Progress Report 1-2-18

My word for the year is progress. Progress with my writing. Progress in my home. Progress with myself. I’m hoping to do an update on my goals for the year every Monday.

January Goals:

  • Complete my edits on Cycling. I got my editors notes back, and they are perfect, and now I need to push through the resistance and make the changes.
  • Read A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay. I started this back in October (*gasp*, self, stop starting books only to get distracted partway through!), and while I’m enjoying it, horror novels are always hard for me to power through.
  • Make one major home purchase.

Not too much! I’m starting small.

On Comparison

A friend of mine from my old writer’s group has her second book coming out next week, and she’s been posting small bits from the novel. And it’s amazing, and I am so, so excited for her.

But it’s also hard to read those bits and not get a little…jealous? She’s a great writer. And I find myself comparing my writing to hers, and it’s not as good. I tell myself that part of it is that we write very different books (she’s a romance writer, and she’s very good at it, and I am not good at romance). Part of it is that this is a book that is being published next week. It’s polished and clean, and has had extra sets of eyes on it.

And then I come across a handful of lines that I’ve written, and I fall in love with them, and I realize that it doesn’t matter. It’s possible that I will never be (traditionally) published. It’s possible that I’m not as good a writer as she is.

But that doesn’t matter. Because I did this:

“Why not? Why would I let you suffer needlessly?”

“I would think you’d be a big fan of letting me suffer.”

Him,” I replied. “I love watching him suffer.”

“That’s beautiful, Kyle.”

“Fuck you, he deserves to suffer.”

“Well, I assure you, he’s suffering greatly.”

“Good. I hope it was worth what you guys did to me.” She set her jaw, a now-familiar move. “You were about to say that it was.”

“I’m doing my best not to provoke you, so no, I wasn’t.”


And I love that. I love the way they’re fighting, the way Alex and Kyle know exactly how to push each other’s buttons, and how even though they’re saying angry, awful things to each other, they love each other so much, and in the greater framework of this scene, it’s there, the love, in between the hate. And I know that eventually I’m going to finish writing their stories, and I’m going to miss them.

The Waiting Game

I’ve been hard at work on my November NaNoWriMo piece, trying to finish a novel that didn’t want to be finished. Finally, at just over 90K words, I wrapped it up this week. So I figured it would be a good time to toss an excerpt up.

The party continued around me, and I couldn’t shake the certainty that this was a terrible idea, and I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d let Laina talk me into it. I didn’t need to be at a party right now. I needed to be in bed with some ice cream and a bottle of wine. At least I had my vodka tonic to keep me company, and soothe my lingering depression.

“What are you doing in here all alone?”

The voice came from behind me, and I turned, startled. It was the guest of honor. I stared into his shockingly pale blue eyes, not sure how to answer him.

“I’m not much for parties,” I answered finally.

He looked around the room pointedly. “Then why are you at one?”

“Laina thought it would be good for me to get out of the house.”

“And it’s not?”

“It’s not.”


I gestured to the empty spot next to me on the couch. Noel sat, and I turned to face him, putting my back against the arm of the couch, and tucking my legs underneath me.

“I’m going through a bad breakup,” I said.

“How bad?”

“I came home early from vacation and caught my fiancé in bed with some brunette.”

“That sucks.”

“It did, yeah. I had to move out, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to speak to him again. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

“I’m sorry.”

I waved the apology away. “Never mind about that. I hear you just moved. What brought you to D.C.?”

He laughed. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Noel leaned closer to me, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “I caught my fiancée in bed with someone else.”

I laughed, assuming he was joking. He smirked in response, settling back into the couch, and I realized that perhaps he was serious.

“You’re not kidding,” I said.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry that I laughed.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

I felt my face heat up. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to be. I mean, it’s not funny that Nancy cheated on me, but it’s hilarious that you and I are both at this party right now because we went through the same horrible thing.”

“I’m not sure that’s funny either.”

“It’s a little bit funny. Amusing at least.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“It’ll be a great story to tell our grandkids.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, will it?”

“Sure. ‘How did you meet, Grandpa?’” Noel said, pitching his voice a little higher. “‘Well, kids,’” he continued, dropping the pitch of his voice now, “‘Nancy had cheated on me again.’”

“Ouch,” I interjected.

He nodded, and continued in his old man voice. “‘And we were all surprised to find out that–’” He paused. “What’s his name?”

“Who? Oh, Kyle.”

“‘–to find out that Kyle was a complete asshole.’”

I burst into laughter. Yeah, a totally appropriate story for the hypothetical grandkids.

“Aren’t you glad you came out to the party?” Noel asked.

“I kind of am, yeah.”

Kind of? I’m going to have to work a bit harder then, I guess.”

