I hope this quick missive finds everyone well as we face these waning days of August. I’ve not blogged for a bit as I’ve been squeezing the last few free moments of summer out of the month both before school starts and the kiddies are tied up with that, and before my editor returns from vacation. (Eeks!) Either way, only change is constant, and we’re now entering my absolute favorite time of year.

Obviously I love fall because in Vegas it follows on the scorching heels of summer. It’s a balm, a cool compress, and to my mind October is the most beautiful month of the year. Those who’ve known me a long while also know that my personal new year begins in September. I clean house both mentally and physically, get rid of ideas, relationships, and items that are broken and no longer serve me, and focus on the new, shiny, and exciting. This year that means a new series with Harper, as well as a few great turns in my personal life.

I wanted to allow the summer for the dust to clear on my Zodiac series, for people to get a chance to read, digest and question me about it, and I recently had a lively (ie. chaotic) chat with readers in my forum, which I think made us all feel we’d come full circle on that. Thus, I’ll begin talking more about the new Celestial Blues series in the upcoming weeks and months – what it’s about, what drove me to write it, writing and research processes – and very soon I’ll have cover copy and art for the first book, THE TAKEN. I’m already working on the second book in the trilogy (aren’t the lead times in publishing mind-boggling?) so I’m now fully immersed in that world, and itching to share it with all of you.

For now, I hope you’re all well. I’m going to leave you with a photo of me and one of my “kids.” This is the child *koff* of longtime and dear friends of mine – I’ve known him since he was seven years old, which not only makes his twenty-three years seem impossible, but he really is … well, big now. (Mind, I’m almost six feet tall and only come up to his armpit so that gives you some scale.) The reason I mention it is because no matter what you’re going through this summer, or what you anticipate come fall, the seasons … man, they do come and go with alarming speed. This too, as always, shall pass. So make the most of it. I’ll endeavor to do the same.

They say that authors often revisit themes in their work, and that’s certainly true for me. I’ve come to believe we explore issues that don’t merely interest us, but haunt us as well. Themes are culled from the Deeper Stuff.

Anyone familiar with my Zodiac series can easily one of my haunting themes is the question of identity, and more specifically self-identity. How is it developed and embraced, what cultural and familial influences determine the traits we take on, and why it might change or be shed or even discarded at whim. I certainly try to show how my protagonist, Joanna Archer’s, self-identity influences her decision-making and actions.

Truth is, I’ve always had a sense that who I am is not who I’ll always be. That we all live not one life, but multiple lives within our one. I am not the same now as I was at twenty or thirty. I have no desire to be those ages again, either. My interests are different because I’m different, and have a gift for looking forward and rarely looking back. In short, I’m an entirely new person.

When I was young this sense of shifting identity was just a feeling that there had to be something more. Striving for that is what drove me at school, what made me want to write, and why I ultimately decided to become a mother as well. (After all, how many cocktails can you really drink? There has to be more to life than the next good time.)

People who meet me now know this: I’m the author of the Zodiac series, a mother, and a woman engaged to be married for the second time. Those are my identities (they are not listed in level of importance).

Rewind one decade earlier, though, and this was how I was defined: wife and showgirl. That’s it.

Daughter, sister, friend … yes, all those things applied, but those are permanent conditions. As for my writing, I was aspiring, but as any aspiring author can tell you, most people don’t grant you the identifying tag of writer until you’re published. (It’s nonsense, of course – if you write, you’re a writer – but try telling that to someone who doesn’t do it.)

All of this is an extremely long-winded way of introducing the trailer below, which is not about me – though I’m in it – but one of those two defining identities when I was in my 20s. When asked, I talk about being a showgirl prior to becoming an author, but more and more it feels like I’m talking about someone else. However, it once encompassed a huge part of my life. I danced in the Folies Bergere at the Tropicana for a decade, and all of the people featured on this video – save the older women and Barbara Walters – are contemporaries and friends of mine.

But the role of the showgirl in Las Vegas has changed as well. I performed in the Folies for ten years, six nights a week, two shows a night – but now there’s only one traditional showgirl show left, Bally’s Jubilee! (where I also danced for a year). If you want to look for me in the documentary trailer I’m sitting around a table at my (now) monthly “tribal” gatherings – where my Forever Friends and I gather to catch up, laugh, drink and reminisce.

