Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Monthly Archives: September 2006
Romance: it’s not that bloody difficult
Doing it, not writing it.
An old pal called tonight and right away I guessed the problem.
“Hmm,” I said, “You never call me when you’re getting laid, so I’m guessing you broke up.”
That’s me, Mr. Sympathetic. You would think this attitude would discourage people, but it doesn’t.
So: without revealing any of his deepest, darkest secrets, let me set this up for you; and when we’re done, I want you to suggest some romances he might read so that he can get it through his thick head how to talk to a woman. (I mean GOOD GOD, MAN, there’s a whole genre out there — largely written by women — designed to tell YOU what THEY want. JEEZ!!!)
Snip
I reread the ending over lunch and made some minor edits. I like it. I really do.
Next, I printed out a hard copy of the full manuscript so that I can get down to business editing. Halfway through the print job I picked up a random page, read it, and started giggling. This is either a very good sign, or else it means I’m one of those pathetic losers who laughs at his own jokes.
Anyway.
Here’s what I was laughing at — below the cut:
Done!
The romance, or whatever it is, she is finis.
Final word count for this first version: 90,122.
Here’s when I started it: May 29, just over three months ago.
It took me a little over 18 months to write my SF trilogy (300K words). I may not be getting better, but I’m certainly getting faster.
To my betas: let me stew on this a bit before sending it out. And thank you.
D.
Kitties (redux)!
As you may recall, we had Ash and Mist for all of about three days before we had to bring them into the vet for an herpetic eye infection. Since they wouldn’t let us medicate them (well, they would, but they each required a blood sacrifice from us prior to each dosage), we boarded them at our animal hospital and let the vet techs take the brunt of Kitty Wrath.
They’re back, thank heavens, and settling in nicely. Here’s a photo of Mist.
In other news: I’ve had a decent writing weekend so far and I may even finish the NiP. Much depends on what my muse decides tonight while I’m sleeping. Cutesy rom-com wrapup, or something approaching realism? Don’t know. Guess I’ll find out.
In any case, nearly 4K words later, I’m written out.
D.
What Killer Yap didn’t get to see
I didn’t make the random cut for Miss Snark’s crap-o-meter, so I thought I would float my entry here instead. You may unleash your own crap-o-meters on me, if you like. Apologies to my beta readers — you’ve all read my first page, so this is nothing new.
Here goes:
Dear Ms. Snark,
I am seeking representation for my completed 90,000-word romance novel, _Technical Virgins_. Similar in style and humor to the work of Sandra Hill or Jennifer Crusie, _Technical Virgins_ concerns two surgeons-in-training who have been too busy/distracted/emotionally whacked to have a normal romantic life – but that is about to change.
I am uniquely qualified to write this story, as I
*am a surgeon who trained at a busy community hospital, just like my protagonists,
*share many of my hero’s obsessions and interests, kinky and otherwise,
*was a virgin for longer than I care to admit.This is my first novel, but I have several e-zine and print-zine publications to my credit.
Attached, you will find the first page of _Technical Virgins_. I look forward to hearing from you.
Best,
(Me)
This is not entirely accurate, since the manuscript is neither finished nor polished, so I’m not ready to float it to agents. But I figured the point of the exercise was to pretend the manuscript was ready and go from there.
First page below the cut.
Lyvvie knows best
As much as I tried to steer last night’s Live Blogging conversation back towards oral sex, everyone else wanted to talk about different things. Like writing. Or the weather. Or what the Ancient Romans used for sex lube.
Thanks, Lyvvie, for remembering what’s important in life: unscented crotch. Oh yeah baby.
Note to my son: stay away from that link. Here, click on this instead: mend your atheist ways. (Hat tip to Falafel Sex.)
D.