Kirstin Cronn-Mills

Writers revise ALL THE TIME. If you’re a writer of any stripe, you know this—or if you’re a student, we beat it beat it into your head: nothing is perfect the first time.

When my son pulled up the pilot of BONES this week, one of his fave TV dramas, I got to thinking about writing besides the printed stuff. Think what kinds of revisions the writers have gone through since 2005, when the pilot aired–tons of them. And lots of it has been (gulp) PUBLIC.

In the pilot of BONES, our main character is socially unattached (a continuing character feature), but also kind of sloppy and rude. Her relationship with her FBI partner isn’t very defined, nor are the relationships she has with her coworkers. Is she likeable? Maybe. Will people watch it again? Maybe. A show’s pilot is, of course, the writers’ first draft. I’m sure there’s a heap of stuff that get revised before a show goes on the air, but it’s still a rough draft.

The writers very obviously revised her as the show went along, though sometimes in subtle ways—her hair, the jewelry she wears. And those little things tell us a lot. In the pilot, she has messy hair. Now it’s pretty sleek, and her clothes are less sloppy. Her demeanor is kinder. Yes, she’s different because we’ve been watching her since 2005, but she’s also different because writers wanted to make her different. They had to try out different versions of her to see which one was best for the show. All of it in public.

Imagine if you write for TV. You and your team scribble and plan and tweak, but your pilot sucks. Back to the drawing board for the next episode, and you try something else. Suckage. Then you tweak again and this time it’s better. But then—-whoops!—-the dialogue is even suckier, and you have to change the dynamic between Character X and Character Y, or they’ll always sound like your aunt and her dog Mr. Jingles. Back to the drawing board you go.

By the sixth season, you’re more comfortable. You’ve hit your stride, and people like your show. But you also know (another gulp) your rough draft is something my kid can yank out of the Netflix file drawer. Eeek. I am grateful to all things holy that nobody can do that with my rough drafts.

Just a note: when I was looking for a photo to go with this post, I searched Google images for “revision”. I got tons of photos of boob jobs. Not a way I’d define the word, but OK.

I have white hair. LOTS of it. Tons more than my spouse, and he’s five years older. Do I have cool white hair? Not so much (someday, hopefully). Do I have a writing audience that may be creeped out by someone with white hair (“eeew, she’s trying to act like she’s young like us!”)? I hope not, but who knows?

So–what to do? The cultural answer is obvious—COLOR THAT SHIT UNTIL YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT COLOR YOUR HAIR IS. But I don’t like maintenance (evidence here) and I don’t like dark roots. I do like my blonde streaks, however–they remind me of the natural ones I used to have. The salad days are over, honey. Get used to it. That’s the voice of realism. Not like a fiction writer lives in the real world, but I should try.

SO–I’ve decided not to color anymore, at least until my resolve dies. : I may be back at the salon by next week. But this public pronouncement may help me keep my promise. Why not be honest about who I am? If I end up with hair like this picture, I will have done the right thing.

Picture stolen from here.

The last six weeks have been wild. My dad’s been seriously ill since last spring, but things went downhill fast in the first half of February, and he died on February 13th. Not like we didn’t expect it, and he wasn’t going to recover from his illness, but still. No good. After that, my life got sucked into the details dead people leave behind (yowza), leaving little head space to write. Those previous blog posts were in the midst of it all, in hopes of kick-starting myself, but by the 4th post . . . yeah.

HOWEVER–lucky for me–I didn’t have a February outlaw (I’m behind), so I thought I’d use him. My dad wrote poetry, and he’s the reason I became a writer in the first place. His love of words (and stories, too) was passed on to me as a teeny tiny girl. He taught me that language is FUN. Not your average lesson, but one of the best I’ve ever had. He also taught me to be curious, which is equally valuable.

Though I have no book cover for him, I will repost my own trailer for SKY, because my dad took the majority of pictures in the first part of it. I asked for his help because he documented Central Nowhere (and Western Nowhere) in beautiful ways, and because I knew he was sick even then, and I wanted a public memory of him. The music’s by my brother, which is also cool. It’s not very often a person can collaborate with family on a book trailer.

Without further ado, why my dad wore Outlaw Boots:

–Who’s your most outlaw character–why?
Me. I’ve been an outlaw all my life, which should be evident by the cannons in my garage (seriously–cannons) and the picture you chose (Have you ever seen an outlaw with combed hair? Of course not). My first outlaw act: sticking my fingers into a washing machine pulley when I was 18 months old. Hello, severed tendons. My best outlaw act: knocking out 3 bottom front teeth in a tangle with an electric fence. I loved popping my bridge out at you kids. Remember? Completely.

