Claudia D. Christian » cdc

2011 Writing Goals for CDC & Charlotte

CDC — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 21:45:29 +0000

Estimated reading time: 3 – 5 minutes

Original Photo Credit: Billy Alexander

I recently had a very nice e-mail asking me on my WIP progress which in turn inspired this post. (Thanks, Paola!)

Here’s what I have shaking, so far, for 2011:

Claudia D. Christian:

Devil’s Descent II: impure: Final edits are chugging along. I’d like to have this out late March/early April. It’s difficult to say because once it’s out it’s out. (Yes, I’m being a total wussy.)
Grim Alice: I really, really want to have this book done and out by the end of 2011. You have no idea how much I love this book. I get sucked into this mad, mad world and find I don’t want to do anything else other than visit. (Which is probably why I haven’t worked on it for months.)
Vicious Bliss: broken: Ditto for VBB. It’s been almost seven years since I wrote VBF. (Damn!) I’ve been very wary of working on this one. (Do you see a pattern here? ) I love Mikhail and all his many, many imperfections. Seriously, this man is so hated by many VBF readers and I can’t blame them. Still, I love him and must get this book written.
Anna & Christian (Working Title): A novella-size dark romance that I previewed back in December. I’m aiming for about 30k words but don’t hold me to that. This will be in the works after DDII & My Love Forgive are released.
Suicide/Love: A print version of Suicide Doll and Love Unfortunate combined into one book. (I would definitely like to do one novella-combo a year.)
Devil’s Descent I: purgatory: Release print version in 2011.
Vicious Bliss: fallen (2010 Edition): Release print version in 2011.

Charlotte DeCorte

My Love Forgive: This is probably going to be a 40K +/- novella. The dark romance is absolutely here. The erotica is stronger than what I usually write as CDC. The mindfuck is present. It’s quickly becoming an uncomfortable work to write which goes to show it’s probably moving along in the right direction. I’m also toying around with this being part of a non-related series tentatively titled “Prisoner of Love.” Right now I want to explore love under duress, captivated love, and all that disturbing yummy goodness.
Trunk (Working Title): This was a CDC piece, my only non-paranormal one, and I think it’s going to work better as a Charlotte piece. This would also be part of the “Prisoner of Love” series.
Untitled: As I like to do everything in odd numbers this work would be the last in the “Prisoner of Love” series. No idea what’s going to be but I’m sure it’s going to be completely unconventional, scary, and strangely arousing. You already know I’m strange, right? I hope?

That’s all that I have planned for now. A super busy year is ahead of me, huh? Hopefully, I’ll also make room for submitting to anthologies this year too—especially since I had so much fun with Hearteater. (One of my goals this year if the right opportunity comes up and inspiration is kind.)

Now that I’ve announced this I can’t back out, right? *heart beating a bit faster*

Procrastination is Never Pretty

CDC — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 16:47:04 +0000

Estimated reading time: 4 – 6 minutes

(Originally posted April 10, 2009)

But it has a nice way of putting things in focus.

WARNING: This is going to be a random post. I’ve said that I’ll be using this blog to chat about my writing, etc. and I’ve yet to use it for that. Today is the day I’m going to change that. Let the randomness begin!

I’m torn between looking out my window and watching an unknown Telenovela. Option #1: overcast sky, gray bark, gloomy, gloomy, gloomy. Option #2: handsome man, cute girl, cut scene, another handsome man lying naked in a bed.

Choice should be obvious, right?

It would be if there wasn’t responsibility #1: WRITING!

Why is this so hard?

I love to write. I love to read. I love to read and then write. However, I’m feeling a little schizophrenic between the five worlds competing to be created. My mind is all over the place.

I’m in a creepy little southern town called Vickery Hill one day dealing with an unstable Resurrector and psychotic Pureblood vampire, another sees me in an outlet mall cavorting with a werewolf and empath, the next I’m creeping along strip club with an immortal Narcissus and his reincarnated lover (one he drove to suicide BTW), the following I’m stuck in the woods in France during the 12th century with another mega-powerful vampire and her gentle bastard (literally) soon-to-be lover, and occasionally I’m in a Nephilim dimension frozen in time with a snow god and his Nephilim-assigned partner Alice who’s on the verge of a melt down.

I totally see this as my fault though. I went through three years of a writing drought and now it’s flash-flooding. I was always one of those writers that could only focus on one story at a time. Part of my new lease on life was to break that limitation. I want to come back strong and five stories is my ROAR. It’s my way of making up for lost time. It’s my way of saying, “You want to be a writer? Well, show ‘em what you got, biatch.”

Le Sigh.

I wouldn’t say I’m floundering. I’m just a little crazy. All these stories exist in the same world, so having them develop at the same time rocks because it allows me to check for consistency. Quality Inspector #77 at your service, you know? But, it’s hard not to play favorites. Just this week I was on Devil’s Descent II and had just wrote the update. I posted it and wanted to come back to Julian. Getting into his mind can be a very scary yet fun place to play. I imagine much like a rollercoster. (I imagine only because there’s no f-ing way I’m ever getting on one. Balls to that!) Anyway, I’m wanting to go back and play but I can’t because Narcissus yanks me away to go write what’s going to happen next to his Suicide Doll.

