I’m super excited to announce that the next book in the Mark of the Least series is Catching Cinders, which releases August 1! I’m really happy to introduce to world to Cindy, a girl who’s a lot quieter than Merry or Anwen, but who has her own well of strength and uses it to change the world.

Even the weakest flame can become the fiercest blaze.

Crippled from a childhood illness, Cindy lives in the kitchen fireplace, ignored by her noble father and his new, perfect family, helping the people no one else notices. But when he dies under mysterious circumstances, Cindy’s step-mother coerces her into an elaborate plot to avoid being charged with murder.

Meekness is nothing new to Cindy, but now she has to lay low in the royal court of Valeria where a prince is rumored to be bride shopping. She'd be fine, if that prince would just stop following her around. But Prince Nikolas has seen more than Cindy's limp. He's seen that she's clever and observant. And she's just the right person to help him fight a blood mage that threatens the very foundation of Valeria. If only she believed that she was worth fighting for, too…

So I spent the weekend at one of my favorite events of the year. The Pikes Peak Writers Conference is my home, they’re my family, and I always learn so much while I’m with them. This year I got to teach time management and storyboarding, and I got to sit on a panel alongside some other amazing faculty.

I made some new friends, like Jennifer Rose and Veronica Calisto, and caught up with some old ones, like Carol Berg, Chris Mandeville and Todd Fahnestock. Anne Bishop, author of one of my favorite fantasy series of all time, told me she picked up my book, nearly giving me a heart attack in the process. I pretended it was normal to have New York Times Bestselling Authors reading my work.

And now that I’m back home and caught up on sleep, it’s time to get back to that work. The next book comes back from the copy editor at the end of the week and the next short, Aria at the Opera, goes live June 1, so there is plenty to do and plenty to implement.

If you were in either of my workshops and wanted a second look at the slides you can find those here:

Storyboarding

Time Management

I’m super excited to share the cover for the newest Mark of the Least short story! Aria at the Opera will release June 1, 2019.

The show's not over till the soprano dies...

Aria has dreamed of the opera ever since her parents died. Now she has a chance to earn her place on the most famous stage in Namerre. Who cares if there are rumors that the place is haunted? There's no such thing as ghosts. She's more concerned about the stage mage who is determined to make her laugh when she's trying to prove she's serious and professional. But when singers start dropping like falling sandbags, Aria has to figure out the truth behind the “ghost” since he seems intent on killing the lead soprano… and she’s just gotten the part.

Preorder now from Amazon!

I spent the weekend at the Pikes Peak Writer's Conference. It's always my favorite event of the year. I get to see old friends, meet new ones, and learn tons from the amazing speakers.

This year I actually got to be faculty and teach a couple classes like writing disability in fiction, and a comparison of story structure. I got a lot of requests for the notes, so if you were in either of those classes, or if you're listening to the recordings, I'll post those here. If you're really ambitious and you'd like the transcript I used, feel free to email me and I'll send you a copy.

Walking on Eggshells: Writing Disability Without Offending the Disabled

The Story on Story Structure: A Comparison of Save the Cat, Story Engineering, The Snowflake Method, and The Hero's Journey

 

Hey guys, I have a new venue. I've been writing speculative fiction reviews over on Speculative Chic, a blog where a bunch of women (and some not women) write about all things science fiction and fantasy. We talk about movies, music, TV, video games, and most of all, books.

I have a regular column on the fourth Wednesday of every month but I also do about two or three reviews a week, so watch out for those. This is a great forum with lots of fantastic people and opinions. We're blogging through the Hugos right now, which is actually how I got started with this group. They needed someone to talk about The Vorkosigan Saga and I love talking about The Vorkosigan Saga.

So if you're interested in everything speculative (or if you really miss my dulcet tones), head on over and check us out.

In case you've been wondering what I've been doing the last couple years...

I decided to take some time off from the blog to concentrate on this project, and it's been a very rewarding experience. Thank you for all the support you've given me over the years.

