I’m finishing up revisions on my Blaze-targetted manuscript and recently had a conversation with my CP Marley about the plot. Meltdown was my second manuscript, and though in many ways it’s the book where I found my voice, it’s pretty obvious to me that I was still learning a *lot* about storytelling. I first submitted this book in January of 2003 and when I finally got a chance to work on it again, my entire skillset as a writer had changed. In the interim, I’d written half of another Blaze, a novella, a single title romance, and a full-length, heavily plotted action adventure. I had the following issues that seemed to add up to a pretty insurmountable list:

1. A “big misunderstanding” plot

2. A heroine with a whiny and juvenile internal conflict

3. A sagging middle that was little more than a series of temper tantrums on the heroine’s part.

4. A textbook central casting slut villainess

How was I supposed to fix this? this wasn’t a revision, it was a complete overhaul. It was turning this sow’s ear with a rather nice trim (must be what the editor saw in it) into a something resembling a silk purse. I needed to downplay the “misunderstanding”, to beef up the IC, to totally rewrite the middle, cutting the temper tantrums and replacing it with meaningful dialogue, interactions and sex, and to fix that villainess.

Now, having come straight off of Lost Girls, in which the villains were heroes, the heroes were villains, the dead villains were heroes (well, according to my CP) I was used to writing complicated bad guys. I prided myself on it! I scoffed at central casting bad guys I saw in published books. And then I — gulp! — read my manuscript.

Oh, crap.

How did I do this? How did I think it was acceptable, back in 2002? Half of me wanted to just write the editor and tell her to forget about it. But I dug in, and I fixed, as far as I’m concerned, three out of the four of those problems.

As for the villainess, she’s the devil incarnate. If anything, I think I upped her vile level, her evil quotient. In my first draft, she’s a jealous slut ex girlfriend, shallow and fame hungry, who dumps the hero at the most vulnerable time in his life. In my final draft, she is all these things, plus, she holds a grudge that the hero managed to put his life back together without him, and seeks to sabotage him and his new girlfriend.

I really couldn’t see any other way around it. For the plot to hold together, she NEEDED to be an unredeemable bitch. I figured, of the 4 problems I saw, the villainess was the one I could live with most. Marley spent a long time comforting me, telling me that readers love to hate characters like this, that if I wrote her to be incredibly hateful and mean that it would bond them to the hero and heroine even more deeply. But I still had my doubts. Was my evil incarnate villainess just an easy way out? In my mind, these guys just need to be understood. I was sure they were perfectly justified and righteous, we just don’t understand them.

Boy was I naive. In the months since, I’ve learned that there actually ARE people out there who seem to live to make your life miserable. You have never done anything to hurt them, you are just trying to live your own life, which would in no way hurt, affect, or even involve them, and they still take every opportunity they can to hurt degrade, and yes, even sabotage you (just like my villainess) for some imagined insult.

And so, in doing my final pre-postal read, I found that I didn’t have such a problem with my villainess as I thought. Is Courtney over the top? Hell yeah. But it’s okay. I feel it’s much more realistic now than I did when I wrote it. Sad, huh?

(Oddly enough, another writer blogged about villains today, although she dealing with an entirely different issue. Something in the air? However, she got me thinking about the whole Dorian Gray thing. I want to know where these RL villains keep their “ugly” portraits. )

So what do we all think about villains? Can they be straight unredeemable Wicked Witch of the West villains, if it’s right for the story?

Well, I watched Point Pleasant again last night, giving the stupid thing another whirl — my last whirl, mind you, It’s just as bad. There was more Dina Meyers, more Grant Show, but it wasn’t enough.

Ben Ben Ben
Originally uploaded by dianapeterfreund.

Which is good, because I’ve been watching way too much TV. Sailor Boy’s mom has Farscape on DVD. now, I was always vaguely intrigued by the series when I used to catch it on the Sci-fi channel. After all, I like Muppets as much as the next girl. And, of course, I’m a big dork.

But it always seemed so COMPLICATED! I remember trying to watch a latter episode with Sailor Boy a few years ago, quite unsuccessfully. “Wait, what is the black and white one? A space slut?” “Sort of. A hedonist.” “But so is the little toady one?” “Yeah, but he’s mostly just a snob.” “And the guy in the gimp outfit is a bad guy?” “Sort of. It depends if he’s in the human’s head or not.” “In his head?” “yeah, where he wears the bunny outfit.” “And the chick is NOT human?” “No, she’s Sebacean.” “Subation? (I swear, that’s how I thought it was spelled.” “Yeah.” “What’s that?” “Basically a human.” “And the ship is alive?” At this point, Sailor Boy would turn to me and ask if he could explain it during the commercial.

