Writer's Grove

You probably noticed before now.

But when one has a really good day, the question must be asked, why was it so good? Can we isolate the goodness? Did it involve small furry animals at their cutest? Pizza at its tastiest? America’s home videos at their funniest?

For me, really good days are those of staggering accomplishments, and today I accomplished a stagger, amongst other things.

Fueled partially by beer and partially by this incredibly hypercaffeinated song called “Valley of the Damned” that I had playing on loop, I wrote 4,000 words today. Usually I manage a mere thousand or a little bit more. It probably helped that I was writing a battle sequence between my Druid and twelve Valkyries. I mean, you’re not going to listen to DragonForce with the speakers turned up to 11 when you’re trying to write a poignant mother-daughter scene in a melancholy train station. Or maybe that’s exactly what you’d do, because you’re just that edgy…I don’t know. ;-)

But when you want to have a really good day writing about people swinging swords at enemy appendages, you owe it to yourself to start out watching this video, which is what happens when the Platonic Ideals of Luxurious Hair and Manual Dexterity meet. Seriously, endure the commercial at the beginning, watch the whole thing and you’ll be amazed. By the time you get finished watching the part where they have isolation cams on the guitar players’ hands, you’ll want to go get some high quality shampoo and conditioner, scrub it into your scalp really really fast, and then write about people killing each other. Heh!

74K now on Hammered. Next up, the climactic battle in Asgard! I just need to find the right song….oh, wait! Here it is! If that can’t inspire me to write up some total carnage, I’m doomed. (Though I think parts of this video are unintentionally funny…)

Well hi there! A couple of these are older releases but they’re new to me, so I’m featuring them with citrus, a small topnote of berries, and a side o’ watermelon:

I’m still not sure where I fit on the nerd/geek/dork continuum. I took this test and discovered that I’m 61% Nerd, 48% Geek, and 57% Dork. That adds up to more than 100% so that’s probably pretty nerdy of me to point out. Or maybe it’s geeky?

In terms of geekiness, there’s this flow chart of the Geek Hierarchy, and if we were to stipulate this as being true then I’d be at the very top…or at least I will be next April. However, methinks there is much more to being a geek than simple fiction/entertainment preferences.

There are role-playing games, for example, like the classic Dungeons and Dragons, or Warhammer. There’s some argument out there that D & D is like a “gateway drug” that leads to all sorts of nerdy-geeky-dorkdom, but bah, there can’t be anything to that, can there?

Well, if it’s true, I’m doomed. Or blessed, depending on your point of view. At least partially. I never played D & D, but I got into Warhammer last year with a friend of mine. The rules are slightly different, but yeah, it’s a bunch of nerdy dudes with pizza and beer and many-sided dice talking about what their fantasy characters are going to do. Here’s a sample of what our game play sounded like:

“I’m gonna slide up behind that demon minotaur and take a whack at his low-hanging balls with my axe, bitches.” Except you have to salt that with about four F-bombs and punctuate it with a belch or a fart, then roll the dice and figure out whether the minotaur got to keep his nuts or not. Good times, good times.

 We had a paladin/priest dude, a ranger/scout dude, a messenger sort of gal who had a crossbow, and then there was my character: Oläf Umlaut, Dwarf Runesmith! Oläf was the best dude of the bunch, no doubt about it. He brained an undead five-year-old girl once with his hammer and saved the group from becoming zombie snackage, though the group didn’t realize when he did it that she was freakin’ colder than Hecate’s frosty gazongas. As a result, they all thought he’d killed an innocent little girl and got insanity points. I thought Oläf was so awesome that night; when you can simultaneously save the group and turn them insane, you are a bona fide badass.

Oh, and we didn’t play with little Lord of the Rings action figures, either. We had custom figures made from cannibalized Warhammer figures and painted up all nice n’ special by my very talented friend (and game master) Alan! You want to meet Oläf? I know you do. Here he is, in all his miniature glory:

Check out that braided beard! And the war hammer slung on his left side! In his right hand he’s carrying some blacksmith tongs, because that’s his skill, and in his left hand he’s got a freakin’ stein of ale, because drinking is his other skill! Here’s another shot of Oläf from another angle:

For Alan, painting Oläf was easy-peasy nice n’ cheesy. He’s seriously talented at model painting and Warhammer nerds fork over lots of cheddar to have him paint their pieces. He’s won awards at conventions and shit. Check out this gallery to see what he’s capable of producing.