So I decided to learn to ski. I grew up in New York and took skiing lessons when I was seven, and I went a couple times in high school and later. But it's been over seven years since my injury, and in the meantime, I hadn't really thought about it much. But over New Year's we had some friends in town and while we were driving them around Winter Park, I realized how much I missed it. And how silly it was that I hadn't tried out the alternative.

The National Sports Center for the Disabled is located in Winter Park and offers lessons and programs for all kinds of disabilities for all kinds of sports, not just skiing. Jim, Bethany, and David were my super awesome sidekicks for the day (or the pick-kendra-up-after-she-falls-down team). Let's just say it's a lot harder than it looks when you're staring up at the mountain all starry-eyed saying "I could be a paralympian!" First, they fitted me for a mono-ski, basically a chair on a ski as seen below in the very blurry picture.

Then we went out to the bunny slope where I learned how to glide, turn, and turn to a stop. Theoretically. I still think the best way to stop is to fall over but my back disagrees, so I guess more practice is in my future.

 

 And can I just say kudos to David for running around in his ski boots up and down a hill all day?

After I could stop reliably, and you know, not ski off a cliff, I took the plunge and actually went up the mountain to find a nice easy green run. Getting the mono-ski up on a chair lift is interesting -- or terrifying, considering you can't see the lift underneath you, just your legs dangling over the abyss. Not sure the chair lift ride is my favorite part of skiing anymore. But you just sit there and the lift literally scoops you up. Pretty cool.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwVO3EhW2Ps&feature=youtu.be

Once at the top, I had a lot more fun on the green run than I did on the bunny slope. Mostly because I could go longer between falls. It's funny though, to watch the video. It did not feel that excruciatingly slow at the time. I could have sworn I was about to break the sound barrier.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bd-gkvEeB24&feature=youtu.be

By the end of the day I felt like it was all starting to click, though at that point the exhaustion had kicked in. I went home and got some therapy from the best source possible.

 I want to thank my instructors for being so patient and flexible. These guys really know what they're doing. And I can't be the easiest person to teach with my do-it-wrong-million-ways-before-I-do-it-right kind of learning. I wasn't ready to race Picabo Street by the end of the day, but I will definitely be heading back to get it right before the end of winter.

Well you don't know what we can find,

Why don't you come with me, little girl,

On a magic carpet ride.

I registered for the Pikes Peak Writer’s Conference yesterday. This is the one I go to every year and while I was trying to justify the expense to my husband (it’s a little pricey to be honest), I realized that it’s kind of changed my life. Not in that sappy infomercial way, but it’s changed the way I see myself as a professional writer. Writing is a lonely, solitary activity. Sure, you can get together with other authors to write but it mostly looks like this:

It’s something you do by yourself in your own head. Especially if you’re in the stage I’m in now, plugging away perfecting your craft, waiting for someone to notice. I don’t have an agent or an editor, I don’t have fans. The only contact I have with the outside world in a professional capacity is through critique partners and beta readers. The conference gives me a community, a chance to connect with peers and gain perspective on the industry I’m trying to shove myself into. It was at my first conference that I decided to call myself a writer because that was when I finally felt like one.

I mentioned last week how important goals are in the writing process. I can set myself goals and in fact I do, but without the outside influence of an editor or even a whip-wielding friend, I don’t have any impetus to make goals let alone keep to them. But the last couple years I’ve found my professional life revolving around the conference. I’m usually pitching my work to an agent or an editor, so I spend the first half of the year editing, polishing, and writing my pitch. The second half, I’m putting everything I learned at the conference into practice and sending out queries for the final draft. It’s completely reshaped the way I work as a writer.

So this year I’m working frantically to get A Shroud For My Bride ready to pitch in April. It needs at least another draft if not two before then and I need to write the pitch for it. A cadet cop with OCD has to reconnect with her vigilante father in order to catch a murderous enchanter? Maybe. I guess I’ll work on it.

