Tag: writing

Finished, But Not Abandoned

The Tremors on the PCH?

So, this post is going to be chock full of news (and quotes):

First, I finished Lacey’s second story! When I completed the (then-final) draft of Lacey’s first story, The Incident Under the Overpass, I posted something in these pages attributed to Leonardo da Vinci: “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

The second story is by no means ready to be abandoned yet. It is definitely a first draft, not-yet-ready-for-prime-time. Something I read years ago, in Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, has stuck with me:

“You need to start somewhere. Start by getting something—anything—down on paper. A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft—you just get it down. The second draft is the up draft—you fix it up.”

Here’s another quote: “You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” It appears that’s attributed to Jodi Picoult, though Goodreads attributes “You can’t edit a blank page” to Nora Roberts. Either way, in the latest story I wrote, all the characters and the elements of the plot are down. Some might go away, some might get added, but the bones, and a good bit of the musculature, are there. I’m just ecstatic I now have a complete story to revise.

Second, I signed a publishing contract for The Incident Under the Overpass! I signed with After Glows Publishing, a press “that offers page turning romances and urban fantasies that allow readers the escape from real life.” I’m very excited that Lacey will soon be appearing on After Glows’ bookshelf.

So, it turns out, I didn’t abandon Lacey’s first story after all: it will get re-edited, re-designed, and re-released later this year.

And finally, this is my last post from the U.S. for a couple of weeks! I’ll be in Germany for work next week, and then returning home from France the week after that. This upcoming travel was the main reason I was so determined to finish the second story. I knew I wouldn’t be able to devote any real time to it over the first two weeks of May. And I had a good bit of momentum going that would have been lost during that break.

Hopefully, the break will work out for the best, and I’ll be ready to jump into revisions when I get back.

Auf wiedersehen, (and au revoir), for now.

by Anne McClane

#AmWriting

I see this hashtag, #AmWriting, almost daily on one social media platform or another. And without fail, it makes me feel guilty. “Oh, lucky Tweeter in the U.K., there you are, #AmWriting. Or, Facebooker in Indiana, there you are, at it, too.” That’s what I should be doing. Writing. AMWriting. Anne McClane, Writing.

There’s an inherent paradox, there. When I’m looking at social media, I’m most decidedly #NOTwriting.

But…I can say, for the past three weeks, I have been doing a lot more writing. #Writing. Whatever you want to call it, I’ve been getting back into the swing of it.

Speaking of swing, I recently saw a post, I think it was on Facebook, where a writer compared the act of writing to chopping firewood. No one wants to do it, this writer claimed, but if you want to stave off the cold and keep the house warm, you better get to it. Or something like that. I’ve always lived in temperate climates, so the analogy was a little lost on me.

What resonated with me is that writing, most of the time, is a chore. Iterations and iterations. The horror of suffering through brain dumps, raw outputs, to try to sift through to the gold that may or may not be there.

But three positive things (one for each week?) have occurred to me as I’ve gotten back into the habit of writing.

The first: I’ve missed Lacey! (She’s the protagonist in the series of stories I’m in the midst of). You spend too much time with someone, you’re invariably gonna get a little sick of them. But the break I had in writing The Tremors on the PCH, unintentional as it was, must have made my writing heart grow fonder. It’s a nice thing to realize.

The second: I’d really like to do whatever is within my power to keep an unintentional break from EVER happening again. The next break I take from writing, I want it to be of a limited duration, and according to my own plan, my own schedule. And not because I got wrapped around the axle of my own insecurities and anxieties about publishing and promoting. Or caught up in the struggle to balance the demands of my wage-earner job.

And finally: there’s the magic. Speaking of wage-earning, for years, I’ve bemoaned “magic-less” days as a corporate cog in a giant promotional machine. (I’ve worked in marketing for large to mid-size companies for most of my 20+ year career). Not every day is a slog, but there are always those inevitable moments where you feel the life being sucked out of you. Like Count Rugen’s machine from The Princess Bride.

While I can’t go so far as to say that writing puts all that life back; for me, it’s a way to insert the supernatural, the unexpected, the magical, into my day. Another reason I’d be foolish to let the unintentional come between me and #writing again.

by Anne McClane

Ash Wednesday

The unexamined life is not worth living

Socrates is credited with that saying, and the circumstances under which they were uttered are as worthy of consideration as the saying itself. According to Plato’s Apology, Socrates said these words during his trial for impiety and corrupting youth.