“Yeah, you should get on that.”

“You’re cute, you know that?”

My face went hot again. “Oh, please. I didn’t even shower for this party.”

“I don’t think you know appropriate party etiquette.”

“I agree.”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to go to another party ever again.”

“I like the way you keep saying ‘we.’”

“I’m not completely scaring you off?”


It was sexy the way he was taking charge, the way he was making assumptions, even jokingly, about our future. And we’d only known each other for fifteen minutes. I began to contemplate perhaps going home with him once this party was over. One night stands were practically invented for getting over breakups, right?

“How do you know Laina?” Noel asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Oh! Uh, we went to college together.”

“You’re the one that lured her away from home.”

“Well, I encouraged her to stay here after school, yeah. ‘Cause I’m from here, and I was going to stay, and I had already talked our friend David into it, so I figured I’d try to get Laina to stay too. How do you know that?”

“You think Laina and I met a few days ago when I moved in, and she wanted to throw me a party?”

“Yes?” I cringed. “It’s not that unusual for Laina to do something like that.”

“Okay, I have to give you that. But no, Laina and I grew up together. She talked me into moving out here. After, you know, her sister cheated on me.”

“Again,” I added, remembering his story from earlier. “Holy shit, tell me you’re not serious. You were not dating her sister.”

“I was. It was ill-advised.”

“Yeah, even I know that, and I haven’t even met her sister. Laina’s told me so many stories about her sister doing guys wrong.”

“It’s generally been just the one guy,” Noel replied, jerking his thumb toward his chest.

My jaw dropped in horror and amazement. “Oh, my God. You’re kidding.”

“Right now you’re adding up all the stories about Nancy cheating on the guy she was seeing, and then you’re wondering to yourself why exactly I would have proposed to her.”

I paused. “I might be.”

“Judge away.”

“What were you thinking?”

Noel chuckled deep in his throat, and it was all I could do not to leap on top of him. Holy shit, that was a gorgeous sound, half growl, half laugh.

“I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking,” he said. “Possibly that marriage would settle her down a little.”

“I don’t think it would have,” I replied, unable to keep myself from leaning closer to him.

“Oh, no, it would have been a terrible mistake. We’d have divorced within a year. Things have worked out for the best.”

“Tell me you at least got the ring back.”

“As if I’d want a reminder? No, she kept it. And it wasn’t a very nice ring.”

“I’m starting to think that you don’t really like her.”

“I do, and I don’t. Sometimes I can’t quite remember why I fell in love with her.”

“Are you aware of what marriage means?”

He laughed. “I am. Mistakes were made. And I realize that I don’t know your name.”


“Noel. But you knew that, because Laina would have told you.”

“She did.”

He cut his eyes toward Laina, and I couldn’t help but follow his gaze. She turned away from us as soon as our eyes lit on her. Oh, of course.

“This is a set up,” Noel said.

“Shit. Of course it is.”

“You sound distressed,” he said, a note of hurt in his voice. “And here I thought we were enjoying each other.”

Turning back to Noel, I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again. How to put this without possibly hurting his feelings?

“This is fun,” I said after a moment.

“Talking to me?”

“Yes. It’s fun. I’m enjoying myself far more than I thought possible.”


“Bad breakup,” I said, and Noel nodded.

“Okay, I see your point there. But we’re going to have to go on a date sometime, if only to appease Laina.”

“Do you really care about appeasing her?”

“I care a lot about seeing you again.”

“God, you know just what to say, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“It’s not a good idea for me right now. To get involved with someone.”

“Who said we had to get involved?”


“You should come see my place.”

No,” I said with a laugh. “Bad idea.”

“It’s right down the hall.”

“I know it is.”

“We could sneak out now and no one would notice.”

“Laina would.”

“Another time then.”

“In, like, a year, Noel.”

He sighed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m taking a year off from dating so that I can, you know, figure out who I am and what I want outside of a relationship. So that hopefully I don’t end up walking in on my next fiancé screwing some bimbo.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t screw bimbos.”

“You continue to be presumptuous.”

“And you continue to love it.”

“I do.”

“Seriously, right down the hall. You don’t even have to call me again.”

I laughed. “It’s a tempting offer. But I’d want to call you again. And I can’t do this right now, Noel.”

“Can we go back to flirting with each other?”

“Anytime you want.”

“But you’ll think about this date thing?”

“Of course I’ll think about it. We’re not going on a date though.”

“For a year.”


“If those are the terms, I’ll agree to them.”

“You’ll agree to sit around for a year and wait for me to be ready to go out with you?”


“You’ll turn down every other offer you get between now and then.”


“You’ll take a vow of celibacy for a year, on the off chance that a year from now you and I still want to go out.”


