Everything really was hitting me wrong there, wasn't it? And that's considering I had New Shoes. Ah well, is what it is. Just goes to show that when the writing's a struggle, it has the potential to really color everything else. Not to mention, being cooped up in the house all week with sick children probably didn't do any great wonders for my mood either. *sigh*

And yes, while this new story is right there in my mind and I know exactly how I want it to go, the fact that I'm working in Third Person POV for the first time in years is making this a struggle. One thing I'm finding is that with Third, precise word choice seems to take on even more importance than it does in First. In some ways, there's infinitely more variety because in First, the language, both narrative and dialogue, is pretty firmly informed by the character and their circumstances. (One of my pet peeves in First Person POV YA is when a teen comes off sounding like a thirty-five year old divorcée.)

The pacing and POV shifts are giving me slight fits too, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. I'd really like to get another chunk of this story down over the weekend because I'm expecting a new revision letter for Carmen from Lovely Editor either sometime today or early next week. Yeah, just because I rocked the revisions this time around doesn't mean I don't have some more work to do. I really, really want to take this book to the next level and however many revisions it requires, that's what I'll do.

So let's make this a Good News Friday—tell me good stuff, y'all. I'll start. My darling pix_kristin is finally on the mend after a nasty bout of pneumonia. Now she just needs to take care of herself and not overdo it.

And did I mention I got New Shoes? *g* And I've lost three pounds since coming back from the Vacation of Excess. And this coming Tuesday brings all sorts of new release music including Jason Mraz, Josh Groban, Gavin DeGraw, and Duffy. All Good Things. Oh, and gaelbrady done slain the Class from Hell and got herself an A!! WOOT!

Now tell me more.

Remember? If the revisions didn't suck? These?




As for your Carmen revision, you've done such a great job this time around! There were so many instances when I literally exclaimed out loud: "Yes!"

*preens*

Heh. Heh heh heh heh heh.

And debg, be on notice, I will be on the lookout for anything that may potentially bop me over the head. And those shoes may just be Super Glued onto my feet. :-P

Thanks so much everyone for all your congrats and good wishes yesterday. I must say, it was quite an amazing feeling, overall, to be done and taking a deep breath and send the little bugger on its way to Lovely Editor (who proclaimed me a rock star—heh).

I had me a celebratory shower and even shaved my legs—woot! And had pizza (six cheese with Roma tomatoes, mmmmm...) And then I collapsed in bed with a book that wasn't mine! And the television! Double WOOOT.

(The Cabana Boys were too tired to do much of anything other than collapse *angles suspicious stare sartorias' way*)

Anyhow, in honor of the book being DONE, I'm going to maybe read some more. Hee! And of course, the paranoia is setting in, so I'll be waiting on pins and needles to hear what Lovely Editor thinks of it.

And because my darling amaliedageek was feeling cranky yesterday and made reference to Persephone with respect to the contrary weather in her neck of the woods, I thought I'd post a little Teaser... erm, Wednesday. It's Wednesday, right?

stephanielynch, I also thought of you when I wrote this section. *g*

Okay, anyhow.

From Whatever CARMEN'S title is going to be...
copyright 2008, Barbara Caridad Ferrer

**

She reached past me to the table while I rolled my eyes. "Oye, Mamacita, maybe now's not—"

"Tranquilate."

There was no escaping the woman when she had that determined aura going yet she had the nerve to be telling me to calm down? But again, she surprised me—instead of handing me the deck she simply turned it over and began thumbing through the cards, obviously looking for something. When she found it, she pulled it out, holding it out to me.

"¿Te acuerdas?"

I nodded and shivered, looking at the Death card, even though I know it didn't literally mean death, and in and of itself, it wasn't considered a bad card. Not a card one could easily forget—especially in this deck, the one with the lovers that she'd used for me so many months back. It was actually an incredibly beautiful, haunting card, depicting Pluto, god of the underworld, with Persephone. Now, you want to talk about a seriously dysfunctional relationship—

"It's the truest interpretation of this card, I think," she said, turning it so she could study the illustration as well. "This myth of love and transformation and rebirth. Of what can happen when one resists change."

She set the card down on top of the envelope with Jonathan's letter and went back to skimming through the deck. "After you went to bed that night, I pulled one more card."

