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Revision Xibalba

While I’ve been blogging mostly about Vicki and “dream writing” this week, the real “work” I’ve been doing is Revision Xibalba.  I got the revision letter from my new editor at Carina Press last week and a deadline of 2/28, so I’m rocking and rolling through her notes.  Vicki is actually my cookie at the end of the day for a job well done.  Er, hopefully well done.

So I guess it’s only fair that I talk about revision process too, right?  Holly Lisle has made the “one-pass revision” her bread and butter.  I can’t think off-hand of any other author who has blogged about their revision process (if you know of any useful resources, shout them out).  So here’s a bit about what I’ve been doing this week.

Of course, the HOW depends on WHAT the changes actually are.  I’m not working on the line-edit phase yet, correcting typos, answering the copy-editor’s notes about eye-color change or questioning the word choice with a suggestion.  No, this is high-level revision, and quite honestly, pretty tough.  I can’t just point to one little spot, make the change, and be done.  Several scenes have to be touched, and tiny changes here affect changes deeper in the story.  I have to keep things consistent and tight, while still addressing the issues.

First:  read the revision letter, all the way through.  Then put it away for a day or two and just think about it.  Let all the comments soak in.  Rumminate.  See what makes sense, organize any questions or comments on paper.  I did so, and by Sunday, I had a plan of attack in my mind.

It’s deceptive to see a little bullet or short paragraph like “make sure you continue the heroine’s wry sense of humor all the way through–it sort of disappears near the end.”  (Not a direct quote – just a paraphrase.)  My first thought was oh.  Didn’t I do that?  I thought I did.  Hmmm.  I should read a few passages in the last third or so and see. 

Second.  Read the manuscript (at least sections).  Look for trends and patterns the editor has pointed out.

Oh.  Yeah.  I started to see patterns where I had the wry humor coming from the wrong character.  Or I could expand Jaid’s dialogue or introspection just a bit and make it bigger. 

Third:  Fix.  Maybe not as easy as it sounds.

Fix Phase 1.  Doubt.  I wasn’t really trying to make Jaid funny at all.  I had this sudden surge of distress and doubt.  OMG, how can I make this funny?  Wry humor, what is that?  I did it on accident!  I swear!

Fix Phase 2:  I read the beginning of the book and jotted a few examples of where I thought Jaid had been slightly funny or self-depreciating.  I had several examples.  Again, I started to see patterns, lines of subtle humor that had been laid down at the beginning and never mentioned again.  Dropped threads, missed opportunities. 

Hello, she’s the Un-Indiana Jones.  I made a big deal about this a couple of times in the first half of the manuscript.  Yet when she’s actually racing through the jungle, chased by demons, and nearly drowning in a dark cave, I never once had her go hmmm, maybe grading and lecturing isn’t so bad.

Fix Phase 3. Go through manuscript and watch for slight moments of humor.  Make sure it’s centralized with Jaid.  Amplify if it makes sense.  Watch for moments of high action followed by a quiet moment.  See if it makes sense to drop in a comment.  Mention “Un-Indiana Jones” at least one or more times in the high action events of the climax to bring it all together.

Yay, one bullet done!  How many more do I have to make? *groans*

Actually, I’m almost done.  The humor one was one of the hardest to fix (other than the name change), because I had that moment of panic.  Last night, I had to fix the reunion with Jaid’s father.  I’d totally gone off the deep end in the last revision (to make it romance) and the sap was just oozing all over everywhere.  Ugh.  I think I made it more realistic, and even opened myself up for all sorts of good stuff in the next book.

Final:  Once I make all the changes, I’ll create a new copy of the manuscript just for me.  I’ll accept all the changes, delete any comments, and read it one more time.  I actually prefer to use Google Mail’s “read as html” option for this phase (which is why I remove the comments).  Seeing it outside a Word doc just gives me more clean space to see how it’s really going to read.