So I’ve been glomming Farscape. Boy oh boy, is Ben Browder (the actual human human) H-O-T hot! I mean, really , really, limpid eyed, moist lipped, broad-shouldered, sighable poster boy of my teenaged fantasies HOT! I’m not usually into actors like this. I think the last time I went so ga-ga over a man on television was Canuck Nick Lea of The X Files (swoon swoon swoon). ooh, Ben Browder. Ooh, Ben Browder, who might just get me to start watchign my brother’s fave geek show, Stargate, becuase the Sci- Fi channel has thrown both Ben and his Sebacean boo Claudia Black a bone by putting them on Stargate. Unsurprisingly, they’ve cast Ben as a human and Claudia as a Stargated alien. Boy, is that a stretch.

Sailor Boy, of course, is reading this and is wondering why the two men I’m so gooey over are also the two who look least like him. (”Don’t you have a Heath Ledger obsession?”) he favors Aussie alien Gigi Edgely, who had this amazing spread in Aussie Maxim while we were there. And yeah, she’s scorching. Lucky D’Argo. (or he was. Whatever.)

Fortunately, the show is over, so I can’t showcase my geekdom on a regular weekly basis. I can just go watch scenes of Ben Browder being limpid and edible…. over and over and over again on my DVD…

You want to know what has been diverting me recently? My frickin’ phone company.

Here’s the sitch (I’m an expert at telling the story now, due to repetition). Sailor Boy had AT&T wireless forever, but we recently decided to go with a family share plan. Due to this, we needed to re-register with Cingular and they needed to send us new phones. When they sent the new phone, they sent me one with a long distance number for my area. I called them to get MY new number changed to a local one (I called them, this is very important to remember) and int he process, the Cingular lady changed his phone number. After much ranting and railing they agreed that they would try to get it back. This was last Friday, early in the morning. At the time, they said we should have our phone number back on Monday.

Now, this is a big problem. This is the number that all of our employers have to contact us. This is the number that has been placed on all of my correspondance to editors (and I’m not talking book editors here, who would probably have the time to try email or plain old snail mail, I’m talking about newspaper editors who might be throwing me some work) and other job applicants. This is the number we’ve been giving to people to call to show us apartments. This is the number that all of our friends have, all of our family, everyone remotely connected to us… If I don’t get a job because of this clusterfuck, I’m going down to Little Rock and freak out. Sailor Boy says that since I caused this problem, I would have to call to resolve it, whihc I understand perfectly. Our mutual social phone anxiety is tough to overcome, and this one is all on me.

So, Monday came, and as you might imagine, there was no phone number. I called back, and after THREE calls in which everyone told me something different, I finally got a response that it wouldn’t be “resolved” until Wednesday. Come Wednesday, I called again and was told that a resolution would be reached by 2 p.m. At 4 p.m., I called again and was told that the only info they had was that it would be resolved “that afternoon.”

So now it’s 9 a.m. on THURSDAY. I called again — what call is this? Call SEVEN? — and the representative (one of the many, many with whom I’ve spoken), Amy Franklin, told me that I was “not authorized” to access the account, and she couldn’t tell me anything about it.

EXCUSE ME !?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!?!?

I have talked to SIX different people over there, and was actually responsible for the original screw up and now I’m not AUTHORIZED to find out what the hell is going on? Good time to decide that , folks.

Is it me, or is this just ANOTHER run around? They’ve ruin out of ways to put me off, and are now trying to tell me that all the information I’ve received has been “unauthorized” and therefore they have no obligation to obey it? Sailor Boy is abotu to go apeshit on them.

As soon as he wakes up.

So I’ve been posting my little heart out, but no one seems to care. Wah! Wherefore are my visitors? Okay, so no one likes the navel-gazing, nor the diary of a bitter journalist, nor the odd rantings of a lit critic. Before I got any comments, and I was satisfied that my blog was my own, private world that no one else cared to visit, I dind’t care.

But as soon as I started getting comments, I started EXPECTING them. I started coming back to my posts to see if anyone had looked. When they did, I was enthralled (and sometimes deeply disturbed). When they didn’t I felt as if I was shooting marbles into the void. I wish I could go back to thinking I had my own personal diaryt hat no one read — but I can no longer do that. My only other option, it seems, is to promote the blog.

Suggestions appreciated (since I’m shameless like that).

Saw four apartments these days. I odn’t think my brain is working anymore. I can’t decide what qualities to weigh over others. Please help.