I can also be seen in my 20s incarnation, singing a little ditty we made backstage. It’s a far cry from the image we presented onstage that night – a line of twelve Amazon ‘Everywomen’ moving on an eight-count, breathing as one. But it’s far more representative of who we really were, and what backstage life was like. Goofy, fun, irreverent. Young.

(If I remember correctly, this little ditty was inspired by the way society easily embraces violence and war (and shit like that), but breaks out into fainting spells and condemnation when you mention a woman’s body. Mind, the song is primitive. I blame that on the girl playing the guitar – she only knew one chord. And, yanno, we didn’t give a shit.)

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. The documentary is about the end of the showgirl era – The Last Showgirl – and they’re finishing up production now, as well as finalizing plans for a red-carpet premiere in Las Vegas. I can’t wait. It’s been long enough now that I can look back at the young woman I used to be without longing to move on, and instead give her thanks for working so hard to get me where I am now.

So the major difficulty in dividing one’s time between two cities is, as you might guess, the travel. The direct route from Vegas to Dallas is only 2 1/2 hours – and many people have a similar work commute, so that’s no biggie. I’ve got carry-on, security, and parking down to a science. The only variable I can’t control are the airlines, and if they feel like cancelling a flight out of the blue for reasons ranging to tech issues (great) to bean counting (f*ck you) then I’m at their mercy.

All of that is a long-winded way of saying that was my Monday. I was supposed to arrive home (from home) at 8 am but that flight was cancelled. After ignoring the airline’s suggestion that I should hit Albuquerque and Denver on the way to doing so (double f*ck you), I arrived at 3. Not bad, and I work great on planes so I still got words. But talk about hitting the ground running. I needed those extra seven hours, which in turn made Tuesday rather hellish. I still managed two hours of work yesterday, averaging just over 500 words an hour – not great, and not what I’d hoped or planned, but not bad all things considered.

And I’m up to speed now, and looking forward to a live chat this afternoon (or evening if you’re an east coaster) with my self-described VPeeps. It’s been a long time coming and they plan on peppering me with questions about THE NEON GRAVEYARD as well as the concluded Zodiac series as a whole. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to pry some information out of me about the new Celestial Blues series either, since they’ve been picking up bits and pieces about THE TAKEN here and there.

So, looksie, the more the merrier. If you have time and you’d like to come chat with me at 7 pm EST, then I’ll be ready to field any questions you have at this link. Just click on the ‘click here for the live chat option‘ and you’re in!

Meanwhile, I have to go chase down an Unreliable Narrator, a workout, some food, and some words – in that order. See you tonight!

First, just a quick housekeeping note. My Facebook profile is being converted to an open page today, and if the crick don’t rise it should be relatively seamless. I love Facebook, and it’s my default home on the net to interact with readers – so personal – so I want to make it as easy as possible to interact there. The switch should allow readers to chat with me without having to ask or be “friended” first. Open is better, more is more … all that. So apologies if things go temporarily wonky, and eventually I’ll have a prettied up landing page there too, but as with everything, it’s a work-in-progress.

*

So remember my belabored post yesterday about plotting and outlining and notecards and being loose … blah, blah, blah? Well, let me first say that I meant every bit of it. Especially the ‘being flexible’ point. After a long day of reorganizing my brain (and missing my workout – ug! I’m still kicking myself for that) my nemesis – a.k.a. Significant Other – came home from work to find my desk covered in notecards, my hair standing up at the root, and a dazed look to my gaze.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop this. No notecards, no outline. Write the book.”

I gestured to the desk. “But I’m not done. I need -”

“You need to write the book. This is not writing. You’re scared because you’ve never written this before, but you need to remember what excited you about this idea – this character, this antagonist, this situation – and start with the first scene. Then write the next. Pour yourself onto the page. Keep it simple. Write the book.”

I looked at my notecards. My security blanket. “But I’ve never written a book that way before.”

“You wrote Scent that way before.”

Oh, shit.

“But instead of following your energy, you’re pouring it into the outline. You’re sucking the life out of it. You need to write the book.”

I looked at him.

He smiled.

I looked at him some more.

“You couldn’t fucking tell me this at the beginning of the day?”

*

So Monday. I start writing the book.