This gives me the chance to look for formatting problems (sometimes it’s hard to see paragraph breaks when Track Changes are on), as well as check the flow and make sure I didn’t break anything. 

So by the time this revision pass is all over, I bet I’ll have read the manuscript AGAIN at least five more times.  I’ll read it at least one more time for the copy-edit phase, and we may have more than one revision pass before we get there.

So yeah, “one-pass revision” just doesn’t work for me.

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Transitions and Sequence

Another downside to “dream writing” is the transition from scene to scene (or night to night).  e.g. I’m dreaming the big scenes, not the passage of insignificant moments that explain how the characters got from one event to another.  I don’t have a good sense of time.  I have to connect those dots eventually and move seamlessly from one scene to another, which isn’t always a quick fix.

Last night, my mind kept jumping ahead to a scene with Victor.  (Gee, I have no idea why.  haha)  I know this scene takes place in the first half of the book, but where, exactly?  Is it Act I, or the midpoint of Act II?  I don’t know.  I have a feeling it might be sooner than later, especially since I don’t know what happens in between.

And here’s where writing without an outline gets frustrating.  I have no idea how long the story will be, because I don’t know the details of Act III so I have no way of gauging how far down the road I am.  I’ve been writing careful chapter and scene breaks, but that may have to change because I don’t know what to fill the gaps with yet. 

It’s sort of like excavation, and there are major parts of the skeleton still buried.  I can only see the tips of bone protruding, and I’m going to have to spend some time digging them out.  The trick is balancing my compelling urge to write down the bone sticking out part–it’s so clear in my mind right now, but I’m afraid I’ll lose the clarity.  Like waking up from a vivid dream and feeling it fade away no matter how hard you grasp at the wisps.

But now that I’ve talked about it and aired some of the issues, I think I have an answer to my question about that scene with Victor.  I’m pretty sure it’s the “crossing the threshold” scene for Vicki to end Act I.  Either she’ll accept the journey or she won’t.  (Who am I kidding, you know she’ll accept the journey–but I need to cover her doubt.)  So now I have the goal to write toward for the end of Act I.

Hope some more bones start sticking up soon.

Of course, the other problem I’m battling is time constraints and other commitments.  My first priority this week is The Bloodgate Codex.  First round of revisions are due back by 2/28 and they are not tiny little fixes, but changes that affect multiple scenes (trickle-down effect).  I didn’t work on it yesterday because I needed to let my mind adjust to Xbalanque = Balam = Ruin in my mind.  The dust has settled, and I’ll be tackling a second bullet today.

Vicki will be my reward tonight.  But maybe I should jot a few notes about Victor before I forget…

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Layering

The downside to “dream writing” is that I have to do more revising as I write than I normally do.

When I see the story in my head from start to finish, then I can spend time to build the details in my mind.  I don’t have to backtrack as much, because I already know the main thoroughfare to “the end.”  Revision, then, is a pass straight through the story, start to end, where I smooth.  I might shift things around a little, but the roadmap is already pretty clear in my mind.

When I dream a scene, I can see it clearly, but I may not see much further.  Then the next night, I dream another scene, and another, and it’s going so great, and I’m so excited…

Then I’m cooking dinner and I think, OH.  I should totally have Jesse give her a birthday card.  That would be perfect, because Elias forgot her birthday entirely.  It will become another little detail, notes and special things that only Jesse does that will add personality and depth to the story.

Great idea, right?  Except the whole birthday card element made me go back to the opening scene in chapter one and revise it.  I had to lay down that thread, and bring it through to chapter two, where the ouch element slapped Elias up side the head.  This kind of detail will affect the plot too much for me to leave it to later.  It had to be revised.  Now.

6600+ words this week as the story unfolds.  I’ll probably share a snippet on Friday.

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Process

I think it was Patti O’Shea who mentioned once that her process is slightly different for each book.  I find myself agreeing whole-heartedly with this latest project.

