I’ve been reading Neil Gaiman’s blog, and one particular entry really resonated with me. He writes:

I said to Gene Wolfe, when I finished the first draft of American Gods, that I thought I was starting to learn how to write a novel. Gene chortled, and said, “You never learn how to write a novel. You only learn how to write the novel you’re on.”

Yes. Yes. That’s so true. Sometimes the words, the storytelling, and the revision come easily. With other stories, even opening the Word document is difficult. I’m on a difficult one now. I’d love to put it behind me and switch to something else. But I’m determined to finish it and learn how to write this novella.

I finished Sanctuary, and it will soon be in the hands of a few test readers. Yay! I can definitely use their input. For now, though, I’m savoring the fact that it’s finished.

When I think about my favorite movie moments, I realize that many of them involve hands.

In Persuasion, Anne sees Captain Wentworth again for the first time in years. We see how this affects her by the way her hand grips the chair when she sees him.

In North & South, Margaret doesn’t say how much Thornton means to her, how sorry she is about everything. Instead, when he takes her hand, she rests her other hand softly, gently, on top of his.

Then there’s a scene in La Femme Nikita, where Michael takes Nikita’s hand and a muscle in her hand jerks.

It’s the ultimate in showing vs. telling. None of these characters say what they are feeling. They don’t need to—their hands say it for them.

Now, when I work on a story, I think about ways my characters can speak without saying a word. It requires focus on the craft, consideration of the options. What’s the best way for someone to express emotion? Each character is different, which results in unique answers. It’s always fun to explore.

And maybe someday, a reader will close one of my books and think, “I loved that scene with the hero’s hands . . .”

Easter is coming! But this post isn’t about the eggs you decorate for the holiday. No, it’s about those little extras like the ones you see on DVDs. You know what I mean—you go to a certain spot in the DVD, click on it, and then you access something not listed in the menu.

Writers have them, too. At least, I do. Every now and then, I’ll pull a small detail from an event or a conversation and use it in a story. Take this scene, the first two paragraphs of Battle.

“You’re in a precarious position.”

Mélanie Laurent stared at the contents of the slim flower box. One long-stemmed, thorny black rose. There was no card. “Precarious, Simone? Hardly.” Amusement filled her voice. “Dangerous is the word I would use.”

Mélanie’s statement is a nod to a friend, who said during a conversation, “That’s not the word I would use.”

My Easter eggs are always small moments like this one. Generally they go by unnoticed by all but me—and maybe one or two other people. They are fun to use and always make me smile when I read them.

I’m revising Shay and Jeffrey’s story, and I’m also working on the first draft for a new story. I’ve been writing this one in a notebook whenever I have a chance to work on it; then, I transfer it to computer. This is pretty much a first for me. I often jot down notes in a notebook, but this is the first time I’m using one to compose the story. The thing is, I’m so used to the revising mode that I hear that voice when I type this first draft.

It’s not helpful.

When I’m in first-draft mode, I just want to get the story down. Scenes come to me as I write, and I keep writing until the scene ends or I get stuck. Then I move on to the next one. It’s a bit like I’m outside in the rain trying to catch as much water as I can. Catching it and bringing it inside is the key at this stage. Not concerns about whether I’ll use this water to irrigate my lawn, water my plants, make ice cubes, etc. What I do with the water is a task for another day. Likewise, I must hold off on the story analysis until the first draft is complete.

For now, I’m catching all the words I can. That’s what I do when I write a first draft.

In the picture of my writing nook, you can see a small stuffed animal by my computer. It made me realize that I’ve had writing props like that one for the past few books. Each one is unique to the book I’m working on at the moment. The stuffed animal is for Shay and Jeffrey’s story, a story targeted for Cobblestone Press’s Shifters line.

Shay has blonde hair and is a werepanther, so I was drawn to this stuffed animal when I saw it in the grocery store.

I had a similar prop when I wrote Battle. When I proposed the story, I had to write 1,000 words and a summary. The first scene shows my heroine, Mélanie, receiving a black rose from a business rival. You can imagine that I snatched up this fake flower when I saw it in the store.

When I wrote The Greatest Gift, I used an audio prop rather than a visual one. You can read more about that here.

Each prop sits on my desk as I work on the story. It’s a visual reminder of the story and the characters, just one more thing that gets me back into writing mode. I don’t know if I will have props for all of my stories now, but I definitely enjoy the ones I have.

I’m pleased to announce that I finished my final round of edits for my upcoming vampire story, Battle. It’s all set to go. It was good to revisit that story after a bit of a break from it. When that happens, I find things to improve, but I also find sections I read and think, That’s good. Those are nice moments for a writer.

I’m pleased with the way it turned out, and I’m grateful for my editor, who made the story even better. Battle will be available in e-book on July 4. I don’t know the release date for the print version yet, but you’ll be the first to know. I’ll post a few excerpts when we get closer to July.

Trying to get work and life in balance is the most difficult thing.
–Trevor Nunn

Have you figured out the balance thing? I’m still working on it. Here’s how my average day goes.

8:00: Wake up. Drag myself out of bed.
8:30: Head to work.
9:00-6:00: Spend the day writing and editing.
6:30: Come home and collapse for a bit.
8:00: Start writing, this time for fun.

There’s variation, of course. Sometimes I hang out with a friend after work. On those days, the writing starts around 10:00, if at all. Plus, I still need to figure out where exercise fits in.

Anyone who writes knows that making time for it is a delicate balance. Some days I don’t feel like writing, and I write anyway. Other days I take a break. I’m getting better at letting myself take those breaks without letting the guilt seep in.

Lately it’s been difficult to concentrate. Story ideas are swirling around in my head even though I have plenty to write already. One in particular is nudging me, and I’m writing down notes so I can have them when I’m ready to dig in.

Every day is a balancing act.

I’ve been fussing with my latest manuscript all weekend. I’ve gotten to the point where it’s serious work to get me to open the file. Once my cursor hovers over the file, the voices start.

• This story is stupid.
• These characters don’t do anything. They need to be more interesting.
• Maybe something could blow up. Like chapter three, for instance.
• Maybe I should start over.
• Didn’t I just write something like this?

By the time I hear, Please let me work on any other story than this one, I remember.

I’ve reached that point of the writing process.

It’s the place where I’m getting close–I’m putting the pieces of the draft together, closing in on the end. I don’t know why that’s so difficult, but it happens every time.

I just have to work through it, even if I do feel like a flattened kitty.

I’m doing the first round of edits on Battle. With each manuscript, I overuse a word or phrase. This time around, it’s sighing. My heroine does way too much sighing throughout the story. So I’m editing that out.

I’ve had several different editors, and have so far enjoyed them all. Their goal has been the same as mine—to make the story as strong as it can be. It’s a valuable opportunity to go back to the story after I’ve had some distance.

So I enjoy this part of the process—even when I feel stupid about overusing something. *Sigh.*