So, here we have Socrates, bucking up against the government in power, having to defend himself, his actions, and his philosophy. Roughly 400 years later, Jesus Christ would come around.

Before Jesus underwent his own trial, he went on a legendary “life examination” in the desert, fasting for forty days and forty nights, and facing down the devil and his temptations. And initiated the very first Lenten observance.

Being an introspective sort, Lent is never a hard sell for me. Truthfully, a big part of me kinda looks forward to it every year. Life is a cumulative thing, and it’s not like the bad habits, thoughts, or attitudes I may have focused on in prior Lenten seasons have miraculously disappeared. Or cured themselves.

No, more often than not, they reassert themselves when I’m not paying attention.

I hate that.

Using Lent as a means to examine my life seems to have taken on greater importance, especially these last seven years or so. It’s in these last few years that I’ve “found” my vocation as a writer, thus I’ve been writing more than I ever have at any other time in my life. I could go so far as to say that “the unexamined word isn’t worth reading,” but I would only be speaking for myself. I wouldn’t want anyone reading something that I haven’t thought through.

(Believe it or not, I do think through these blog posts.)

So, here I find myself at the dawn of another Lenten season. Resolving to: limit my sugar intake, seek balance with family/work/home, and carve out the time to finish The Tremors on the PCH. Because very recently, I was reminded of what it would take to accomplish this. I have to work on it every day. It’s something I know works, because I’ve put it into practice before. But certain bad habits reasserted themselves when I wasn’t paying attention.

Or rather, when I was paying attention to the publishing and promotion of my first novel. I convinced myself that those tasks “count” as writing. But they definitely don’t. What counts is when I’m immersed in the story, and I can see things start to take shape, things that I only had an intuitive feeling about at the start of the process. And some things that come up out of the blue, but make so much sense for the story that I can’t believe I didn’t think of them in the first place.

No—that kind of stuff counts as writing. Because the only thing that produces a first draft, and all the subsequent drafts, and eventually a final, is immersing yourself into the thing and just writing it.

I lived in this desert (well, in an apartment in that desert, mostly) for nine years
I lived in this desert (well, in an apartment in that desert, mostly) for nine years
by Anne McClane

My First Reader Con

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So, I participated in ARC NOLA 2017 this past weekend. ARC NOLA was an Author & Reader Convention held at the Holiday Inn New Orleans–Downtown Superdome. It was kind of surreal for me, talking to readers about The Incident Under the Overpass, sitting at a table behind a stack of books (that I wrote!)

The organizer is V.A. Dold, best-selling author of the award-winning Le Beau series. She does a great job of pulling both the event, and a great group of authors, together. As I followed the preparation for ARC NOLA on Facebook, I noticed some of the participating authors showcasing their swag. Swag?!? What kind of giveaways could I throw together—quickly—to promote the book?

I make a living preparing for trade shows, mostly business-to-business affairs, so I’m no stranger to swag. As a matter of fact, I’ve just returned from a few days in Atlanta (I left the day after ARC NOLA), where I helped to set up my company’s booth at a trade show. Highly sought after swag in years past at this show (it targets meat and poultry processors) have included a purse in the shape of a chicken, and something that is really called Chicken Poop™ Lip Junk.

Again, it was kinda heady, to be in a position to come up with swag for my very own product. But I was pretty late to the game, since I decided I needed to have swag at my ARC NOLA table about three weeks prior to the event. It was Ambrose to the rescue! I figure, he’s such a steady presence in Lacey’s life, (Lacey is the heroine of The Incident Under the Overpass), why not craft a little giveaway to celebrate him?

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After all, if people will clamor for a lip balm called “Chicken Poop,” I figure a cute little plush St. Bernard should draw some attention.

chickenpoop

I crafted some nametags for the small assortment of Ambroses, and put my website address on the back. It’s a start, and I’ve learned some tricks and thought up some improvements for the next batch. I don’t know when my next Reader Con will be, but hopefully I’ll have more than three weeks to implement.

Because I’d certainly do another Reader Con again. V.A. Dold was a pleasure to work with. I also met several authors who provided much inspiration. I have to thank Tamara McHatton for her guidance and for being such a kind and helpful table neighbor. And I also have to thank Dionne Charlet, who first told me about ARC NOLA. And who continues to be so gracious in connecting me with other New Orleans writers. And, ultimately, it was great to meet and chat with readers in that environment—readers I might never have encountered otherwise. To those of you who picked up The Incident Under the Overpass, I hope you enjoy!

by Anne McClane

Thank you, CravenWild

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A pretty short post today (from my end). It’ll conclude with a link to a review of The Incident Under the Overpass posted by Hermione, blogger at CravenWild. Hermione is a writer and filmmaker in London. Here’s a little something from her profile that really spoke to me:

…I love books, and as a writer and as a human being, I think stories are really important. I don’t think it matters what you read, but that you are open to stories, other kinds of lives and ideas, whether those are fiction or factual.

