First Drafts

It's late January, and in Ohio, that usually means snow is covering the ground and black ice is waiting to trip you up at every turn. But it's been an unusual winter so far and I'm loving still having a green front yard. Not a pretty green yard, but one with good bones. Kind of reminds me of a flash first draft.

Allow me to explain my logic. A first draft, at least my first drafts, are a loosey-goosey compilation of scenes that may or may not fit together. It's definitely not pretty, just bare bones. Kind of like my  yard in winter. Where are the flowers? The nice stone edging marking the beds where the crocuses will rise out of the snow in March? The yard art that shows my personality, my style?

All that happens later. After I finish the first draft, and see that I actually do have a story to tell and that there's a happy ever after ending to it, I go back to the beginning and start adding in the flowers,  the roses with their musky smell, the heady strong scent of the lilies and the sweet-smelling hyacinths.

I'm working through the second draft of my new historical, which is very dear to my heart, since it's based on family lore. My uncle and I have had many conversations about what could have happened and how, and his ideas are very much in play with this story. I'm adding in the color, the details, to the story now, making room for those scenes I was in too much of a hurry to write during the first draft and smoothing out some of my transitions. Once I finish the slightly more polished second draft, I'll go back to the beginning and start again, adding in the little details that elevate a manuscript to a published work. 

I expect to be working on this story, tentatively called Dance With Destiny, until March or so. I expect, at some time during the long days of February, to have my yard covered with snow, and black ice will make walking hazardous. I hope to not get buried in it, like my friend in the DC area last week, but this is Ohio and this lovely weather can't last.

At least I know I have lots to do, many revisions to make before this manuscript will be ready for publication. I will load up my house with food, and laugh at the weather. I will work hard, and maybe, just maybe, by the time the crocuses poke their heads through the snow, I will have a polished manuscript that both my uncle and I can be proud of.

The Quiet House

I have a line in my upcoming book, The Forgotten Debutante, where Saffron tells Zeke he must be quiet as a church mouse on Sunday. Well, it's Sunday and my house is quiet. I am once again flying solo for the winter. My sister, who has taken such good care of me these past months, is taking a well-deserved reprieve. For three months, while I'm slogging through the snow and cold of an Ohio winter, she will be frolicking in the sun.

It's going to take me a while to settle in to my new routine. Because of my health issues, I haven't been able to sit at my desk for over a month. But, I've got projects galore lined up to work on and, with any luck, can limit the amount of time I have to be out of the house, dealing with the elements.

First on my agenda is to finish up the edits on the final book in my Cotillion series, which shouldn't take more than a week longer. Then, I'm going to query several places about my contemporary, and then dive back into the new historical I'm working on, which I left at the flash first draft stage. If I can accomplish all that in the month of February, I'll maybe not notice how quiet the house is, or how cold it is outside. There will be contests to judge, RITA books to read, cell phone to buy, and blogs to write. Before I know it, spring will be here. Fingers crossed that we don't get hit too hard with the icy grip of winter this year.

And maybe, if I can position things right, I can join Sis next year so I can avoid the worst of Ohio's weather. But for now, it's hunker down time. My dog, Mary, will keep me company while I work and get my career back on track. The final book in the series is nearly ready to be released, for which I'll mount a marketing campaign, starting with a cover reveal here as soon as I can show it to folks. And hopefully, my contemporary side will find a home.

How will you make it through the winter? Let me in on your secrets.

Anticipation

Ohio’s been locked in a cycle of rain for the past week. I love rain, and fog is an all-time favorite. You know, the whole creeping in on little cat’s feet and all that. Carl Sandburg created a lasting image for me with that poem.

But Ohio’s precipitation in December is supposed to be in the form of snow, not rain. As I enter my fourth winter in Ohio after boomeranging back here, I am pleased to discover that I don’t hate snow as much as I did when I was a kid. Of course, back then, when we got a heavy snow, Mom would send us kids out with a thermos of coffee and we’d share it with any stranded motorists. Every time I tell that story, people say, “That was awfully nice of your mother.” True enough, but she wasn’t the one trekking through hip-deep snow.

Nowadays, I eagerly await the first snow of the year. I love the silence of falling snow. It’s not the hard, driving sound of rain on the roof, but rather like brushing a pussy willow with your thumb. I equate it to finishing a novel. The first snow is when you type the words “The End.” The world is quiet and blanketed in a soft white glow as you take a deep breath and raise your eyes from the computer screen. Then comes the endless revisions of January and February, where you’re forced to shovel the drive countless times in order to get yourself out there.

By the end of February, you’ve about had it with snow, and pray that the work you’ve produced over the winter will catch someone’s eye. Then you can begin planting seeds on various blog sites about your work and pray that you can attract some butterflies to the flowers that are your books.

So, for now, as I try to get to “The End” on one of my novels, I am eagerly awaiting the first snow of the year in Ohio. It may happen next week. Or the week after. Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas this year. And speaking of that, it’s time for me to watch “White Christmas” again—my family’s favorite Christmas show. I can finish that novel next week. Or the week after.

For those of you who have snow in winter, please share with me your favorite, or not so favorite (remember the thermos of coffee), memories of years gone by. And remember, there's only one week left to enter my contest to win an autographed copy of my debut novel, The Reluctant Debutante.