Tales from the Raven

In the spirit of all writers who are waiting to hear back from agents, I’ve been obsessing over 13 Demon Days.  Specifically, over the first few pages.  I’m confident that if I can just pull the reader in, they’ll like the story.  They’ll laugh, take a couple hits to the heart for the team, and walk away with a goofy grin on their face.

But, first I have to pull them in.

As my blog readers know, I already cut my revised first chapter–all of it–and started the book a good chunk farther into the story.  Now I’ve just flushed a beloved scene that took up the first couple of pages.  It was fun and all, but it delayed the introduction of tension and story conflict.  You know, the demon possession, the exhibition of mysterious new talents on the part of the main characters, and the eating of cake covered in dog hair.

In the spirit of rebellious autonomy over blog content, I’m posting the cut scene below.  It may not have made the final edit of the novel, but at least I can still claim it saw the light of the publishing day.

Josh went inside and headed for the stairs.  He couldn’t wait to get to the quiet of his room and his iPod.

            “Hey, where are you going?” Liz asked.  “I’m not cleaning this up by myself.”  She pointed to the toilet seat, sitting in the middle of the entry hall, resting on an island of tarot cards and crumpled napkins.

            Josh looked back at Liz and thought about telling her to leave it for Mom and Dad.  But she would never do that–Liz was the responsible twin–and besides, they didn’t know when Mom and Dad were coming back, or even where they were.

            Liz crossed her arms.  “Come on, Josh.  You’re a boy–you should be all over cleaning up a giant white donut.”

            Josh laughed, and grabbed a broom to start sweeping up the mess.  Mom probably would have tried to save the tarot cards–and he still didn’t know why she’d put up tarot card decorations for a birthday party–but she wasn’t here and he figured anything on the floor after a party like that was definitely trash.

            When he got to the toilet seat Josh nudged it aside so he could sweep under it.  The seat slid on the waxy hardwoods.

            Josh grinned, and switched his hands on the broom so he could use it as a hockey stick.  Liz could say what she wanted about donuts–he knew food, and that thing wasn’t it.  He didn’t even want to think about all the germs hiding on the underside.  Even if it was clean before the party started, it had probably been peed on by every one of Uncle Dobbs’s boys, and then worn around the neck by his cousin Haley for the rest the night.  And everyone knew Haley never took a bath.

            In a move straight from the NHL, Josh whacked the seat to get it sliding down the hall.  He ran after the seat and stopped it at the bathroom door.  He lined it up in front of the toilet, and gave it an extra thump to get it over the lip of the door.

The seat skittered across the floor and smacked up against the toilet.

“Score!” Josh cried.  He pumped the broom handle in the air, then washed his hands and headed into the kitchen to see if there was any cake left.  It was important to celebrate small victories.

Say goodbye to the toilet seat scene.  In the new and improved beginning of 13 Demon Days, the reader will remain blissfully unaware that there was ever a toilet seat in the middle of the floor.  But, hey, even I never knew how it got there.

Where would summer be without a sizzling grill, time splashing in a pool, and . . .

Rainbow Toe Decor!

We have here (because I know you’re just dying to know) Jolted Jade, Red Glamour, and Deep Blue Sea.  Oh, and a bit of honestly obtained dirt, just to keep it real.

Painting my daughter and my nails brought back fond memories of when I learned to paint my own.  I’m not sure if I was attempting it at too young an age or just incredibly uncoordinated, but as I recall, more of the polish ended up on my skin then the nails.  Even if I managed to finish off a nail with just the right amount of polish and no smears, I was sure to smudge it five seconds later when I firmly established the fact that it was not dry yet.

Of all the ridiculous things we humans like to do, this one’s got to be up there on the list.  Isn’t it fun?

We’ve had a spat of trouble with our computers lately.  Nothing we can’t deal with . . . eventually.  I know nothing is built to last forever, but it seems to me that computers are one of those devices which ought to come with a warning:

Your computer will self-destruct in five,

four,

three,

two,

dzzzzzz….

