The Big One Zero Zero

Today marks a special occasion: the hundredth post here on Muses and Musings.

For some reason, this surprises me.

It’s like I wasn’t aware I was driving you all up the wall blogging twice a week since January 12, 2015’s “An Anglophile I’m Apparently Not.” And since there are 50 weeks in the year that traditionally come after January 12, it makes perfect sense that I’d hit the big one-zero-zero right around now.

So I have no excuse for being taken unaware. Then again, I never claimed to be good at math.

What I am a bit better at (sometimes, anyway) is recognizing my blessings, so here’s a recount of the writing-related accomplishments I’m thankful for this year:

• Seven books published (Maiden America, Not So Human, To Err Is Faerie, Up in the Air, The Politician’s Pawn, Moves and Countermoves, and Amateurs Need Not Apply)
• Two manuscripts written (Wing and Dagger, and Designing America), though they still need to be edited a few times over
• Two book readings for awesome local groups
• Innovative Editing Insider, my creative-writing focused quarterly newsletter
• Tables at two fairs where I peddled my books, The CHAP Convention in Harrisburg, PA, and Faeriecon in Hunt Valley, MD
• The opportunity to teach a creative writing continuing education class at Community College of Baltimore County
• Interactions with a whole slew of fun and fascinating people, some of them Innovative Editing clients and some of them potential Innovative Editing clients.

That all begs the question… How am I going to top that in 2016?

I have no idea, but I’m excited to find out. In the meantime, however, I’m going to celebrate my hundredth blog post by taking off for the rest of the year.

If you need to reach me for any editing projects, I’ll still be checking my email at jdilouie@innovativeediting.com. And if you find that you desperately need to read one of my books (and you totally do, right?), all of the links are listed above.

Other than that, I’m going to focus on having a fabulous Christmas with my family… and then working like crazy to finish the second draft of Designing America before the end of 2015.

So Happy Holidays and an amazing New Year to you all!

Thanks for sticking with me these last hundred blog posts, and here’s looking forward to the next hundred…

Am I Being Too Mean to My Villains?

About two months ago, I handed the fifth-draft copy of the upcoming Faerietales Book 4: Wing and Dagger to a certain influential individual in my life, figuring she could have fun reading it while I waited for my way-too-savvy editor to savage the thing.

Since the person in question is the whole reason why I wrote another installment in the series, I figured she’d be happy. And she was.

I think?

The reason why I’m not so sure is because she talked less about the aspects she liked and more about how, in the first three chapters, I’d been so mean to two particular characters.

Out of all of the possible criticisms I could have gotten, I never saw that one coming. Which was probably stupid considering her past reactions to how I’ve treated previous villains.

Yup, I said villains. The two characters she was upset about are bad guys. Unrepentant ones too. Martin was in Not So Human, where he pushed Sabrina to her literal snapping point, and Ryan was a manipulative little liar who tried to mess with her head in To Err Is Faerie.

Neither of them were main antagonists. But they certainly weren’t nice or good or likable.

Which means I don’t understand feeling bad for them. I didn’t throw them to crocodiles (which, admittedly, they don’t have in Scotland). I didn’t even have anyone beat them up, which they would have deserved considering how they’re still willingly employed by the HPAC.

All I did was make them think Sabrina was going to kill them. And in the creative world, that’s low-key. Practically chick-lit material, really.

If you want “mean,” how about having your protagonist track down his wife and daughter’s killers, inject them with paralyzing drugs and then saw them into pieces while they’re still alive?

I’m not making that up. I actually hope I couldn’t make it up, since it’s a level of disgusting I don’t care to dwell on.

(Never watch a movie just because it has a pretty face and form in it. Even Gerard Butler might not be able to make up for the rest of what you’re in for.)

I also can’t stand burning characters – villains or otherwise – or permanently disfiguring them in any other way, shape or form. If you want that kind of stuff, go read or watch Game of Thrones.

