Status

Its nearly the end of yet another week. I've just finished reading City of Fallen Angels. Thought it was the last book in The Mortal Instruments Series. Guess what, its not. Imagine my surprise as I got to the last page. Now I only have to wait about a year for part five. Gah!

I've been writing a lot. I need to take a break and visit everyone's blog, see what you've all been up to. Other than that, I've got nothing. What about you?

One Eye Open.

This is not a book review. Promise.

I'm still in revisions. Most of you already know that. As I've gone through my WIP, yet again, I've been trying to ask myself certain questions. One of them is always about conflict. Is there enough of it? Is it in the right places? Will anyone care? And lastly, will it make a readers mouth drop or cause them to lose sleep? No. No. Maybe. And no. So, now I'm in the masterminding process but I'm not sure I'm being fair to me. You see, several weeks ago the unimaginable happened. (I may have already mentioned this) I had just finished a great book, headed to the bookshelf to put it away and grab one off the to-read shelf when I realized I had no more. GASP! Nothing! Panic button, Hello. Then I remembered the City of Bones (Clare) book I'd bought my daughter for Christmas. After inquiring on its location, I found myself digging it out from under her bed. I blew through it. Moved onto number two and now I'm nearly done with book three, City of Glass. I'm literally walking around my house in a zombie like state with one eye open and have been for the last few weeks now. I'm up half the night reading these books. Funny thing is I never really thought I'd like them. Wrongo. Isn't that how it always is. You have no interest in a book then you read it and it becomes one of your favorites.

Hold on, this is not a book review. I promised.

I've lost sleep because there is so much conflict. Sure, some of it is predictable. Some. But for the most part, I go to bed swearing I'm just gonna read one chapter and the next thing I know its 3 a.m. You should be around when the alarm goes off in the morning. Not pretty. The conflict is on nearly every page. You can't look away. It is that good. So it makes me wonder, could my characters and my story ever hold someone like that? I want to keep people up at night. Its part of my diabolical plan. I want someone to roll out of bed, stare at their disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror and say, "you're weak Mckee" (hopefully they'll insert their name here instead of mine), because they should have put the book down and gone to sleep. They just couldn't do it. This puts a little more pressure in this whole book writing thing doesn't it? I think I can handle it. Flings self from computer chair, careful to fall on dog bed, then stares blankly at the ceiling, waits for death. Out of coffee, heads to kitchen. Coffee in pot has been depleted. Nooooo.....How about you? Is there enough conflict in your writing? Are you throwing everything imaginable at your characters?

 

Progress...

Ever feel like Captain Jack Sparrow when it comes to making progress? I generally do. An entire vicious tribe of revisions just chasing you down.  I wish I could run like that. Totally  hilarious. At the very least, my lot of revisions could be entertained while waiting on progress. I think I could watch him run all day. A true work of art. In case you haven't guessed, my daughter and I went to see the movie last night. Wonderful. If you haven't seen it already, get on that. You'll be glad you did.

In all seriousness, I've been making some real progress. The revisions are running along at a much faster pace than usual. I don't know what's up with that, but all of a sudden, I'm zipping through chapters, well, maybe its more of a stroll but you get the picture. I wonder sometimes if I'm controlling this whole writing thing at all. I mean, sometimes I think I'm at the whole proverbial wheel, but other times I'm not so sure. I bet you've been there in those moments where you just stare at the computer screen and drink cup after cup of coffee only to produce half a word. Then a day or two later, you sit down in your creative lab and the words shoot out of your fingers like flicks of fire from your wrist. My husband usually looks up from his computer to inquire about what on earth I'm writing, to which I reply, "I have no idea, Silence!" He then shakes his head and goes back to ESPN news. Oh, but I'm weird. Honestly though, where does all that come from? How can we be completely blank one second then bursting brain cells the next. Are we normal? If not, we're at least cool, right? So, how about you and your progress this week? Do tell.

Happy Weekend.

Creative Space?

 For those of you who have requested pictures of my new creative space, here you go. I'm so excited. It turned out better than I imagined. The hubbs even hooked me up with XM.

It's amazing how  the creative energies start flowing when you have a space of your very own. I mean, already, the dog has apparently discovered some sort of doggie portal that must lead to a super secret bone heaven with the way he's been digging at the plastic roller pad under my chair. When he's not doing that, he thinks of the many ways he can rest his head on every inch of my desk while leaving  trace evidence of his endeavors by way of slimy puddles of drool. After that, he then tries to treat himself with a coaster snack or wad of paper.

For those of you who may have tuned in last week, the

wad of paper can tend to bring on a whole other layer of issues. Ones that lead to the back yard and his backed up back door. Not pretty. So, the kids are giving me some time to savor the new office. The dog, not so much.

Finishing Touches.

