C. L. Norman

I went to the Patricia Briggs signing last night. It is always a pleasure speaking with Patty. She is encouraging, engaging, and enthusiastic.

I had the honor of having a short story of mine read and critiqued by her at a writer’s workshop at MisCon this year. She had such wonderful things to say about my writing. She thought the story was good which was flattering but had some tips and suggestions for improvement that helped out a lot.

I have been a fan of Patricia Briggs since she enterred the tiny B. Dalton’s where I worked to sign copies of Masques years ago. I find her writing both easy to read and yet full of the twists, turns, and surprises that make reading fantasy novels so fun.

Hugs and Keep Writing back at you, Patricia Briggs.

        

Yesterday, I found myself choking up as Star Wars: Legacy Revealed ended on the History Channel. I asked my crybaby self what in the world would make you cry at a documentary about Star Wars. The answer I came up with had everything to do with why I love the movie so much.

When I was a little girl (don’t most Why I love Star Wars stories start when they were young?) one of my favorite days of the year was the day that Star Wars aired on TV. This was before cable so it only happened once a year. And it was before we even thought about owning a VCR player. It was magic.

This night was a holiday for the family. Everyone would gather around the TV, anywhere from two to five siblings, Mom and Dad, and we would watch Star Wars.

My favorite part then had Luke swinging across the retracted walkway with Leia in his arms. He was a prince and she was the princess. It was very romantic. Of course after I saw the other two movies and learned they were siblings it lost some of its luster. But then, when I was starry eyed, sitting in the darkened living room, repaired TV from Goodwill flickering with wonderous images, I loved that part of the movie.

The family also use to go to the Drive-In all the time. I don’t think we ever saw Star Wars when we went (I was little more than 3 years old when it was released and my memories of those times are fuzzy) but I did see something very cool at the concession stand one night. One image that remains with me still. Darth Vader standing next to the payphone, bucket of popcorn in his gloved hand, staring down the passersby. He was the first celebrity I ever saw in person and I remain in awe of him to this day.

The above picture was taken in Victoria, BC in 2007. I had never been there before and it was my first trip out of the country. Darth Vader playing the violin was the first street performer I saw. And he played my instrument. I played the violin for all through junior high and high school and I could tell, Darth Vader had talent.

Tomorrow night, I hope to spot another Darth Vader, stalking the streets, seeking treats. And if I start sobbing at the sight, don’t mind me. I am just remembering nights spent with the family, together, in front of the TV.

        

Ever since I picked up a copy of Path of Fate by Diana Pharoah Francis a few years ago, I have been a fan of this author. I had no idea this book existed until last Saturday.

There I was, innocently putting new Sci-Fi books away in the front list section of our store and darn it if the “P” authors weren’t out of order. Being the perfectionist I am I couldn’t let that slip and immediately started straightening and re-alphabetizing the books. Lo and behold! Bitter Night sat, lonely and out of place, on the shelf, begging to be bought.

I am not one to ignore a book’s pleadings and so I bought my copy as soon as I was released from work and brought it home.  I am so glad I did.

I love urban fantasy. Vampires, werewolves, gun-toting strong supernatural protagonists, the whole scene. I usually get my romance fix along with my love of fantasy. This book throws out the vampires and werewolves, keeps the gun-toting supernatural protagonist and adds so much more.

Shadowblades, Sunspears, angels, witches and more. This world explodes onto the page. Fresh and yet familiar, I’m hooked.

Max, the protagonist, has built in conflict. She wants to kill her boss but she is compelled to protect her boss. Her boss loves Max but needs Max tough and independent. Max is restricted to operating during  night time and is separated from her human family. but she is surrounded by a new supernatural family that she is blind to. And who doesn’t love a character who loves their weapons?

The pacing is quick but not rushed. The romantic interest(s) are not Alpha Males in the tradition of most romance novels. They are, of course, to-die-for good looking and strong and capable but they are also willing to follow where Max leads and show their softer side. This is refreshing and attractive.

My one complaint is that this story only serves to introduce the players. We find out who the big bad is, who the heroes are, and who are potential obstacles. We see glimpses of a huge apocalypse on the horizon but not much more. As I approached the end I kept flipping the pages trying to figure out how so many plot threads can be wrapped up in so little time. The answer is they can’t.

And so I wait, patiently, for that next book to be completed and make its way to the shelf in my store. This time it will be I doing the begging, begging for it to appear.  Pleading with the writing and publishing process to take less time, just this once.

Because I want to know what happens next.