All of this is to say that I do think you can be too mean to your villains. However, I don’t think I crossed that line.

If I ever have, Ii can guarantee it’s my heroes who’ve suffer the worst. 

The Lesson I Learned From My Impromptu One-Line Role on House of Cards

If you opened up this blog post because of the title, I might as well admit right up front: It’s a lie. Sorry, kids, but that’s showbiz.

Since you’re here though, you might as well keep reading… Right?

The truth is that House of Cards is filming its Season 3 finale in my office building this week, two and three floors below me. I’m just not allowed anywhere near the actors. Apparently, someone got ahold of my police record from the time I threw myself at Gerard Butler and declared my undying love for his shoulders. And accent. And abs.

Okay. That’s a lie too: the part about the restraining order, I mean. The rest is true. So true that I was prevented from entering my office this morning by two very nice but very firm House of Cards security personnel. Apparently, the show was in the middle of shooting a scene and it was “quiet on the set” for another three minutes.

Once I was allowed in, I had to snake my way up the backstairs, past camera crew and other techies to the fourth floor. I didn’t get to see much, and I definitely didn’t get a glimpse of Kevin Spacey or Robin Wright, but what I saw wasn’t that much of a turn-on.

That’s not meant as a slam against any of the dozens of additional individuals at my office building. The ones I’ve briefly interacted with seem pleasant (and one of them apparently told off one of my more obnoxious coworkers, which makes me giggle). Not to mention that the food platters I saw set up for cast and crew looked delicious.

All the same, it was a madhouse! There were people everywhere: outside lining the sidewalk, around the front and back doors, inside… This little introvert-writer wasn’t overwhelmed, but I also wasn’t craving what I saw (except for the food. That really did look good).

There was no Little Mermaid moment for me: I really have no desire to be part of that world.

Then again, I’ve never understood the appeal of Hollywood. I don’t care how many gorgeous mansions they get to live in or dresses they get to wear or cars they get to drive; they’re also told what they’re allowed to weigh, do and even be.

“Don’t stand like that, honey. The camera doesn’t like you from this angle.” “Let’s Photoshop that nose; it could be a lot more attractive if we just…” “She’s thirty-two now. Cast her as a mother. That’s all she’s good for anymore.”

Those are the kinds of comments you get to hear when you’re in front of the camera. Hence the reason why I think it’s so much more worthwhile to be a writer, where I call the shots.

The only tempting aspect about having even an impromptu one-line role on House of Cards is that maybe… just maybe… I’d be able to help myself to those food platters.

Unless You’re a Robot, Don’t Do This

I started reading a book yesterday. I also finished reading it yesterday.

It wasn’t because I was transfixed. I put it down after five pages because I was bored.

I picked it up because I was in the mood for a thriller, because the title caught my attention and the description seemed compelling. It’s by a fairly famous author who I’d heard about before but never actually read.

If you’re into the thriller scene, I’m sure you’d recognize his name if I wrote it here.

I’d say he doesn’t deserve such recognition, but I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that, maybe, the novel I bought was an off-book for him. Maybe he’s normally just as thrilling as his reputation says he is, and this was an anomaly.

Problem is, even if that is true, I won’t ever be picking up another one of his stories again based on this one example. That’s what happens when an author employs:

·         Stilted sentence structure

·         Clipped conversation

·         Too many “main” protagonists

·         Over-detailed descriptions

·         Gratuitous explanations of obvious world issues, like readers are idiots who live in caves

·         Not a single contraction!!!!

Here’s the thing about that last point… People don’t think or speak in picture-perfect grammatical sentences. They slur their words together with contractions.

When you’re chatting with a friend, you don’t say, “I am sorry I was not able to go to your party last night.” Or if you’re discussing a project with your boss, you don’t explain, “I am sure this will not work unless we assign Casey to it.”

You don’t talk like that because that’s how robots talk, and you’re (hopefully) not a robot. So you instead say, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go to your party last night” or “I’m sure this won’t work unless we assign Casey to it.”