I’ve blogged enough about my process for you guys to know that I typically plot out the main points of the hero’s journey extensively.  Just look back at the character clinic posts to see how much work I do to build my characters before I ever write a word.  I’ve filled up binders, created spreadsheets, and even done Post-its on the wall.

But not for Vicki.  No, she doesn’t want any of those things.  All she wants is my dream time.  For the first time in a very long time, I’m dreaming a book again, not snippets here and there, but a clear, cohesive movie in my hazy not-quite-asleep moments.  I figured out the last puzzle pieces with her hero situation Sat. morning, sleeping in so late that my Beloved Sis almost got here before I was even up (and she had an hour and a half drive to get here!).  I saw the opening scenes as clearly as a movie.

Last night, I dreamed another scene, again, as clearly as though I watched a DVD.  That hasn’t happened since the early years, probably the very first terrible draft of Road.  What does it mean?  I have no idea, other than this book wants to be written.  Now, not later.  Not after careful character work.  NOW.

And the characters are speaking to me so vibrantly and loudly, it’s scary.  I already have Jesse’s static trait and it’s meaningful and perfectly explained by his past.  Vicki has already given me some terrific dialogue.  Elias just roared to life between one paragraph and the next.  I knew it was time for his POV, and BAM, there he was, shouting at the door, literally.  He calls her Vik, by the way, which I didn’t know until tonight.

Where they’re taking me, I don’t really know.  Oh, I know the romance angles and conflicts, but I have no idea what the external plot is.  Just a few vague ideas.  I don’t know how long the dreams will continue, but as long as they do, I’ll trust them.

They’ve given me over 4K in two writing sessions, and pages that have made me laugh and cringe at the same time.  Chapter One is touching on some rough real-life crap and I can only hope I’m doing it right.

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Approaching Vicki

Lying in bed yesterday, awake but still near to that hazy dream state, I worked through everything I knew about Vicki, Conn and Victor’s sister.  I’m pleased to announce that her heroes showed up.  I even have them cast in my mind now.

The big hole remains Vicki.  So here’s a few things I know about her and this book.

The first challenge I set for myself was to come up with a believable, modern-day story where the characters ended up happy in a long-term menage relationship.  All three of them.  I didn’t want this to be a one-night fantasy, a casual fling, or any other standard menage set up.  This part took forever to fall into place.  In my mind, I played through several different set ups, until I finally settled on this one.  The right one.  I think.  *winks*

Next, one of the heroes is inspired by someone else.  Someone I think got the short end of the stick.  He never got the care he deserved, allowed to evolve and become the kind of person he could have been.  I’m not going to say publically who or where this person came from, but if you guess and contact me privately, I may admit it.  Maybe.  Jesse (looks a bit like Casey James) is NOT this other person–he’s inspired by him.

Vicki has an existing friendship with Elias Reyes (played by Esai Morales), a police lieutenant working on a narcotics federal task force in Dallas.  They used to be on opposite sides of the court room, since Vicki was a defense attorney.  The money was nice, obviously, but she got burned out by the violence.  She found herself getting people off she knew were guilty, instead of truly helping people who were innocent and needed good representation.  Elias’s strong attraction and his dedication to justice, combined with burnout and a few really bad cases, led her to make a significant life change.

She quit practicing law to pursue a dream.  She opened up her own fashion line in Dallas.  [For the beta readers, that’s why Shiloh wears one of Vicki’s dresses to the final event.]  She’s doing this with her own money, but part of her feels like a failure.  She spent all these years going to college, working her way up to partner, gaining a prestigious career…only to quit.  She wonders what Daddy would say about it if he were still alive, and she hasn’t dared go home to see Mama.

She’s never had a comfortable relationship with Mama.  As the baby of the family, she was a daddy’s girl.  Her older brothers always took care of her.  She’s more like oil and water with Mama, who never sugar coats anything.  Don’t get me wrong–Vicki is not timid or afraid of Mama.  In fact, they’ve had so many rows, she decided it’s just easier to stay away. Despite their heated discussions, Vicki has a strong sense of family and would be miserable without them, so she stays in Dallas instead of heading for NY or LA, even if that means she won’t be as successful.