        

This week I’ve been attempting to write a horrific fantasy (fantastical horror?) and not sure how I am doing with it. I do not read horror as I have nightmares and scream at my shadow more often than I am comfortable with. More than you’d be comfortable with too if you are close enough to hear me.

I have watched my fair share of horror films.

When I was under five years old, my parents took my two sisters and me to the drive in movies pretty regularly. They believed we fell asleep before the cartoons were over. So they went to see horror films. I remember seeing blood dripping from a shower head and being poured from a carton of milk. I saw a masked killer drown a cheerleading coach in a milk bath and skewer a row of cheerleaders holding large plastic fruit.  For a long time after I didn’t want to pour my own glass of milk and to this day I prefer the see through plastic cartons to the other for the same reason.

During 6th grade camp the teachers put on the movie Watcher in the Woods. I put a coat over my head and only listened to it and I was still screaming at every shadow I passed on the path back to my cabin afterwords.

Not long after this, we had a family movie night when we watched The Creepshow. The segment Something to Tide You Over scared the bejeebers out of me. I slept on a waterbed then with my sister and I refused to enter my room for bed after. I sat on the floor in the hallway and screamed my head off, I did not want to be anywhere near that watery piece of furniture.

My brother, Brian, took it upon himself to “toughen me up” when we were teenagers. He made me watch movies like Night of the Living Dead, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Ants. The first one scared me at the time but didn’t have any lingering aftereffects. The second scared me so much I still occasionally have nightmares about it 20 years later. The third didn’t do a thing for me but it scared my brother. It was fun to be the one pointing and laughing at the one cowering behind a pillow. Ha ha, insects to not scare me.

So I bring this background to the endeavor of writing a horror story. Why would I want to since I am not a fan of horror? Because it is fun, a challenge, and will stretch my skills.

These are the things I am bringing to the table, or desk, that I’ve noticed in horror films.

Pacing is key. Some parts have to be slow and methodical, others have to race ahead chaotically. Like the girl running through the woods, branches whipping at her face, roots tripping her up.

Word choice. I didn’t learn this so much from the movies as my own observations. Word choice has to fit the ambience. And multiple uses of the word “blood” won’t cut it.

The Slow Reveal. Cue the creepy music. Everyone knows something is going to happen, afterall the music is playing. This is when I hide my face against my husband’s shoulder or behind that pillow mentioned earlier. In words I am not so sure I can bring on the creepy music but I am going to give it my best.

What are your tricks for writing horror? Or what do you like to see in horror stories you read?

        

I’ve been thinking on the future a lot lately, especially as my 8 year old has been mapping out his life.

This last week he has started designing the house or should I say mansion he will be living in when he is grown. He has picked out names for his first two children (a boy and a girl), figured out the timeline for when he will be married (3 to 4 years after he graduates from college) and planned out his career. He is going to invent toys and be an engineer. He has plans to design cars that fly using wings like airplanes and jet technology. He also wants to design buildings that float, though he will leave historical buildings such as the Space Needle alone. He also plans on having several appointments with the President in the White House to discuss upcoming projects he will be working on.

Wow.

When I was that age I thought I wanted to be a doctor. That’s it. No further plans, no further goals.  Just a vague notion I wanted to help sick people.

Sometimes I think about all the inventions and discoveries yet to be made and I feel sad. Sad to think that I will miss out on so many wonderful things that will happen in the distant future. It is so exciting to think of the things that are yet to be. Like flying cars or floating buildings or colonies on other planets.  I wonder what it will be like then and what kinds of people will live in that world.

It is at times like that that I think I could write science fiction. At least soft sci-fi.

Maybe one day I will. When my son has those two kids and is meeting with the President.

        

I’m not given to long drawn out plans but I was also not up to a physical confrontation with the nice man behind the counter. A ruby as beautiful as this belonged in the hands of a gnome. Only I could appreciate it in the way it deserved to be loved. Only one thing to do. Come back after the shop closed and liberate the ruby and place it in its rightful place. With me.

I left the shop, impatient for night to fall. The rumble in my middle let me know the time, lunch time. I swaggered on down to a tavern, placed some of those dull metallic disks that the other races tend to get so excited about on the table, and ordered up an ale and the fish stew.

My face buried in the bowl, tongue worked busily to lick up every last drop of the savory meal. My mother taught me to clean my plate at each meal and I always listen to Mama Minmat. She’s a great and wise gnome. An irritated throat clearing drew my attention to the pair of shadows looming over me. A pair of angry shadows matched up with a pair of angry friends.