“We met less than an hour ago. You’re insane.”

“You’re beautiful. And funny. And I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight. I can wait a year.”

“You hope.”

Noel shrugged. “Worst case scenario, in a year, I’ve found someone I like even more than I like you. It still works out for me.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’re kind of screwed in that scenario.”

“I am.”

“But it’s your one year waiting period.”

“That’s assuming that in a year, I feel like being in a relationship again. And that I still know how to find you.”

“I won’t let you lose me.”

“That’s convenient.”

“You think I’m kidding.”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“But you like it.”

“I do.”

“So you also moved recently?”

“Uh, sort of. I mean, my stuff is no longer in the home I shared with my fiancé. But I’m temporarily crashing in a friend’s guest room.”

“Please tell me that friend is Laina.”

I laughed. “She doesn’t have a guest room.”

“I have a guest room.”

“Lucky for your guests.”

“I’m not going to stop trying to talk you into my apartment.”

“I’m not going to stop refusing.”

“That’s okay, this is still fun.”

“Yes it is.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

I could barely breathe with the anticipation of it. Oh, God, yes, please kiss me. And yet I pulled back.

“I can’t.”

He nodded, resigned. “All right. Another time.”


“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Please do.”

“I can think of a few other things I’d like to hold you to.”

I leaned toward him, dropping my voice. “Tell me all about it.”

Noel laughed, that sexy throaty chuckle from before, and he leaned closer. “Are we talking dirty to each other?”

“It’s the best I can do right now.”

“This party is about to get much more interesting.”

“Yes, it is.”

He leaned closer to me, his face right next to mine, his breath hot against my ear. He began to murmur into my ear, telling me what might happen if we were alone in the room. The things he was describing finally managed to put a new imagine in my head, shoving out the scene of Kyle and his girl. This was much better. And it was going to make it incredibly difficult to send Noel back to his place alone at the end of the night.

Playing favorites

A couple years ago during NaNoWriMo, I wrote what is probably my favorite scene ever. My main character has been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and her current husband, who is the first person narrator here, and her ex-husband have a pleasant little chat about it.


        I couldn’t think of a way to start this conversation that wouldn’t piss him off, so I figured I’d just jump in.

“I’m sorry.”

Kyle snorted. “Seriously, fuck you.”


“You think you can apologize for what you did? Are you kidding me?”

“Of course I don’t think that. I was told to apologize, first of all.”

“Fuck Alex too at this point.”

“By all means, go ahead and say that to her. Just once, treat her the way you’re treating me.”

“You can’t tell me how to handle any of this, Noel. You ruined my life. I’m going to be angry, and you’re not going to talk your way out of that. Neither is she.”

“I’m not trying to talk you out of being angry at me. I’m hoping that I can talk you into being civil for the next couple of months. After that, you can hate me all you want. It’s not like we’re ever going to see each other again.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It hasn’t been easy for us either, you know.”

“I’m sure it’s been really rough.”

“It was months before she and I interacted as if we were a couple. Before we went on dates. Before we could even talk about what happened with you and her.”

“Oh my God. Seriously, I don’t care. I don’t care if your life has been a living hell for the past seven years. I don’t care if she’s fucking twenty other guys behind your back. I don’t care if it’s been hard for you. All I know is that it’s been impossible for me. I lost my wife, Noel. I lost my best friend. My children lost their mother. Do you have any idea what that must have been like for us? And you want me to feel bad because you and Alex didn’t sleep together until the divorce was final? Are you kidding?”

“We aren’t proud of what we did.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Alex has been hurting a lot since she left. In case you think it made her happy or something.”

“It made her happy eventually.”

“Well, not exactly. I mean, she certainly isn’t happy now.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be, Noel. Neither do you. You guys are truly horrible people. I don’t know what you did to her, because she wasn’t like that when I knew her. The woman I knew for thirty years vanished when you showed up. And you’re welcome to this one, because she sucks.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why are you so angry with me? With her? If you really hated her that much, it wouldn’t matter that she left.”

“I don’t want your Alex back. I want my Alex back. She’s gone, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.”

“If it makes you feel better, I won’t have my Alex much longer.”


“You’re angrier than she thinks.”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Why don’t you say any of this to her?”

“She has fucking cancer, Noel.”

“Seriously? I hadn’t heard.”

His body twitched, and I realized that he was possibly about to spring across the room and strangle me for that one. Alright, now I knew where the line was.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

Kyle shook his head. “You’re not sorry. Alex isn’t sorry. If you were sorry, she could come home with me and forget all of this, the way she did with us.”

“Are you going to hate us forever?”

