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Author: Tim Pratt

2012 Was

The turning of the year has a lot of personal significance for me. I’m not what you’d call a spiritual person, but I do acknowledge and adore the power of ritual: looking back over the past year and contemplating what I’d like to change for the next one is an important part of how I organize my life.

So: in terms of writing, last year was just fine. I produced about 320,000 words of fiction and non-fiction. (50K fewer than last year! I’m slipping! But that’s okay.)

For novels, I started the year finishing off The Constantine Affliction (writing the last 16K or so), then wrote a work-for-hire middle-grade spy novel (about 80K total) and my Pathfinder Tales novel Liar’s Blade (about 90K). All that was in the first six months of the year — and there were editorial revisions to do on novels during those months, too.

The first half of 2012 was so brutal in terms of work that I took it easy for the rest of the year. (Of that 320K written? 230K were written by the end of June.)

I wrote a few stories: “A Tomb of Winter’s Plunder,” “Right Turns,” “Wishflowers,” “The Cold Corner,” “Snake and Mongoose,” “A Cloak of Many Worlds,” “The Fairy Library,” “Cages,” “Care and Feeding,” and “Ghostreaper,” and co-wrote (with Heather Shaw) “Postapocalypsmas” and “Catching the Spirit.” All sold except “Care and Feeding” (which is in circulation) and “Ghostreaper” (which I just finished).

I ran a successful Kickstarter campaign for my story collection Antiquities and Tangibles. Crowdfunding continues to be an interesting and exciting part of my writing life.

In the back half of the year I put together that collection, and compiled and wrote story notes for the Kickstarter backer reward e-book of my Complete Stories (So Far). I also worked on the Rags and Bones anthology with Melissa Marr, wrote a novel outline (and sold it), and did a few book reviews.

I published a gonzo-historical novel, The Constantine Affliction, and two roleplaying game tie-in novels, and the latest Marla Mason novel — a record year for me in terms of book publications. I published an audiobook of Briarpatch via Audible’s ACX program, with the narration assistance of Dave Thompson, and put the wheels in motion to produce an audiobook of my first novel Rangergirl. I sold a few other books, ensuring that my name will be on books appearing through 2014 at least. Did a couple of screenings of the short film based on my story “Impossible Dreams.” It was a busy, cool year.

I read somewhere upwards of 100 books (my record keeping got spotty in the last few months). Favorites include Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brody series (beginning with Case Histories), Bullettime by Nick Mamatas, Stephen King’s The Wind Through the Keyhole (mostly for the standalone short novel at its heart), K.J. Parker’s Purple and Black, N0S4A2 by Joe Hill, the Milkweed trilogy by Ian Tregillis (beginning with Bitter Seeds), Suddenly, A Knock on the Door by Etgar Keret, The Writing Class by Jincy Willett, We Learn Nothing by Tim Krieder, Every Day by David Levithan, and The Half-Made World by Felix Gilman.

I didn’t keep track of all the stories I read, but I really liked a couple of K.J. Parker’s, especially “Let Maps to Others” and “One Little Room an Everywhere.”

Otherwise? I played a lot of video games (mostly Skyrim, though Dishonored and Arkham City were also good fun). I hung out with my kid (who is awesome — he’s five years old now! He’s in public school! We play roleplaying games and video games and card games and board games together!). I drank many beers. I went down to Los Angeles for a week to stay with my friends Jenn and Chris, where I wrote most of one of those aforementioned books. Our dear friend D came out and stayed with us for a while in the summer. I went to a truly great party at poet Dana Gioia’s place in Sonoma. I had a few dates (but not enough) with my wife. Hung out with some local friends pretty regularly, making this a more social year than I’ve had lately.

All in all? I wouldn’t mind if 2013 was more of the same.

Worldbuilding, Interview, Xmas Story

Here are some things that are somewhat me-related:

I’ve put a Tuckerization in my next Marla Mason novel up for auction to support Patrick Rothfuss’s Worldbuilders fundraiser, which supports Heifer International, helping people in need build better lives for themselves. You can bid on the Tuckerization here, and have your name (or a name of our mutual agreement) appear in the next novel, Bride of Death.  (I usually offer Tuckerizations for $300 or so when I do a crowdfunded book. Surely we can get to that amount at least, for charity?)

Pat blogs a bit about the fundraiser, and lists some of the other Tuckerization auctions, over on his website.

In more me-centric news, the first part of a long interview with me is up at Sense of Wonder.

And in half-about-me news: my wife Heather Shaw and I collaborated on a holiday story, “Catching the Spirit,” for Podcastle. Go listen! It’s about weaponized generosity and viral good cheer.