Last week I took a look at all I'd accomplished last year, which got me thinking about what I want to accomplish this year. Years of physical therapy have taught me that goals are very important. I do a lot better when I have a goal to work toward. Not just physically. Months of Delve Writing goal sessions reminded me I tend to wander aimlessly when I don't have a deadline. So this year, I plan to:

• Finish the final draft of A Shroud for my Bride and have it ready to pitch by April 26th
• Attend the Pikes Peak Writing Conference, so excited for my fourth year
• Pitch A Shroud for my Bride to Sara Sargent from HarperCollins
• Write the second draft of Skin Deep
• Write the first draft of either By Hook or By Crook or A Matter of Blood
• Read five books a month- four fiction and one on writing (need to whittle down the stacks)
• Finish the Minecraft model of my fictional city (this is too work, you're just jealous you can't call video games working)
• And finish one quilt every month (start an Etsy store cause, you know, that went so well last time)

Looks like I've got my work cut out for me. Ah! What am I doing here? I ought to be writing.

In the spirit of the season, I've been looking back at 2013 and looking ahead toward 2014. I always find this time of year depressing. It's too easy to compare where I am now where I was this time last year and see very little difference. And apply that to a lifetime. What have I accomplished? What has my life been worth? I tend to find my self-worth in output. And when I work eight hours a day, five days a week and see no measurable profit at the end of the year, it's a serious blow. I know all that work resulted in something, but with no agent hooked, no publisher interest, I'm not sure I believe it.

So I'm going to try something to convince myself my time has worth. Maybe I can visualize this year's accomplishments.

This year I:

• Finished the final draft of By Wingéd Chair 
• Pitched By Wingéd Chair and queried over thirty agents about it
• Finished both the first and second drafts of A Shroud For My Bride
• Wrote the first draft of my seventh book, Talon Force during Nanowrimo
• Increased my online presence through Facebook, Twitter, and this blog
• Attended my third writer's conference
• Joined Delve Writing to hone my craft with a great community of writers
• Read forty-four books. Okay that's depressing no matter how I look at it considering I usually read 100 books in a year. I'll give myself a bit of a break since I wrote so much this year, but I'll have to step up my game in the future.
• Spent a month world-building for my series and created an encyclopedia for the details
• Not to mention all the personal things like my sister's engagement, joining the youth group staff, cleaning the basement, numerous vacations, celebrating my seventh anniversary, and discovering gnocchi

Wow, when I look at it that way, I accomplished quite a bit this year. There's a lot on that list to be proud of. And a couple things to improve on next year. Next time I start to doubt my progress, I can look back and see just how much I'm doing.

Writing is a solitary profession; honestly, it’s one of the things I love about what I do. But the greatest irony that goes along with that is how much of ourselves we end up sharing with the world. I just finished some polishes on By Wingéd Chair and I’ve sent it out to a couple beta readers. I meet with a critique partner regularly, but there’s something different about sending your work to readers you respect and want to impress. Critique partners are supposed to tear your stuff apart if only to make it better. But by the time it goes to a beta reader, it should be marketable, if not publishable. So it’s a bit more nerve-wracking, especially since these are friends and family members I’m going to have to face again.

Writers put everything into their work whether they intend to or not. Our ideals, hopes and fears leak into the story even when we’re using our imaginations or playing devil’s advocate. I reread my novel and I’m amazed and a little embarrassed by how much of myself ends up on the page. So when I send it off to readers, I can’t help wondering what will they see when they read it? Will they see my insecurities? Will they read more into this than I intended?

We’re taught to develop a thick skin if we want to be better, but you can’t pretend a novel doesn’t mean everything to you. And it’s easy to see this as discouragement, to refuse to let your novel go for fear of what other people will say. Because when you send it into the world, you’re laying yourself bare, hanging your heart on your sleeve.

It’s scary to be so open with complete strangers, but there’s something truly special about being known. And in the end, isn’t that why you wrote the book in the first place? To give the world something of yourself?