But alas! Our merry band of nerds/geeks/dorks had to disband because of heinous flakery. We’d only play once a month, but some of the guys couldn’t seem to make it regularly and it fizzled. I’d like to play again sometime, but in the meantime Oläf is retired and enjoying all the frothy ale he can drink. In any case, my Nerd Cred has now been firmly established.

Color me excited! (I think that’s alzarin crimson with a touch of cadmium yellow.) I’ve just received my first blurb for Hounded from fantasy author Ari Marmell:

“Offering a page-turning and often laugh-out-loud funny caper through a mix of the modern and the mythic, Hounded is perhaps one of the most fun debuts I’ve read in a good long while. I don’t know what Hearne has planned for the future, but I’ll be watching for more.”


Woohoo! Happy dance bereft of grace! Cute puppies! Hot chocolate with marshmallows! Thanks, Ari!

I don’t actually know Ari. Somebody at Del Rey who knows somebody knows Ari, and they asked him if he’d be willing to read Hounded and maybe write a little something if he thought it was nifty. He said yes because it’s always good to rack up Karma Points. He got absolutely nothing out of doing this besides Karma Points—not even something cheap and nasty, like a convenience store hot dog. Authors do this sort of thing because they hope that someday, somebody else will read their book and say nice things about it too. If they don’t like a book, they don’t lie and say they did—what would be the point? There’s no upside to recommending a snorefest to people; it damages your credibility. That’s why I’m so grateful for this blurb; he didn’t have to say any of that, but he did.

Several other people are taking a look at the book and may offer blurbs down the road. If/when they come in, I’ll be sure to share. ;-)

Whenever you’re tackling a big project like a novel, small goals are important, and the word count is an easy way to measure achievement. I’m at 60K words on Hammered today, so that’s technically three-quarters of the way to my word count goal. It’ll probably wind up going over 80K—Hounded and Hexed are both in the mid 80s—but heck, you take your milestones where you can. And I’m not saying these 60K words are golden. They’ll get edited and revised and some passages will get cut out completely and replaced with something else. In the meantime, reaching a word count goal is an excuse to do a happy dance, because you need them while you’re writing. It’s far too easy to get discouraged otherwise.

Here’s the difference between writing during school and writing during the summer: During school I averaged only 2550 words a week. During this first week of summer, I’ve written 9,000. It’s really encouraging to make so much progress. I’m hoping I can keep up the pace to finish by the end of June…my deadline’s at the end of July, and I like to be early if I can.

In other news, my brilliant wife, Kimberly, is also going to be published. Her article on F. Scott Fitzgerald and the American dream was accepted by The Explicator, an academic journal, and will appear in their next issue. She’s amused that students can now cite her in their papers about The Great Gatsby.

And for fans of Norse mythology (I know you’re out there, Amalia), check out Norse Code by Greg van Eekhout if you haven’t already. His protagonist is a valkyrie and he knows his stuff really well. He switches POV between the valkyrie, one of Odin’s sons, Hugin and Munin, and others. I’m not finished with the book yet, but I’ve been entertained so far.

The typical urban fantasy cover shows us an attractive young woman in leather holding a weapon. It’s staggeringly popular and I’m not here to question why. I mean, duh, what’s not to like? But Hounded is a wee bit different from most urban fantasies in that the protagonist is male. There are a few other male protagonists out there—Harry Dresden, of course, and then the dude in Harry Connolly’s Game of Cages series and Simon R. Green’s Nightside books—but mostly, it’s a genre dominated by kickass heroines.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Plenty of people want to be dominated by a kickass heroine.

But I can’t put one of those on my cover. I can’t even put my character in leather, because he doesn’t wear it, and he doesn’t wear a trench coat or a leather duster or a hat pulled low over his eyes. To make things more difficult, my main character isn’t a vampire or a werewolf—nor is he in love with a vampire or werewolf, employed in the vampire and werewolf-slaying industry, or related to a half-vampire and raising werewolves in the basement. He is, in fact, a Druid—but not the kind with giant beards and white robes.

So. How does one design a cover for such a character? How does one come up with something that will appeal to fans of the genre? Well, stay tuned. People smarter than me at Del Rey are figuring it out, and you can be sure I’ll post it here when it’s available. But I think it’s safe to reveal two things at this point:

1. There will be no purple.
2. There will be no man boobs.

And I will not apologize for those things, because they are wrong.