 

Sums

Today is my 36th birthday. (Yes, on 12/12/12, I turn 36, the sum of 12 + 12 + 12 — the more numerologically savvy among you will have to let me know if that has any significance.)

It’s been a good week. I sold a novel — my 19th novel sale, and my 26th book overall, counting collections/anthologies — and sold audio rights to one of my other novels. (I also had a story rejected, but you can’t win ’em all.)

Last night we secured a babysitter and Heather took me out to her favorite beer bar, and we hung out with friends and drank many fine strange beers and chatted with the bartender (a SF/fantasy fan). Afterward we got good Mexican food with a couple of friends and then wobbled home. I am only moderately hungover this morning, as I exercised a modicum of restraint, knowing I’d have to go to work today.

But even here, my boss provided savory ham/cheese/onion morning buns as a birthday treat for me — excellent hangover food. I give my 37th year on Earth a tentative positive rating so far.

Strategic Withdrawal

Those of you following along at home may have noticed that my attempt to get a lot of novel writing done this month fizzled mightily. In the end, while I had some fun scenes and good lines, the novel just wasn’t working for me — the characters were lifeless on the page, and the plot began to feel ever-more-contrived. Forcing my way forward seemed like a bad idea — there’s something to be said for persistence, but I had the feeling I’d be wasting a whole month instead of just wasting a couple of weeks if I kept going.

It’s always possible I’ll look at the pages I wrote again in a few months and discover they’re not so bad (it’s also possible that after re-examination I’ll consign them to a folder labeled “fragments” and never look upon them again), but either way, I’m putting it aside for now. It’s not any sort of “writer’s block” (whatever that is, exactly) — I wrote (and co-wrote) stories quite happily during this time. The book just wasn’t ripe. The characters were wrong, and if the characters are wrong, it just doesn’t work for me.

When you’re deriving no pleasure from the book you’re supposed to be writing for pleasure, it might be a good idea to stop writing.

I am still itching to start a new project, though; fortunately I have a couple of novels I need to write next year, so I may just start on one of those a little early.

It’s too bad. I’ve wanted to write this book for years, and I still like the central idea, but I need to think more about the characters being wildly inconvenienced by that idea before I push forward again.

Limping Along

I continue to write — but I continue not to write my novel. Instead I’ve been working on a couple of holiday stories I’m doing with my wife Heather, since those deadlines are looming, and dealing with some writing-related administrivia. Plus preparation for Thanksgiving (we’re hosting, I’m cooking a lot), and dealing with the day job (brutally short deadline this month because of the holidays). Not a lot of brain left over after all that for Heirs of Grace, but I do hope to get back to it soon, ideally on Black Friday.

Stolen by Xmas

On Monday I didn’t write. (We had the boy with us at work all day, since his school was closed, and though he was very good, it was still way more exhausting than usual, and I could not drag myself to my laptop in the evening.)

And while I did write on Tuesday, I didn’t work on the novel, so the word count hasn’t increased. My wife and I have a holiday story due for a certain podcast magazine, and we’d been trying various approaches to our central idea (which my wife created, and which is insanely clever), coming up with amusing scenes but never quite nailing it. Then, yesterday, while I was taking yet another stab at writing an opening, I found the perfect way in, and the story opened up and revealed itself to me in its entirety — in such a way that we can even use some of the material we’d written previously, which is nice. So: productive, but not novel-productive. That’s okay. I’ll take it.

In other literary news, I caught up on reading the most recent collections of Locke and Key by Hill & Rodriguez last night, since the final arc of the series launches today. It’s such a great series. And I’m enjoying Red Country by Joe Abercrombie, which finally appeared in my “hold” pile at the library. (He’s popular enough among reviewers at work that there wasn’t a spare copy for me to read pre-publication, and we’re trying to be frugal in preparation for the holidays so I didn’t run out and buy it when it came out. Waiting to read things is BRUTAL.)

Exploratored

A very busy weekend, but a lamentably small amount of it involved writing. I got a bit of work done Saturday morning before taking over parenting for the day, then took the boy to see Wreck-It Ralph (amusing, but not amazing) and out for hot cocoa. Night falls so soon that we walked home in the dark, which he found exciting.

Sunday I pretty much did the Dad thing all day, since my lovely wife was off learning how to shoot guns (something any writer who deals with such weapons in their fiction probably oughta do at least once). I took the kid into San Francisco, to wander at the beach and to visit the Palace of Fine Arts and (the main attraction) the Exploratorium. I hadn’t been there in a decade, and it’s still awesome. River and I killed many hours there before returning home.

Heather took the boy shopping after that, and in theory I could have written while they were out, but in practice I just took a nap. (It was a physically exhausting day, and I’ve got a mild cold so I get worn out pretty quickly.)

