Lilith Saintcrow

So I hit 50K on my NaNoWriMo project last night–after the kitchen was cleaned up. (This is for book 2 of the Strange Angels series, you can preorder the first one here.) Just after that I finished reading Kage Baker’s The Graveyard Game. I went to bed feeling like a champion. It’s a precious feeling.

So often I feel like I’m just juggling fiery things; like it’s all I can do to grab the next chainsaw as it starts to come down and send it back up. Part of this dynamic is simple–it’s how I like it, when I’m running near full capacity I don’t feel lazy. Part of the dynamic is complex–a stew of work ethic plus fierce perfectionism and the thought that maybe if I work hard and fast and good enough “they” will love me. That component is a pure search for the approval I never had as a child, and it’s so useful I have kept it even though it drives me crazy.[1]

I don’t know what I would be without driving myself so hard. I get a funny squirrelly feeling when I think of maybe not demanding as much from myself. The dark side of it is this feeling that I could be doing better no matter how hard I work, which can tip one into a cycle of self-destructive chewing at the leather straps of life.

While I don’t quite advocate this for other writers (Jesus, who in their right mind would, even if it works for me?) I still think it is crucial for a writer to have an internal drive. I will even go so far as to say this drive has to be higher than average. Nobody is standing over you with a truncheon making you write. An editor will not be calling you every day to see if you’ve gotten your wordcount in. You’re expected to produce and turn in a reasonably finished product, because it’s what you’re contracted for. The daily slog of writing work requires that you be your own boss; if you expect to make a living from writing you have to have not only the drive to make your craft better and deal with rejection but the self-imposed will to work every damn day to get the job done without someone poking at you.

It’s a lonely road.

I’ve worked in offices and I’ve worked retail; I’ve even worked in manufacturing. In each instance I could cope with having micromanagers, but I worked much better when I was given an objective and then left alone to do it. This translated out very well to writing, but it was more of a handicap while working, say, retail. It was a big problem in office work. I wanted to give my best–but unfortunately, the manager wanted to “control” or wanted their emotional needs filled in a way that didn’t mesh with me producing my best.

So often (not all the time, mind you, but often) people get into management because they’re good bureaucratic sociopaths. But that’s another blog post.

Writing for a living requires a completely different set of skills than office work. Working retail is good for gathering material–Christ, is it ever–but the skills you develop there don’t serve you in very good stead when it’s just you and the keyboard and the blood-tinted sweat prickling on your forehead.

This is why when I say “writer” I’m referring to someone who wants to make a living from this thing, or at least have a reasonable chance of consistently getting published.[2] A lot of hobbyists call themselves writers; that’s not a bad thing. But I do think there’s a dearth of professional advice. A lot of people engage in speshul snowflakery or just plain obfuscation over writing.

Don’t get me wrong. There is a mystery at the heart of every creative endeavor. That’s why it’s Creation. It’s one of the biggest mysteries known to us. But there’s also a paradox–hard work and discipline prepare the ground for that mystery (the harder I work, the luckier I get syndrome) and prepare the ground for making a living from that mystery. Sculpting and painting require a certain amount of technical proficiency (don’t throw “modern” art at me here, please); I don’t know why people like to think writing is any different. That technical proficiency goes hand in hand with hard work and discipline. Making a living from writing requires that hard work, discipline, technical proficiency, and creativity.

It’s no wonder it feels like juggling fiery chainsaws.

Anyway, this is why I think NaNo is good for a lot of writers or hobbyists who think they might want to become writers. The process of having a this kind of goal–brute output–and a deadline does wonderful things for those people suited to it. It can also teach a professional writer a refinement or two on the nature of their own creative and self-imposed drive. The skills and drive to become a professional writer, to make a living at this jazz, are not some collection of arcana only shown to those with the Golden Handshake. Like any skills, they can be practiced, learned, fiddled with, and tweaked for a particular personality or set of circumstances. Thinking about how you’re going to solve the problem of being self-driven, how you’re going to arrange things to get yourself through fifty thousand words or so, is immensely valuable.

Great ideas are good. Practiced craft and discipline to convey those ideas is better, and is totally learnable. Practiced discipline and self-drive to get those ideas out into the world, to deal with submissions guidelines and editors and deadlines and copyedits and all that Other Stuff is the best of all, because the work isn’t just languishing in isolation. It is out there doing what it’s meant to do. Each step in the process has its own rewards and pitfalls.

And part of the joy of being self-driven is accomplishing a particular goal, like NaNo, and looking back over the peaks and valleys–and knowing that you walked every inch of that alone. Knowing that you pitted yourself against obstacles and pitfalls, and that you came out ahead. Knowing that you did it, goddammit, and every inch of that victory you sweated for is your own, your very own, your precioussssssss.

It is a wonderful feeling. It should be. Because tomorrow I’m going to have to get up and do it all over again, and if I don’t feel good about it why on earth will I do it? Take your victories where you find them.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to celebrate by taking a walk. Or going out for Thai and getting a mojito. Or maybe just by laying on the floor and feeling like I’ve climbed a mountain and ironed all the wrinkles out of my cerebellum at once.

