My Cat Mouse...Editor's Nightmare

I'd like to introduce everyone to my cat Mouse. I didn't name him, if it were up to me, his name would be Moose. He's 25 lbs with a bit of an eating disorder that we attribute to the weeks he spent starving on the streets.

Mouse loves my laptop. He seems to love pushing on the keys most of all. I can't tell you how many times I've looked away, answered the phone or the door, only to return to utter nonsense spewed across the screen. I'm sure he thinks he's writing the great American novel, but for me it's just embarrassing. I constantly have to go over what I've written to make sure Mouse hasn't added his own personal touches.

I almost sent out a query letter with Mouse's signature extra words toward the end of the letter. I never even noticed him stretch out and hit the keys! So, just to let everyone know, I attribute any and all typos in my novels and on my blogs to my cat, Mouse. Pretty convenient, huh?!

Here's a look at Mouse's last great work:

My gaze moves to the prone, unconscious form of my father, Simon. True to form he finally passed out from alcohol. At least this time he managed to fall face up. I doubt most people here would be kind enough to kick him to his back to keep the sand from suffocating him. It’s difficult to fault him completely for his alcoholism. Simon started working for Uriah twenty years ago. Two decades with that sadistic monster would drive anyone to the bottle. My mother’s public infatuation with Uriah doesn’t help matters. As Jack drags me through the parking lot, I see something that makes my stomach roil, threatening to reject1565135454.                        fdl,ssj456874651fs65sf4
kguyhubjybhujvhu  468544444446

Okay so you may notice that he actually did type a couple words in there: guy and hub. So the whole 100 monkeys on 100 typewriters writing Shakespeare, probably not. I told Mouse not to quit his day job as my foot warmer.

Best Intentions

I learned something years ago when I first started writing. Back then I was forcing myself to sit in front of the computer until I completed three pages each weekday. It was horrendous, boring, and it took me a year to finish the first draft on one novel. I never revised it or did anything else with it. Instead I went out, got a job at GEICO and worked as a bodily injury claims adjuster for five years.



Even the puma's laughing at me!

My mistake was treating writing too much like a 9 to 5 job (well who has those anymore...7 to 5 job). When I picked up writing again last year, it was like an itch I couldn't ignore. The story was there and it flowed out of me onto the pages. Now granted that doesn't always happen. Sometimes the ideas aren't there and the words dam up inside. On those days, I'm happy if I just work on revisions or at least manage a paragraph or two.

The trick is to write every day. Not just weekdays. Every single day. Even if it's only a paragraph, I spend time with the characters, getting to know them, thinking about them. Sure I'd love to boast 2,000 words per day, sometimes I do. Writing for me is an exercise in creativity. When I try to force it, I clam up and become unproductive.

I've seen questions to authors asking why they're working on more than one series at a time or more than one manuscript. If they're like me, it's not greed driving them to diversify. There are days when my mind can't deal with the fantasy realm I created. Moving to a different manuscript helps keep the creative juices flowing. Writing short stories can do the same thing. I have three current WIPs. They all have romantic elements, but that's where the similarities end.

I expressed my intention to concentrate on the third book of Light Chronicles in a prior post. That didn't work out so well. I scrapped the first few pages and started over from scratch before realizing what the real problem was. Bitter Envy calls to me, a siren song begging me to continue Envy's plight. Dare I compare WIPs to puppies scrambling for attention. Well my dogs are cuter and fluffier, but I swear sometimes the call of the story is stronger than their loudest barks.

Perhaps I give my creative side too much leeway. Writing, like life, is a learning experience. So for now I'll give my creative side free reign. Well, except for revisions...my creative side doesn't like editing much...