Assumptions

Assumptions. I’m going to break my freaking big toe on one of them before this is through.

*pauses: gathers thoughts, breath and whatnots; carries on with a teensy bit less spite*

Assumptions are tricky bastards. Let me illustrate.

Strangers assume that if you are dressed spiffily, answer pleasantly, smile appropriately and converse smartly that you are without staggering mental hiccups (i.e. anxiety, panic, OCD, etc). This is all well and good… except when they do inevitably find out the truth they are certain you are either exaggerating to gain pity or outright lying to gain some kind of mythical leverage.

These kind of assumptions have been tripping me up for decades. As a result, I’ve learned to loathe them and to try to avoid them at every turn.

A prologue to a historical romance, however, is all assumption. A writer must guess what a reader already knows. Very few readers of the genre are there for a historical treatise on the time period. The author must assume at least some basic knowledge on the era is known… but the tricky part is knowing how much. Give the reader too much credit and you lose them before Chapter One. Give the reader too little credit and you bore them to tears and still lose them before Chapter One.

*sighs*

Assumptions. I am crap at managing them. Just saying.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Dry Docked

Alright. New Year’s wisdom. They’ll be expecting it, you know? Your daily writing blog will begin Year Three this month and thoughtful words of inspiration should be on tap for all comers.

*checks tap; finds it bloody dry*

Fine. Perhaps you should complain? That’s always worked well in the past to fill the empty spots. “Poor Me” plays well on every station, right?

*thumps head on keyboard and groans*

Just not feeling the self-pity today. Of all times for that little well to run dry...

Ok, ok, no need to panic…

*laughs hysterically at the Panic Disorder maven saying that*

How about you toss out some advice? Put your sanctimonious penny-poor writer’s cap on and tout some wisdom?...

Crap. I’m back to the wisdom thing, aren’t I?

*four-legged, furry muse rouses from her nap and snorts at the daily stupidity she must face*

Before you embarrass yourself even more, why don’t you just wish the nice people “Happy New Year” and let them go? Maybe, maybe, they’ll blot this post out of their memory and come back tomorrow?

*sighs, nods and wishes ever-so heartily…*

Happy New Year!

And please, please, come back tomorrow.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Post Note: Even if you can’t find anything to say, say it verbosely. It’s a skill always helpful for a writer to keep in their back pocket.

Allowing Giddy to Trump Pity

On a morning when I expected my latent self-pity to crawl and scrap its way up through all the really superb stuff I’ve been blessed with, I am instead surprised to find a grin riding high upon my face.

Care for an explanation?

My pleasure.

First off, the expected pity was to have come from the fact that it is Mother’s Day and I will never be a mother. (Having your uterus cut out does that to a girl. *smirks*)  The planned for pity would have only been brief and tiny and relatively easy to swat away, but it should have been there.

But…

A giddy grin arrived instead in the form of an email from Dreamspinner Press.

I just received a whole set of promotional images for the release of “Ravenscar” next month. (You remember our joint effort of writing a short story against the clock in the early February? The little 10k story that could? The little story that did? The story that will be published by Dreamspinner in June as part of their Mended Anthology? Yep, I’m talking that one.)

I’ve got 2-sided postcards, bookmarks with a bleed, a Facebook Timeline banner, a small web banner and thumbnails.

Wow!

Freaking wow, right?!

Forgive my utter enthusiasm but with Writhe still stuck in a cover queue at Ravenous, this promotional package for little “Ravenscar” has just thrilled me.  My first experience with working at Dreamspinner has been a phenomenal one so far, so please pardon this spate of giggles.

Speaking of which, here’s to wishing you all your own cache of chuckles this Mother’s Day!

Until tonight…

Chloe