As fact goes, so should fiction. So the same applies to character creation. Unless they’re robots – or readers are supposed to roll their eyes and toss the book aside after five pages – the personalities depicted in novels should use contractions when they’re speaking. And so should the writer.

Trust me: It’s just the right thing to do.

An Only Somewhat Self-Serving Guide to Buying Christmas Presents This Year

Don’t know what presents to get your family and friends for Christmas?

I highly recommend books, whether of the print or electronic variety. Why, you ask?

The real question is why not!?! Books are awesome!!!!!

That is to say that good books are awesome. Bad books bring dissatisfaction and sometimes downright hatred, which, of course, you don’t want to be spreading.

So here’s a genre-specific guide on how to spread good will to your loved ones this season… and avoid making them despise their Christmas presents (and possibly you):

1.      Fantasy – Do they love dungeons and dragons and magical lands? I’d recommend Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files except that they probably already have those, so try these…

a.       Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire

b.      Carpe Demon by Julie Kenner

c.       Not So Human by Jeannette DiLouie (Toldja it was a somewhat self-serving list.)

2.      Suspense – Are they into thrillers filled with murder, mayhem and maybe a few shootouts?

a.       Once a Spy by Keith Thomson

b.      Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

c.       The Politician’s Pawn by Jeannette DiLouie (Hey, I never claimed to be entirely altruistic.)

3.      Historical Fiction – Can they not get enough fact with their fiction? Since they probably already know about the amazing Philippa Gregory, check these out instead…

a.       Daughters of Rome by Kate Quinn

b.      The Tsarina’s Daughter by Carolly Erickson

c.       Maiden America­ by Jeannette DiLouie (Best book ever! Not that I’m biased.)

4.      Christian Fiction – Do they enjoy good tidings of great joy?

a.       The Adulteress by Jeannette DiLouie (Sorry to say, but I’ve got nothing else. I’m so consistently unimpressed with the genre that I don’t really read it anymore. That’s not to say that there aren’t good ones out there; I just haven’t found them in a while.)

5.      Chick-Lit – Are they hopeless romantics? Then they will not want to put these down! (Warning 1: There is some 18+ content in these.)(Warning 2: Make sure to also gift some fabulous snacks if you wrap up Choice C. Your loved one will get the munchies.)(Warning 3: Disclaimer, I'm very happy to say that I know Choice C's author.)

a.       The Secret History of the Pink Carnation by Lauren Willig

b.      Sex, Murder and a Double Latte by Julie Kenner

c.   Waiting for Paint to Dry by  Lia Mack

Ooh La La!

Don’t think that romance novels are a new thing.

The first (known) examples were written during the English Renaissance by men to keep us chicky-poos in line, since we were beginning to learn how to read in noteworthy numbers.

So much for the age of enlightenment.

By the time 1740 came around, there had been some notable exceptions to that rule, but men were still having their wicked way with the genre, as evidenced by Samuel Richardson’s Pamela.

According to Wikipedia, Pamela “tells the story of a beautiful 15-year-old maidservant named Pamela Andrews, whose country landowner master, Mr. B. makes unwanted advances towards her after the death of her mother. After attempting unsuccessfully to seduce and rape her, her virtue is eventually rewarded when he sincerely proposes an equitable marriage to her.”

By the way, she says yes.

Ugh!!! On so many levels, ugh!!!

I’d blame it on the times and the gender of the author except for two things:

1.      The “chicky-poos” just a few decades later were the kind of feisty I prefer in my friends today, which is demonstrated repeatedly in Joseph Plumb Martin’s autobiographical A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier. So much so, in fact, that it prompted modern-day editor Thomas Fleming to write that American women back then “were not the shy, fainting maidens that contemporary feminists like to imagine… The women of 1776 had imbibed quite a lot of the notions of equality that were widespread among their menfolk” (Martin, xiii), which sometimes showed in hysterically laudable ways.

a.       Seriously, these women rocked!

b.      Who knows though. Pamela was written in England by an Englishman. So maybe it was just American women who were so feisty.