And it’s dead.  Maybe I’m just naturally suspicious (okay, so that’s not a maybe) but I find it hard to believe that computers and cars can be quite so reliable in their breakdowns without prior planning.  It’s almost as if the makers want us to have to give up on the old klunker and go buy a new one.

Almost.  To really believe that would no doubt push me over the line from merely suspicious to paranoid, and we wouldn’t want to go there!  After all, I’m sure it’s all pure conincidence.  I’m a big believer in coincidence, me.

On Sunday evening I was driving to a friend’s house, listening to the thunder and feeling grateful the rain hadn’t hit yet.  Then lightning split the sky–just in front of me and off the road.  It was one of those straight up and down streaks and the tail disappeared in the trees.  I’m a pretty good driver–as long as deer stay off the road–but for just a moment I felt my brain go empty.  There was nothing inside my head but a flash of lightning.

If they could peel back the layers of our global memories and get a glimpse inside the head of early man, I’m sure he felt much the same.  And I think the that could be said of people from the future, too.  There’s just something about lightning that touches on the primal, and also reaches forward toward all the as-yet locked potential inside ourselves and in this universe.  It’s almost impossible to describe lightning and do it justice.  Even pictures have trouble capturing it.  The moment of the flash is too intense.

That one does pretty good, though.

On a writing note, I sent out a few queries for 13 Demon Days to select agents over the last few days.  That felt good, but today felt better.  The first of the requested partials went out, with more partials and a full already requested.  Yay!

Of course, I know the process is long, that the odds are stacked against me.  But, it felt really good to get off to a strong start.

Don’t be surprised if you see me wandering the hills, waving a lightning rod.

We’ve had a great spring for wildlife.  Here’s a pic of our recently flown Eastern Phoebe chicks while still in the nest.

Their nest is on a light in the barn–the same space we spent weeks modifying this spring.  These guys put up with hammering, measuring, and even an air compressor.  That’s loud!

I think this fledgling is apartment hunting for somewhere quieter.

And below is a catch of tadpoles who’ve enjoyed their stay in our luxury spa a la flower bed and converted milk jug.  One of them is almost a grown-up toad, ready to go out into the world and seek his fortune.

And this little guy has successfully completed his metamorphesis, but seems to be having second thoughts.  Sound like a recent graduate you may know?

I haven’t posted much of late, and it’s easy for that to be a self-perpetuating cycle.  It goes something like this:  “I need to post, but since I haven’t posted, a quick post won’t do.  I need to post something really funny/insightful/momentous/amazing, to make it up to my blog readers that I haven’t been posting.  Since I don’t have anything like that just now, I’ll have to post later.”

And the cycle continues.

So, in order to prove what an independent thinker I am (this is your insightful bit) I’m going to just post a bunch of random happenings.  First on the agenda, I have almost finished the latest round of rewrites on 13 Demon Days.  Should be finished by the end of the week.  I’ve also come up with my 25 words-or-less elevator pitch for the novel.

It’s about twins who’re the black sheep of the magic world.  They need to face down a demon, save the world, and clear their name.

What do you think?  I’m reasonably pleased with it, and have to give my nod to the folks at Upstart Crow for nudging me into writing it. (This concludes our momentous part)

In other writing news, I’ve been asked to assist in teaching Caleb Warnock’s online Writing in Depth classes (yep, this is the amazing bit) and will be starting the first class on May 17th.  I’m actually really excited to get to teach the Plot Shop workshop he’s outlined, because I think it does a great job of condensing down the plotting process and helps writers quickly discover if their material will be compelling enough to sustain a novel.

And since I’ve neglected you all for so long, I’ll leave you with a pic of me, bonding with my turkey poult.  We were having a bit of a discussion about whether it had to stay in the play pen/chick coop.  Can you tell which of us is winning?

(Okay, so maybe a lame attempt at funny.  But at least I got a post up!)

