tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86365386842424257302024-03-13T06:30:40.682-07:00I'm Blogging Drowning Here!It's a long road to becoming a published author. Will that long cherished dream finally be mine? We'll have to wait and see!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-38108605422409118972017-04-01T07:25:00.004-07:002017-04-01T07:25:44.011-07:00My new home lorelclayton.comJust a reminder if you've you've found me on blogger and you hear only crickets, it's because I have a new blog over at my website <a href="http://lorelclayton.com./">lorelclayton.com.</a> Check it out :)<br />
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<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-88601001125325207332015-11-20T07:05:00.000-08:002015-11-20T07:05:00.787-08:00Goodreads Giveaway<br />
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As part of the countdown to the release of Book 2 in December, I'm giving away a paperback copy of Eva Thorne Book 1. Tell your friends!
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by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13404061.Lorel_Clayton" style="text-decoration: none;">Lorel Clayton</a></h4>
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Giveaway ends December 15, 2015.
See the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/163132" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
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<script charset="utf-8" src="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/widget/163132" type="text/javascript"></script>Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-644695892090628442015-04-07T14:27:00.001-07:002015-04-07T14:27:43.695-07:00CLP Blog Tours: Tangle of Thornes by Lorel Clayton<a href="http://www.clpblogtours.com/2015/03/tangle-of-thornes-by-lorel-clayton.html?spref=bl">CLP Blog Tours: Tangle of Thornes by Lorel Clayton</a>: Read the Q&A and some 4 star reviews!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-62820532110173095842015-02-10T11:02:00.003-08:002015-02-10T11:02:51.196-08:00Sign up for the blog tour...<br />
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I'm looking for reviewers for my book and bloggers to get the word out. There's a $15 Amazon gift card to win, plus you get a free copy of my new book to read! Please sign up at <a href="http://chicklitplus.com/clp-blog-tours-sign-up-tangle-of-thornes-by-lorel-clayton/">Chik Lit blog tours</a> if you're interested.<br />
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Thank you!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-12364120441404083552015-01-28T05:52:00.002-08:002015-01-28T05:52:47.072-08:00Genre-blending and cover indecision<br />
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Not only am I guilty of genre-blending (see my <a href="http://www.lorelclayton.com/genre-blending-is-it-safe/" target="_blank">full blog post</a> at my new website) but also of cover indecision! Above is the cover I've chosen for Amazon Kindle and for print, while below is the one I'm using at Smashwords and their affiliate retailers. Which one do you like more? Have I completely confused people? Am I just mad to genre-blend in the first place?<br />
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I'd love to hear your thoughts on how best to choose a cover that portrays a book about a femme fatale turned detective in a fantasy world with magic and steampunk, where the story is basically a mystery combined with a dash of romance and big scoops of action, not to mention a sprinkle of spine-chilling villainy? Now I'm hungry for a banana split.<br />
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Anyway, it's too late now. I'm launching my book 3 Feb - Yay! Still I'd like to learn from all my mistakes this time around so I don't repeat them next time. I am open to your words of wisdom...<br />
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<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-59564153640302516062015-01-10T10:01:00.000-08:002015-01-10T10:01:03.870-08:00I've moved!All my latest blog post are now at my website. Please come on over and subscribe by email or RSS feed. <a href="http://www.lorelclayton.com/blog/">http://www.lorelclayton.com/blog/</a> Thank you!<br />
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<b>Coming Soon!</b></div>
<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-86767037139035129322014-12-01T01:54:00.000-08:002014-12-01T01:56:04.926-08:00What I'm Thankful for...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This has been a tough year. I hope that explains why this post is several days late, and why there have been few posts in months, but I'm a writer so I should be a bit more specific. It was just over a year ago my son was diagnosed with autism. ASD to be specific: He's "on the spectrum" as they say.<br />
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He is gorgeous and looks at you with the most beautiful big hazel eyes, but he's 3 1/2 and and tends to temper tantrum rather than talk. He's brilliantly able to do his alphabet, shapes, numbers and colors, but he does them over and over again in obsessed loops of activity that are hard to break. It started with wheels. Watching them spin round and round and never noticing the people or children around him.<br />
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I had my suspicions from when he was 18 months old. He wasn't like the other kids. I blamed it on him being a boy and slow to catch on, but when another boy in mother's group started telling me all the different parts of the car he was playing with and what his favorite cars were when my son could barely say "mama" I knew something was wrong. I had this sinking feeling.<br />
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I expected the pediatrician's diagnosis to be a relief, but it was a shock. You never know how you'll deal with these things until they hit you. My way of dealing was to learn everything I could and do everything I could.<br />
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A year later, and hundreds of hours of ABA (applied behavioral therapy) later, my son has gone from 30 words to over 350. He's doing amazing...but there's such a long way to go when I see the other 3-year-olds. I basically stopped writing this past year. I'd just completed a fantastic amount of work on my epic fantasy with a professional editor, but I just couldn't write after the diagnosis. I had to put all my effort, all my thoughts and dreams into my son. I couldn't care about anything else.<br />
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Now he's doing better, and we've just enrolled him into preschool for next year (a fantastic school with plenty of normal kids but with skilled teachers experienced with autistic and other special needs children). His pediatrician confirmed the early diagnosis and we know we're into this for the long haul. It wasn't simple developmental delay. This is who he is...but I'm okay with that.<br />
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All the hours spent working with my son with first shape sorters and then puzzles and later category cards has helped me learn what a tough-willed little guy he is. He has his personality and it's a powerful one. He's incredibly stubborn, yet bright, despite his inability to communicate, and he's so much fun. His laugh warms my soul. I love chasing birds with him in the park and cringing as he climbs too high on the jungle gym. I love him so much I've forgotten about the ASD. It's just become a part of him, and that's the best place for it. Not his 'disease' but just a part of is unique personality.<br />
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I've stopped trying to save him and have started just trying to help him learn what he needs in life.<br />