–Are you an outlaw too? How do you know?
I already said yes–will you please listen? You didn’t listen when you were a girl, either. Let’s not get into that, Dad.

–What kind of shoes does your outlaw wear (you or your character–maybe outlaw boots?)?
Practical boots, including cowboy boots, the kind that are good for kicking around in the Sandhills. Oh, and hunting boots with thick socks.

–Pirate, ninja, nerd, other outlaw title for you/your character:
Rebel. Not always good, but always true.

–Best thing about being an outlaw:
Hanging out in my garage. He had two, one specially built, and they were full of shit and spare parts and inventions, aside from the cannons.

–Favorite outlaw/badass food:
Anything with jalapenos.

–Favorite outlaw/badass role model/why:
Hmm. Inventors (he did make some good ones) or people who tinker (but also some crazy shit). My best buddy Alrae (friends for 40+ years). My dad, Duard, who always did his own thing. My students and fellow teachers at Cozad High School. Poets who stick to meter and rhyme, not that free verse crap (gak–eek–but he loved it).

Pretty good example of an outlaw, I’d say.

I keep wondering what he’s doing–maybe walking in Western Nebraska, taking in the beauty and the emptiness. Maybe he’s sitting across from me at my kitchen table as I write this. Who knows? Maybe he’s hunting, one of his favorite things. But if all the animals (and people) are dead in the afterlife, do hunters ask the deer to play hide and seek? Hey, Deer, want to play hunting? Sure. Close your eyes, Mr. Hunter, and count to 100.

Be at peace, Dad. You were a complicated man with a tumultuous life, so this wish is my most fervent. I miss you so so much, and I love you. I wish I could give you one more hug. I hope you are joyous.

I have no blog post for today.

Random random random random random.

Everything I’ve thought of is stupid.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

I knew this would happen!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

All I have is my favorite skull from Skull-A-Day.

Tomorrow there will be something. Promise!

What happens when you don’t *want* to talk anymore? I’d like to grow up and be a library: no talking inside me. Of course, nobody listens to that old rule anymore, but I’d shake my walls and books and *make* people listen. Pretty funny image, a library that shakes.

I used to talk alllllll the time. Then I moved to more listening. Now I just want to be silent and listen full-time. Not good for a teacher or writer, is it? I’d be fired.

How does one write silence into a blog post?

This blog is an attempt.

Off to say more things. Reluctantly.

(yes, I know–bad attitude. but it’s what I want today.)

It is no secret: I love my iPod.

I realize it is completely outdated to love one’s iPod–we’ve been doing it for years now–but I seriously couldn’t get by without it. It’s my treadmill companion, my cleaning buddy, my drive-eight-hours-to-my hometown friend. I like my iPod because it’s a way to be lost. You’re in the world, but not of it. I like being lost in a story (or little tiny stories within songs). I *need* to be lost in stories.

I have two of them, in fact, one for audiobooks and working out (the oldest) and one for calendar and ledger and music and such (the newest). And they both died. Last week. One while I was in Nebraska (no audiobooks driving home, sob sob), and one when I got home. When my very first iPod broke, I literally sobbed for 15 minutes. My husband was very confused. This time, I just quietly laid them away.

Sucky. Not like iPods are expensive, but they’re not cheap. And which one do I choose when I buy another? Something big and fat to keep music/data/ear crack (that’s audiobooks and podcasts) in? Or something sleek and easy for exercise?

Dunno.

Maybe I’ll write a book where the main character stays lost in his/her iPod. Oooh, or maybe s/he’ll have a romance through an iPod. Is that possible? Loading songs on each other’s shiny pink and green boxes? Dunno. But an iPod seems a indispensable item for any young adult. Adolescence is the best time of all to be lost.

Long blog hiatus, I know. Not intentional, just nutso life. More explanation as the week goes on.

Today: reward shoes, or Outlaw Boots of my own.

BEAUTIFUL MUSIC FOR UGLY CHILDREN is becoming a reality, so I figured a present was in order. But what? I rarely celebrate milestones, but this one feels big to me. I’ve never loved a character as much as I love Gabe Williams (my protag), and I love his radio/music obsession, too. I wanted to do it up right.

Enter the purple Fluevog boots, which are worthy of Gabe’s paramour, Paige (she’s a total fashionista). I am not, on the other hand, so even thinking about buying them was a *huge* leap for me.