In looks, Vicki probably has dark hair and eyes to match Victor (Adrian Paul) or blue eyes like Conn (Clive Owen), but she could have taken more after Daddy (Sam Elliott) than Mama (Vivien Leigh).  After watching Constantine last night with my Beloved Sis, I’m thinking Vicki might be played by Rachel Weisz, but I’m open to other ideas.

P.S. Her real name isn’t Vicki.  It’s Beulah (Miss Belle) Virginia (Mama).  It’s sort of a family joke that she was cursed from the beginning with these names.  She chose to use Vicki (after her paternal grandmother, Victoria, where Victor got his name) instead.

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The Bloodgate Codex Blurb

I’m sure this will change many times before everything’s finalized, but this will give you an idea of what Ruin and Jaid’s book is about.  I might have to have a contest to get help in coming up with a world/series title!

Called “Ruin” because he destroyed his entire civilization, the Gatekeeper is sworn to kill anyone who tampers with the Bloodgates, which are portals to the mystical realms of the Maya gods.  After countless centuries, he believes his curse will end with the current calendar cycle — until humans discover the ruins of his city on the shores of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala, and unbury the last copy of a codex detailing his magic. 
 
When Dr. Jaid Merritt’s partial translation of the codex accidentally sends her father to Xibalba through one of these Bloodgates and releases demons from the Maya hell, the “Un-Indiana Jones” is forced to face her fears and travel to Guatemala on her first dig in twenty years. 
 
To save her father, Jaid must survive the Gatekeeper’s wrath and help Ruin reclaim — and relock — the Bloodgates before the bowels of Xibalba empty into our world.

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Ruined

Adrian Paul, Clive Owen, and Dwayne Johnson were in my office. 

Okay, okay, it was actually Gregar, Conn, and Ruin.  Gregar and Conn were shooting the bull so loudly that I could barely read my e-mail.  Gregar had challenged Conn to an arse competition–something I would pay a great deal of money to see, actually–but Ruin moped in the chair beside me.
 
He arched that infamous Rock brow at me.  “So?”
 
“I don’t think they like your name.”
 
He blew out his breath in a miserable huff and slumped even further in his chair.  “I told you Ruin was a stupid name.”
 
I rolled my eyes.  Yeah, sure he did (remember?).  “Your real name isn’t much better.”
 
He jerked upright and glared at me.  “What’s wrong with Dwayne?”
 
“Nothing.”  I smiled innocently.  “Your real name is Xbalanque.”

“Bless you,” Gregar called out. 

Ruin flipped him the bird. “What else did they say?”

“That I killed you one too many times.”

He groaned like I was murdering him with my bare hands. “You didn’t give me a happy ending?”

Gregar smirked. “She does enjoy killing us off.”

“Some of you can’t die,” I retorted. “No matter how many times I kill you.”

“A Death Rider never stops, never quits, until his mark is dead.”

“Shut up, bub.”  Ruin growled, flexing his bare chest to draw my attention to the tats marking his arms and throat like the dark spots of a jaguar.  “This isn’t about you.”

Laughing, Gregar bent over and slapped his thighs as though the other man had made a great joke. “It’s always about me.”

“Hope may vanish, but can die not;” Conn quoted his favorite poet.  “Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, – but it returneth.”

Ruin leaned forward, gathering himself like a great cat preparing to pounce.  “What the Xibalba does that mean?”

“Win some, lose some,” Conn drawled.

Gregar jerked his hips so the memsha fluttered dangerously high.  “Challenge me, lose them all.”

Shadows thickened about Ruin.  Snarling, he crouched.  His eyes glowed like lamps in the darkest jungle night.  “You do know that I can crack open your chest and remove your heart while it’s still beating, right?”
 
“Bring your blood, bub,” Gregar purred, unsheathing his ivory rahke.
 