I was out till three in the morning last night with some friends at The Hobbit double feature (great movies by the way),  so today is a slacking off kind of day. I figured I'd share something cool with y'all then head back to bed. Remember this guy?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AUUVfPy0UgI

I love that Aaron teamed up with Devin because he does some really gorgeous short films and music videos. I can always tell a Devin Graham piece by about two seconds in.

Well, last week I finished up Nanowrimo 2013 with 60,000 words of a book I’m calling TALON Force. It’s a middle grade urban fantasy with kind of a Warehouse 13 flare. Except instead of magical artifacts, Nate and his team manage magical creatures. This year, through Delve Writing, I was in contact with a lot of writers who were new to Nanowrimo. I found myself explaining Nano and its purpose in a writing world, which made me look at the process in a new way.

There was still the argument that Nano is a way to help you get words on the page, especially if you’re a perfectionist or you struggle with commitment. But then there are the people who argue back saying, what’s the point, if everything you’re writing down is crap?

I have a rebuttal — but wait, Ernest Hemingway said it best: “The first draft of anything is shit.” Anyone who tells you otherwise has never written more than the first draft. So doing Nano just gets the crap out faster so you can get to the making it better part sooner. If you want to be a real writer, you’re going to have to suck it up and do that anyway. Don’t believe me? Ask E. B. White. “The best writing is rewriting.”

But that can be discouraging, too, to be told to have low expectations. I’ve always said Nano is about quantity over quality. Except this year, I started realizing it’s closer to finding quality in quantity. The more you write the better the writing will be. You’ll find genius ideas buried in the excrement, beautiful turns of phrase will pop up in unexpected corners of sludge. And it’s funny, but the more you look at the crap, the more you realize it’s actually a pretty solid foundation that just needs to be swept and mopped.

It is nothing less than amazing to write a novel. Even if you have to spend months or even years (guilty here) making it worth other people's time. Never underestimate that experience.

Tru Confessions by Janet Tashjian When I read a really short book, I don’t feel like I’ve gotten to know the characters well enough to review them. That happened with Tru Confessions. I only spent about an hour and a half of my life with Tru, so I didn’t connect with her the same way I would have with a character I’d spent a week with. But I’m going to try to talk about her anyway, because she’s pretty cool and deserves a special look.

Tru wants two things in life: to find a cure for her brother and to host her own TV show. When a local cable channel announces a contest for teens, Tru sees a way she can maybe get both.

Tru’s brother Eddie is developmentally delayed due to asphyxia during birth. But this isn’t his story. It’s Tru’s. We see her move from her longing and a desperate search for a way to make Eddie ‘normal’, to acceptance of who her brother is and will remain. There is never any lack of love, but over time Tru realizes it’s okay if she grows up while her brother doesn’t.

One of the things I really liked about this book was Tru’s voice. She’s snarky and funny while at the same time being painfully honest. Congrats to Tashjian. I’m not sure she could have dealt with these hard issues for young readers in a better way. Tru lays out her guilt over Eddie’s condition, her desire to fit in, and her secret shame, and we move through them with her, coming out the other side in a better place.

This blog normally deals with disabilities from a first person view, whether through fiction or real life. But I think it’s really important to bring in perspective from those who live with disabilities without actually having them. In our own pain or self-righteousness it’s easy to forget that our struggles impact those we love.

So, I'm deep in the third week of Nanowrimo, and with 20,000+ words still to go, the creative juices are spread thin (how's that for a mixed metaphor?). I figured for today, I would share some of the diamonds that have appeared in the rough draft (get it? get it? oh my gosh, I'm so tired). The book I'm working on is called TALON Force for now and it's about a fourteen year old hacker who is recruited into a covert government agency that protects magical creatures called phenomenals. Enjoy.

His mom looked up and squinted at him. “Don’t forget school starts tomorrow. Lights out by 11:30, okay?”