My schedule doesn’t ease up a lot after this. Deadline at work is sufficiently short this month that I’m not going to get my day off to write at home this week — I need to be in the office all five days. And the week after that has Thanksgiving, which is good for eating but lousy for writing. I have sadly let go of any real hope of getting 50,000+ words done on this new novel this month. I’ll keep documenting my progress, but barring surges of inspiration/unexpected free time, it’s likely to be less-than-stunning.

Word count (for what it’s worth): For the day: 1,346. Total: 12,593.

Notable Line(s): The fat Vegas-era Elvis in a rhinestone jumpsuit with the head of a hog, or the Spider-Man with the head of a fly, were maybe too on-the-nose, but what were you supposed to make of the hulking pro wrestler with a slit-eyed goat’s head, or the Marilyn Monroe standing on a vent with her skirts flying up beneath the long neck and delicate head of a swan, or the astronaut with his helmet tucked under his arm, revealing the gaping face of a trout?

Backfill

When I realized I was 10,000 words into the novel and had not yet left the confines of the house that is my main setting, and also hadn’t revealed some essential facts about the two main protagonists, I decided I needed to do a little backfill. So yesterday I wrote a few pages slowing things down and setting things up (and introducing an invisible Studebaker).

It wasn’t a great day word-count wise, but given that I was solo-parenting all day, it could have been a lot worse. This is actually a terrible month for me to try to do a big novel-push, because my son’s school is closed for what amounts to 1/4 of weekdays in November, which means I lose basically every day off I’ve got — prime major writing time — to childcare. (I love doing stuff with my kid. Yesterday we hung out in parks and took walks and made soup. But it’s not good for writing.) And of course there’s Thanksgiving, which will eat into my writing time, and I’ve got a story I need to finish.

But even if I don’t get a draft of the novel done, I should make substantial progress. And I’ve got a few hours to work this morning, so I should stop complaining and start making.

Word count (for what it’s worth): For the day: 775. Total: 11,247.

Notable Line(s): “If there’s a hallucinogenic gas that makes you think [spoiler] and [spoiler], I want to know where I can buy that shit on the street.”

Birthday Boy

I didn’t write last night — it was my kid’s birthday! My wife and I picked him up from school and met his aunt and cousin for dinner at Jupiter. (Some kids choose Chuck E. Cheese for birthday pizza. My kid chose the brewpub with the wood-fired pizzas. I win.) The grown-ups drank beer, the kids drank lemonade, various excursions were taken to look at the fire fountain downstairs, we all ate pizza, and there was much merriment. (Bordering on mania for our son, as it was rapidly approaching his bedtime and he was way overstimulated and very excited about it being his BIRTHDAY.)

After dinner we came home and he opened a few presents — a board game, a puzzle, and a how-to-draw book, all prevailing passions of his. He also got new shoes and the big surprise: a red ukulele! (He’s wanted a guitar, but we figured a ukulele was a good place to start, and a better size for five-year-old hands.)

So no writing, but a big birthday (as my agent wrote on the card she sent with his birthday gift, he’s “a whole hand” now, and he’s been saying “I’m a whole hand!” ever since), and I call that a successful night.

I should probably write today though. I’m home with the kid (no school for him today, or Monday), which makes writing difficult, but maybe he’ll give me a little time.

Word count (for what it’s worth): For the day: 0 Total: 10,472.

Notable Line(s):  N/A

No Villainous

Yesterday was decent for writing — did a chunk on my lunch break at work, and another brief session at home while the kid was taking a bath. After that I collapsed on the couch and watched TV with my wife and went to bed early. (The boy got me up around 6 a.m. yesterday, so I was exhausted all day. This morning he slept until nearly 7:30, so perhaps he’s finally adjusting to the time change.) I’m not where I should be by NaNo standards, but I’m only about 1,500 words shy, so I can probably make up for it this weekend.

I’m struggling a bit with the book just now — I feel like the characters are getting bogged down in what was meant to be a fairly minor plot point, but is proving to be difficult to close or pause plausibly. I may need to retool a little and add some other scenes to shift the emphasis. I think I can slow down the action a little, get my characters out of the house where much of the book takes place, and introduce some other suspense/complications/mysteries.

I’m also questioning a decision made early on. I really enjoy writing chapters from villainous points-of-view, but for this book I decided on a fairly close third-person viewpoint on my protagonist, partly because there’s a mystery element regarding who, exactly, my nasty villain is. But I worry the single point-of-view is too narrow now. I go back and forth about how to deal with it (or if it’s even something I actually need to deal with).

Ah, well. This is why we do revisions.

Word count (for what it’s worth): For the day: 1,138. Total: 10,472.

Notable Line(s):  “There’s no medicine like a sword, no better cure than a blade.”