well.”  Despite the risk, I do wish you all well.

Language of the Fan Decoded

Once upon a time, women (were they called women back then, or were they ladies?) carried fans, and they used the fans to communicate silently with their lovers. Of course, since everyone knew the language of the fan, the maessage wasn’t exactly a secret. Still, the language has its uses, most particularly for writers of historical romance. So, for your edification, here it is:

With the handle to the lips:  Kiss me

Carrying in the right hand:  Desirous of making acquaintance

Carrying in the right hand in  front of the face:  Follow me

Placing on left ear:  You have changed

Twirling in left hand:  I wish to get rid of you

Drawing across forehead:  We are watched

Carrying in right hand:   You are too willing

Drawing across cheek:  I love you

Drawing through hand:  I hate you

Twirling in right hand:  I love another

Closing the fan:  I wish to speak to you

Drawing across eyes:  I am sorry

Letting it rest on right cheek:  Yes

Letting it rest on left cheek:  No

Open and shut:  You are cruel

Dropping:  We are friends

Fanning slowly:  I am married

Fanning fast:  I am engaged

Open wide:   Wait for me

Could make for an interesting story. A lady is desperately in love with a gent and he with her. However, the ballroom is hot, and she feels faint, so she starts fanning herself. Her swain sees what she is doing and disconsolately leaves, thinking that the lady belongs to another. Because she is hidden behind the fan, she doesn’t see him, and so she never knows what happened to him. Hmmm. Maybe I better stick to thrillers or mysteries or whatever it is that I write.

Way Cool Review!

I made a new friend on Facebook yesterday — Patty Andersen.  Turns out she’s a fan, someone who bought Daughter Am I because it had been recommended to her. Wow! My fame is spreading! Okay, one recommendation isn’t fame, but it’s a beginning, especially considering the wonderful review Patty Andersen wrote:

This was an awesome book. At age 23 Mary Stuart finds out that she has inherited a farm from her grandparents. Her father had told her that her grandparents were dead, so the inheritance is a shock but when she finds out that her grandparents were murdered she determines that she needs to know more about them. Thus, Mary sets off on a quest in which she collects an amazing array of elderly people, all of whom knew her grandfather or knew someone who knew him. 

This is a tale of growing. Mary is growing up, the elderly are growing older, and love is growing between Mary and all of her group. There are some marvelous life stories here, the elders have all led amazing lives most not on the “right” side of the law. The most important lesson is that it is so important to allow the elderly to live and die with dignity. Mary manages to learn this in time to help this group and she also learns that they will live longer if they feel useful.

All in all, an amazing story and I’m so glad that someone on DorothyL recommended this book. It blew me away from beginning to end. –Patty Andersen

When I askedPatty if I could post the review on my blog, she said: Sure, the more people who hear about this book, the happier I’ll be!

How cool is that! Even better, she’s a librarian, and librarians are not easy to impress.

DAIClick here to buy Daughter Am I from Second Wind Publishing, LLC. 

Click here to buy Daughter Am I from Amazon.

Click here to download 30% of Daughter Am I free from Smashwords.

Click here to read the first chapter of Daughter Am I.

A Spark of Heavenly Fire Outtake #6

A Spark of Heavenly Fire takes place during the month of December. To celebrate, I am posting outtakes from the book. Like movie outtakes, these are scenes that were deleted from the final version.  Posting them is not as easy as it sounds. Since the original version is no longer in my computer, I have to retype the pages from my handwritten draft copy.  Still, it’s fun being able to revisit some of my original scenes. Hope you enjoy this look at my characters. Oh, and if you’d like to see a photo of the handwritten book, you can find it here: A Spark of Heavenly Fire Pre-Anniversary.

Traffic on I-25 was bumper to bumper, so Jeremy took side streets to get to the private airfield on the outskirts of Denver. While he was still almost a quarter of a mile away, he could see that his white jet was not positioned at the head of the runway, ready for take-off.

He refused to let this setback interfere with his holiday mood, but he did intend to let Rick Jones, the owner of the airfield, know that he, Jeremy King, did not appreciate such slip-shod service.

At least Rick would not be hard to find. He was standing at the entrance to the airfield, talking to two men in their twenties who were wearing army uniforms and carrying rifles.

Jeremy pulled up alongside the three men and opened his window.

Rick poked his head inside. “Sorry, Mr. King, but no planes are allowed to fly today. Something about restricted airspace.” He gestured to the other two men. “These guys are privates in the National Guard. The black guy is Marvin and the redhead is Bill.”

Jeremy motioned for Rick to move back. He got out of the car and confronted the privates “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, sir,” Bill said. “You’re Jeremy King. But we still can’t let you take off. Even if you were the president, we couldn’t let you go up today. Our orders are to make sure all planes remain on the ground.”

“We’re to detain anyone who resists.” Though Marvin’s tone was mild, his stance imparted a definite threat.

Jeremy looked longingly at the runway, remembering a movie he had done about a guy who had made a run for it in an airplane. The airplane chase scene had been acclaimed for it’s realism, but now he could understand how silly that scene really had been. Only in the movies could someone his age outrun two young guys with rifles, hop into a small jet that was still in the hangar, taxi to the runway, and take off, all without sustaining so much as a scratch.

He glanced at Marvin and Bill, who now had their rifles trained on him.”

“Don’t try anything, Mr. King,” Marvin said.

Jeremy held up his hands. This was America, for cripes sake, and he was Jeremy King. Who the hell did these guys think they were?

“How much would it take to let me go up,” he asked. “A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand?”

Bill looked as if he might be considering the offer, but Marvin poked Jeremy in the stomach with the rifle and said, “We have our orders.”

Jeremy managed a lighthearted laugh. “Just kidding.”

Marvin stared at him for a moment, then shouldered his rifle.

“Can I have your autograph, Mr. King?” Bill asked.

“Sure.” Jeremy pulled a wallet-sized publicity photo out of his pocket, signed it, and handed it over. “You want one, too?” he asked Marvin.

Marvin hesitated, then he nodded. “For my mother. She thinks you’re great.”

“Your plane is ready to go,” Rick said. “We refueled and did the pre-flight check.” He grinned sheepishly. “My guys were so thrilled to be working on Jeremy King’s jet that they gave it a thorough going over. As soon as the restriction is lifted, you can take off on a moment’s notice.”

Jeremy started to get back into his car, then stopped abruptly. “You never told me what’s going on. Why the restriction?”

Marvin squared his shoulders. “Need to know basis, Mr. King.”

“We don’t know. No one told us,” Bill said at the same time.

“Do you know how long the restriction is going to last?”

“Sorry, don’t know that either,” Bill said, “but I don’t think it will last long. How can it? I mean, it’s one thing to restrict small planes, but the airliners? Those companies are too big. They won’t stand for it.”

Rick looked shocked. “You mean DIA is shut down, too?”

“Didn’t we tell you?” Bill said. “All air traffic is being curtailed.”

The unmistakable sound of fighter planes filled Jeremy’s ears. He looked up to see six jets flying in formation.

Marvin repositioned his rifle. “Except for military traffic, of course.”

See Also:
A Spark of Heavenly Fire Outtake #1
A Spark of Heavenly Fire Outtake #2
A Spark of Heavenly Fire Outtake #3
A Spark of Heavenly Fire Outtake #4
A Spark of Heavenly Fire Outtake #5