Nate’s stomach flipped. How could he forget? After five years of learning physics and calculus around this very table, he’d be headed to the local high school for ninth grade. But that’s what happened when your dad agreed to more hours with the Bureau and your mom was offered a position in the lab of her dreams.

“We’ve talked about it, I know," she said. "But it bears repeating. No working outside the curriculum. If you’re bored, read the next chapter or something.”

“No reprogramming the computers,” his dad added.

Nate opened his mouth to protest but his dad waved an S tile at him. “Not even to make them more efficient,” he said.

Nate snapped his mouth closed and scowled.

“And no building killer robots,” Jessie put in with a smirk.

“That wasn’t my fault. If Vince Price hadn’t messed with my power regulator everything would have worked fine.”

“Tell that to Mr. Holland.”

“How is he?” his mother asked.

“I hear his therapy is coming along really well,” Jessie said.

"Dr. Demarco, Mr. Demarco, your son has seen too much,” the man said.

Nate gulped. “You mean they’re real?” he said.

“What’s real?” his dad asked.

The men glared and Nate snapped his mouth shut.

His mom sighed. “We said no more hacking, Nate. You promised.”

He hung his head. Jessie had her elbows propped on the table and she was watching intently.

“So what are you going to do with him?” his mom said. “Hard labor? The gallows?”

The men eyed her sideways and one of them said, “He has two choices. The first is a maximum security facility designed to hold people like him where he will be locked away unharmed and he can never tell anyone what he’s seen.”

His mom raised an eyebrow. “Sounds cozy.”

“Mom,” Nate said. Even when things were dire she couldn’t help cracking jokes. It was embarrassing.

“Just be sure to feed him his vegetables.”

Nate really really didn’t want to go to prison. Especially one without computers or the Internet or Teen Titans. “What’s the other option?” he said.

One of the men crossed his arms and looked down at Nate who still sat at the dining room table, limp green salad pieces littering his plate and the floor under his chair.

“Join the agency that was created to protect and conceal what you saw.”

“Protect?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’d be working with them? Like up close?”

The man inclined his head.

“But that’s, I mean they’re—” He looked at his interested family and rephrased what he was about to say. “Is that safe?”

“You could always choose the other option,” one of the men said. He looked kind of hopeful. Like he really wanted to lock Nate away in a little room with no Internet. “It is safer, as you say.”

Working with monsters? Real life ones? Nate had always thought it would be cool to get a job with a game developer programming the creatures he fought in video games but this was entirely different. He’d be coming face to face with them, maybe fighting them. No, the guy had said protecting. But that girl in the video had definitely been fighting that snake lizard that looked just like the one in Slayer.

The corners of Nate’s mouth started to lift as he thought about it. He’d be a slayer in real life. Maybe he’d even get a sword.

“Well?” his mom said. “What’ll it be?”

Nate grinned up at them. “I, uh, choose the not jail thing.”

“Really?” the one man said looking disappointed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I choose the agency.”

He realized he was sitting in water up to his waist, no big deal, but the hands were still clutching at him. He dug his own hands into the bottom of the bay and hung on so whatever had him couldn’t drag him any further.

The hands surfaced, long delicate fingers clinging to his jacket. They were attached to slim pale arms. A head covered in long blond hair appeared and a solid body pushed him back into the surf.

Nate found himself looking up into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Even Mei’s dark eyes and hair couldn’t compare to the perfect features of the girl who was lying on top of him.

Naked.

Nate flushed before he realized all the interesting parts were covered by her wet hair. Even still, he raised his hands, keeping them out to his sides where they wouldn’t touch anything by accident.

“Hi,” the girl said and smiled. Dazzlingly.

“Nate!” It was his dad who skidded to a stop beside them, pebbles showering both Nate and the girl.

Nate held up a hand. “It’s okay,” he said. At least he thought it was okay. She didn’t seem to be trying to kill him. Yet. But his encounter with the kelpie had made him wary.

“Hello,” he said.

