Alison Kent

So, I’m sitting in the backyard this fine Friday morning (Did I mention the 22 days of vacation I get a year?), eating . . . well, you don’t want to know what I’m eating because I follow a fairly low-carb diet and that means breakfast can be anything from eggs to peanut butter or cheese on sesame crackers . . . and I have my gIRL-gEAR characters grocery shopping for a specific party menu. Why oh why did I not become a caterer instead of an author? My good buddy, Isabel Sharpe, subscriber to Bon Appetit, gave me a menu to work with. I went in search of a recipe for one of the items and found an amazing catering site from which I am blatantly stealing a menu. I want to toss my Alphasmart into the pond with the turtle and go cook. That said, thank goodness my characters have bottomless checkbooks because I certainly do not. I could never afford these fancy feasts.

I apologize for the totally skimpy entries of late. I haven’t been writing much this week. Sad, especially after the flowers, but true. I think I’m still recovering from the end of the television season (though I’m anxiously awaiting Keen Eddie, even as I fear it may follow in the steps of The American Embassy) and simply winding down and focusing again on the story I was letting get away from me. I’ve been going back through the first 1/3 of the book, doing edits and personal revisions, whipping the proposal chapters into shape to send to my editor. Yes, the book is contracted, but it was a blind contract, and she has yet to see a word of what I’ve written. I need to get this to her so she can . . . do her thang, dawg (tm Randy Jackson).

I have to say that as much as I love writing, hardly any of that love is about the storytelling. Most of it is about the writing, the language, using words and rhythm and voice to say what I want to say. And one of my critters today told me that “The prose in the first scene had a hypnotizing effect on me, and I think I can count on one hand the number of writers who can do that to me.” Thanks, Bekke. That sort of of compliment means more to me than you can know.

I started reading Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island yesterday on the bus ride home from work. Knowing I had a four-day weekend ahead, I didn’t feel guilty (for once) about not using the ride time to write. This is my first Lehane, though I did buy Mystic River, too, and I just had to laugh at several of his sentence constructions. They’re exactly the sort I had written that my editor recently changed for reasons of “house style”. No real point to this but to say it’s nice to see other houses accepting of other styles. That said, I am enamored of Lehane’s use of metaphor, and of his descriptions. Author envy at work here. “They shook hands and he remembered what Chuck had said to him in the dream–”I’m never getting off this island”–and Teddy felt a sparrow’s ghost pass through the center of his chest and flap its wings.” (copyright 2003 by Dennis Lehane) I love that. Love it, love it, love it.

Saturday now, and I only managed about 3 pages yesterday, though I read 170 of Lehane. Love this book and will no doubt finish it up today. I’m back outside this morning, though I’m not sure how long I’ll last. In the shade with the box fan blowing, I can survive. And since it’s only 10:30 the day’s heat hasn’t yet fully arrived. May, even the end of May, is way too early for these mid-nineties’ days. My only adventure yesterday was playing traffic director (”Hello, On-Star?”) and getting my daughter out of the Dallas barrio 400 miles away. I love MapQuest, cell phones and cable internet.

So much of writing is about state of mind. Realistically, I know how many decent pages I can do on a good day. I also know how many I can push myself to do. Since I edit as I go, for the most part I end up with finished product. And I use that as a basis for my contracts and due dates. What I’ve learned lately, though, is that there is a high price to pay for burn-out. I’d built in the month of June to use for recovery and for playing with ideas. Now I’ll be using the first half to finish the book I should’ve had done in May, and then cram the novella I wanted to use the month to write into the second half.

I want to start my single title the first of July. This will be the first time I write a book this long (an extra 100 pages than what I do for Blaze) and this complicated - though, I have to admit, having the additional space to explore the secondary plotlines I’ve shortchanged before is going to be a blast.