As my friends, family and Facebook buddies already know, I’ve been in Utah for the last week for the funeral of my brother and his bride of almost three years.  This blog isn’t about exposing my most private and tearful moments, so I won’t go into details.  I will just touch on a few thoughts for you, my patient blog readers.

I remember the feeling of support, and love that can be held in the hand or hugged close.  The skeptics of the world who believe that the only way we have of touching and impacting each other is through our physical senses have never been literally held upright by the prayers and concentrated love of friends and family.  It’s real, and I am so grateful for everyone who has turned their mental and emotional energy to holding up my family during this time.

I remember the peace I felt standing in front of my grandparents’ gravestone.  It’s a giant rock, recovered from the Rocky Mountains that my grandparents loved so much.  When they died, four days apart, two-and-a-half years ago, the grief and loss was almost overpowering.  Standing at their headstone now and looking at the double graves of my brother and sister-in-law, right beside them, it was comforting to know that time really does heal.  We are alive, we live and love, and over time we remember with joy instead of sorrow our departed love ones.

I’ll always remember the mental picture of the many nieces and nephews of my brother and his wife standing behind the caskets, and the moment when they each released a bright balloon into the sky.  In a rainbow contrast to the blue sky and fluffy clouds, the balloons traveled together and seemed eager for the journey.

Fly home, fly free, and know that you are loved.

Today I swapped my daughter’s black Sunday shoes for white sandals and we checked on the status of everyone’s swimwear.  The garden is in, the trees are leafed out, and summer’s just around the corner.

I’m excited to dig in to the summer projects we have planned–but rushing to finish up the spring list.  Of highest priority is getting the latest draft (still underway) of 13 Demon Days ready to sub.  I’m cruising through the chapters at a pretty good rate, but there will still be lots of revising to do when I go over it for line-by-line edits.  So, summer can hurry and come–just so long as it doesn’t hurry too fast or come too soon.  Got that, summer?

You know what they say about out of the ashes, new life is formed?  Well, sometimes it’s after liberal use of the delete key.

Last week I sent the new and improved first chapter of 13 Demon Days to my readers, and waited for feedback.   I was a little nervous because I’ve never been as happy with chapter one as the rest the book, and I know that first impression is super important.

The feedback came back in: A resounding Meh.  One of my wise writing friends, Pat Esden, even suggested I cut the first chapter and give it a new go, starting a little later in the story.

I thought over what she’d said and looked at the chapter again…and had to admit Pat was probably right.  The stuff happening in the first chapter was fun, but required a lot of telling and small jumps in time due to space constraints.  Plus, it wasn’t a very good sample of what the book is about.  Rather misleading, actually.

But, last night I didn’t have the guts to chop the whole thing.  I’d just finished re-writing several thousand words of it!

Then this morning our daughter woke us with the exciting news that there was a chick in the incubator.  One brave little guinea keet, the first of the batch and a lovely little silver, had busted out of those thick guinea shells while we were sleeping.  If he’s not the cutest little thing to ever fall off the circus wagon, I don’t know what is.

And somehow, as I worked in the living room this morning with one eye on the incubator, I realized I could do it.

I took a deep breath, and deleted every word of chapter one.  I’m now about 2k words into the new chapter–and ready to start flapping my wings any minute.

All day today I wanted to play an April Fool’s Day joke on someone, but never managed to.  First I was busy with writing, then I could only think of mean ones.  Sad, I know.

But at last my wish was granted.  As I drove back from picking up some research books at the Duke library, I was watching carefully for deer.  As you know, me and my car are something of a deer magnet.  But I’ve gotten good at spotting them before they leap into the road, and besides, I was driving our behemoth of a station wagon, so I wasn’t too worried about the puny deer we usually see.

Until I saw one the size of a moose, right by the road.

I didn’t yelp, but my heart did.  I also braked fast–and realized it was a white horse, in a pasture.

Yep, I’d say the joke’s on me, and whoever set that one up gets kudos for somehow convincing the freakout factory in my brain that a pale white horse could double as a little brown deer.

Hope you had a great April Fool’s Day!