2.      I once read a novel, presumably written in the 1990s, on the same basic subject as Pamela, though the heroine didn’t escape the bad guy’s “unwanted advances” and yet STILL ended up marrying the jerk of her own free will. It was supposed to be romantic. I, the reader, was supposed to be swooning over the supposedly happy union. Moreover, it was written by a woman.

Again, ugh!!! What the heck is wrong with people?

Fortunately, there’s no such nonsense in Designing America. Main-character Abigail Carpenter is way too smart for any such stupidity.

Cross that American woman, and she’ll just cross you back until you’re left marching down Hampton Road in Yorktown, Virginia, drunk, humiliated and thoroughly beaten.

I Can’t Take It Anymore: Here’s My Political Rant

I’m going to go on a political rant against everyone, so forgive me.

Or don’t. I genuinely could care less right now.

After having to read an embarrassingly illogical conservative piece yesterday that my unethically capitalistic employer published, and then being subjected to my embarrassingly immature liberal coworkers rip it apart like they have some handle on decency… well, let’s just say I’m in less of a diplomatic mood.

Why in the world don’t people ever stop to question their own motives, tactics and logic instead of focusing solely on everything the other side is doing wrong? We could all save ourselves a lot of pain and misery if we would look in the mirror once in a while.

I mean, what are we afraid of seeing?

History has proved time and time again what such closeminded devotion to a cause – even a good cause – can do. And, newsflash, it ain’t pretty.

For example, researching the American Revolutionary War while writing Maiden America and now Designing America, I uncovered a whole list of grossly inappropriate behavior… on both sides… all because individuals or groups thought themselves completely right and anyone who disagreed with them completely irrelevant.

Tired of hearing me talk about that time period? Fine. How about World War II? A large reason Hitler had the opportunity to rise to power was because Germany was treated so miserably after World War I.

In other words, if the allied powers had stopped for a second to consider the possibility that they might be being self-righteous instead of righteous, we might never have gotten the Holocaust, with its genocide, persecution and downright revolting science experiments on human beings.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t have your opinions. I’m not saying you shouldn’t keep your opinions. I’m not even saying you shouldn’t passionately stand by them.

But for crying out loud people of all political stripes, recognize that you’re just as fallible as the other side… and that you have the same exact ability to be an embarrassingly hypocritical jerk.

Otherwise, before you know it, you may put a future into motion that history will not smile on.

A Lot Can Happen in Five Years and 10 Pages

I can’t remember the last time I had such a hard time editing an intro. But oh my word, Designing America is killing me!

In a strictly intellectual/creative sense, of course. I don’t mean to follow up last Wednesday’s thankfulness post by complaining about how difficult my life is. Let’s face it: If the worst thing I have to deal with is a challenging piece of fiction, then I’m doing pretty darn good.

I fully acknowledge that. I also fully acknowledge that there’s no good way to transition from how peachy I have it back to complaining, so I’m not going to bother.

Let’s just acknowledge that I’m being a whiny baby and move on…

The reason behind why I’m struggling so much with prettying up Designing America? It’s those dratted historical details I care so much about. Apparently the feeling isn’t reciprocal, since they seem bound and determined to make my editorial life a living nightmare.

I’ve already cut out entire paragraphs in the first 10 pages, even about details I really, really like. Yet there’s still so much backstory that needs to be addressed in order to set up the current tale.

After all, Maiden America took place at the very end of 1776, whereas its sequel happens five years later during the summer of 1781. A lot can happen in a five-year span and a lot did, both for the non-fiction America and the fictional Abigail Carpenter.

It’s not like I need to breakdown every single battle between the combatants and every conversation made about them. Otherwise, that would be a textbook, not a novel. Obviously.