Sunday morning now. (In case you’re wondering why I just don’t post each days thoughts, it’s because I keep a blogging file open on my Alphasmart for thoughts as I’m working.) Went to see a sneak preview of The Italian Job last night. I was prepared to be unimpressed, but I adored it. The movie is worth watching for Seth Green. Edward Norton’s character wasn’t up to his usual par and Mark Wahlberg has no par. But Seth, Jason Statham and Mos Def are too much fun to resist. Go see it when it’s released. I’m also dying to see The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen and, yes, the new Tomb Raider. Saw trailers for both and I can’t wait.

I’m having a hard time with my book this weekend. I think it’s because of reading the Lehane and starting on the newest from Harlan Coben. I just want to sit and read - which I don’t have time to do - and I want to start writing on my single title. I’ve made a ton of notes recently and have really enjoyed having the sub-conscious time to ponder over the idea. This is going to be an amazing book, if I do say so myself.

But, for now, it’s back to Indiscreet!

Well, that last entry that was supposed to cover three days worth of writing was some kinda bust, eh? I got swamped at the day job (where I usually spend my blogging time) and decided to post what I had and catch up later.

Now that Ruben has stolen the title from my Clay, I’ll be able to better concentrate on blogging and writing. Especially since I have 18 or so MP3 files of Clay’s performances on my Jukebox to inspire me. (In fact, I have him queued to follow Alicia Keys this morning.)

Have I mentioned how relaxed I am and how glad to have made the decision not to attend the RWA NYC conference? Well, I am!

I’m also back to regularly critiquing with a group that refuses to coddle, but works its collective ass off to see that each of us become the best writer possible. I thought of leaving for awhile, and ended up taking a critiquing hiatus instead. It was a good break, and we all seem to have mellowed nicely. (Plus, I finally have breathing room again!) If you’re a writer who doesn’t shy from constructive criticism (delivered sans coddling), check out the WriteRomance group.

More soon . . .

The weekend’s writing was fairly decent, fairly productive. Not only in the story progress, but in the way lessons while writing are learned. What have I learned, you ask?

I’ve learned that no matter how well I know my characters or the skeleton of my story, I’m going to have bloody hell writing the first several chapter. I’ve written 1/3 of this book, and I’m just now feeling a confident level of comfort with these two characters who have been with me now through four prior books.

For some reason, everything I’ve had to say lately has been about work, the day job work, and I know that’s really not what you’re here to read so I’ll try to be more literary today.

After this aside . . .

I do accounting with absolutely no formal training or education, just 15 years on the job. I also have no left brain. I have to stop and diagram general ledger entries at times to make sure I’m not making a backward entry. I doubt I could get away with being so right-brained in other accounting circumstances. Like I said, the good things outweigh the bad.

So, today, my boss came up with a term for my accounting method. Unlike full-charge bookkeeping or our own various administrative or oil & gas methods, mine is unique.

I, apparently, do Literary Accounting. :)

Today my editor and senior editor sent me flowers. Yes. Flowers.

I had a minor editorial nervous breakdown yesterday, and a phone call with my editor that went on for about 45 minutes. (This in the middle of the work day at my desk surrounded by paper thin walls and acoustics that might as well be compared to a good concert pavilion.) - (Did I tell you my son was going to buy me Queensryche tickets for Mother’s Day, except they were on the tour with Dreamweaver and he wouldn’t go with me, LOL!) Anyway, my editor and I weren’t talking over any specific projects, but my career and my feelings of failure for having to bump back my book by one month.

It doesn’t matter that writing friends from coast to coast to the other side of the Canadian border assure me all is well. It doesn’t matter that my editors both did the same. I feel as if I’ve let down everyone, including myself. Most of all, myself. Yes, I feel a huge relief from the stress of being forced to produce. That’s the absolute worst way to write. But there’s still a huge humbling failure aspect to the experience. Logically, I know I need to let up on myself. Creatively, it’s hard to reconcile. Moving on is all I can do - and I am!

I’m loving my story. Indiscreet may end up being my personal favorite gIRL-gEAR story out of the six I’ve written. I think it might also be the most difficult, but the most challenging - and I can only hope that all translates into an awesome romance. My heroine, Poe, has made an appearance in several of the other books. And it’s been strange getting used to calling her Annabel instead. But it’s her story, and she obviously has no reason to think of herself as Poe.