And here’s an excerpt from her review:

I really enjoyed this book. I loved the location, McClane really evoked a sense of place, and invests her characters with spark and individuality. It’s a pleasure to read this book and immerse yourself in the humour and the mystery, as well as the will-they-won’t-they romance.

Thank you, Hermione. You can read her full review here: Review-The Incident Under the Overpass

by Anne McClane

Children of the Bandit

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We’re gonna do what they say can’t be done.
We’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there.

                                                —Jerry Reed, “East Bound and Down”

The title of this post could be “Procrastination.” True to the theme, I started writing this about a month ago, after Tim and I watched Smokey and the Bandit. But the holidays and other topics intervened.

I could use the same excuses for The Tremors on the PCH, the working title of the second book in the Lacey Becnel series. It’s the follow-up to The Incident Under the Overpass. In truth, I am not as far along as I hoped to be by this point. I’ve got an incomplete first draft, where I hoped to have at least a complete first draft by the time 2016 ended. While I’m not in full-on-panic-mode yet, I’m not ruling out the possibility of it striking. Soon.

Call it confirmation bias, but there are two things I read recently that made me feel a little better about my current state of incompletion.

First, Smokey and the Bandit. This is a movie I’ve only come to appreciate in recent years. Even though it is chock full of stuff I’ve long had an affinity for: big rigs, convoys, CB radios, car chases, romance, and alcohol. But it’s the song—“East Bound and Down,” by Jerry Reed—that’s pertinent to the point I’m trying to make. The lyrics at the top of this post have been in my head for the past month. (Because I have a long way to go. And a short time to get there.)

So here’s the first thing that assuaged my procrastination guilt: “East Bound and Down” was written overnight. Thank you, Mental Floss (13 Fast Facts about Smokey and the Bandit)

After promising he would come up with a song, he (Reed) didn’t have one at the end of filming. After (director Hal Needham) asked him about it, Reed promised he would have something for him the following morning. Despite being out all night, Reed managed to sing his new song “East Bound and Down” for Needham the next day. When Needham didn’t react right away, Reed said, “If you don’t like it I can change it. “If you change one damn note, I’ll f*ckin’ kill you!” the director replied.

I’m going to assume Jerry Reed didn’t compose it out of thin air—that he had been playing around with elements of the song, but just hadn’t gotten around to the actual composition. It’s probably more confirmation bias, but I could say I’ve been doing the same with Tremors on the PCH.

The second thing was a cover story on Vulture.com about Alfonso Cuarón’s 2006 film Children of Men. (Thanks for posting that, Hosky).

This is a film I’ve only seen once, ten years ago, at the movie theater. It’s one of those films that made a big impression, and was disturbing enough, that I didn’t feel the need to own, or re-watch multiple times.

The article, by Abraham Riesman, is interesting. It draws comparisons to our current state of the world and the dystopian future (the year 2027) depicted in the film. But what really interested me was a behind-the-lens story Cuarón tells of a scene near the end of the film. It’s one long take where the main protagonist, Theo (played by Clive Owen) is racing through a refugee camp, dodging gunfire and explosions.

“I think we had 14 days to shoot the whole set piece, except by day 12, we hadn’t rolled cameras yet,” Cuarón recalls. On the afternoon of the 13th day, they were finally ready to film. But around the 90-second mark, Cuarón yelled “Cut” because, as he puts it, the take “was just wrong.” . . . The morning of the final day dawned, and they gave it another stab. The cameras rolled, the scene commenced — then camera operator George Richmond tripped and the camera fell. Five hours of reset later, Cuarón had only one chance left.

To sum up, they shoot the scene, and it seems to be going well, but Cuarón freaks out because some fake blood accidentally squirts on the camera lens. He yells “Cut,” but no one hears him because of all the explosions. He’s thinking all is lost, but his cinematographer assures him that the accident was nothing short of miraculous. In the end, it only added to the hyper-real feel of the film.

So, yes, I just wrote about Smokey and the Bandit and Children of Men in the same post. But, I guess, I find it pretty fascinating that both an enduring song, and an enduring scene, were born in the last possible moments under a looming deadline.

by Anne McClane