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And I've started thinking about me again. Even my amazing husband, who dropped everything to become my son's all day long carer and teacher, has begun to paint again. And I've begun to write again. I can't approach that dark epic fantasy right now, but I rediscovered a fun little gem of a fantasy mystery in my files. I'm finishing it off and self-publishing soon. So watch out! I'm back.Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-61467895480369011562014-10-16T01:03:00.000-07:002014-12-01T01:54:23.043-08:00Zombification of America<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ok, I'm heading off from Aspiring Author Land here and heading into 'manifesto' territory, but I hope that doesn't forever label me as radical, eccentric, rabble-rouser...what have you. The fact is work and motherhood have temporarily curtailed by authoring time but given me far too much contemplative time (usually while pushing a toddler on a swing for hours on end) to worry about my son's future, the future of his parent's nation and the future of the world in general. And, of course, to contemplate zombies.<br />
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I have the benefit of distance, having lived in Australia now for 17 years, to see America as an outsider. Why I still love the motherland to the core of my being, from deserts and fir forests to new England autumn, from the Revolutionary War to the Second World War, I am scared of the direction she's headed. I am a tree hugger yet love to shoot a 9 mm at tin cans. I have family that range from Obama campaigners to Obama-care haters. And I love every one of them, so I listen. I consider myself capable of emotion, logic, and foresight, but all I see is disaster.<br />
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When did we start valuing possessions above helping neighbors or creating music for music's sake rather than for profit? When did war ever become an acceptable status quo? Why on earth did we think torture was OK as long as it was on foreign soil - even as the Declaration of Independence quotes 'unalienable rights'?<br />
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And then there's the Facebook updates showing my sister's zombie walk costume and how cool the grim reaper is, while my brother on the phone won't tell me his new girlfriend's name until pestered but happily launches into an excited update on the latest Ebola news and death count.<br />
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Sometimes I feel that America vanished sometime in 2001. And maybe it did. The Twin Towers changed things, and now the changes have had a generation to set in. No one thinks it's weird that billionaires with conflicts of interest (i.e. corporate and oil interests) can run for president and claim to represent the everyday person. No one thinks it's wrong to send technology and manufacturing capability overseas so corporations get richer while Americans lose their jobs and homes and can't afford healthcare so Doctors Without Borders is forced to come in and treat people, saying that while the illnesses are different, the amount of people in desperate need of aid is no different from what they've seen in Africa. When did it become OK for billionaires to 'trickle down' their scraps to the people while saying "Just buy a lottery ticket and you can be just like us...so don't cut off my head."<br />
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Well, I think it's OK because zombification has set in. People are dead already, no dreams for the future or hopes to better themselves and the world. Their soul and passion has been killed by mass marketing, biased media, and the latest celebrity gossip, gore-dripping drama, or reality TV that fulfills the role of Rome's gladiatorial games to pacify the masses. America is dead and loving it. Shambling around like mindless zombies...<br />
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Or am I being too critical of my sister's zombie walks and the plethora of child zombie costumes for sale this Halloween? Are zombies not a symbol of the death of society but, instead, a subtle rebellion?<br />
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Brain-munching zombies in unstoppable hordes can represent the apocalypse, or they can represent the end product of all the political corruption and corporate greed at work in America. Are these zombie mobs saying "look what you've created - and now we're coming to tear down your society and eat your flesh!" Are they in fact the equivalent of the French revolutionary, the down-trodden peasant whose reply to "Let them eat cake!" is "How about I take your head instead"?<br />
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Plutocrats beware, maybe the zombification is the pitchforks the wise have been warning you about...(<a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/nick_hanauer_beware_fellow_plutocrats_the_pitchforks_are_coming" target="_blank">this TED talk is great brain food for those craving brains</a>).<br />
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Happy Halloween everyone.<br />
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<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-11117811608693072222013-08-14T13:04:00.002-07:002013-08-14T13:04:29.543-07:00The first page of a great bookI had a spare thirty minutes the other day (very rare for me!) and decided to step into my local Dymock's booksellers. I'm embarrassed to admit it's been a while. I tend to download e-books these days as I barely have time to read, except while waiting for an appointment or riding the train, and certainly don't have time to shop. I missed the feel of real pages! I decided to have fun and read the first page of every bestseller--see if I could learn something.<br />
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None of them did it for me. I didn't turn to the next page on a single one. Was I just in a tough to please mood or what? Maybe it's because none were in my favorite genres of sci fi and fantasy.<br />
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I headed to that section, which was jammed onto half of one isle, with the paranormal romances surrounding them like a horde of scantily dressed Vandals at the gates of Rome. I like a paranormal romance now and then, but I was looking for something to make me go 'wow'. I read the first pages of a few epics I hadn't checked out before. Nah. Still not doing it for me.<br />
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I decided to read just the first line of some of my favorite books to see if it was me on that particular Thursday. I spotted the latest release of Ender's Game with the movie cover. I loved that book when I was a teenager in the '80s, so I read the first line, then the first page, turned the page...awesome. I made myself stop as I was short on time, but it was even better than I remembered. There was a Great Book.<br />
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I felt like a crappier writer than ever, but it was good to see what I should aim for. There was tension in every line. I felt the urge to bite my fingernails in worry for Ender from the very start. What are the monitors and what do they want with him? Why is his brother so evil and hateful towards him? Would his brother really harm him? Yes, definitely yes, and they're stuck in the same house!<br />
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Here's my scorecard for the few I looked at in case you want to read or re-read some great books:<br />
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Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card - wow. read it now if you haven't and before you see the movie.<br />
Magician by Raymond E. Feist - loved it as a kid and first page was ok. maybe.<br />
Painted Man by Peter V. Brett - has an interesting world, but first page just ok.<br />
Left Hand of God by Paul Hoffman - very good. and it's newer, so not just nostalgia talking.<br />
Forever War by Joe Haldeman - never read it, but that first page screamed 'great' so I will give it a go.<br />
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Have you ever done a first page test? Can you spot the greats right away?<br />