“Probably. I mean, I’m going to hate Alex until she dies. Because I’m not a couple months away from forgiving her. And I don’t really see a way for me to forgive you. So, yeah, I’m probably going to hate you forever.”

“Neither of us likes what we did.”

“Fine. I don’t like it either.”

“There was a long stretch of time when we regretted it.”

“Sadly, it wasn’t the four days she spent thinking about leaving me.”

Nor was it the thirty seconds I spent thinking about asking her to leave him. Then and now I told myself that I wasn’t asking her to leave him, I was asking her to let me go. I couldn’t watch her be married to him. I thought she’d send me away. She should have, really.

“Are you done?” Kyle asked. “I’d really like to get back to pretending that you don’t exist.”

“I told her I’d tell you that I’m sorry, I did that. So, yeah, I guess I’m done here.”

I don’t know exactly what it is about this conversation that I enjoy so much, other than that Kyle is very much out of character. He’s a staid, boring, old money type, and seeing him let down his carefully constructed façade is fun. Even the most straight-laced person would lose their mind if their spouse left them, so while it’s a bit unusual for him, it’s spot on for how a normal person would normally react.

In any case, a lot of fun to write.



This is it: my 10th oops, make that 11th National Novel Writing Month!

I’m excited to get back to writing, to pretend that I don’t have this mostly-perfect piece that is mostly-ready to be something else. Right now I’m concentrating on this ready-to-be-written story, and these characters who are so ready for people to get to know them.

Ready set write.




I’m thinking about hiring an editor. Someone to take that close look at my novel and really see what’s wrong with it. Someone who would be doing that for money, not just because they’re my friend and they like me.

It’s scary business, turning my “baby” over to a stranger. Really, that’s what any of this publishing process is, so I don’t see the harm in taking this big step.

The trick now is to find someone I trust, someone that I know will do a good job.




I’m an avid participant in National Novel Writing Month – the novel I’m currently shopping was my 2008 NaNoWriMo novel. I’ve done NaNoWriMo ten (WHAT!) times and Camp NaNo once, though I’m gearing up to do that again.

I’ve found NaNo to be a good experience, though I’ve heard that it is perhaps detrimental to others. Until I did NaNo for the first time (in 2006), I’d never finished a novel that I’d started writing. And I’d definitely started writing long before 2006 (a decade before, in fact). For me, it’s a deadline to finish – get those 50,000 words down before December 1!

I’m working on a piece right now that I dabble with – I might hop into the document and throw down a couple words here and there, but I’m not giving it the time or attention that I should be. Which is why I’m planning to do Camp NaNo in July. Hopefully by the end of the month, I can finish this first draft, so that I can figure out if anything worthwhile is happening there.

Of course, Cycling, that 2008 NaNo novel, is the only good one. So. Maybe NaNo isn’t the best thing ever. But at least it’s getting me somewhere.



I love getting feedback on my writing. Positive, negative, whatever. Negative feedback makes my writing stronger. Positive feedback makes ME stronger. So it’s all good.

I submitted the prologue and opening chapter of Cycling to Flogging the Quill, and the feedback is mixed, as always expected.

If I have any readers here who want to weigh in, have at it!

Flogging the Quill




I worked in (non-fiction) publishing for almost five years at two different publishers. One of the things that I did at both places was manage the “slush pile”: the unsolicited manuscripts/proposals that came through the door. In other words, I did what the agents I’ve solicited do every day.

It doesn’t make the waiting any easier, nor does it make it easier when I get a no.

Many years ago (2005? 2006? Whoa, yeah, many years ago!), I read one of these unsolicited manuscripts. And I loved it. I would have read that book a hundred times, memorized sections of it, recited it back to people.


There’s that word again!

There was an extremely limited market for this particular book. I happened to be part of that market, but I understood (as did my bosses!) that it simply wouldn’t sell, not in the numbers that a publishing company needed it to.

It was hard to tell the author no. I’d carried on a back-and-forth conversation with him for some time, and I was always up front. “I love this book, but.” And we didn’t end up publishing it. I think about it every once and a while, whether he found a publisher or self-published the book, or if it simply died, which would be a shame.

And I think about it right now, when I’m essentially at the end of my agent search – I have a few query letter hard copies to send out next week, and I’m waiting to hear from the agent who has my full manuscript, but otherwise I’m done. I’ve gotten one hundred rejections. Well, actually 113. I knew the number was up there, but it hurts to look at it. 113 people don’t think it’s good enough. Sure, there are still 60 others that I might hear back from, but I’m a ways into this, and it’s not been good.

But that doesn’t mean that the book isn’t good. Like the manuscript I read at work, it might be a great book that for whatever reason won’t happen.

I’m working on figuring out my next steps.

And keeping my fingers crossed in the meantime.