The office is all done except for new carpet which would be great.  Sometimes, you can't have everything all at once. Like my mother used to say, "beggars can't be choosers." I was definitely a beggar needing a new office so I'll take this one any day of the week. Having my own space is awesome.

I was able to sit last night with some peace and quiet and take a long look at my WIP. There were a few things that stood out to me almost instantly. I'm sure I missed more than I found but one thing I truly missed was the description in my earlier version. I've been up in air about description. You hear so many differences of opinion. Give the reader enough to set the scene then leave them to it. Let their own imagination fill in the blanks. I agree to a point. We can take it to far in either direction, but personally, I love description. When I read something with a lot of it, I find myself getting closer to the characters quicker than when I read something with very little.

Recently, I began reading CITY OF BONES by, Cassandra Clare. It's book one in The Mortal Instruments series. WOW! The world building would not be possible if not for the incredibly descriptive writing from Clare. I'm creative to point. My imagination gets some pretty odd glances from time to time. I'm okay with that, but even with a hint of a scene, my mind could  never conjure up what Clare has created. I found that I loved the description. I don't always want the pithy little sentences that say so little. I love flowing, beautiful, and vividly crafted sentences that not only move me forward in a story but also make me love the author for her way with words. Crafting is just one of the things that sets one author away from another and I've found myself putting down books that sound so generic, vanilla. Don't get me wrong. I love vanilla. Show me some vanilla pound cake or a nice latte and I'm yours, but I prefer a little more flavor most of the time. I want to be moved by the writing not just the story. What about you? 

I Wish I May.

Okay, so I've been knee deep in following my dreams this week, well, some of them anyway. I've been ranting about my own space for what seems like forever and finally my family can take it no more. Thank God. How long does one person have to roll their eyes before someone notices? So at last, my office will no longer be at one end of the kitchen table. When one desk is picked up from some stranger's house this weekend, and the paint dries, I will have one slightly used office of my very own. It will even have a door (jumps up and down, dances without an ounce of rhythm). Hey, that almost sounded like the beginning of a terrible query letter.

Dear Lucky Agent,

       When a slightly worn desk gets picked up at a stranger's house over the weekend, unsuspecting and aspiring author T.C. Mckee picks up more than she could have ever bargained for. Hidden beneath a secret door inside the desk is the captured demon, Time. The minute the door is breached, T.C.'s life is changed forever, as she's unleashed a powerful demon who's got exactly that...forever. T.C.'s only hope is that she can find the missing key that will lock away Time forever before he insures the paint in her office never dries.

That was fun. Wish me luck people. I'm about a day away from splashing a little Vintage Ribbon onto a wall. I would like to thank my family and Valspar for this opportunity.

NOT Even Vlose...I mean Close.

Today I had a plan. Get through the work day. Make it home in one piece then write away the evening. Horns blared around me as I was caught daydreaming at traffic lights about all the changes I'd be making. My WIP would undoubtedly be a brand new version of delight after tonight's progress. I even stopped at Starbucks on the way home and picked up a skinny Vanilla Latte. Yes. I. Did.

THEN- I got the call that we were out of Boars Head deli meat for sandwiches. That cannot happen under any circumstance in my house, so I stopped off at the grocery store, but not before returning one cell phone back to the cell phone provider that decided to send my daughter a new replacement phone complete with what appeared to be gum on the dial pad. Nice. Even the manager was amazed.

THEN- I watched as my daughter went on an all out rant in the kitchen (my office happens to be the kitchen table) because her father or "my husband" she seethed, ate all the lasagna and I should do something about him. Her day has been "ruined." THEN- I watched silently with both hands poised on the keypad, ready for action as she proceeded to eat what was supposed to be tomorrows dinner. I think I recall her mumbling something about showing "that man" a thing or two but I can't be sure.

THEN- I got the opportunity to sign excuses for my lovelies to be exempt from exams because their grades have been so good they don't have to take them. After that, I saved a pair of socks from the jaws of one Great Dane who had raided the laundry room then sighed a breath of relief as the kitchen emptied of bodies  and I began typing that first word. Sweet bliss.

BUT THEN- a cry was heard from the back yard. One daughter was yelling for help. Potential writer (me) leapt into action. The scene in the back yard was of one daughter being chased in a circle by our dog (same Great Dane who happens to love socks). It was clear he was in distress. Closer inspection revealed he had an obstruction of sorts. Further examination lead to one writer assisting in the delivery of what appeared to be a rather large paper towel. Guess someone cooked bacon in the microwave and some puppy thought the paper towel would be just delicious.

AND THEN- everyone rejoiced except for the potential writer who would have loved the comfort of at least one latex glove.

Puppy patient is now relived and prancing through the back yard. Kids have just reminded me, there's only three more days left of school. Dear God.

Currently looking for ghostwriters then exchanging laptop for wine.