Nonetheless, 1781 was an eventful year with a whole string of crazy coincidences and strange happenings that factored into the successful campaign at Yorktown, Virginia. So much so that my multiple sources repeatedly mentioned “providence” being at work.

These weren’t religious resources either. They were the kind of academic accounts that graduate students might refer to while compiling their doctoral theses. Yet these professionals were downright amazed at how many completely unpredictable pieces came together in just the right way and at just the right time to set up a game-changing victory.

All of which seems well worth mentioning.

So how do I tell it in a non-boring manner? That’s the $500 question I’m struggling with.

I’m sure I’ll come up with an answer.

Eventually.

Maybe right after I get a better attitude.

What This #FirstWorldProblems Writer Is So Very Thankful For This Year

I was joking yesterday with my coworkers about #FirstWorldProblems, as I was going to have to complete today’s to-do list on a small screen at home instead of my large monitor at work.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. But lying in bed this morning, ignoring my alarm clock and thinking about Designing America, it hit me how significant my supposed silliness actually was.

You see, my next step since finishing my rough draft hasn’t been to edit. It’s been to go through my historical highlights and notes to make sure I’ve gotten key details and dates correct. And those highlights and notes, details and dates spell out a nearly overwhelming amount of pain.

The Revolutionary War was a miserable time period for those who had to live through it.

I mean absolutely horrific. The Brits were really quite rotten to the Americans.

That’s no offense to the British at large any more than it’s an approval of Americans at large. Any true student of history recognizes that there isn’t a perfect people out there. We’re all capable of committing atrocities, and we too often run with that potential.

Moreover, during the course of the Revolutionary War – as I flat-out state in Maiden America – the Americans behaved pretty darn badly a time or two as well.

Yet with that all said, in my very detailed research, I never once came across a story of American soldiers ripping open pregnant women, or crowding thousands of prisoners of war onto ships to let them rot away for weeks or months under the most inhumane conditions, knowing full well they’d die. (Many went insane first.) Those brutalities fall squarely on the British back then.

For kicks and giggles, I watched The Patriot on Sunday; which, yes, is filled with historical inaccuracies. Considering how that movie and Designing America share the same bad guy, I found myself shaking my head and rolling my eyes over and over again.

But that wasn’t what stood out most to me. What stood out most were the battle scenes, where men’s heads were blown off. Their legs shattered. Their stomachs skewered by bayonets.

Because all of that? That really happened.

Even when that wasn’t going on, those soldiers starved more often than not. They got little to no pay. And after the war, they barely got a thanks from a citizenry that was too often thrilled to celebrate victories but apathetic or downright hostile about providing anything else.

Black and white, free and slave, young and old, rich and poor male and female: Those “rebels” gave their time, their fortunes, their well-being, comfort and very lives…

The result is that I can laugh about #FirstWorldProblems.

For all of those sacrifices back then and my security today, I am truly grateful.

Designing America Is Done! Kinda… Sorta… Okay, Not Really.

I finished Designing America yesterday afternoon!

Admittedly, that makes it sound like a much bigger accomplishment than it actually is, so let me restate. I finished the first draft of Designing America. And I’m about 40,000 words short on my word count.

I was planning on writing a decent bit more before the “the end” part, but it just didn’t turn out that way. “The end” happened without asking for permission.

My stories are rude like that.

The thing is, normally they’re also a heck of a lot wordier. So I’m not quite sure what happened this time around.

One logical possibility is that I was focusing too much on the historical detail and not enough on the actual story. Because, guess what? I was.

I knew it all along, and I knew I’d have to fix it. There are so many important characters I introduced and then didn’t engage or utilize nearly well enough, all because I was so determined to get as many facts down as possible. At the expense of everything other than the plot.

The other reason why I might not have written as much as expected for this first draft is that – SPOILER ALERT! – the love interest isn’t even there most of the time. He’s in the very beginning and the very end. That’s it.

Without any swoons and sighs and such, it does make for a quicker read (and write).