I’d like to whine, but there’s no one to whine to because I immediately hear, “You wanted to write. So write, biatch.”

I do it because I’m a good little biatch. Finish one then another steps right in place. Finish that one, another comes in. Do that one, hey look! There’s another one.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I’m bitching. I know it. I’m not a good little biatch.

So I’m sitting here at my makeshift desk that wobbles when I type with any smidgen of passion. My butt is falling asleep on the wooden chest I use as a desk. My right foot is getting tingly on the Firm’s Transfirmer I use as a foot rest. My glasses keep sliding down my nose reminding me that I should just put my contacts in even if I won’t do anything else. Trent Reznor is whispering in my ear, “Everywhere I look you’re all I see/Just a fading fucking reminder of who I use to be/Come on tell me!” My wobbly table is cluttered with junk, ipod, and an empty Nasa mug I got on vacation last year.

Wow. You know what? I think I’ll take a little schizoid right now. Hell, any of those worlds is gotta be way cooler than the mess I’m tolerating right now!

Thanks for reading. I really should do this more often.

Image Credit: Baltar at Stock.Xchng.

What is Best in Life?

CDC — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 15:41:24 +0000

Estimated reading time: 2 – 3 minutes

(Originally posted April 22, 2009)

Monday evening I was in my kitchen peeling potatoes and blubbering because I just felt awful. After months of perpetual optimism, of going against my nature and being a perky person, I cracked. I just effing cracked. Reasons? Too many and too embarrassing to actually type and have posted on the internet. (Even though I’m trying to do the blog thing, I just can’t open my heart to that extent. At least not yet.)

So I’m peeling these potatoes, my hand flying across those spuds with my demon peeler, hacking away with the ferocity of a savage, and crying my eyes out. My husband reaches over, gently pries the peeler out of my bloodless fist, and says, “Why don’t you let me do this?”

I answer somewhere along the lines of, “Fuck no! I must take my rage out on something already dead.” (I’m sure it didn’t really go past “Fuck no!”)

Anyways, I’m cutting the bejeezus out of these potatoes, swearing off ever being a good schmuck again, embracing my inner evil, seething with the injustice of why does everything I touch effing fail, when I said, “You know what my company motto is going to be? What is best in life?”

Yes!

Instantly, I felt better.

Oh, I still raged about selling my soul, hating everyone but my holy trinity (oldest son, youngest son, and husband), stomping on all who oppose me, etc.

But I felt better. I felt good. I felt empowered. I felt awesome. So here’s a clip for all you who don’t know where “What is best in life?” comes from and for all of you who do and need a pick-me-up.

Awkward Beginnings

CDC — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 16:36:11 +0000

Estimated reading time: 3 – 4 minutes

(Originally posted April 21, 2009)

I could say that I’m working on Grim Alice today, but I’d be lying. I have the file open. I’ve even looked at it. It taunts me, sitting there on my desktop taking me away from my feelings of awesomeness. Why do you do this? Why do you remind me of responsibility? And why, oh why, do I feel weird blogging?

Everyone blogs, right? It seems to have become a given possession along with cell phones and ipods. (I have two of the three. Ipod — I *heart* you. Cell phone — Death first! Blog — Do I have to? [Looks around. Sighs. Mopes.])

I claim to be a writer. Blogging shouldn’t be this hard, right? WRONG! Blogging is way freakin’ harder than writing. As a composer of fiction, I am expected to step out of the world I create. It’s not about ME, it’s about the WORK. The work always! I’m the hand behind the throne, never seen and never heard from. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Blogging, on the other hand, is all about the Blogger. All eyes are on me. Yuck!

“But Claudia, don’t you have anything clever to write about? Don’t you have any observations on the world? Come on–show how witty you are and blog about the latest blah, blah, blah.”

No. No. And hell no.

So why the freak out? Don’t like blogs, don’t have one. Simple, you whining pussy.

I hear ya. Yeah, very true. But I have this trait, call it a strength of weakness. When I feel most uncomfortable about something, that’s when I can’t back away from it. My mind/body locks up and fixates on that which torments me the most. (Read the first few lines about Grim Alice. There’s a prime example.) Once I realize how much I fear something, that’s when I make it my mission to destroy it.

I honestly didn’t want to write a post. After all, I doubt anyone even reads it. What does it matter? No one will care if I blog or don’t blog.

True.

But I know.

So I squirm here, face wrinkled like I have constipation — which I guess I do, you know, of the blogging sort — and type. I type without pause or what’s the word? Censorship. Yes, I type without censoring my thoughts.

And it’s freeing. I don’t have to police my actions. I just…type. You know what? Blogging is like running for me — it’s hell when I start, it’s hell when I’m chugging along, it’s hell when I stop to suck in air, but when it’s done I’m all smiles. I actually feel better.

I can understand why people love their blogs.

Grim Alice Tab — I see you. I see you squashed between iTunes and My Documents. I see you sitting there, constant and mocking me with your presence. Oh, yes. I see you. Guess what? You shall mock me no more for I will defeat you. We will tangle again tomorrow and I will beat you then too.

Blog — thank you for taking mercy upon me and not destroying me like the worm I am! *whispers* But one day I’ll kick your ass too!

In your face!