She beamed even brighter, if that was possible, as if he’d said the nicest thing in the world.

More feet clattered on the beach behind him and he heard a gasp. He tried not to groan. Because he really needed his mom and his sister to witness his humiliation as well.

“I knew they were real,” Jessie whispered somewhere over his head. “I just knew it.”

Uh oh.

“Um,” he said to the perfect girl who now had her fingers twined in his hair. “So what are you?”

She ducked her head with a shy smile and he felt her weight shift. He saw a tail emerge behind her head. A fish tail.

Oh god, he’d found a mermaid.

“Are you a sailor?” she said.

“What?” He tried to wriggle out from under her, but apparently five feet of fish and woman weighed a lot.

“You look like a sailor,” she said and bit her lip coyly. “Will you be my sailor?”

“Nate?” his dad said again.

“Uh,” Nate said. “Give me a second. I’m not really sure what’s happening.”

“She’s a mermaid, gnat,” Jessie said with a “duh” she didn’t say but he could hear anyway. “They’re always seducing sailors to drag down into their underwater kingdom.”

The mermaid smiled again and nodded. “Wanna come?” she said.

I guess I should start a series of these and call it “Did you really just say that?” Sometimes I feel like people don’t really think before they speak. I was walking through the grocery store the other day when a lady stepped out in front of me with her cart. We did the awkward dance before I stepped around her. I laughed and said “Sorry, it’s hard to change directions.” It was supposed to be a joke because that’s how I relieve tension. The appropriate response would have been to laugh with me and walk away. Instead she stopped and looked like she was working up to something. So I waited politely, mentally tapping my foot because this was supposed to be a quick stop with my husband waiting outside.

Finally, she came up with, “I’m sorry. About…” She gestured to my feet and back up to my head. “It’s just so terrible.”

I said, “It’s okay,” because what the hell else am I supposed to say? I get this one a lot, this and the “When are you getting better?” This lady basically stopped me in the grocery store to tell me she felt sorry for me. At least that’s the interpretation I’m going with. I guess her gesture could have meant “It’s just so terrible you’re alive.”

I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and say it was the first one, because, you know, everyone wants to know they inspire pity in the rest of the human race. In what world is that encouraging? In what world is it accurate? My life isn’t exactly the mire of aborted dreams and hopelessness she seems to think it is. Oh, I’m just hanging in there until I die. Given how many kids (and adults, though they won’t admit it) want to play with my crutches and my wheelchair, I must have it pretty good.

And it’s funny because I get the complete opposite occasionally, too. The “you’re so inspiring” or “brave”. Now, I wonder how many people are thinking the “I’m sorry for her” while pasting the “inspiration” thing on it to make it more palatable.

Either way, I wonder if people really realize what they’re saying or if they need it played back to thm.

The Blade Itself by Joe Abercrombie Look I’m having a really hard time writing a summary for this and it’s Nanowrimo, so give me a break and if you want to know what the book is about, go here.

Joe Abercrombie does not write my favorite books, but he certainly writes some of the most fascinating. I actually read this for the first time while Justin Landon was doing his re-read over at Tor.com. A happy coincidence. And it was a great way to read such a layered and complex work. I could read it for myself, draw my own conclusions and then hop over to see what Justin had to say about this or that chapter. I’m not an avidly analytical reader so I was surprised and proud to see I actually picked up on a lot of the same themes he was so excited about.

Of those themes, one of my favorites was that of heroism. Abercrombie presents us with three possible heroes: the noble swordsman – literally, not morally; the barbarian – not as popular an archetype as the swordsman but still widely recognized; and the crippled torturer – who’s not on any list as far as I can tell. With two much celebrated archetypes readily available, why would we even notice the third? Well, the swordsman is a self-obsessed bastard, and the barbarian is practical, and well, let’s be honest, just a little boring. So the one we’re drawn to is the third. And despite the fact that he tortures people for a living and all his bitching and moaning (or maybe because of it, he does it so well, after all), Glokta is surprisingly sympathetic.