Yet, regardless, I can’t be all that upset about the additional work I’m going to have to do for the second draft now that the first draft ended so soon. Not when it ended on such a perfect note!

I’m normally horrible about last lines. Like absolutely horrible. I hate them. They always sound so contrived to me. Might as well write “and they lived happily ever after,” as that’s as good as it’s going to get.

This one though? It’s beautiful! It’s perfect! It doesn’t require me to tear my hair out in anguish!

Which is a major relief. So I’m not going to look this mixed-gift horse in the mouth.

Designing America Draft 2? Here I come…

And yes, I promise the final copy will read like a story and not a history text book.

The Perks of Working for People Who Trash Talk You Behind Your Back

I’m writing today’s post on Monday afternoon, mainly because I’m in a meeting that’s about as boring as… ummm… something that’s really boring, okay? Since it’s sucking all creativity out of me, you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Far less mind-numbing is what I found out this morning about my direct supervisor and another supposed superior. While I was out of the office last week, they were trash talking me in front of a large room full of my direct coworkers.

In their defense, I had a rather busy four-week period where I wasn’t as reliable as I usually am. 

There was the Friday wedding late last month in New Jersey that I had to take a full day off for… the apartment pest issue on the 4th that had me out all day scrubbing down my apartment… Faeriecon two days later, which meant I took off another Friday… my younger sister going into labor, prompting me to leave work two and a half hours early last Tuesday… my flat tire on Wednesday… and then working from my parents’ house Thursday and Friday in order to give moral support to my exhausted mom.

Like I said, it’s been busy.

In my defense, however, other than those two Fridays, I handled every single task required of me despite some ridiculous deadlines. If my supervisor really has a problem with me, she should say it to my face in a private meeting. I gave her fair warning about everything that was going on, yet she told me it was okay.

Sounds like a horrid work environment, right? Well, it ain’t impressive. That’s for sure. But I’m truly grateful for it nonetheless. It offers something most other occupations don’t… an insane amount of downtime overall.

Because of that, I’ve had ample time to write eight of my now-published books, get through 40,000 words of Faerietales Book 5 and write another 40,000 words of Designing America. And that downtime is especially wonderful now that I’ve reached a tedious point in the latter.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still having a blast! But there’s too much cross-checking and unknowns for me to be able to write 1,000 words per hour like I was averaging before. So some extra story time is definitely appreciated.

Maybe I’ll even put my two “superiors” somewhere into Designing America. Considering how four of the British officers in Maiden America were also based on coworkers, I’m sure I can manage to fit two mean girls in somehow, right?

I’m thinking Americans loyal to King George III named Amanda Mahneck and Rachel Treaghart…

Oh, this is going to be fun!

Editor/Writer/Publisher's Note: Since writing this Monday, I have not only gone ahead and added Amanda Ross (name changed to fit historical facts) and Rachel Mahneck to the official story line; it also looks like they're going to serve as major catalysts!

In other news, I officially reached my NaNoWriMo-dictated goal of 50,000 words! And that was with Faeriecon and my new baby niece vying for my attention. Go me!

In other, other news, so what? I'm not even halfway through the story by my calculations. So it's right back to work... My new goal is to finish the entire first draft by the end of the year. Here goes something!

Since I’m Not Empress of the Universe…

Once again, I’ve been very remiss in writing my weekly Muses and Musings posts. And this time around, I can’t even blame it on my younger sister or my darling little niece.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely did spend time fussing over L.J. and holding Maggie. But I also got another several thousand words down for Designing America, bringing my official word count up to 40,000.

Considering how I only have one book-related event this coming Sunday and no more nieces making their official debut into the world any time soon, my current plan is to reach that lauded 50,000 word-count by the 20th.

That’s the goal, but we’ll see. I do realize that life has a way of “happening.” And I’ve had ample opportunity over the past 32 years to see that I’m not in charge of those happenings, only how I handle them.