It’s a small triumph, perhaps. But it’s all mine, and I’ll take it. Tomorrow it’s back to juggling chainsaws.

Today, however, it’s feeling good about the fiery machines I’ve juggled so far.

Over and out.

[1] The conscious choice to keep a particular response is different from suffering that response unconsciously and allowing it to f!ck up your life. At least, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.
[2] Do not moan at me about how I don’t have a copyright on the word “writer”. I offer this definition so you know what I’m talking about, in the interests of being as precise and clear as possible. ‘Nuff said.

The turkey was fabulous. Everything else was done at the right time–stuffing, relish, mashed creamer potatoes, steamed broccoli, sliced challah. The FIL is heading back north on the train, stuffed full and with a bag full of cranberry nut loaf (Fresh cranberries, ZOMG) and challah and turkey.

Everything went like clockwork. There was only one minor disaster–my empty kettle on a burner that got turned on by mistake. So, possibly-ruined kettle. But otherwise, it all went well. Especially the caramel sticky buns. The kitchen is cleaned up (bless the UnSullen One for unloading the dishwasher numerous times today) and the last load of dishes is in the washer, the turkey bones are simmering in the crock pot preparatory to the last picking off of meat and the making of stock. I sense soup in our future.

There have been numerous requests for my Dream Pie recipe. My mother used to make something very much like this, only her recipe involved baker’s chocolate and some sort of cream cheese thing, and I firmly believe that when I buy baking chocolate a candy thermometer is not far behind, and that is ALL KINDS OF TROUBLE. Not too long ago I put together a simple recipe that fits the bill and tastes like what I had in childhood. I found variants of this recipe all over the Net, but the packets of whip mix seem to give the pie a gritty mouthfeel I don’t like at all. YMMV.

So here it is. It’s super-quick and has no nutritive value whatsoever. (The best kind of dessert!)

Dream Pie

1 graham-cracker pie crust
1 8 oz. tub of Cool Whip or other whipped topping (I like the Extra Creamy kind)
1 packet of instant chocolate pudding mix
1 1/2-2c cold milk

Dump the pudding mix in the mixer bowl. Add 1c. cold milk, beat just until mixed. Glorp the Cool Whip in and work mixer up to medium speed until well mixed. Stop the mixer, scrape the sides of the bowl down, and add the extra 1/2-1 c. of milk depending on the consistency. (You can also add a half-teaspoon of amaretto flavor; I’ve sometimes put a splash of Bailey’s in the mix if I’m making it for adults only. Since the kids love the pie so much, though, I rarely do that.)

This–getting the consistency right–is the only “hard” part of the recipe, and it only takes once or twice to get down. You want it stiffer than pudding, about as stiff as a very thick cake batter. I’ve learned that the consistency depends on room temperature and humidity to an astonishing degree (whodathunkit?). Start with a half-cup of milk and only dribble in the other half if absolutely necessary. Turn the mixer up and whip the hell out of it–you want it nice and fluffy, and if you add too much milk it might not stand up.

Fear not, though. If you accidentally add too much milk, you can dump the whole runny mess in the pie shell and freeze it uncovered overnight. Then you’ll want to stick it in the fridge at lunchtime the next day in order to have it nice and thawed for dinner’s dessert. And voila, it’ll be perfect.

If it turns out exactly the right consistency, you can cover it loosely with foil and stick it in the fridge. It should be good to go after 4hrs or so, or until the next evening.

This pie doesn’t usually stick around long enough to stay more than one night in the fridge. If you’re planning on keeping it after it’s been cut, make sure you cover it a bit tighter with the foil, and stick it in the fridge. (For some reason, Saran Wrap doesn’t seem to work to keep it from drying out too much, but foil does the trick. Again, YMMV.) Some people like this pie frozen, but I like it nice and refrigerator-soft. You can spread more Cool Whip on it, too, making it even less nutritious and more delicious.

Just so we’re clear, there is absolutely no nutritive value to this dessert. It’s pure unadulterated junk food, but that’s how I like it. And there it is–Dream Pie.

Hope your Thanksgiving was as low-stress as mine. I had a blast cooking–brushed the turkey with olive oil and sprinkled with poultry seasoning, then cooked it under a loose tent of foil until the last hour or so, when I whisked the foil off and it browned up beautifully. I was told it was the nicest, moistest turkey the boys could remember. Which was awesome. The relish was even better after soaking all night, and I finally have cherry pie down.

I’m tired but very happy. This is probably the least stressful Thanksgiving I can remember, and I’m very happy for it. And dammit, I think I can cook. Which is a completely awesome thing.

Happy Thanksgiving!

So far:

* I’ve bought the brined turkey and everything else I need, including vanilla vodka and Bailey’s. I am NOT dealing with tomorrow’s cookathon without booze. I’m just not doin’ it.
* The dining room and living room are cleaned out.
* I’m about 2K away from the end of NaNo.
* I actually bought my first-ever can of Durkee’s French-Fried Onions.
* I got the kids to help with cleaning up. The living room is organized though not hoovered, the dining room (including the desk) is ever so much more cleaner and organised, the loos are scrubbed and their rugs freshly washed.