Of course, this was all just fun and games for warriors like him and Ruin, but I decided to put an end to the dramatics.  My coffee was getting cold, and Conn couldn’t wait to get back to grading his stack of Freshman essays on dead dudes who write crappy poetry.
 
[Conn glared at me as though he could read my mind.]
 
“Enough, already.  There will be no exploding chests or blood sacrifices, at least not today.  You have your happy ending–I already fixed it–although we may still have to change your name.  Let’s wait and see what the editor says when we get the first round of edits.”
 
The taunts and growls suddenly ceased and three pairs of eyes drilled into me. 
 
Ruin straightened, all thoughts of blood magic forgotten.  “What did you say?”
 
I smiled.  “I got the call from Angela James.  Your paranormal Romance is going to Carina Press!”

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Gregar Meets Victor

Sherri and Nicole were yanking my chain about Victor in yesterday’s comments–spot on, by the way!!–which reminded me of this little piece I started and never finished…until last night.  You know I like to do that “Every character is the star of his own story” interview…

Finally!”  With a pleased smile, I hit the send button and another query went winging out into the internet.  Without the Maya synopsis like an albatross about my neck, I could finally get to work on a story that I’d been looking forward to for a very long time.  ”Gregar, ask Victor to come in.”

The Shadowed Blood sat down in the chair beside my desk.

“Where’s Victor?”

Gregar winked at me.  ”Here.”

After all these months slogging through Revision Xibalba, the last thing I wanted to do was sit around arguing with my mouthy Muse.  ”No, he’s not.”

“A little bit of me is in all your characters, but Victor is most like me.”

Gregar spoke slowly, as though I might not understand if he talked too fast.  Grrr.  Now I knew how Shannari felt when he and Rhaekhar began lecturing her on Sha’Kae al’Dan custom.  “You may be my Muse, but you’re not Victor.”

He arched a brow at me.  ”How do you know?”

“For one, this is a contemporary story, not a fantasy.  Victor isn’t an assassin, he doesn’t have waist-long hair, and he certainly doesn’t…”

My tirade stumbled to a halt, because before my very eyes, Gregar changed.  The red memsha about his hips disappeared–immediately, damn it, without a single flash of inappropriate flesh–replaced by a conservative suit.  With his sable hair pulled back tightly, his face was more angular.  Sharper.

But it was still Gregar, so I finished, “dream about killing the woman he loves.”

“How do you know?”  Even his voice sounded different.  A hint of Texas drawl began to blur his words, but his eyes…  His eyes were still Gregar’s, dark and full of Shadow.  ”You haven’t asked me any questions yet.”

“Look, just because I originally envisioned Adrian Paul playing both you and Victor’s role, that doesn’t mean I can stand to see you sitting here.  I keep waiting for you to bend over, flip up your memsha, and shout ‘kiss my arse!’”

“I did play college football.  I’m sure there was some mooning somewhere in my past.”

I made a rude noise that usually came out of his mouth.  ”Sorry, but Victor would never lower himself to such ridiculous behavior. He’s a businessman: calm, cool and collected.”

“Rather like your Shadowed Blood when he kills, yes?”

Damn it, Gregar wasn’t supposed to say “yes,” he was supposed to say “aye.”  This was all wrong.  My palms were sweaty, my heart pounded, and for some bizarre reason, I wanted to burst into tears.  I snapped, “nay!”
 
Ignoring me, he reached inside the black suit coat.  Like a magician, he pulled out something that shouldn’t have fit beneath the tight, sleek jacket.

Gregar would always carry an ivory rahke, but this man carried…a riding crop.
 
He held the wicked-looking implement on his lap and stroked the leather with his fingers.  His dark eyes burned.  Not cold like Gregar’s eyes when the Shadow of Death rode him hard.

How such black eyes could smolder…

In a low, rough voice he whispered, “I need to hurt somebody.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and opened up a new file.  “Hello, Victor.  Welcome to the page.”