1) Largish apartment in mildly eerie and gigantic compound that, with careful planning, will never need to be left. Said compound possesses a swimming pool, tennis court, volleyball nets, library, salon, gm, convenience store, dry cleaners… It is quite large. It looks nice. It’s very close to shops and transportation. It’s $1094/1 bdrm, all utlilities included (except cable).

2) Very small apartment across the street from aforementioned spot. No amenities. $1034, but you must pay your own electric and water. Dogs allowed. Available immediately.

3) Sight unseen apartment with nice looking floorplan, ideal placement to transport and amenities, large walk in closets, and a pool. $1098, with all utilities included.

4) Urban high rise apartment, decently large, north facing, $980 per month with an old fashioned kitchen and a nice bathroom, large bedroom, and $95 extra for parking. Good area, slightly sketchy environs.

2 is out. I’m interested in seeing 3, but Sailor Boy could do without it. He had a friend there and isn’t a fan. 4 doesn’t have much to offer us in the way of “extras” and is farther away from the transport than the others. 1 is nice, but if we end up at the far end of the compound, it would be REALLY far from transport. I honestly can’t form my mind around a flowchart…

When I first graduated from college and ventured out into the wide, wide world of publishing, I was told that I didn’t have enough experience. Specifically, I was turned down for the job I currently hold due to my lack of experience.

So what did I do? I went out and GOT experience. I got four freaking years of experience.

Apparently, this is no longer a requirement. What is a requirement? Beats the HELL out of me. Not experience apparently. Not talent, either. Must be blowjobs.

Am I bitter? Perhaps. But more than that, I’m shocked.

So my CP and I both received some kicks to our posterior this week.

In my case, I was minding my own business, posting on my favorite black hole of time and productivity when I came across a post from my friend Julie that said, “Diana, email me. I have a message from someone important.” Well, it wasn’t my boss, or my real estate agent, or my Mommy, so that meant one (bad) thing. It was from her editor, who requested my manuscript a good long time ago.

Uh oh. I called Julie, and she said that apropos of nothing, her editor had mentioned that perhaps if I had SO MUCH TIME to post on eHarlequin, I had enough time to pop my manuscript in the mail. BUSTED!

My CP also got smacked this week. A friend of hers (who is a NYT bestseller) got a call from a major bookseller complaining that though she’d ASKED my CP for her manuscript, it’s been a year, she hasn’t gotten the full, and she hasn’t been able to get it out of her head. She mentioned that she’d called the author’s editor TWICE hoping to get her hands on a copy that the editor has. BUSTED! (My CP, properly chastised, swears she’ll get the manuscript to her friend to give to the bookseller when she sees her at an upcoming conference. The darn thing is 1,000 pages long. I hope she brought a big suitcase!)

Very sad, isn’t it? Why do we have such a death grip on these things? My boyfriend went to lunch with us the other day, and told me that our entire conversation consisted of, “We gotta send our stuff out, don’t we?” “Yeah, we gotta do that.” “I promise I’lls end my stuff out.” “I’m just not happy with it.” “It’s really good, stop playing with it.” “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Sigh.

Okay, first off: I finished! I finished! The Book That Wouldn’t Die is DONE! YAY! And now off to agents who will ove it and love me and take me to profitable auctions!

Next, we’re looking for houses, and the big question is, buy or rent? We have just a tad too little money for the best kind of financing, but probably a great deal more money than we will for the next three years. I’d like ot buy, for tax purposes and the fact that renting is just throwing our money away, but it seems like a big hassle and a big risk at this time in our lives. I hate the idea of throwing away tens of thousands of dollars on rent, but I also hate the idea of getting myself into a money pit before I’ve nailed down more important factors in my life like career.

Finally, it’s my birthday, and I SWEAR, this year is going to beat the pants off the last one. Asses will be kicked. Books will be sold, money will be made, jobs will be had, apartments will be decorated, lives will be had.

¡Viva la veintiséis!

I have long held the belief, supported by pundits whom I respect that Marti Noxon is responsible for almost everything that went wrong with my favorite show in the universe. Proof: The season she “took over” as the day-to-day runner of Buffy (season six) was one of the most horrific examples of immediate brain drain I have ever witnessed, exlipsed only, perhaps, bu the anti-genius which was continuing the X-Files after David Duchovny’s departure. But I digress. And besides, Season Seven was even worse.