She also has a brother. Right now his name is Devon, though that might change. He might also be married; I haven’t written enough of him to know his part of the story yet. I do know, of course, that he is SO sexy. I posted my character photo of him today. (I’m listening to Bruce Springsteen sing ROSALITA right now. I love this song!)

The thing about Poe is that she has an attitude. She has through all the books. So, making her into a compelling yet sympathetic heroine is not as easy as I thought it would be. Especially with her hero being just as cocky and smart-mouthed. They certainly make for an interesting pair. They’re already melting the pages. Now I can’t wait to watch them fall in love!

I am experiencing a lot of bitterness today. Work related. As in, day job work. Not writing. I am also experiencing a lot of resignation, knowing I’m going to have to suck it up and stick around for longer than I’d thought. (Did I mention 100% paid insurance? 100% paid transportation? Health club allowance?) The good outweighs the bad, no matter the burden of the latter. Sigh. Thing is, I am not the only one for whom this co-worker (mentioned previously) has ruined a perfectly lovely working environment. When I am finally able to leave to write full-time, this person will be as much a part of my departure as my new career! How sad is that??

So, I love the story I’m writing. It has so much potential that I worry my mental state (see above) is going to hinder me doing the story justice. I hate to admit it, but I’ve had the book moved from December to January in order to have the time I need to finish it properly. I could’ve easily (okay - not so easily) crammed and pulled a bunch of all-nighters and gotten it in for December publication. But this is one I want to do right more than any I’ve done before. Fingers crossed.

Sorry this is so short. It’s just been one of those weeks around here . . .

I’ll try to be more entertaining tomorrow!

The Second Baptist Church’s animated marquis that sits at the edge of Interstate 10 and that I pass on my drive home advertises the subject of each Sunday’s sermon.

Next Sunday’s sermon: SEX MATTERS

I kid you not.

I did manage to get up this morning at five, though I did not get much writing done between making coffee and showering for work. I’m rewriting part of a scene and then bridging it into the next scene that I’m also rewriting - all this after removing my interfering character who originally played a big part in this section. Writing her here in these early chapters is what convinced me she had to go. I’m tucking her away, my own personal Irina Derevko (who actually looks more like Mya) to pull out again later and put to work in her own Bombshell-toned story.

I’m letting my hero guide this rewrittene scene, and I’ve learned now what his true inner goal is. Interesting stuff that, in that I hadn’t seen it when I first starting writing this book. The concept keeps popping up when I’m in my hero’s viewpoint, however, so I know it’s a big part of who he is. It’s natural. It’s the hero and not the author telling his story. Unfortunately, the author is stuck on her bridge. As much as I know that I have to let the characters drive their stories, I do need this transition to work - and I’m stuck.

I took the day off yesterday, a mental health sick day. (Just had to share this article. This is the street on which I work. Sigh.) The sick part is really about my allergies that are making me insane. The mental health was about the weekend I spent in bouts of writing and crying about my writing. I did finish up my line edits on Striptease and am so glad to put that to bed.

I want to talk about working for a minute. Not writing work, but office work. The day in and day out drudge. I shouldn’t really call it a drudge, because I’m truly blessed with my working conditions. I have 100% paid insurance. ‘Nuff said there. I have tons of freedom in coming and going, as well as spending work time on personal tasks. I know not to take advantage, however. Those of us who have worked together in this small department for fourteen-plus years are well aware of how good we have it, and have no intention of screwing up a good thing.

It is, however, getting harder and harder to look at the positives when we have a very bad apple in our midst. In the past year, there has not been a week during which she has been at work 40-full hours. She claims to work overtime from home, a very hard claim to believe when there are two or three of us already taking up her slack. Slack she wouldn’t have if she came to work and worked while she was here. It’s incredibly disheartening to others who have been reprimanded for the same, having to see her behavior.

It’s even more disheartening to know her behavior is condoned by her immediate supervisor. The entire mental game makes for a moral issue that is approaching unbearable.

I really need to write full-time. Yeah. That’s the plan.

