Sorry for the lack of postings, dear friends. I'm in the frantic throes of finishing The Book That Would Not Leave, which is due the fifteenth of March.
The not-quite-finished manuscript runs over 200,000 words and will be cut down to 150,000. I'll check with the editor to find out whether the cut pages can be put up on the website for curious readers.
I thought I'd crawl out of my cave long enough to wish everyone a lovely holiday season and boffo New Year. We haven't taken new Christmas photos yet, so here's one from 2006, which omits young Django the wonder pup and features our dear, departed Hershey. And George and Sweetie Pie and yours truly.
My New Year's resolution? Why, to post more often, of course.
Your intrepid author has the flu.
And is, of course, still abysmally late on THE BLOODIEST QUEEN -- which might wind up titled THE MEDICI QUEEN in the U.S. as well as elsewhere. We're looking at a January delivery and a Winter 2009 pub date.
Happily, I write in bed with a laptop. When I'm sick, I usually get more pages written because I stay put.
Please send comfort food.
For the kind souls who have inquired about the raging California fires: We're okay where we are. Others aren't so fortunate.
In our area of southern California, it rains only during winter months; we don't see a drop all summer, so unirrigated green things become dead, powder-dry brush. This past week the humidity slipped to 8% -- which means that I can touch my car and actually see a spark of static electricity. Combine that with Santa Ana winds (two nights ago, gusts topped out at 100 mph), and you can see why fires are popping up all over the area.
Our local firemen, bless them, have managed to put out all the small brush fires that started in neighboring hamlets and on the outskirts of our town. However, Piru (40 minutes away), Malibu (an hour away) and San Diego (5 hours south of us) are all disasters. Fortunately, the winds are supposed to ease up today, so I'm hoping things improve. Night before last, it was raining ash -- it looked like grey snow coming down.
In the meantime, I'm fortunate enough to be working undisturbed on THE BLOODIEST QUEEN (well, except for a couple of power outages -- but I work on a laptop with great battery life). But I'm thinking of all those who are suffering now as a result of the fires.
That's a line from Stephen King; he used it to refer to the delicious experience of so enjoying a novel that you forget you're reading. You're that utterly absorbed.
I had that experience today, except that I was writing the book, not reading it. I worked today from 7 a.m. until 5 p.m. on THE BLOODIEST QUEEN, with a minimal break for lunch. (That post that appeared this afternoon at 3-whatever-o'clock -- that was written two days ago.) Not healthy for the spine or the waistline, sitting still so long. But there's no more exhilarating experience than watching plot and characters come alive and start working together to birth something fine. This sort of madness only comes over me when the story is well under way, as it is with BQ. (My agent and I refer to my books in abbreviated fashion; THE BORGIA BRIDE is BB, THE BURNING TIMES is BT and now we have THE BLOODIEST QUEEN and BQ. Our joke is that BQ is the lovechild of Burger King and Dairy Queen, har har.)
I now know more than anyone should about the magus (Wise Man) Gaspar (aka Caspar). Does anyone else find it fascinating that the Wise Men were Persian astrologers, members of a priestly caste of Zoroastrians, and that the Star of Bethlehem might well have been the planet Jupiter?
I love writing historicals.
First, my apologies to Jennifer, the adorable John Allen, Marg, maryann and shama. Being a neophyte in the blogging world, I neglected to check my junk folder for comments until last night. Ayyy! as the Manolo would say. Forgive me, my sweet young onions; I didn't mean to be rude by ignoring you. I've since added and responded to your comments. I'll never let you languish in the junk pile again.
That said, I want to give a big shout out to Marg of Reading Adventures, who was kind enough to add HIAB (History is a Bitch) to her blogroll. Thanks, Marg!
One of my favorite just-for-fun blogs is Manolo the Shoeblogger, aka the Manolo.
The Manolo, he possesses the wit of the rapier. We particularly enjoy the category Pure Evil. And just for fun, go ahead... read about the "funky little fashion troll."
...due to food poisoning. Blecch.
I so do not want to look another goat cheese/roasted garlic/prosciutto pizza in the face.
So anyway, in 1981 I learned that I had sold my first book, an original STAR TREK novel (called MINDSHADOW – is it just me, or do most first novels contain the word “shadow” somewhere in the title?).
I immediately sat down and wrote another, DEMONS, and sold that one, too, then a TREK take-off on vampires, BLOODTHIRST (you may notice a bit of a dark streak in my fiction). The STAR TREK career took off pretty quickly, and by 1988, I was writing the novelizations for the movies.
So what does this have to do with Mary Sue?
I never planned to write historical fiction; it just happened.
In fact, the whole writing thing just happened. Sort of. But maybe there were hints in the fact that as a kid, I wrote my own Supergirl and Wonder Woman comic books, and lots of stories featuring characters from popular TV series. Of course, the real hero of my adolescent stories was always, always a feisty young girl who made the older (male) protagonist look like a schmuck. (Example: There are probably a handful of decrepit fellow Boomers out there who remember the Raymond Burr TV series IRONSIDE about a wheelchair-bound detective. I wrote a story in which Ironside can’t quite keep up with a spunky, also wheelchair-bound twelve-year-old girl who just happens to be better at solving crimes. He goes to her hospital bed to cheer her up --“It’s okay, little girl, life isn’t so awful without the use of legs” – and as thanks, she solves a case that’s been tormenting him for years.)