Backstory: my agent turned me on to Fluevogs, and I fell in love. I coveted, watched, saved, wished. Then I saw these. They’re called (get this) PRI, which stands for Public Radio International, my beloved public radio corporation based in Minnesota. They’re from (get this) Fluevog’s Radio family of shoes. AND (get this) THERE’S A RADIO ON THE SOLE. AN ETCHING OF A RADIO. IN THE SOLE.

Effing astounding.

So I now have purple radio boots, and not just purple, but a really beautiful dark lavender suede. And now my agent has a pair–turns out she’d been eyeing them as well. We are boot twins! The purple ones are sold out, which is why you have a picture of black ones. All us BEAUTIFUL MUSIC fans got there first.

Moral of the story: some things are meant to be. But who knew boring old me would end up with purple boots?

Friends! You really must read CHASING ALLIECAT. If you are a fan of mysteries or sports (in this case, competitive biking) or *strong* character voices, this book is for you. The action is swift, the love triangle is sweet, and it’s a great ride (ha ha, I made a pun).

Disclaimer: I am biased as all hell about Becky and her book. She is a dear-to-my-heart longtime friend and one of my critique partners, and she’s with my fabulous publisher Flux (they have good taste, huh?). However, I am not the only one who loves this book. And you will love it too. Read the reviews (a bunch!) and order the book here.

Here is Becky, her bike, and her Newfie, Freya. That dog is really a bear, but we don’t tell anyone. Sweetest dog ever.

Here is ALLIECAT.

Here is the book trailer.

AND (finally), here is why BFD (Big eFfing Deal, Becky Fjelland Davis)is an Outlaw:

–Who’s your most outlaw character (in any book)–why?
The guy who beat up Father Malcolm in Chasing AllieCat. Why, besides obvious reasons? He has no moral compass and lives only for himself.

–Are you an outlaw too? How do you know?
Only concerning the church. Flaubert said, “Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.”

–What kind of shoes does your outlaw wear (you or your character–maybe outlaw boots?)?
Shit-kickers. Interpret that as you will.

–-Pirate, ninja, nerd, other outlaw title for you/your character:
Horse rustler (not that I’ve written about horses yet).

–Best thing about being an outlaw:
Following your instincts and heart, not rules or morès.

–Favorite outlaw/badass food:
Lip-blistering, sweat-inducing curry. Either red or green.

–Favorite outlaw/badass role model/why:
Gus and Call in Lonesome Dove. They’re heroes more than outlaws, but they start the story by rustling horses. Heroes outside the law. LOVE them.

Official release date is Feb 8, which is SOON. Put it on your calendar!

Friends, this is L.K. Madigan, fellow Debs 09 Feast of Awesome member, and she is someone who could use your help right now. Lisa’s a YA writer with some fantastic books, namely FLASH BURNOUT and THE MERMAID’S MIRROR.

Right now, she’s got a big fight ahead of her–please read about it here–and there are lots of us who are giving away her books to spread the love and help her out. If you’re interested in winning copies of FLASH BURNOUT and THE MERMAID’S MIRROR, find contest rules here. She can use lots of support, and I hope you’ll share yours.

What hurt about her post–aside from the fact that she’s so ill–is that she can’t work on her sequel to THE MERMAID’S MIRROR. Please, Lisa, we want you to get better. We want you to tell us what happens next. Your legacy is awesome, but we still want more.

I was raised to be curious: a humongous blessing and a curse worse than Avada Kedavra. It leads to things like “I need to grade these HEY IT’S THE GUY WHO DIDN’T SPEAK FOR TWENTY YEARS WONDER HOW HE DID THAT WONDER IF HE COULD BE A CHARACTER IN . . .” Not good for the day job. But there is *so much* out there to explore. How does a person determine where to start?

I have no answer to that question. All I know is there are books I want to write: graphic novels about cats, verse novels about 50s fashion models, a YA starring four boys and a winter hat with a mohawk (though nobody could afford this Dior one). Maybe even a romance novel or two. Who knows? All I know is my day job started again this week, and I’m not doing so hot at getting into the groove.

How can I make my writing pay my bills? That is also the question. I will find the answer, I’m sure, but in the meantime, I need to get my head in the school game (grr) despite my desire to research and write (sigh).

Maybe this is how my students feel about the split between gaming and homework.

Maybe my character needs this beard/mustache hat instead. I think I like the woolhawk better.