I looked at the card she was showing me, my eyes going wide. "Oh come on, you are so making that up," I declared, cringing almost the second the words left my mouth because she was liable to smack me upside the head for dissing the Tarot… But seriously.

"Desire? Tristan and Isolde?" And their tragic, ill-fated, crazy-making love affair? Please. "Isn't that a little…" I chose my next word carefully, still aware of the possibility of getting smacked upside the head. "Convenient?"

"Do you know which card this is meant to represent?"

I shook my head.

"It is this deck's equivalent of the Chariot. Do you remember what that means?"

"Umm…"

She sighed. "Movement. Fate. Transition."

"And again, I repeat, convenient?"

Now I got the Evil Eye. "I can't control how you feel, m'ija. I'm just telling you what I saw. Whether or not you choose to believe or what you do with the knowledge, that's up to you. Remember—"

"It's just a guide," I finished in tandem with her. "For what, though?"

"That's up to you, too."

I AM DONE!!!!

DONE DONE DONE LIKE A DONE THING!!

Cue the fireworks and inspirational music and cabana boys, because baby, I. Am. DONE!

I hate my working title.

I just thought of one, but I don't know if it makes sense or if it just really sounds good to my exhausted brain.

Once, I Was Carmen

(Lovely Editor wants to really incorporate "Carmen" into the title—otherwise, I'd lobby hard for Roses In My Hands)

I'm hunting deadwines...

This is what I want this story to be. How I want it to make people feel.

Hello?

*echoes around empty blog*

We were told this was the place to be?

Anyone...?







Think we should just wait?

Um... bueno Barbara sent me to sing and dance for you. She said I was much more entertaining than she is at the moment...

That's about it.

I'm panicking. My stomach's in knots and I have a vicious migraine. I suspect that by tomorrow I'll be largely incoherent.

However, if I survive and the book doesn't suck, I'll reward myself with these:

But it's of the laughing variety.

Some time back I read a review of Adiós that criticized my depiction of Fabiana. That the villain of the piece also dressed like a cheap hooker and that it was a little too obvious and virgin/whore for their taste, since Ali dressed in such a conservative manner.

That's when I realized I'd screwed up. Because seriously, how Fabiana dressed had nothing to do with her being the villain. That was just a collateral bonus. Really, it had more to do with her burning desire to make it in the Latin entertainment industry where dressing like a cheap hooker is de rigeuer. I even wrote in a Venezuelan beauty queen who had highly questionable taste in clothing.

Case in point, the Billboard Latin Music Awards were held last night and televised on Spanish-language station, Telemundo. Because it's not as high profile an event as say, the Grammys or even the Latin Grammys, the press coverage isn't as thorough, but I have uncovered more than a few photos that support my assertion. Tons of ill-fitting satin and obscenely short skirts, and missing panels of material and enough silicone to raise the Titanic. The real shame of it is that I haven't been able to find any good photos of the female host in some of the numbers she sported throughout the show because Oh. My. God. Her outfits just... defied description. Seriously. They made the infamous Versace that J.Lo wore to the Grammys years ago:



look like a nun's habit.

ETA: HA!! Finally found a picture of the host, Aylin Mujica. While this isn't from last night, this is very similar in... shall we say, flavor to some of her get ups.



Admittedly, Latin women, we're not so much with the discretion and while there's a certain joy to be found in that, there are times you just want to say, draw back... just a little... please









There was even a tacky beauty queen, completely substantiating my theory!



Which is not to say that all of the outfits were terrible. There were some very pretty dresses last night. My favorite was this red number:



So... lesson learned. I should have populated Adiós with a few more tackily dressed women to show that how Fabiana dressed had nothing to do with her status as the villain. It just was. :-)

Back to my revisions where my Carmen character doesn't even come close to dressing like a cheap hooker.

That by 8:13, I'd had two cups of Sumatra and was on my first Diet Coke of the day?

I'm not sure I've ingested caffeine in quite this manner since college.

I just ruthlessly cut one of my very favoritist scenes. This was a scene I'd envisioned from the very first conception of the story and I just eviscerated it.

AUGH!

Which begs the question—at what point do you sacrifice flavor and atmosphere for pacing?

*sigh*

ETA: Okay, I'll post at least a snippet of the scene. Why not, right?