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<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-41597178419509362202013-07-11T23:10:00.000-07:002013-07-11T23:10:22.018-07:00Never Say Never<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The universe loves to play practical jokes on me. At least I know it's listening!<br />
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<u>Example 1:</u> All through university, while I was studying the hard sciences of biology, chemistry and physics, I would make comments like "Communications? Who would ever get a degree in communications? That's not a real subject."<br />
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What am I doing now? Communications, of course.<br />
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[This phenomenon is not limited to me. You know what my husband used to make fun of when he was a landscaper? Basket-weaving. And you know what his favorite course was went he went to art school a few years later? Uh, huh. You guessed it.]<br />
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<u>Example 2</u>: On this very blog, I have stated how much I hate short stories. This is not meant to offend those who write short stories. It is merely a reflection of my insatiable addiction to books. I can't get enough.<br />
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Give me a massive, epic story set over three, four, eight books, or, better yet, a series of character-driven novels that I imagine can go on forever, as long as the protagonist never figures out how she stupidly gets herself into all these bad situations. I fall in love with characters, settings, secondary characters, the bizarre workings of an alternate universe... and I don't want to leave. I'm far more likely to dive into a book as thick as my thigh (and I don't have skinny thighs, I tell ya) than I am to step timidly into a novella.<br />
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I once started reading a collection of short stories by one of my favorite authors, Walter Jon Williams, and as fantastic as the writing was, I couldn't finish one story. Not one! I think it's a mental block, something telling me that this is too short. Just as soon as I fall in love with the characters and the world, they will be whisked away and never seen again. I can't set myself up for such heartbreak.<br />
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And then agent Pooja Menon tweets this great post about '<a href="http://ratiwrites.com/2013/05/28/breaking-the-deadly-loop-of-the-debut-writer/" target="_blank">Breaking the Deadly Loop of the Debut Writer</a>' by Rati Mehrotra, and I decide Fine! I'll write some short stories and try to get them published. You know what? I've discovered I <u>love</u> writing short stories. They have all the tight storytelling and pacing of an hour long drama teleplay, with the added benefit of internal monologue and a chance to really show off my prose. Now, I'm tearing through my stockpile of ideas, brain buzzing with even more new ideas, as I write short stories in all my favorite genres from SF to Fantasy and Horror. It's <u>so</u> much better than querying.<br />
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Thank you, Universe, for teaching me another lesson.Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-55581373081048468762013-05-21T05:16:00.001-07:002013-05-21T05:16:47.410-07:00A touch of darknessBlogging again? I know. Two years and now <i>bam</i>! You can tell I'm twiddling my thumbs while querying and completely unable to work on my next manuscript because my whole future is in limbo...but that's another issue.<br />
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One useful thing I've done is a survey all of the story ideas and half-completed or full draft manuscripts lying around on my hard drive. There's some awful stuff--and some really great stuff! I'm NOT telling you my blockbuster action movie idea because in Hollywood it's all about the concept, but I am <i>so</i> working on that some time. And you know? The manuscript I completed five years ago has some cool points to it as well as intense thriller scenes. All I have to do is rewrite the whole thing and there's something there.<br />
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One thing I have noticed is that either my ideas are comedies or something with an edge of darkness (is this a sign of split personality or just a Robyn Willams or Tom Hanks-esque comedy/tragedy thing? I've noticed that the best comedians make the best dramatists but that's a post for another day).<br />
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Actually, even the comedies have a touch of darkness. Dark happenings, cruel parents, ominous portents, vile baddies...I think it's me. A while ago, I caught some co-workers telling scary stories of hearing my laugh late at night...sure I've made people tremble and stammer and fear me, but not intentionally. I'm a sweetheart really! Sure I can quote all Darth Vader's lines in the original and Maleficent was my favourite character in Sleeping Beauty, but that's not all there is to me. I think it's my voice. I actually have a voice! Yay! But it's a slightly creepy one.<br />
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I've tried to smother it and that doesn't work. The goody-two-shoes characters sound so artificial. It's my villains that shine, and my heroes only shine when I give them a touch of darkness (but working on the side of good) that makes the bad guys tremble. I've realized I have to be true to my voice and embrace what makes my stories mine. Being creepy worked well for Stephen King. But is the horror genre dead? With all the romance/supernatural stories out there does anyone remember what it's like to be afraid of a vampire's fingernails scratching at your window (i.e. <i>Salem's Lot</i>)? Does anyone remember the delicious chill of true fear?<br />
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Maybe it's time to get writing again and remind them.<br />
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<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-84906032671395106282013-05-17T04:26:00.000-07:002013-05-17T04:26:05.826-07:00Best and Worst Movies Remake Blogfest<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My blogging routine is still completely out of wack (by about two years thanks to my gorgeous but exhausting 2-year-old boy), so I'm easing back in with one of my favorite activities--blogfests!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/a-to-z-challenge-memento-meant-to-live.html" target="_blank">Best and Worst Movie Remakes</a> is something I could rant about for hours (thanks <a href="http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/a-to-z-challenge-memento-meant-to-live.html" target="_blank">Alex J Cavanaugh</a> <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><a href="http://authorstephentremp.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Stephen Tremp,</a> <a href="http://leaveittolivia.blogspot.com/" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Livia Peterson,</a></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"> and </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><a href="http://fatherdragon.blogspot.com/" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Al Diaz</a> for feeding my addiction)</span>, but I'll be brief:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Best</u> Movie Remake:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fright Night</b> - I loved the original 1985 version when I was a kid (who can forget Jerry Dandritch eating that apple) but the 2011 version was *gasp* better. I credit David Tennant (my favorite Doctor and my favorite vampire hunter) for that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Worst</u> Movie Remake:</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total Recall</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sure Schwarzenegger's Total Recall was campy, but it had MARS people. I love Mars, and if we didn't have such a crummy space program I would so be there as the resident xenobiologist. But more than that, the 2012 version had an elevator going through the core of the planet. Do you know how frigging far that is when you could more easily have a plane? Or better yet, enslaved local labor? Or domes? No, much easier for me to believe in aliens having built a terraforming device on Mars that's just sitting there waiting to be activated. Yes, totally believable. Also, the 1990 version did a better job of making me think the main character was just dreaming the whole thing. I love that 'is it real or is it all in their head?' doubt that can keep me discussing the movie long after it's over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just noticed I have a Colin Farrell theme going here, so nothing against him--it's all down to the writers people. Write well and you make the world a better place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you for listening to my rants and bring on the next blogfest!</span><br />