Back to the backyard today, but with much less of yesterday’s enthusiasm. This is due to the fact that tomorrow is Monday, back to work, and line edits on Striptease are due to my editor. I’m partially through, but not quite willing to talk publicly about the experience!

I’ve been watching Petey navigate his freshly filled pond (and hope to put up a picture of him soon), and sending text messages to my daughter via our shared T-Mobile service. How lazy are we?

So, eleven pages down yesterday and another mumble-ty dozen to go.

(Sorry for the short entry, but I kept most of the day’s emotional upheaveal for my private diary!)

Oh, and I forget to add the fun of Mother’s Day gifts, including a compilation CD of Elton John from my son and a chocolate shake from Sonic from my daughter - a private joke over which we laughed ourselves silly. The hubby made his awesome low-carb pizza (yes, really!) and brought me flowers. (And my kids don’t even belong to him!! What a guy!!)

I slept until 10:00 today after going to bed last night at 11:00. Whoa! Weekend catch-up time.

The weather today was perfect for BuzzFest, but probably not so for my two blue-eyed, ivory-skinned, red-headed daughters. Think auburn mixed with strawberry sans freckles. After today, though, the freckles should make an appearance. Both girls freckle in an almost golden tan color. I pray they were savvy enough to remember the sunscreen. My youngest especially, as she gets hives if in the sun too long. A mother’s work is never done. Worry, worry, worry. But since neither of them live with me any longer, I get to worry as I sit and write instead of fretting around after them and being a nag. The nag bit I get to save for the hubby, lucky man!! (Ah, phone call for directions, and reassurance that she’s packing 50 SPF!)

For me, however, the weather was fairly nice, if not a tad - a BIG tad - warm. Ah, Houston in May. Not as bad as Houston in August, but getting there. (Speaking of August, I will be 45 years old, argh! I’m still waiting to become an outrageous old woman!) So, between the breeze and the box fan, I survived. A bra would’ve helped some of the sweat factor, but my weekend writing rule is no makeup, no pantyhose, no closed shoes, no bra. I’m confined too much during the work week. The weekend requires total freedom in order to create. (Hey, it sounds good, anyway!)

So, I’m sitting in my wonderful Wal-Mart Adirondack chair, with the box fan and the breeze, with my Eeyore coffee mug and Petey for company, writing about sex. Have I not introduced you to Petey? It is strange the creatures that come into one’s life. Petey was rescued from a bayou twelve years ago by a friend of my oldest daughter. He’s been an extended visitor at our house several times, but seems to have now taken up permanent residence - what with all the moving from apartment to apartment Amanda has done. He’s happier now than he’s ever been before, as we’ve built him his own pond complete with sunning rocks. Of course, I often wonder about the blue jays that circle overhead as Petey is only the size of a 3 x 5 card. I also often wonder if Petey is a girl. I mean, how does one tell?

Another part of my sitting outside to write that I enjoy is watching the woodpecker next door wreak havoc with the dead pine tree in the neighbor’s back yard. It’s like he’s building an entire townhouse complex. I keep waiting for the mall to go up in the second tree. The one thing I do hate about writing outside, is the smoke from the grill on the patio choking me. But no real complaints. Not when the hubby makes the best burgers known to mankind!

So, today I wrote sex. I love writing sex. Not because it’s easy for me, though it is. But because, during sex, during that time of being so physically open and exposed, a character reveals so very much of his or her emotional and spiritual make-up. It’s that richness of character that reminds me why I write people stories rather than action stories (though that is soon to change!).

I get a lot of grief from sources of which that sort of reaction might be hard to believe, family, friends . . . I have trouble believing it at times myself. These detractors do not understand why I don’t write stories with less emphasis on the physical bond between woman and man.

(Taking a break, but I’ll be back and talk about this more.)

If anyone out there running Greymatter can tell me how to add another sidebar beneath the one I already have, or how to add separate sidebar type boxes (See? I don’t even know how to describe what I want!), I would be eternally grateful if you would email me. That said, I only understand layman’s terms!