If I was in charge, believe me, there’d be a few little changes made. For one thing, I’d be empress of the universe. My first order of the day would be to force all Maryland drivers to retake their drivers’ test. FYI: Since most of them can’t tell the difference between a stop sign and a yield, most of them would fail. Miserably.

Since I still had to deal with Maryland motorists this morning, clearly I’m not empress of the universe. In fact, I’m not empress of anything, even my stories. As I’ve said before, I don’t rule my storylines in any way, shape or form. That came to light once again while incorporating historical details into my storyline last week.

(As a side note, I think I’m putting way too much historical detail into Designing America. I’m going to have to focus on adding dialogue and plot points into the second draft, since not everyone is obsessed with random period-specific factoids as I am.

No idea why.)

But back to not being empress… I was absolutely certain I knew how the next page or two were going to go. It was going to be perfect!

Until I wrote the very next line, where a nine-year-old character ended up stealing the scene and almost making me cry.

It’s that kind of surprise that makes writing such an adventure, taking my literary journeys on amazing twists and turns that end up being so much more worthwhile than if my word was law.

In which case, I suppose it’s better that I’m not empress. As much as I’d like to kick most Maryland drivers off the road, there’s so much to be said for letting someone else run the show.

Keep Writing!!!! Unless This Kind of Thing Happens. Then Who Cares About Your Novel.

I’m writing this blogpost really late today. Why? Because my beloved younger sister went into labor on Monday night.

I’ve never had kids. So when it comes down to it, I’m no expert on what it’s like to carry a baby inside me for nine months and then go through hours giving birth. But from everything I hear, that latter part is not a fun experience. So knowing that my kid sister (not really a kid at 28 years old, but still) was going through such trials and travails was more than a bit distracting.

I did get 2,000 more words written to Designing America on Monday night. But Tuesday was an absolute wash. I was practically crying at my desk that morning, drove up to Pennsylvania (where she lives) that afternoon, and then waited and waited and waited some more that evening.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my novel-in-the-making. I love the time period (Revolutionary War), I love the historical details, I love the characters and – sure – I love my own creative process.

It’s just that I love my sister so exceptionally, overwhelmingly much more. So while my fretting away over her experience didn’t do her a single bit of good, I can’t say that I regret focusing on her instead of my story.

There are just some things in life that are more important than NaNoWriMo. And family is one of them.

My Weekend at Faeriecon

I haven’t worked on anything NaNoWriMo in three days.

You see, there’s this little thing called Faeriecon that took place this past Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And that’s exactly where I was instead of working on my story.

Despite my absolute love of faeries, I only found out about this venue last year. So this year, instead of checking it out as a consumer, I went right ahead and signed up to sell my Faerietales books. I thought, what the heck! They’re about faeries, my books are about faeries… why not?

So I put together a fantastic poster, designed a new flyer to give out to any writer wannabes, and printed 100 copies of Not So Human, along with seven copies each of To Err Is Faerie and Up in the Air. Obviously, I was hoping to sell all of them, but I understood the very real possibility that I might lose several hundred dollars out of the venture.

Which I did.

Turns out, Faeriecon is more for people looking to dress up like faeries than to read about them. There were two other authors on the floor I was on, and they didn’t appear to be any more popular than I was. Though it wasn’t an entire wash, as I might have gotten some editorial clients out of it. I gave away the majority of my flyers, so here’s hoping for some bites!

Plus, some of my vending neighbors around me were highly entertaining. There was Bobby across the way, who was selling jewelry. He had vampire fangs, a kilt and a long list of entertaining stories to tell. And Lauren and Kristin right beside me were just as hysterical.

Lauren, a djinn, had painted herself the most vivid shade of blue, complete with large, twisted horns sticking out of her head. She looked utterly awesome, and while I was rather envious of her aqua pigment choice, there is no way I would want to duplicate the look, as it took her at least an hour and a half to get all done up every morning.