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<br />Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-2906027195654999852013-04-30T11:28:00.000-07:002013-04-30T11:28:53.156-07:00Magic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
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Two posts in as many days? Unheard of! But I wanted to share the wonderful experience I had while researching agents to query--yes 'wonderful' and 'query' in the same sentence (I've moved on from feeling queasy about it, so it's a good thing). In my research, I ran across Russell Galen (of Scovil Galen Ghosh Literary Agency) and learned the first book he'd ever sold as an agent was <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mists+of+avalon" target="_blank">The Mists of Avalon</a> by Marion Zimmer Bradley. This was <u>the</u> book of my childhood.<br />
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It's been nearly 20 years since last I read it, but I still have two copies on my bookshelf--the original tattered and worn paperback, a gift from my 6th grade teacher, which I read eight times in a row, and a barely touched hardback I keep around in case the other one disintegrates before I have a chance to read it again.<br />
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Hearing that Russell Galen had been involved in creating that book made me love him instantly. More importantly, I suddenly remembered why I'm a writer: Magic!<br />
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It was the magic of words and stories that made me start reading books like Charlotte's Web (as soon as I'd covered the basics of See Spot Run, of course) and keep reading everything I could find in my elementary school library and then on my mother's bookshelves at home. But it wasn't until I picked up Mists of Avalon that I truly believed in magic.<br />
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It's a retelling of the King Arthur story from the point of view the women, and the main character is Morgaine (aka Morgan Le Fay). I'd never read any Arthur stories, so I had no preconceptions. Marion Zimmer Bradley's Avalon came to life for me as no other book before quite had. The characters were all so real and terribly sad, and in those pages I could feel the lost Atlantis described by Igraine, the heart-pounding exhilaration of the Wild Hunt and hear the bells of Glastonbury Isle before they magically vanished in the enshrouding mists of Avalon, another, older and richer world existing in parallel to this one but drifting apart from us, like the land of Fairy, and taking magic with it. At the end of that book, I <u>believed</u>. I knew the world had once been full of real magic, seers and magicians, and that now all we have is the faintest echo of what was.<br />
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When an author makes us believe so deeply in their world, if only for a short time, that's real magic. And that's why I wanted to become an author, to create amazing and affecting worlds and share those with others so they might believe in them too, if only for a while.<br />
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Thank you Marion Zimmer Bradley and Russell Galen. Thank you especially for reminding me, weary from years of writerly toil and bogged down in the midst of queries, what it's all about. And thank you for rekindling that warmth of belief in my heart, for bringing back the magic.Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-19763409142266230052013-04-29T01:40:00.000-07:002013-04-29T01:40:20.555-07:00MondayIt's Monday in Australia (sadly we get them before most other countries) and each one seems to last a week, especially since becoming a mum. Today's week-long Monday was spent in the juror's waiting room at the courthouse. Even as insanely busy as I am, I'd prepared myself to serve (willing to give up the week but a longer trial I'd need to reconsider, as I am INSANELY busy). Of course, I never got called because the defendant pleaded and the lot of us were sent home (with huge sighs of relief from most). But I'd been ready and mostly willing!<br />
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I wanted to fulfil my civic duty and all that, but there's also the <u>experience</u> of it. Us writers are all about experience. It fuels writing. The waiting room alone was a marvellous source of inspiration, such as the cool Asian chic with short hair, high boots and tight snakeskin dress, which made me wonder if she normally looked that tough or had picked the outfit to avoid being chosen as a juror (a thought I'd entertained myself as I looked at my collection of temporary tattoos while thinking about all the work I'd need to catch up on at work). There was the guy in dark glasses, baseball cap and goatee trying his best to look like a terrorist (too obvious, dude) and the <u>other</u> guy in baseball cap and dark glasses sitting next to me and watching a Dexter marathon on his laptop. Please.<br />
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There was the college kid (who looked way too clueless and who I'd not want on my jury) and the older businessman in full suit and tie, clearly stating he needed to be somewhere else, and the middle aged business man (I could tell despite the lack of suit) who was all prepared and gung ho for the occasion, wearing his best 'casual' outfit and leather carry bag (it looked far too new for him to have an opportunity to wear it much).<br />
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And me? I was clearly going to be jury foreman. The woman who tried to cut in line? "To the back of the queue," I told her, and I had a quick rebuttal to her weak arguments. The older lady next to me seemed relieved that someone had stood up for what was right and true, justice and all that (the older lady was the perfect juror by the way, with a reliable face and an underlying edge of toughness, like she'd come straight out of a courtroom drama).<br />
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All for the best, I suppose. I would have made a terrible juror. I'm too weird.Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-61085898032751704042013-02-24T16:06:00.002-08:002013-02-24T16:06:44.808-08:00Querying: I think I'm going to be sick!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've missed my blog terribly, but, as I've been unable to bend the laws of physics and find more than 24 hours in a day, sacrifices had to be made. My gorgeous little boy is nearly two years old, and based on the way parents' mouths gape as he zooms back and forth across the length of the park chasing pigeons, I can safely say I drew the firecracker from the toddler pile. He takes up most of those 24 hours. Another chunk is eaten up by my full time job where (patting self on the back) I've managed to be promoted to Head of the Corporate Marketing and Communications department in only one year...we won't mention that the department is just me and two other people. At least I've got a great title. <div>