Along with all the delicious fantasy, today we shall enjoy watermelon, nectarines, saturn peaches, and a bit o’ tea with honey:

Yeah, that’s a red onion in there. I’m just making sure you’re paying attention.

A bit about the fantasy: Neil Gaiman + Charles Vess = Yum. Enough said. In the back on the right, we see The Tough Guide to Fantasyland by Diana Wynne Jones. If you read a lot of fantasy, you’ll find this really amusing. I was reading it in Starbucks and laughing out loud, drawing glares from staid, sober types who always glare at me when I laugh out loud. (I might be the only person who laughs in my neighborhood. I really need to move out.) The Tough Guide deals with all the clichés of fantasy, and let me tell you, they’re still getting used even though this book came out a few years ago. My favorite is how everyone eats stew. Even though it takes hours to make stew from scratch, especially over a camp fire, all these heroes are eating stew on their journeys instead of slicing off a steak from a slain animal and cooking that in a few minutes. Seriously, have you ever tried to make stew from scratch, without using pre-made broth or stock? Try it and then check out how long it takes them to do it in a novel. That’s magic.

The featured book here is The Light-Years Beneath My Feet by Alan Dean Foster. This is also a few years old, but what I really want to do is express my fanboy ecstasy for Mr. Foster’s body of work rather than draw attention to any particular book. He’s written over thirty-five books for Random House alone. He’s written more with other publishers. Check out the list here. That’s a long, prolific career, friends. He’s written science fiction and fantasy; he’s written series and standalones. And no matter what you pick up, you’ll get a good read, guaranteed. He’s not a #1 bestseller (I don’t think?), he doesn’t win fancy-schmancy awards, he just gives you an entertaining read, every time, and he’s been doing it since 1972. I first got hooked on him with The Man Who Used the Universe. I’ve read it so many times that my copy is falling apart. After that I read The I Inside, and I liked that even more. (Those links are to Powells, and you’ll probably have to find those books at used bookstores because they’re out of print now.)

There are only a few authors who write books that I read multiple times. I revisit Card’s Ender’s Game quite a bit; McCaffrey’s Dragonsinger series; Herbert’s Dune; Stephenson’s Snow Crash; Tolkien, of course; and then there are these little books by Mr. Foster that I just dig for some reason. The first book of his Damned trilogy, A Call to Arms, keeps me coming back. I really enjoyed Drowning World and Life Form, too. And Mudge, the otter from his Spellsinger series, started me laughing out loud in public early on and drawing glares from stuffy old people. If you’ve never given Mr. Foster a look, he’s worth a try. He’s bound to have written something you’d enjoy with fifty or so books to his name. He’s basically the guy who got me hooked on science fiction when I was young; his Spellsinger books were also the first fantasy I ever read. In many ways, he’s the reason I’m a writer now. Mr. Foster, I salute you—and thank you for all the great stories.

School’s out! I get to write full time now, and catch up on all the things around the house that have gotten away from me. Like, you know, the entire backyard.

Good news! My typeset manuscript for Hounded is here—the galleys, I believe they’re called—and they’re simply beautiful to look at. Seein’ my first book in print like this has had me grinning like an idiot all day. There are little boo-boo’s to fix here and there, typos that creep in during the process, you know, but nothing serious. In other good news, the manuscript’s been sent out to a few other authors here and there for blurbs, so I might have some of their spiffy (and kind) words to share down the road.

As I’m leading up to the big finale in Hammered, I keep changing my mind about who’s going to feel the pain and how. I wonder if it’s like that for the Fates (or the Norns), trying to figure out which thread to cut and how to knit the others together afterward.  I’m even throwing in a couple of the Norse gods—Heimdall and Tyr—that I hadn’t originally planned for, because more mayhem and peril is always a good time. My plans for the fate of Freyja have also changed…

Coming soon: a puppy cuteness overdose (we have a Boston Terrier pup), another Still Life with Fantasy and Fruit, and a red-bearded dwarf named Olaf Umlaut.

This is about alpha and beta readers, not werewolves. Rarr! Sorry. It’s also about all the fixin’ that needs to be done before a book appears on the shelves.

Nobody writes perfect, golden prose on their first draft. Or even their second or third. I could be wrong…but I doubt it.