What I have left to do is a slightly bigger list.

* Cook dinner tonight
* Do up brioche dough, challah dough, cranberry relish, and cranberry nut loaf. Cook cranberry nut loaf (Will probably do this last.)
* Do up the pies, both cherry and Dream Pie (This will happen after dinner.)
* Finish and fold laundry
* Clean off the main altar
* Hoover living room and dining room, again
* Put in wordcount for today
* Clean up kitchen one last time, run over prep in my head, freak out a little bit, have some choco and relax

You’d think I was expecting an invasion, rather than Thanksgiving. And once Thanksgiving is over I am going to be very thankful for a clean house, enough to eat, no disasters (although I haven’t started cooking yet, anything can happen), a reasonably successful career I love, and all my kids happy and healthy. Not only that, but this year I’ve started getting my body in shape and drawn my battle line so that holidays aren’t like a war zone that depresses me to the point of contemplating self-harm for six months afterward.

I feel damn near rich.

If I don’t get to blogging tomorrow…well, happy Thanksgiving. Someone is grateful for you right now. Be easy and gentle with yourself, dear Reader. These are supposed to be joyous occasions. If some corners of the house don’t get cleaned, I am not going to beat myself up over it. At least, I’m gonna TRY not to.

Over and out.

Let me ’splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

In other words, time for a Bulleted List about OryCon!

* The first panel I was on–Apocalyptic Storytelling–had both Jay Lake and Ken Scholes. Which was a very good omen. It was the first time I’d met Jay, and both of us in a room together? Is Trouble with a capital T. But such enjoyable trouble–and when you throw apocalypse into the mix, ZOMG. I’m surprised we left the hotel standing.

* If you ever get the chance to buy Steven Barnes dinner, do it. The man is charismatic, smart, profound, funny, and very decent. I could listen to him talk through a five-course meal.

* Harry Turtledove is a Class Act. I had the pleasure of being on a panel with him and my inner fangirl just about expired of glee.

* Barb and JC Hendee are awesome people. So is Devon Monk, who got a cake! And a photoshoot that was absolutely packed. (I was there, Devon! I just couldn’t get near because of the crowd!) Thanks to all three of them for making OryCon–and the Powells signing beforehand–even more wonderful. (TEAM LEESIL!)

* The Guilty Pleasures and Definitive Paranormal Romance panels were awesomely fun, since my inner geek got to come out and play hard.

* The Magical Realism and Research For Alternate History panels massaged my brain really, really hard. In particular, Steven Barnes and Eric Witchey both said a lot of things I wish there had been double the time to go into.

* A big shout out to Jeff Soesbe, who gamely listened to me babble. Jeff, I swear to God, next time we’ll actually sit down to lunch and have a long conversation.

* Thank you to all the con volunteers. You were uniformly pleasant and helpful when I had a question, and your hard work really showed all through the con experience. I am very grateful that you do what you do.

* Thank you to my fellow panelists and the fans who came! Writing is such a solitary art, it’s fun to get out and connect for a while.

* Last but not least, I received confirmation of the There’s Always One In Every Audience–the person who thinks the panel/whatever isn’t really about the stated subject or the panelists’ experience (which is the reason they’re on the fricking panel), but about THEM and THEIR LITTLE EMOTIONAL NEEDS. I’ve been to enough cons now that I want to put together a Panel Bingo.[1] Hmph. But when all is said and done, those people only get as much as the people around them are willing to put up with, and I’ve found I am singularly unwilling to put up with very much. If they’re going to be That Guy/Gal, I have no problem being the Panel Moderator of Doom. In other words, bringing out my Raving Bitch Moderator Card, slapping it on the table, and saying “Bring it.” The good thing about this is the people who thank me afterward for not letting That Guy/Gal get away with hijacking the panel. Which always happens, and always makes me feel good. Nice to know there are some constants in life.

And now…I really have to get back to wordcount. No rest for the wicked. I was still so drained this morning that I decided to forgo the treadmill in favor of shovelgloving and a long walk later in the day. I suspect the walk will do a lot to rejuvenate me, and I’ll be ready to run for a whole half-hour (ha ha) tomorrow.

But first, I’ve got to get my heroine in some more trouble. Catch you on the flip side, dear Reader.

[1] Two spaces will be taken by things I’ve actually heard so far: “Won’t someone think of the children!” and “My freedom of speech has been–” Which is when I automatically shut it off. Your freedom of speech doesn’t cover abusing panelists or hijacking everyone’s con experience. *rolls eyes* ANYWAY. Moving on.

…and ded like a ded thang. It was a very exciting but exhausting weekend. I managed to get everywhere on time thanks to the UnSullen One (who really needs a new moniker here), and it was good to meet old friends and new faces.

So if I’m a little terse for a few days, it’s only because I’m pretty exhausted and have NaNo to finish. I should have at least an approximation of a workable draft by the end of next week. Once I hit 50K I am seriously considering throwing my hands up and hitting the copyedits on a completely different series just to give myself some breathing room.

But that could just be the exhaustion talking.

See you ’round, folks.