I’m having a hard time cataloguing Glokta’s disabilities because they’re so creative and so many. He was once a brilliant, arrogant swordsman himself. Then he went to war. The enemy’s torturers left him a different man. Now, I usually associate torture with excruciating pain that lasts as long as it takes to get someone to say what you want them to say. But Glokta’s torturers made sure that the pain they inflicted would last for the rest of his life. He’s missing half his teeth, he barely walks, he’s got some pretty significant nerve damage, and I’m not sure what’s wrong with his back, but let’s just say it’s worse than mine.

And despite all this he is competent. That’s Glokta’s superpower and it’s what makes him one of my favorite characters written. He falls perilously close to the Curmudgeon stereotype, bitterness infusing everything he thinks and says, but he still manages to be the best at what he does. And isn’t that just a fascinating twist. He’s good at inflicting pain because he knows it so well. He hates his own pain, hates the man he is, but he’s excellent at his job, and frankly, no one else will have him, so he keeps going. He’s stuck in this wonderfully perpetual cycle of self-loathing.

Which would be horrible and depressing if not for his inner commentary. Which is hysterical and pointed and can’t be described any better than that.

And here’s the sugar coated knife Abercrombie sticks us with (as if it’s not already buried deep). Glokta is feared by all. Granted some of that is probably similar to The Princess Bride’s “Dear God, what is that thing?” reaction. But most of it is due to the position Glokta holds. This ruined man, the cripple who can’t eat solid food or get out of bed without help, holds power that makes common men tremble. We’ll have to see what he does with it in the rest of the series.

So far this book sounds truly dark, but scattered amongst the grit there are gems like this: “You have to learn to love the small things in life, like a hot bath. You have to love the small things, when you’ve nothing else.” On the surface, just as depressing as the rest, but really, this is how I live my life. This ray of hope in a genre known as grim or dark fantasy (or as Justin says, Grimdark).

There really aren’t enough disabilities represented in fiction, especially when the ones that are there tend to fall into unflattering stereotypes. This is damaging to both abled and disabled people; those of us with disabilities are baffled and even insulted by these depictions. And those who are “normal” assume these portrayals are accurate and try to treat us like the poor souls they read about in their books. Bad news all around. The first stereotype I see the most often is The Saint. This character has been disabled all their life. They don’t know what they’re missing so of course they can put on a brave smile and greet the world with that unique strength that comes from obliviousness. They just keep swimming, unaware of the countless millions their story inspires, amazing their readers with their ability to get out of bed in the morning and face life. You can recognize this character by the adjectives used to describe them. Words like brave, undaunted, inspiring, or my personal favorite, stoic. Watch for these characters in minor roles, quietly compelling the hero to bigger and better deeds, because if she can sit in that chair all day without complaining, well, then, gosh darn, I can save the world.

Walking hand in hand with The Saint is The Curmudgeon. This character has only been disabled a short time, a few years at most, which means they remember what it was like to run free. So their bitterness is understandable. Look at all they’ve lost. What’s the point of moving on? they moan. Their pain is cathartic because things can’t possibly get any worse for them, and we’re reminded that our lot isn’t really that bad. This character doesn’t get nice round adjectives, just a dark, foul living space and the occasional caustic remark. You can find them occupying secondary roles, providing a foil for the bright, hopeful hero, because we can’t recognize the light without the miserable reminder of what they might become.

Now, I’ve written this with tongue firmly in cheek, but the thing is, stereotypes exist for a reason. There is a grain of truth in both the Saint and the Curmudgeon. Heck, I’ve represented both in the same day before. That “just keep going” attitude and the bitterness come from very real reactions to disability. But people (all people) are so much more that the 2D façade these stereotypes perpetuate, and the same goes for characters. I want to see the crumbling worldview behind the stoic smile and the steely strength masked by the caustic comments.