“Hiya Karnage. Syggy. How’s it going?” I caught the last little shred of fish with my finger and sucked it off with a long slurp.

A red skinned palm with carefully trimmed black nails appeared right under my nose. My eyes crossed looking at it.

“You need something? More of those coins you collect so religiously?” I grinned up at them, grey eyes wide open. After staring into their unsmiling faces a long moment even my expression slipped.

“All right, all right. I don’t know what all the fuss is about. You use to take me on all your adventures. You always said I was a great help. I don’t understand why you have to be all secretive. Just let me in on your job and everything would be so easy.” I slapped the key into Karnage’s hand.

“Mouse, you aren’t invited on this job. The client is very particular about who he wants in on this endeavor and you aren’t a part of those particulars.” Karnage patted me on the head, his big hand palming my scalp. I winced when a couple of those friendly pats were delivered with a tad too much force. “In a couple weeks when this job is done, I promise we will get together and do a job for old time’s sake. However for now, you stay out of it.” Judging by the glare in his eyes and the frosty look on Sygmund’s face, charming my way in was not an option.

“Oh all right. You two go off. Have your little adventures. Don’t be surprised if you can’t find me around when you are done. My feet get mighty itchy when I’m bored and I’m not hanging around for long where I’m not wanted.” I slid to the floor and without a backwards glance, I departed the eatery, imagining the guilty looks on their faces as I marched across the worn wooden floor.

As I stepped out onto the dusty cobbles, I slid around the corner of the building. My Mama Minmat always use to say there is more than one way to palm a sparkly. And as I said earlier, I always listen to my Mama Minmat. I stepped into the shade draped opening between the two shops and waited. A moment later, Sygmund and Karnage passed by deep in conversation, headed towards the docks. I slipped into the traffic and followed. The large black minotaur horns and the fruity elf perfume easy to track in the rumpus of market day.

        

Monday nights put my DVR to work, overtime. Heroes, Lie To Me, and Castle are three of my favorite shows and I get cranky if I can’t watch them in a reasonable amount of time.

Heroes

I haven’t managed to watch Monday night’s episode of this but I will be as soon as I get home from work tonight. I am an avid fan of Sylar (who isn’t?) and the Sylar that is in Matt Parkman’s head has me creeped out. Is he really there? at least in part? Or is Matt hallucinating and going crazy? Did Sylar figure out how Matt’s power works during the process of making Sylar into Nathan?

Speaking of which, the whole Sylar is Nathan thing was bound to fail almost immediately and why Angela, who gets flashes of the future, couldn’t figure that out, I have no idea. It is an interesting premise but Sylar had too many powers that would reveal the truth for it to work properly.

HRG needs to get back to work. It was fun trying to guess what he was up to, who he was working for, who he was protecting. If there is a true rogue in the group, I would nominate HRG. He always seemed ahead of all these super powered folks around him. Is it possible his power is to outthink the people who he is surrounded by? His motives are always mysterious or not easily believed. I want to see him in action again.

Lie To Me

I am a new fan of this show. I watched about 4 to 5 of last season’s episodes and now I am hooked. As a lover of liars and thieves in fiction, it is a natural leap to adore deception experts. And of course I also am an avid fan of whodunnits, so this show is firmly in my sights.

The Lightman character has a wonderfully complex personality. He is able to detect lies and hidden truths from the littlest clues. He is also able to lie freely and easily as needed with very little time for planning. At least it appears that way. The lies he tells help him get to the truth, like a crowbar to pry open a rusty door to see what is on the other side. I love to watch it.

Monday night’s episode also added that he is willing to remotely spy on his office to keep control of it. He can’t let it go for even a week of fun in the sun with his daughter. Also he seems the most genuine when he is interacting with his daughter. His temper appear, the games disappear and he is just a dad worrying about his kid. It is wonderful to see.

Castle

I have to admit it. There is one singular reason I chose to watch this show in the beginning and that reason is named Nathan Fillion. I have adored watching him on the screen since he was Joey in One Life to Live, as the Preacher in Buffy, as Mal in Serenity/Firefly, and others. The approach he has to most roles make me wonder if he isn’t a rogue in life as he is on screen. He has an energy and a twinkle to his eye that makes me think he is putting one over on every person watching him. He is fun to watch and so I was predisposed to like Castle from the beginning.

Castle is also a whodunnit so I am hooked. It has a lot of sparkling banter between Castle and Beckett that reminds me of Moonlighting with David and Maddy. Banter that just proves that these two characters are attracted to each other but aren’t ready to pursue it, which is always fun.