Set up—this is just one of the ways in which drum & bugle corps geeks pass the time on looooonnnnnng drives

***

As the bus shifted into gear and began slowly pulling out of the parking lot, a shrill, cab-hailing whistle drew our attention to the front where Raj was holding court over the entertainment unit. Still blew my mind, every time I stepped on this bus. It was unreal, all comfortable seats and roomy overheads and television screens every few rows with a killer sound system. Again, mad props to the viejitas and their love for the bingo, allowing us to travel in style.

"Music or movies, people?"

Squinting up towards the front, I could just tell he was waving around one of the Lord of the Rings movies.

"Por tú madre, Raj, please, no more Legolas," I yelled out, which earned me an elegant finger, but I was the one with the reinforcements as other voices chimed in with, "Yeah, save the movies for when we're driving through Iowa and corn fields for days."

"Fine, you cranky bitches—music it is." But he didn't actually give us any choices, quickly selecting a CD and slipping it in. Then proceeded to sit back and grin like an idiot as the opening strains of "Bohemian Rhapsody" flowed through the speakers and we all laughed our collective asses off.

Next to me, Jonathan was grinning as we watched Raj doing his best overwrought conductor routine, cueing one half of the bus, then the other, to sing along with the various parts. Even I joined in, even though my voice wasn't exactly what anyone would call lyrical, but then again, finesse wasn't exactly what we were going for here. This was loud, with a hefty side of dramatic, especially as we got to the operatic interlude, with its "scaramouche" and "fandango" and at the very end of it, that insane falsetto note that Jonathan, who'd been singing louder and louder, let loose with, hitting it perfectly, and sending me into a fit of hysterical laughter.

After that, it was total Wayne and Garth, with the headbanging and the air drumming and more laughter and Jonathan, holding me tight against him and looking so carefree as he smiled and joked with the guys around us, it made my heart turn over.

He looked down at me, face flushed all over again.

"God, I should've quit the horn bus way before this."

"You don't do this on the horn bus?"

"Oh, we listen to music, sure, but it's always some hardcore jazz or something seriously progressive and obscure. Or old corps shows—those are always popular. A lot of times, too, we'd play through the show on our mouthpieces—trying to get it ever more perfect."

"Are you serious?"

"It's more fun than it sounds."

Who was he trying to convince, me—or him?

"Really?" Not trying to sound judgmental—honestly. Especially with the way the smile was fading from his face.

"I thought so," he admitted with a shrug, ducking his head down, face turned away.

"Hey." I stroked my fingers through his hair and along his jaw until he looked at me again. "I used to think ten hour ballet rehearsals rocked. We're evolving."

His hand rose to trap mine against his cheek. "Couldn't do it without you."

Although his words made me go equal parts warm and fierce inside, I felt compelled to reassure him. "Sure you could."

Slowly, he shook his head, his lips brushing against my palm which had the effect of making me feel his words as well as hear them. "No, I really couldn't."

Because my editor, lovely thing that she is, also has a bent sense of humor, my revisions are due on April 15th.

So yes, I am in a Panic.

And the Girls in the Basement are having a grand time with the fragile state of my psyche. I woke up this morning to discover scrawled notes for the revision. You understand, I have no memory WHATSOEVER of having written these notes. Apparently, I wrote them at some point between 12:30 last night and 6 this morning when the alarm went off.

They were legible (if a bit larger than my usual print) and more to the point, they made sense.

Good thing I had a legal pad by the bed. Otherwise, the poor Hub might have awoken to find himself with notes scrawled across his forehead and unable to shower until I'd finished making the changes.

*sigh*

I fear for what the state of my mind will be like in a week's time.

Hm... hello? Is anyone out there?

Perhaps we should simply proceed as if things are... normal.

This is Barb we're talking about.

Well... fine. We should simply proceed as if she's here, then. Happy?

Happy has nothing to do with it. I'm just trying for precision. You know how she is.

True. Well let's get started then.

Hello, everyone. As two of Barb's most favored Cabana Boys



we've taken it upon ourselves to announce that she's currently buried under deadline—

And don't forget worried about mucking up the revisions to high heaven and back.

I wasn't going to say that. Now she's really going to be mad.

Pffft. I'll just lounge in the tub and wait for her. She can never stay mad at me when I lounge in the tub.



Only if you're waiting with chocolate. Or a cocktail.

Heh. You said cocktail.

Act your age, for God's sake.

Oh, so terrifying, Mr. Dressed All in Black



Would you quite bollocksing around and let's get on with it?