Granted, Ms. Noxon cannot be ENTIRELY to blame. After all, she was handed a show in which the main character was DEAD and inwhich most of the ideas had already been played out and the heroic arc had come to a glorious and inevitable conclusion. Still, she sucks. She turned one of television’s healthiest expressions of adolescent sexuality into a series of shameful guilt trips. Riley’s vampire whorage? Her idea. Buffy’s descent into S&M and, far more importantly (after all, every girl, especially a Slayer, could use a bit of kink), her shame over her darker desires? Her idea. the whole ridiuclous Spike pussification HER IDEA!!!!!! I shudder to thinkw hat she could have done to Angel if given the chance, since he already was a bit of a pussy in Whedon’s hands.

However, Joss seemed to like her, so I felt that she must have some redeeming qualities. So I didn’t appreciate her vision of the Buffy mytharc. I figured that she at least had a hand on characterization and dialogue. But perhaps I should have considered the fact that the Buffy crew’s characters fell apart at her hadns as well. What happened to the time when Willow and Buffy were friends? What happened to everyone actually LIKING each other?

Nope, Marti Noxon sucks. And so, unfortunately, does her new show, Point Pleasant, in which Rosemary’s baby is all grown up, blonde, gorgeous, and utterly, personality-free. So, unfortunately, are the other denizens of Point Pleasant. Not a one among them has the slightest smidgen of character. Oh, there’s the “slut”, who is playing off the “hottie boyfriend” and his “best friend.” I was almost positive she’d be knocked off in the pilot because Ms. Noxon never lets anyone have sex without punishing them, and this one got naked twenty minutes into the pilot by CHEATING on her boyfriend in a steamy pool. I was pretty sure that was a recipe for disaster. Despite hot sex with BF, Slut isn’t ready to give up HB Jesse, who has been ignoring her in favor of, oh, I don’t know, doing his lifeguard duty and actually RESCUING folks from the water? (By the way, that scene was laughable. Um, dude, you have a buoy for a reason. Use it!) Said rescuee is our girl Rosemary Jr. (”Christina??!?!” How sad can you get? At least give us a Lucy or a Beezlebubba or something) who of course, immediately falls head over cloven hooves for Hottie, despite the fact that he exhibits absolutely no semblance of a a personality. Seriously, he looks like a reject from a boy band video. But I suppose he must be a good guy, because girls fight over him and he’s the son of a policeman AND a minister. Certainly wouldn’t know any other way.

Also “good” but “dull” are Christina’s new adoptive family. I mean IMMEDIATELY adoptive. First port in a storm for a drowning girl and in less than a day they clear out their dead daughter’s stuf, redocorate the beach house and invite The Princess of Darkness to be their newest family member. Permanently. They don’t know a THING about her. This may be due to the fact that bland mother has gone off her depression meds, bland daughter (one of the worst actresses I have EVER seen, unassisted by horrific dialogue such as, “Wow, you’re like, going to go and, like, find your mom. That’s so neat”) is a few verses short of a full Bible, and bland doctor father is operating on the Seenth Heaven School of Fatherhood (What? Me, be responsible?) The mother is obsessed with dead daughter and immediately replaces Rosemary Jr. in her mind, the father (judging by next week’s previews) already expects the girl to call him “daddy,” and the daughter wells kicky braids in her hair and works at a gas station, in that darling way that only spunky, brunette, 16 year old television heroines can (Joey, anyone?)

The dialogue is stilted and often completely painful, the plot is mish-mashed, the developments are undeveloped and the symbolism is agonizingly obvious. If I see another cross, I’m going to vomit pea soup.

Only too-short glimpses of the lovely, talented, and underutlized Dina Meyers (Dizzy from Starship Troopers and Batgirl from the thankfully short-lived Birds of Prey) as the mother-of-slut who is very much after Dr. Dad, and another Beverly HIlls, 90210/Melrose Place alum, Grant Show, as a pretty stylin’ minion of the Devil seem to give this show the slightest hope. And those are MINOR characters! The scenes from next week seem to indicate that Show will have a larger part than apparent in the pilot, and I say, the sooner, the better, The rest of these hacks couldn’t carry a commercial, let alone a whole show.

Our girl Christina (Noxon gets points, in retrospect, for giving her the last name Nickson — v. clever) has nothing going for her. Acting-wise, she’s not even Sarah Michelle Gellar, and that’s a pretty low hurdle to cross. She has two facial expressions: “about to cry” and “mysterious, chin-lowered gaze”. She’s limpid and always has perfect hair, even after being dragged, half-dead, from the Jersey shore. her character is a non-intriguing puzzle. The show is dumb.

It’s an hour of my life that I will never get back. I hate you, Marti Noxon.

Too tired from packing to do anything more than this today. Though it’s fitting, I think, because of my recent spate of writing S-E-X.

What kind of sex scene do you write?
brought to you by Quizilla