So it’s October and that means I’m gearing up for Nanowrimo. I’m plotting and scheming like any good villain, throwing every enemy and roadblock I can find at my characters. But it also means brainpower is at a minimum for anything not novel based. So today I’m going to share the new WIP with you. Because you’re soo interested, I know. You might recognize this format from last October, but hey, like I said, brainpower at a minimum.

What is the working title of your book?

Right now, I’m calling it TALON Force, but in the long run that might be the name of the series. I’m not sure I’ll be able to name it until I get to know the characters and the conflict a little better.

Where did the idea come from?

I was watching a video by Corridor Digital online (this one to be exact; go check it out, they’re excellent). In one particular scene a teenage programmer is kidnapped because she managed to do something she wasn’t supposed to. I loved the idea of someone so young being so valuable for their skills. The image really took hold of me and I couldn’t stop worrying at it until I had a character and an exciting problem for him to solve.

What genre does your book fall under?

I’d call it Middle Grade Urban Fantasy.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I really don’t cast my books. I know some authors will tell you we all do it, if only in secret, but I promise I’m not one of them. See this post for my opinion on the subject.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

A fourteen year old hacker uncovers a secret that lands him a place in a covert government agency. Or Agent Cody Banks meets a fantasy Men In Black. Whichever gets the point across.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I am currently looking for an agent. The process is slow and incredibly painful to my self-esteem but to quote a character from A Shroud For My Bride, you can’t go back, you can only go forward.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I’m going to write this one for Nanowrimo this year, so it’s not done yet. Or even started. But I’m planning on it being between 60,000 and 70,000 words, a little shorter than my normal, so there’s a good chance I’ll get it done in the month.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I’m going to say Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson  and  the Olympians series for the whole fighting monsters aspect, only, you know, not Greek. And Eoin Colfer’s Artemis Fowl for the whole kid genius thing.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I think this one came from a workshop I attended at the Pikes Peak Witer’s Conference where Darby Karchut talked about writing books for boys. I’d rather there weren’t “boy books” or “girl books”. I want kids to feel comfortable reading whatever happens to interest them, but I recognize the idealism in that. And Darby is so good and enthusiastic about what she does, I couldn’t help but catch the bug.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

This is a left turn from the disabled fairytales I usually write, so we’ll see how it works out. Nate has Cerebral Palsy, but it’s much more understated than Merry’s paraplegia, or Kallan’s OCD. It will affect his character and the plot, because how could it not? But it won’t be a major theme of the book.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5T5M1iW1WY I grew up with Back to the Future, Doc Hollywood, and Homeward Bound, so I’ve always been a fan of Michael J. Fox. I even love Atlantis, despite the gaping plot holes that threaten to swallow someone. But Fox slowed down a little in 1998 after he announced he’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s.  Completely understandable, but here’s what I like best about this story. There’s another chapter.

Fox didn’t fall off the face of the Earth after his diagnosis. He did some guest spots, a few voices, and now he’s doing The Michael J Fox Show. In the interview above, Fox talked about doing his guest appearances and realizing that acting is what he loves. And thank goodness, because the man is a brilliant actor and he’s just getting better. The guest part he played on Scrubs is probably one of my favorites. Take a look.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oW8QRcU6GnU&feature=youtu.be

Who knew you could channel Parkinson’s to bring OCD to life? I really nerd out over actors and comedians using their disabilities as an advantage. Phamaly for example. And Samuel J. Comroe. And now Michael J. Fox. He even talked about finding new depths in his work while dealing with his disease.

I’ve seen the first couple episodes of the new show and I’m really excited. I’m totally on board with the whole comedy is tragedy plus time thing. Sometimes it just has to be funny, and humor can be the best way to bridge the gap between people. Again, Phamaly and Samuel J. Comroe come to mind.

So far The Michael J. Fox Show avoids the “inspiration porn” trap, even going so far as to make fun of it. It’s great to see a work of fiction on TV that portrays someone with a disability just getting on with their life, with the same joys and fears and family drama everyone else has.