Fine. How about we go with dressed in black as a theme then?

Fine. We and the Boys have decided that in Barb's absence, we'll voluntarily put ourselves out there for your enjoyment. *glares* Don't say a word

Wasn't about to.

We'd hate for her to worry that she's letting everyone down. So without further ado, boys...

( A veritable parade of Cabana Boys in Black )

Do you think that's enough?

Is it ever, with this crowd?

Well, it will just have to do. The rest of the boys have gone into hiding.

Cowards.

Hey, wait!

What?



Just have to have the last word, don't you?

What? I'm in black! You're just jealous. She likes me best.

You just keep dreaming that, Brazilian boy.

For those what might wonder, I will be rather AWOL for foreseeable future.

Today and tomorrow I'll be in the Central Florida area participating in the Lake County Festival of Reading. Two Teen Talks at Libraries and one adult tea.

My rewrites on Carmen are due on April 15th. My darling editor has given me until the 21st, but I would really, really, really like to have them to her on the 15th.

Have I mentioned that said revisions are going slowly? So, in a plea to the Universe—

To the phone: Quit Ringing.

To the Prince of Darkness AKA Older Brother: The world does not Revolve Around You. Get over it.

To the phone: Quit Ringing.

To the Rugrats: I went through fifth and fourth grades once already. Once was enough.


Please, to send Cabana Boys, chocolate, and confidence that I am not sucking at regular intervals.

ETA: To continue inspiring me on my revisions, a video.

And yes, this song plays a huge part in Carmen. *g*

Yeah, it's involved and yeah, it stings that I didn't nail the revisions on the first try (this is me being a perfectionist Virgo, nothing more) but all things considered, all of Lovely Editor's suggestions are not only reasonable, but extremely well thought-out. There's only one I'm utterly stumped on and can't figure out how to get around without seeming too deus ex and manipulative about it.

Next up is to spend the next couple of days going through her points and the MS and making notes to myself that I'm going to discuss with her on Monday. There are some things she asked me to do for the first go 'round that I felt I did, but she's asking for more of, so I have to make notes of those as well.

Very strange sensation, this going back a second time for a major revision. I think this is due more to the fact that I have an editor who's every bit as invested in this project as I am, as opposed to any striking deficiency in ability on my part. At least, that's what I'm going to tell myself.

But I really, really, really want to get these right this time.

Tree: Only semi-nekkid. We have achieved lights and Papa Noël at the top.

Gift flail: Mostly unflailed after a trip to the outlet mall that wasn't even too crowded or tragic. Good considering I suspect I'm coming down with something Not Good.

Revisions: Much to my surprise, I hit the end of the MS this morning. I'm suspicious, since it seemed as if after all the drama, it came upon me too quickly.

I may be begging a beta reading favor in a few days.

My tree is still naked.

This is probably good since Jasmine thinks it's a marvelous chew toy. At least the bottom of the tree is rather neatly trimmed.

Nearing end of revisions. Still have to go back to reread what I revised at the beginning and hope it doesn't suck and stink and horrify to the heavens.

Not only do I still have to buy a few gifts, but now I have to buy gifts for my in-laws from my mother! It's easier for me to get to some stores. Okay, TRUE, but this is why God invented catalogs, MA!

And Publix won't order a larger pernil (picnic ham) for me. I have to take my chances on SATURDAY and see if they get any larger ones in. In the meantime, I snagged a 9 pounder. I wanted 12-14. Wish me luck.

And... And... revisions!

So of course, I created a new playlist.

It's my "Love Triangle" playlist for the Carmen story. (We're tossing around the title Carmen Rhapsody what do you think of that?

Anyhow—playlist:

Into the Night- Santana & Chad Kroeger
Have You Got it In You?- Imogen Heap
Girls in Their Summer Clothes- Bruce Springsteen
Funnyman- KT Tunstall
No Me Tortures- Daniel Rene
Calling You- Blue October
Apologize- One Republic
Beautiful Disaster- Jon McLaughlin
Almost Lover- A Fine Frenzy
Inconsolable- Backstreet Boys
Estabas Ahi- Alejandro Fernández
Hide and Seek- Imogen Heap
Dreaming With a Broken Heart- John Mayer
Somos Lo Que Fue- Jesse & Joy
City- Sara Bareilles
Everyone Will Have Their Day- Clarksville
I'll Be Waiting- Lenny Kravitz