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But all I want for Christmas, Santa, (and I'm telling you now so you have time to make it happen) is an agent! </div>
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In every 30 minute to 1 hour nap period I get from my toddler on weekends (he refuses to go to bed before I do, so evenings are shot), I've been glued to my computer plugging away at the epic fantasy I've been writing. It's a four book series, and I've finished 2 and 1/2 of them (that's about 250,000 words) just to make sure I was happy with the plot and characters. I've re-written the first book three times to address plot, pacing, character development and plain old internal consistency, not to mention the zillion times I've gone through it copyediting. My synopsis of the entire series brings me and my husband to tears every time we read it. I'm on version 37 of my query letter, trying to make everything perfect... and now I feel like I might puke.</div>
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I've queried before. Novel number one when I was 21...best not to describe that sad sticking of my toe into the publishing world. And way back with novel number two, in my wonderful ignorance, I blithely sent off query after query telling agents how great my story was. It really wasn't. I'm not surprised by all the rejections. In the end, I decided I needed more practice, so I wrote about a dozen teleplays and screenplays (I can't stand short stories so I chose a different medium for practicing plotting and dialogue) and another novel. My beta readers said this third novel was much better. I didn't even bother sending out queries. I needed to get it <u>right</u>.</div>
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Thus, here I am with an epic dark fantasy that's everything I'd want to read if I ran across it in the days when I still had free time to read...and I'm terrified. Call me old fashioned, but I want a traditional publisher. And for that I need an agent. And most just want to see my query letter. 250 words to represent 250,000 and more. Years of work in 250 words... You can see the big pit of blackness that I feel like I'm falling into, can't you?</div>
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Excuse me while I go be sick...</div>
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Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-45533012983846681272012-02-10T09:46:00.000-08:002012-02-10T09:46:54.772-08:00Getting on with it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LWtmi7rO3DM/TzVXubGWH5I/AAAAAAAAAMM/SWvmnKgyGPs/s1600/pen_paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LWtmi7rO3DM/TzVXubGWH5I/AAAAAAAAAMM/SWvmnKgyGPs/s320/pen_paper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I have three blog drafts sitting around, and, admittedly, some are no more than a great title and a few words, but some are almost done. I look at them and say 'someday I'll finish that thought'. I have about thirty unfinished 'thoughts' in the form of novel ideas with bits and pieces of research or even a first chapter all filed away on my laptop. Two completed manuscripts waiting for revision, one half of a fantasy duology left to write, and a partridge in a pear tree.... The point is life can be so distracting, especially with a new job and a needs-bouncy-bouncy-all-the-time baby boy, that I forget I'm a writer. I NEED to write. It's an ache in my blood and bones that turns to discontent and then outright depression if ignored.<br />
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And when I write? I soar. I feel light and free and satisfied. Like this is what I was meant to do.<br />
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Not, I've found, the writing for work that requires I abide by the 'understated' tone of the organisation and get three different approvals for every paragraph posted on the website. I need real writing. The kind that streams from the movie in your head, that sings with emotion, vibrates with your soul. I need to work on my damn book. It's 4:30 am--I've been up since a 3:30 baby feed--but it's taken me this long to psych up for a blog post. Will I even open my manuscript before the baby wakes for the day or I decide to steal a few more minutes sleep? Why do I delay?<br />
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Because I need it too much. It's too important. And what happens if I finish that novel, finish those revisions, finish those queries and actually get what I want? What happens after happily ever after? 'Well,' I tell my idiot inner procrastinator, 'there will be more books you can write, book promotion to deal with, a whole host of crap you can't even dream of, basically a whole new world to explore. Get on with it.'<br />
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So, I'm signing off to get on with it. I hope you all find the will get on with it too. Happy writing!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-8497782548829248792011-12-31T02:46:00.000-08:002011-12-31T02:46:45.411-08:00Happy New Year!One advantage of living in Australia is we get the New Year nearly a day ahead of my family in North America, so I can get a head start on my New Year's resolutions. Unfortunately, I can't help them out with the lottery numbers as much as they'd like. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WYRukLB5_2c/Tv7niRvAXzI/AAAAAAAAAME/GmM8--1Nmj8/s1600/max+xmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WYRukLB5_2c/Tv7niRvAXzI/AAAAAAAAAME/GmM8--1Nmj8/s1600/max+xmas.jpg" /></a></div>First resolution? Get back into contact, and that means you, you beautiful blog readers! I've been busy with my gorgeous little boy (you can see from the pic how easy it is to be enraptured by his smile), and I've suddenly realized he's 9 months old and it's almost 2012! <br />
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Second resolution: slow time. I know it's impossible, but I will try to savor every moment with my family.<br />
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Final resolution: don't be afraid of change!<br />
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I knew I was taking the tiger by the tail when I decided to start a family, so I'm going to hold on and see where it leads me. The changes are already coming fast and furious; I'd just grown comfortable with being a mommy and making homemade baby food when work has asked me to come back months early and change my career. It looks like (fingers crossed everything works out) I'm going to be melding my love of writing with my training in science and take up the science communications job for the charitable institute where I work. Wow, getting paid to write! <br />
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It's exciting, and I've got a lot to learn, but at least I have an excuse to blog more--it builds up my 'new media and social networking skills' as requested for the job description. Best of all, it will be a 9 to 5 position instead of the crazy hours I was putting in before, so I should have more time to spend with my cute little elf boy and still squeeze in some novel writing when he goes to bed at night. I've managed 50,000 words while on maternity leave (in between diapers, feeding, and endless hours of play time and baby related activities), so I'm feeling pretty good about 2011. Here's to an even better 2012! <br />
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May all your dreams come true in the New Year, my friends. (Holds up imaginary champagne glass) Cheers!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-62662009854567897042011-07-22T02:23:00.000-07:002011-07-22T02:23:01.413-07:006 tips for writing with a 3-month-old baby in the room1. Learn to type (fast) one-handed.<br />
I'm doing this now while rocking the baby in his pram. It's a trick I picked up in hospital when I was on bedrest and forced to lay on my side for two months. Remember, you can use Caps Lock even when only writing the word "I". Doesn't work for those pesky quotes though. I can't guarantee accuracy either, but you can fix that when he finally passes out from screaming his head off. Which leads me to...<br />