I’m writing this new story, or at least I’m plotting it – though even that statement is premature. What I’ve really been doing for the last week and a half is imagining the world of the story. It’s not something I’ve ever written before, and frankly, I’m frightened I can’t do it. That’s a good sign. I’ve learned by now that the thing I’m most afraid to do is always the thing I need to do most.

So instead of dissuading me, I’m using my fear to drive me and I’m pretty happy with the story elements I have so far – a contained time and space, a ticking clock, a beginning and end – a couple of twists in the middle – and a protagonist with a great desire. However I was struggling with my antagonist. I didn’t know him, why he did what he did, or why he was faced off specifically against my protag. And I want it specific. Specificity ups the stakes and makes the story more immediate and personal on a number of levels.

Still, I couldn’t figure him out, and the more I tried, the more complicated the story premise became. I don’t want complicated. I’ve done complicated before. I want a story that can be boiled down to one simple, memorable sentence: It’s a book about A + B = C. So I began talking it over with my S.O. last night because he’s a writer too, and he’s fantastic at generating simple, high concept ideas. He also doesn’t get offended when I cut him off halfway through a sentence with, “No.” Just no. Not: that doesn’t work, won’t work, I don’t wanna … just no. (Mind, he does the same to me, so it’s fair enough.) Yet he’s also not shy in saying (again and again), “Just hear me out. That element doesn’t work for me, and here’s why…”

There was one particular element, key to my protag’s background, that he was hung up on, stating it was impossible to relate to someone with that motivating force. It’s not normal – and I do want normal. An Everywoman, like you or me (or someone you know). It’s very difficult to generate story ideas – all the magical ‘What if’s’ and still hold on to them loosely – especially as the story really begins to take shape. You’re trying to weave these elements together into something elegant, but still retain the mental space necessary to unravel those threads as needed. That’s why I haven’t begun writing yet. I’m still maneuvering, trying to figure out what this piece is supposed to look like when it’s finished, and what the hell do I use to make it – silk? Cotton? Chicken wire?

Anyway, all of this is a very long-winded way of saying that by the end of the night I was mentally fatigued, and unsure if this story really had legs. There are risks in speaking too soon of your burgeoning story to someone else. One is that you might lose the energy to write it. (Why bother? You’ve already told it.) But  I wasn’t telling the story, I was trying to work it out, so my risk was self-doubt. Like I said – I’ve never told this sort of story before (though I’ve wanted to since ’05-’06). So I went to bed dejected, knowing only I had a protag, a beginning and an end.

Today, rested and fresh, we batted the story around some more as he shaved and I had coffee – and again, loosely; just a bunch of ‘what if’s’ after going back to the basics: what do you love about this story? What do you know? (See the second paragraph above.) And, finally – after again telling me what he didn’t like about a particular element (grrr!) – he nailed it for me. The perfect* “What if.” It’s a simple, contained, and personal solution. It tells me exactly who the antag is. And with that, I can go back and rework with very little trouble who my protag is.

All of this is a circuitous way of explaining a very circuitous process … and an admonition to keep going when your eyes are crossed and your mind is muddled and you’re starting to forget why you’re writing your story at all. That’s where a lot of stories flag and writers quit and they move on to the next idea that seems shinier and simpler (until it’s not). Hold your ideas loosely, keep it simple. Breathe. Write.

I need to see things laid out before me like a road map when I get confused, so I’m off to scribble on a stack of notecards. I’m going to lay them out in a three-act structure**, shift them around, remove them and fiddle as needed. I don’t know exactly what it’s going to look like at the end of the day, but at least I’m excited (and afraid) to find out.

*The perfect ‘What if’ may only be perfect for now. It could easily change again tomorrow, but you need today to get to tomorrow anyway, so it’s all a necessary part of the process, right? So write on.

**If you’re interested in studying the three-act structure, I highly recommend reading Alexandra Sokoloff’s e-book, SCREENWRITING TRICKS FOR AUTHORS. There are excerpts of this book on her blog, so you can test drive it, but I say just buy the ebook already. It’s only $2.99 – less than a cup of coffee, and I think it’s wonderful. I’ve used it to help me with at least three books now, though caveat:  plotting and geeking out about structural issues is my thing. Not only does It work for me, but I almost like it better than writing the damned thing. If you think you might like it too, or want to try something new, I can’t recommend Alex’s advice enough.