The crimes they solve are complicated and figuring out who committed the crime before it is revealed is fun, and usually I am wrong. Which is ok because when the answer is revealed I realize why I was wrong and I vow that the next time I will get the answer right.

What do you like to watch on Monday night?

        

This is my first year participating in this wacky month of write-until-you-drop insanity. And I am dreading it and looking forward to it.

Why I Haven’t Participated Before

I was leery of spending a month creating “junk” that would be tossed out at the end of the month. I thought why waste my time with that when November is already so busy and I could be writing “real” stuff. Bah! I am not writing all that much. In fact I spend more time writing about wanting to write than writing and that has to stop. Which brings me to the second reason I haven’t participated before.

Depression. Boy, I can get so depressed at the littlest thing and I didn’t want to set myself up for failure and get myself down again. You know what? I am already feeling that and this at least gives me something to work towards. Something tangible to point at and say “I am doing something about my whacky habit of not finishing the things I start.”

My schedule. I work retail, I have four kids, and a lot of extended family locally. November is when the holidays are gearing up and everything becomes more hectic and busy at that time and I didn’t want to add another commitment. However, I realize I spend a good portion of my time at the computer even on busy days and if I used even half of that time writing, I should be golden.

Why I Chose to Participate

I am tired of my constant procrastination with my writing. The stories in my head haunt me and sometimes die a quiet death without ever seeing the light of day. And I mourn each one that passes on. And yet I always find an excuse or reason not to write. This must stop.

Another reason is that snarky, rude, overly-critical voice in my head. The one that speaks louder and louder as I get further into my story. The one that drowns out the voices of my characters and shoves them into the grave before they are ready to die. I hope NaNoWriMo will give that voice a well deserved slap and teach her to know her place.

Finally, I hope to have fun. This post I read this morning epitomizes the energy and fun I hope to experience in November. So bring on the bulls!

CLNorman is my handle and I hope to see you there.

        

I’ve read several articles about how blogs can be used by writers to gain a following and be noticed. And I have to admit that that was the main reason why I started a site for myself. However, at this moment in time and probably for at least another 3 to 6 months I hope I do not get noticed, at least on a large scale.

I hope a few friends and family wander on in to my den of thieves and post a comment or two. I hope those comments inspire me to think and reflect and learn from my blogs and thereby improve.  I also hope that the act of writing posts on  a regular basis will improve my writing. And maybe curtail my tendancy to babble on.

I also hope to learn how to keep on task and meet a deadline. I have set myself the goal of writing a new post at least three times a week. I have had this site up for three months and I haven’t met that goal yet. So I changed the goal. I am now going to write a new post every day. This way if something crazy happens around the house that prevents me from writing, I should get those three posts I want.

Attention I wish I wasn’t receiving is from the spammers. Gah! I have made it a daily ritual to visit my site just for the purpose of deleting all of their posts.

So while my writing improves from the daily practice, I hope you, my few and far between readers, enjoy my posts and feel free to comment. I would love to hear what you have to say.

        

Yesterday Richland hosted the first annual (hopefully) Rivers of Ink event with the purpose of connecting local authors with readers. I had the honor of participating in this event and I had a load of fun and not a few butterflies in my tummy.

Their were several local authors, published (traditionally & self published) and unpublished, taking part in this event. I never knew how many talented folks lived in my neck of the woods (or is it basin?). Most everyone who lives here complains that once the sun goes down there is nothing to do in the Tri-Cities. Clearly the solution to that problem is to write and some very talented folk came out of the woodwork yesterday to talk about it.

I sat in on the Fiction Writing panel along with Diana Langeur, Larry Hippler, Lenora Good, Paul Anguiano, and Bryan McGlothin. It was my first experience sitting in on a panel and I am glad to have it under my belt. Maybe the next panel I participate in won’t see me with a blank mind if someone asks me about the discipline of writing. Which of course is something I have difficulty with so I should have had a lot to say on the subject. Oh well.

Our keynote speaker was Dr. Leonard Orr, a professor from the local college. I have to admit that I had a class or two with him and found his lectures … well … boring but his speech was funny and entertaining and informative. I wish I could remember more of what he said to quote it here. The things I remember best: he talked about inspiration and writers historically. In particular how a writer wrote what inspiration told them to write and so it shouldn’t be changed once it was written down. Also how Freud said that writer’s are those who have mental problems that can’t be worked out in dreams and so spills over into their writing. The readers of those writings clearly have the same mental issues as the author and that is how come some folks like one style of writing over an other. It was an enjoyable address.

All in all I had a marvelous time and hope to participate again next year.