2. Close your ears. Don't ignore the crying baby--rock him, put the binky in his mouth, feed him and making soothing noises, whatever it takes--just don't let it interrupt your thought processes or the character's voices (remember, you're still typing with the other hand during all this). Good training is listening to hard rock while you write and slowly tuning it out. Other tips: baby slings and weight training for your biceps.<br />
3. Use every spare minute. Priorities are the baby's care and play time, food, and and sleep (hah! good luck with that), but when that little guy is dozing, be it 20 minutes or 2 hours, <u>write</u>. There is no time for courting the muse here. Get it done.<br />
4. Keep the muse fed. I said there was no courting her, no gentle routines to entice her into whispering in your ear. What you have to do is chain her to you like a slave. <br />
5. Write notes whenever you're not at the computer, and keep pen and paper everywhere--even beside the change table (with hand disinfectant too).<br />
6. Enjoy that lack of sleep. Sleep-deprivation, like alcohol, makes everything better--at least to you and Hemingway. But if you check your writing the next day and everything reads "feed the baby, feed the baby..." then you might be in trouble.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2TJenyAuvIo/TilBMa7lR2I/AAAAAAAAAL8/htuOtan4-NU/s1600/baby+max+076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2TJenyAuvIo/TilBMa7lR2I/AAAAAAAAAL8/htuOtan4-NU/s320/baby+max+076.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-80612215173855561562011-04-26T22:58:00.000-07:002011-04-26T22:58:51.866-07:00Forget PlansI'm a huge planner. I have lists for everything from what to do today, to next week, and next year, not to mention the shopping lists, birthday lists, etc. From the start of my 3rd trimester, though, NOTHING went according to plan. My baby was due May 20th, plenty of time to finish up some writing projects, especially work related stuff. Well, complications ensued, and to cut a very long and interesting story (which I may revisit in more detail later in this blog) short--I've been in hospital the last two months and the baby is here already!<br />
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Meet Max Alexander:<br />
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Isn't he the cutest!<br />
Thus, there has been no blog posts and sporadic work on my novel, but at least I finished my grant for work from my hospital bed, while being forced to lay flat on my side and type one-handed with IV's sticking out of me. This impressed all my workmates, so I hope it impressed my boss too. <br />
Now, I'm on maternity leave, snatching one hour bits of sleep between feeds, and generally trying to learn this mommy gig. <br />
I'm not making any definite plans--I've learned my lesson!-- but I want to start blogging/writing again soon.<br />
Hope to see you all around!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-36149433808580015582010-12-08T21:05:00.000-08:002010-12-08T21:05:22.642-08:00Balancing your writing projects<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TQBhOoPKN9I/AAAAAAAAALg/iOTTbcOFw6Q/s1600/irons+in+the+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TQBhOoPKN9I/AAAAAAAAALg/iOTTbcOFw6Q/s320/irons+in+the+fire.jpg" width="320" /></a>What do you do when you have too many irons in the fire? In my case, it's too many writing projects while there's a bun in the oven. I have a deadline of May 20th 2011, the baby's due date, but this could be weeks earlier or later because babies aren't as precise about deadlines as editors and publishers. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As an 'aspiring writer' (the kind term for 'unpublished'), you'd think I have all the time in the world to tinker with my manuscript, right? So, so, so wrong. I work full time and have no delusions about finding time to write when there's a newborn in the house. Then after I go back to work, I'm certain my spare time will be spent playing catch up on my career as well as trying to keep up with the baby (and I want to be there as much as possible). So, with a scarcity of writing time available in the foreseeable future and heaps right now (relatively speaking), what do I do first? Here are the current projects to consider:</div><ol><li>my first novel (it's actually my third, but the first I really have high hopes for)--currently 130,000 words, fully revised, but it's only one half of an epic fantasy, and I want to complete both parts before submitting to agents, so I can be sure I have the story exactly how I want it and nifty foreshadowing worked in, etc.</li>
<li>a screenplay for a 20 min short, promised to an 'aspiring independent film-maker' friend--currently outlined and at 5 pages (~1/4 done)</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">a collection of Native American stories, retold for modern comprehensibility, meant for a calendar and an illustrated book featuring my husband's artwork, both of which we plan to self-publish--still in the research stage, but of huge importance to my husband and his art career</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">blogging and social networking--but I've already cut that back so much there are probably only two or three of you out there still reading this</li>
<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">work-related writing, namely grants to support me when I come back from maternity leave and to fund my child's future--currently at the vague idea stage with the first deadline in February (and this is a real deadline)</li>
</ol><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Any ideas? I'm currently in the overwhelmed and paralyzed stage, so nothing is getting done.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">If I can shake off this freeze reflex (it's not just fight or flight, people--some of us freeze when frightened out of our wits), then, logically, my priorities should be #5, #2, #3, #1, and still-suffering-#4. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Stupid logic.</div>I SO want to work on my novel right now. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Guess I'll resume staring at my to do list...</div>Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-60324378007307236332010-11-04T22:50:00.000-07:002010-11-04T22:51:18.065-07:00Rich and Poor<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TNOZjsc3-aI/AAAAAAAAALc/mecCdIM5eGI/s1600/normal_love_in_Everywhere_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; height: 199px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 296px;"><img border="0" height="123" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TNOZjsc3-aI/AAAAAAAAALc/mecCdIM5eGI/s200/normal_love_in_Everywhere_6.jpg" width="200" /></a>I read this great <a href="http://juliebush.net/rich.html">post</a> by Julie Bush and was moved to say something, alot of things, but I'll try to keep my thoughts from going off on too many tangents. A bit of background: Julie writes with raw emotion. Sometimes I steel myself before reading her stuff, knowing I'm going to feel uncomfortable, but that's what I love about her too. This time she made me feel shame, hope, and even a bit transcendent all at once. She was talking about growing up in poverty, not ghettos of South Africa poverty, but the American version, where everyone around you seems so much better off with their shiny new cars and perfect teeth, while you're too embarrassed to even let friends see your house. I know <em>exactly</em> how that feels. I grew up on food stamps, wearing dollar clothes from the Salvation Army, and my house was so trashed you could barely tell where the junkyard next door ended and our place began. Even if my beer-swigging, always-red-with-rage, stepfather had allowed us to bring friends home, I wouldn't have dared. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But Julie has great friends who won't let her dwell, and they told her to write about being rich. Rich and poor are states of mind. She told a story of being a struggling writer, whingeing online about being unable to afford one thing or another, and how a screenwriter in LA looked up her address and sent her $300. Six months later, she moved to Hollywood, paid him back, and has worked as a screenwriter ever since. That guy gave her the money, not because he expected to be paid back, but to show that he valued art and artists...Okay, this is when I started crying. And where I felt ashamed. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My junkyard environment was not conducive to the arts, and I haven't even mentioned to my mother that I write novels on the side. I was told I spent too much time with my head in the clouds, a dreamer. She never expected any of us kids to do anything with our lives. I think she hoped for it, making her life seem less grim in comparison. She's not the reason I went to college, got a PhD, and moved to Australia--that was all for me--but it doesn't hurt that 'I showed her'. And what I'm ashamed of is not so much fearing to talk about my writing dreams with family or colleagues, who'll think I've got my head in the clouds, but of how I talk about my husband's art. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I have always, always encouraged him to follow his dreams, to paint, to enjoy life because it's over too quickly, and I haven't minded being the chief bread winner since I graduated (I'm a patron of the arts after all!), but I never talk about it like that to others. Friends ask how my husband's degree is going, and I say great, and they ask what his plans are, and I say he hopes to teach...It's what they want to hear, but I feel dirty every time, knowing I'm lying. He's severely dyslexic, how is he going to get an education degree to go with his arts degree? He's only sold a couple of paintings to acquaintances, so we can't rely on the art either. I see other people buying houses because they have two incomes, but I can't. Deep down I'm fine with it. I know if things ever got really tough, my husband would get whatever job he could and work hard to help out. He supported me through ten years of college doing hard labor 12 hours a day, so I know he's no slacker. But I made a choice to support a dream, whether something comes of it or not, and I'm not about to tell him to give it up so I can have the same luxuries as my colleagues. <br />
<br />
Thanks to Julie, I realized I'm letting others make me feel poor when really I am so very very rich:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>I have the best husband in the world, and we're still madly in love after 21 years</li>
<li>I'm going to have a baby!</li>
<li>I have a wonderful brother, several wonderful friends, and two beautiful cats</li>
<li>I have a great job that allows me to support both me and my husband's dreams</li>
<li>I'm healthy, well fed (unlike my childhood), with a spotless house, and I never want anything but chocolates for Christmas because I already have everything I truly need</li>
<li>I'm a writer! To be published someday (fingers crossed)</li>
<li>and all those terrible, strange, beautiful experiences of childhood are fodder for the imagination--it's all good in the end</li>
</ul>I'm rich in every way that matters, and from now on I won't be ashamed to support an artist. More people need to. Most importantly, I'm happy, and it's not 'stuff' that makes me feel that way. How about you? What makes you rich?Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-28737575850861876772010-11-01T23:02:00.000-07:002010-11-01T23:02:14.091-07:00She's Alive!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TM-lRUl0XMI/AAAAAAAAALY/FSv02GtV4AU/s1600/bride-of-frankenstein-wedding-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" nx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TM-lRUl0XMI/AAAAAAAAALY/FSv02GtV4AU/s320/bride-of-frankenstein-wedding-day.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I know my last post was (geez! has it really been that long?) 3 months ago, but I'm BAAACK! Almost in time for Halloween. I've peeked at a few blogs during my absence but haven't commented (bad me), not because I don't still love all of you, or because I've given up on writing (never!), but because I've been trying to focus all my energies on the task at hand, and it's worked--I'm going to be a mummy!!! (That's the Australian version of mommy, by the way). I'm so excited... and sooo sick all the time. Why didn't anyone warn me? Oh, right, they did. After 7 long years of trying, needles, and all the rest of it, I can put up with a bit of morning sickness though.<br />
<br />
Now that I'm no longer freaking out about every cramp and strange new sensation, I'm rolling up my sleeves and getting back into that fantasy manuscript of mine. I've been reading George R. R. Martin, so I've stopped calling mine 'epic' fantasy (you could insulate the house for winter with his novels), and I've been devoting some of those sleepless hours in the night to thinking about improving my characters' voices and motivations, so hopefully I'll make some real progress before the little one comes.<br />
<br />
Good luck to everyone doing <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">NaNoWrMo</a>! And I will be shambling about my favorite blogs soon to check on you all and say 'hi'. It's so good to be back.Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-20963357096783547352010-07-20T00:58:00.000-07:002010-07-20T00:58:23.817-07:00Just peeking out of my burrow<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TEVW1xRObII/AAAAAAAAALI/XH1QTfeYKWA/s1600/514088212_90e4df2bb4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TEVW1xRObII/AAAAAAAAALI/XH1QTfeYKWA/s320/514088212_90e4df2bb4.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I only have 863 more blog posts to read! That's what I get for taking two weeks holiday from the blogosphere--two weeks that turned into four or six. I've lost count. </div>While I've missed you all and the wonderful anecdotes, inspiring stories of writing success, and commiseration among us poor unpublished sods, it has been hugely revitalizing to get away from it all. I feel like I've been living in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains with Old Ben (my cat has a bear-sized temper sometimes), snuggled beneath a blanket with my adorable husband, leaving the cruel world outside and forgotten (except for those zillion calls from telemarketers trying to convince me to change my power company. They even trekked into the deep woods and knocked on my door. The nerve!). It's difficult to emerge from such safe hibernation, but I'm in danger of becoming a hermit, so here I am.<br />
<br />
Timid wave.<br />
<br />
I finished a massive re-write of 80,000 words, and now I'm 15,000 words into the second half...or the second book. I really haven't figured out where to divide my epic fantasy yet. I want to get it all down and futz with that sort of thing later. For now, I'm all about characters, story, and craft. Everything I write is fantastic or horrible, depending on which day you ask. I have glimpsed brilliance, but it's not all there yet. I'm working on it. No time to talk. I must write! Going back to my cave now...Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-71539274769821773402010-06-08T01:11:00.000-07:002010-06-08T01:11:01.459-07:00Introverts, Extroverts, and Agents of Chaos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TA3NDk2rZMI/AAAAAAAAALA/UJ9GYYiGQ9s/s1600/mars+hill+exhibition+and+misc+068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TA3NDk2rZMI/AAAAAAAAALA/UJ9GYYiGQ9s/s320/mars+hill+exhibition+and+misc+068.JPG" /></a></div>I know what you're thinking: "agents of KAOS" are the bad guys in that 1960's TV series, "Get Smart". At least, that's what I would have assumed if I were you, but I'm a bit strange. I'm really talking about <strong>character</strong>.<br />
<br />