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Refusing the Jump

Keeping up with my horse metaphor I mentioned a few weeks ago, I’ve been struggling with something that very rarely bothers me. 

The urge to quit.

Not writing in general, but a specific story, namely my nice tight contemporary romance I want to write.  Oh, don’t get me wrong–the doubt monster always shows up at some point, typically in the dark moment of the story.  Yet I’ve barely even gotten this story off the ground and the rats are abandoning ship left and right.

I have pages and pages of notes, so I decided to at least get a partial written.  Then I can set it aside, think about the plot, and see how it’ll all stick together (or whether it’ll all stink to high heaven).  So many times I get an idea, jot notes frantically, and then the story goes cold.  Notes that meant something to me a month ago, suddenly make me suspect the monsters stole my journal and wrote in it instead of me. 

I decided to avoid that confusion by writing the synopsis first.  *laughs snorts falls over*  Yeah, you know how much we all love writing synopses.  Seriously, though, I almost always come up with a way to tighten the plot when I make myself concentrate on summarizing the key turning points of the story.  Plus, I’ll have all the internal/external conflicts documented and figured out, so that can only save me time, right?

Right.

So imagine a great big seven-foot Wall of white fencing, foot-thick bricks, and a treacherous ditch on the other side.  I keep trying to send my horse totem over that monstrous fence, and she shies away every single time.  She’s refusing the jump. 

Last night, I had at least three separate moments where I thought seriously about shelving this project.  FOREVER.  Like this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever written in my entire life, what was I thinking moments.  I don’t know if this idea in particular really does stink — or if this is just a by-product of my natural reluctance to build boundaries and limitations. 

I highly suspect the latter, so I continue to grind away on this synopsis.  It’s too long.  The characters are starting to feel flat and downright cheesy to me.  I did limit myself very much in possible markets by setting the story up this way, but I wanted to really make this a difficult challenge.  Oh, boy, I think I really outdid myself on enforcing all sorts rules on this one! 

I’m going to finish the @#&%*@ synopsis, and only then will I allow myself to set this project aside.  The exercise is important, even if I don’t intend to ever write this story all the way to the end.

I’m not going to let this horse refuse the jump.

Sometimes you don’t ride to win the race or take home a trophy.  Sometimes just clearing the jump that scares the beejesus out the horse–but she jumps for you anyway–is the greatest victory of all.

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Scattered

Since finishing the three big revisions in January, I’ve been scattered between multiple ideas this month.  I have tons of ideas, but nothing is concrete and firm enough for me to say YES, this is what I’m doing.  Just had another idea quiver for attention yesterday in church, based on the pastor’s sermon.  I don’t know if it’s a Christian thriller, or UF with angel/demon undertones, but it doesn’t matter anyway.  You know my track record trying to write “UF” or “thrillers.”  Sigh.  It has a really cool title, though.

And that’s my problem:  lack of focus.  Even my little tight romance I wanted to write isn’t quite right. I’m trying to write the synopsis to ensure I have a tight, cohesive story with enough conflict to carry it the length I was planning, and I got stuck.  Not a good sign.

So I’m reading.  Just finished Heart’s Blood by Gail Dayton this weekend.  Loved it even more than New Blood, although I really wanted to kick Grey in the head a few times.  Sorcery – blood magic – is totally up  my alley, you know, and I loved the Victorian/Steampunk feel of Gail’s world.

I’m also writing in my journal by hand, jotting ideas, filling notecards (had to open a second pack) with ideas, but I’m still flitting around like a butterfly.  Patience is hard for me.  I want to GO GO GO.  But I have to trust that when THE idea is in the right place at the right time, that it’ll take off.  Meanwhile, I’ll keep reading the partials I have and see if I can make any forward progress.

It may not look like it, but I am working very hard, I swear.  If I ever clean my desk, I’ll take a picture of my stack of notebooks, notecards, pencils, etc.