That’s patience I just don’t have.

Her best friend and business partner was a faerie with the curliest red hair ever. If Disney Princess Merida had pointy ears and wings, she would look exactly like Kristin. I swear. Once again… jealous.

But overall, lesson learned. Faeriecon is for faeries, not for authors.

Tomorrow, it’ll be right back to NaNoWriMo for me. Which, incidentally, isn’t worrying me despite my three-day sabbatical.

I reached 25,000 last Wednesday. So I think I’m good.

An Amusing Villain to Read About in Designing America (Just Not in the History Books)

Normally I write both week’s Muses and Musings blogposts on Sunday, but it’s now 8:11 in the morning on Wednesday, and I’m just starting today’s.

It’s been one of those weeks.

Not all in bad ways, admittedly. I mean, Sunday’s NaNoWriMo kick-off had me writing 10,000 words in a day. And between Monday and Tuesday, I wrote another 10,000 despite alleged bedbugs and a hectic work day, the combination of which had me sobbing like a 14-year-old on my mother for the first twenty minutes of my drive down to last night’s NaNoWriMo write-in.

Not fun, right?

But what is fun is my one villain. I hate to say that, because this isn’t a villain of my own making. Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton was a real person and a real jerk according to American history books. You know The Patriot starring Mel Gibson? The antagonist in it... Colonel William Tavington, who locks civilians in a barn and then burns it down?

 

That wretched fictional character was based on the wretched real-life character of Tarleton. And while I didn’t come across any actual accounts of him burning anyone to death, what I did read was disturbing enough. Always a brash young man (who, it turns out, got a brief mention in Maiden America, though not by name), he was a skilled cavalryman and commander who didn’t think much of the people he was sent to subdue.

Hence the reason why, after his victory at the Battle of Waxhaws, South Carolina, he ordered his men to go through the list of surrendered American soldiers and bayonet them to death.

As for those men, it can easily be argued they were even worse. Here’s a history-filled excerpt from Designing America’s (and Maiden America’s) heroine Abigail Carpenter’s perspective:

The clear leader of the sizable Calvary reins in his brown horse, leaving the mount champing at the bit to get back to his canter. It’s a magnificent beast with its own mind, I can tell, so it says a lot about its seated master that it only tosses its head and lets out a whinny before quieting down altogether.

I know who that master is before he introduces himself. His immaculate attire speaks volumes by itself, as does the appearance of his men. They are all well-clothed and well-fed. In a group that size, that means they won’t be Americans.

I think the man himself in his mid-twenties, and he is very attractive to look at with his red hair and broad shoulders covered by a green coat with gold trimmings and buttons, and white breeches beneath. His hat is black and billed with a very large black plume atop it, and his boots are black up until his mid-calf and then brown the rest of the way to his knees. Moreover, along with the two buckled belts slung over each shoulder, he is fitted with a saber and a long musket.

His name is Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton, and he’s a monster, no matter how pretty and proud he sits there before me. It is his men who have been accused of mutilating and murdering pregnant women. It was also two of his men who were hung back in May on Cornwallis’ orders, not their direct commander’s, on charges of robbery and rape.

I imagine not nearly enough of them swung from the gallows that day.

So again, I’m not proud of myself for smirking over this character. In my defense, he’s been nothing but nice to Abigail, since he’s trying to prove himself a respectable gentleman instead of the monster she very obviously regards him as during their entire first day of acquaintanceship.

That alone wouldn’t make me enjoy him (notice I’m staying far away from the word “like”). It’s the fact that, in trying to stay true to the history books, where even some of his fellow British officers described him as an arrogant little brat, I’ve turned Tarleton into just that… an arrogant little brat, who will roll his eyes in polite company when polite company turns tedious, and make the kind of comments you really want to say to irritating individuals but can’t because you’re too well-mannered.

It’s a bit hard not to snort in amusement over that kind of villain. I dare you not to do the same when I’m done writing Designing America.