As you might remember from my previous post, I've been busy helping with my husband's art exhibition. Opening night was last week. Since I'd organized this shindig, I couldn't hide in the corner and observe people as I normally would. This poor writer had to be in the thick of things and, you know, actually talk to people.<br />
<br />
Some of my husband's friends from art school were the first to show up. The discussion was invigorating, covering everything from artistic technique to symbolism, culture, and even writing! I enjoyed myself and didn't want the artistic jam session to end. But some workmates arrived, and I felt obligated to give them the tour. I was talking and gesturing and trying to convey my enthusiasm for the paintings, and the whole time I felt my energy levels plummet. It wasn't late, so I couldn't blame sleep deprivation. <br />
<br />
Finally, an old friend of mine showed up with her two children. It was great to see her, and I wanted to catch up, but her seven- and eight-year-olds weren't as interested in the paintings as she thought they'd be. I think they expected "finger painting". I volunteered to watch them while she fetched placating offerings of cocoa from the cafe downstairs. They headed straight for the stage, playing hide and seek in the curtains. Everything was under control, but then I spotted a gallery owner I'd invited. This was the important business end of things.<br />
<br />
The kids looked fine where they were, so I darted over, grabbed my husband, and introduced him to the new arrival. My husband is a bit shy when talking about his work, so I had to get the conversation going, all the while watching the kids out of the corner of my eye. They'd discovered a keyboard I hadn't even noticed on the stage, one hooked up to the sound system with the volume on "high". I tried to ignore the first few notes, which were almost pretty, and I wondered if the boy had had piano lessons. Nope. A few raucous, jangling chords later, I had to excuse myself and charge the stage with a shushing finger to my lips. The boy paused at the intervention of adult authority, but then his sister joined in. I have younger siblings; I've babysat, but this was centre stage in the middle of an art exhibition. "Please don't do that. The sign says you're not supposed to touch..." Everything fell on deaf ears. Meanwhile, I'm watching the gallery owner and my husband and hoping their conversation isn't too impaired by the cacophony. <br />
<br />
Their mother was back, except she was more interested in the keyboard than the noise issuing from it. I think she's grown filters over her ears. She could read the "do not touch" sign, though, and in her arcane mothering manner managed to get them off the stage...but not before the boy almost broke his neck climbing a rickety stool. I think I need to do some child rearing research before my IVF treatment kicks in. The cats are well trained, nothing the threat from a squirt bottle of water won't fix, but the eight-year-old-agents-of-chaos are a bit more tricky. The girl even managed to spill her cocoa all over her mom, so my friend had to head home before we had five seconds to chat.<br />
<br />
At least the gallery owner was oblivious to the circus (she must have kids), and my husband managed to line up an exhibition with her at the end of July. Whew! <br />
<br />
But, after the art friends were gone, the evening really began to wear. I was stuck with people who left me feeling as drained as a blood bag in a room full of vampires. I recalled something I'd read about psychological traits: Introverts (like me and the creative art friends) get their energy from quiet time alone and then give it away when they're in groups of people. Thus, the need for a solitary walk in the park later to recharge. Extroverts (like my co-workers), however, are energized by parties and interactions with others. I'd been vampirized! <br />
<br />
I usually don't have to worry about energy-suckers when observing from the fringes, but being in the fray made me vulnerable. Still, despite the lack of observational/note-taking time, I did learn a lot about character types. In fiction, there should be introverts, extroverts, and, especially, agents of chaos around to make a scene more interesting!Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8636538684242425730.post-81493399025232410972010-05-29T11:25:00.000-07:002010-05-29T11:27:49.638-07:00Facets of Character<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TAFaxHZ4XxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/wUxvWobB_ok/s1600/CustomScrabble2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qozrnxD_dmw/TAFaxHZ4XxI/AAAAAAAAAK4/wUxvWobB_ok/s320/CustomScrabble2.jpg" width="320" /></a>My weekly blog post is a bit late for several reasons (such as preparing for my husband's art exhibition), but the biggest setback was having two days eaten up by a lab retreat at Umina beach. Normally, driving one and a half hours out of the city to stay in a cabin by the beach would be a great thing, but winter is closing in (so no snorkeling) and this was a work get together--which means no free time and no fun. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I spent both days listening to talks, giving one of my own, and engaging in scientific discussions. I was forced to eat too much food, but that's another story. Afternoons were spent in group bonding, which, with icy rain pelting the tennis court, meant board games in the boss's cabin. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">There's nothing like the fish out of water scenario to reveal whole new facets of people's character. Most of the group banded together for a game of "Cranium", similar to charades, except people can draw, sculpt, act, or sing the clues. It was a surprise to learn who could sing well and who couldn't even hum. One girl had a talent for guessing, getting "James Bond 'Goldeneye'" from an abstract line sketched on paper. And apparently everyone has seen the dead-body-being-dragged-around episode of "Fawlty Towers". There was lots of laughter, and the fun sides of people (who are normally severe and composed in lab) were revealed. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was not in the "Cranium" group. Somehow, I ended up playing "Scrabble" with a bunch of Type A personalities, including my boss. I tried to tune out all the jokes and laughter behind me so I could focus on the serious business at hand--winning a game I'd never played before. Yes, odd that a writer has never played Scrabble, but I've seen it on TV, so I at least knew how to set up my tiles. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My boss is a kind and supportive person, and he helped me learn the rules and get going. Cranium is not the only game to bring out different facets in people, however. Once I did start winning, my boss's ruthless side emerged. He was constantly questioning the scorekeeper, making sure every point was properly credited to him, and he insisted that the oddest words were "in the dictionary". Whatever. I like to win, but I don't get crazy about it. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Still, luck was on my side, and I was the first to use up all my tiles, after composing "Zen" and "grout". The points were on my side too--I'd won! No, the boss quickly demanded a recount. Even upside down he could see the addition had an error. OK, he won by three points, and all was right with the world. Calm, friendly boss man was back. I had a hard time stifling my mirth but shared a few rolled eyeball looks with the scorekeeper.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I also saw a whole new side of our usually perky, resident chemist. He lost badly and refused to play again, preferring to sit cross-armed in a childish huff. I smothered my grin and slipped away to my cabin at the earliest opportunity.<br />
<br />
There's nothing like competition to bring out people's true character. When you're writing your next story and creating protagonists, ask yourself whether they're the Cranium or Scrabble type and how they react to winning or losing. You'll understand them a whole lot better.Lorel Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749366331989131894noreply@blogger.com14