Every writer’s different on how they approach these things, but it’s fairly common to have some sort of feedback during the writing process. An objective pair of eyes can catch inconsistencies and let you know whether what you’ve written A) makes any sense and B) if you’re entertaining. I use two alpha readers who look at each chapter as it’s finished and one beta reader who looks at the whole novel only. These three people all look at the book before my agent or editor sees it.

So hey, shout-outs to my alphas, Alan and Tawnya: They catch all sorts of good stuff and let me know when I’ve made a factual error. For example: “Kevin, blue spruce trees don’t grow in Europe. Dumbass.”

Calling me a dumbass wasn’t really part of the original comment—I simply felt like one. And I’m grateful to my alpha reader for checking on these things. I should have taken the time to research that, but I was probably in a character/plot groove and didn’t want to pause to make sure I named the right species of tree. A good alpha reader will call you on stuff like that, and it’s hard to find good alphas. Who’d want to read a novel in spastic spoonfuls, sometimes weeks apart, and nitpick instead of simply enjoying the story? Such people are a rare breed.

My beta reader, Andrea, is my Politically Correct filter. (Sometimes I put things in there just to set her off. It’s funny when she gets into a snit.) She also finds inconsistencies in tone that occasionally creep in during the course of writing, and she suggests that I flesh out a character here or maybe leave out something there. Since she reads the whole book in a sitting or two, she spots larger issues rather than tiny ones.

After the alphas and beta are finished and I’ve made changes according to their suggestions, I send it off to my agent, who may/may not have plenty to say (there was a lot for Hounded, but he had me deliver Hexed to Del Rey as is) and only then do I deliver it to my editor. This means my editor is probably seeing my fourth or fifth draft, but I go ahead and call it my “first” draft in terms of my computer files.

Then we go back and forth with changes until she says heck, this is pretty good, I’ll accept this. At that point everybody takes a few minutes for a happy dance. To give you an idea of quantity, there were five rounds of changes for Hounded, only three for Hexed.

But wait! We’re not finished! Next the copy editor gets hold of it and lays down some Grammar Fu with a green pencil. He/she will also catch lots of factual issues, ask great questions, point out inconsistencies, and I can make changes there as necessary.

After that it goes to typesetting, and the only changes I can make then are minor spelling/punctuation doodads. Inserting/deleting passages is probably not a good idea at this point, because it costs money.

Finally, it’s finished. Only after months of work will it go out to the general public. The author’s name is on the cover so he/she gets all the credit, but quite a few people are involved with any publication. (I didn’t even mention the cover artist and all the people in marketing and publicity. That’ll be a blog for another day.) So to my alphas and beta and my agent & editor(s), thank you, and cheers.

Since my books are first-person narratives, it’s easy to get into a bit of a rut. Ruts can be nice, mind you. Sometimes they’re downright comfy. But sometimes you’d like to put on a new pair of shoes and step out of that rut. Stretch your legs, go on a minor perambulation off-road, discover wombats lurking in the undergrowth. Find buried treasure. Or simply find out where the hell this metaphor is going, because I’m not sure anymore.

I’ve been stepping outside the (entirely pleasant) rut lately. For five chapters in Hammered, I get to tell the story in the voice of a different narrator. Making each narrator sound (and read) differently than my accustomed narrative voice is the fun bit. And it’s really bizarre what it can do to your head when you sink yourself so deeply into a character that you begin to think like him.

One of my characters is especially hirsute—as in, don’t let him make you any food without a full-body hairnet. After writing in his voice for an hour, I was overwhelmed with an urgent need to shave. And get a haircut. I actually felt hairier after writing and thinking in his voice.

That might indicate I have a dire need for therapy. But I hope it means I’m writing a lively character with his own personality.

Hmmm. If writing a hairy character makes me want to shave…I think I’ll create a skinny character next and drop ten pounds after writing a thousand words in his voice. And I will never, ever write a criminal because I like living outside of jail.

I know not how others do it, but I create a very specific set of verbal tics for each character. Leif Helgarson doesn’t use contractions often, for example, giving his diction an almost ridiculous level of formality. A Russian character neglects to use articles and often forgets to use pronouns, etc.

51K on Hammered now. For some reason, being over 50K makes me feel like I’m sprinting for the finish line. I do a little “Halfway!” dance all through the 40s, but once I hit 50K I know I’m on the home stretch. D’oh! Writing “home stretch” made Mötley Crüe’s “Home Sweet Home” pop into my head. And now that I’ve written it down and you’ve read it, it’s in your head too. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Mötley Crüe is a virus.