ARCHIVE: Seven Years of NaNoWriMo...Seven Lessons

Veronica sez: Went looking in the Archives today for good posts from the past about NaNoWriMo and I liked this one. Even though we have no updated lessons from  2014 and 2015, why don't you tell us what you've learned in your experience?! Best wishes to everyone participating this month.

So here's what Julie Particka/Seleste DeLaney shared in 2013:

NaNoWriMo is an evil beast. Truly. I signed up for my first time in 2007. At that point, I was full of piss and vinegar and thought it would be a piece of cake--especially when I wrote 7,000 words my first day. Yeah. You know those people that start a race hot out of the gate and then limp over the finish line? That was me my first year. I almost didn't make it. And it took me the rest of that year to finish the book.
Lesson learned in 2007: I need at least a rough outline or I flounder.



In 2008, I had an outline and a plan. I had a story that I loved and characters I adored and wanted to know better. It was set in the town I lived in, so I could run out to research places on short notice if necessary. I was ready to go and I rocked out my 50k by playing it slow and steady. And then I finished the book in December. I...was a rock star in my own mind.
Lesson learned in 2008: Tortoise. Be the tortoise.


After a year of querying and getting nowhere, I sat down to 2009 with a totally different kind of story. Huge in scope and quirky and...it was going to be awesome. I had my outline ready, my planets named and even a history of the 'verse written. Enter the return of the slogging through words. The book sucked. Hard core suckage. But I pushed through to the end, because I was too stubborn to let it go. I finished my 50k and shelved it. (Three months later, I took that space opera and re-wrote it as a steampunk novella. It became my first sale.)
Lesson learned in 2009: Don't get cocky. You need the right story, in the right setting, with the right characters.

In 2010, I was officially a published author, took all those lessons from years past, and sat down to write what was one of the scariest books I'd ever attempted. Not in that it was horror, but in that I was taking a world I'd started in short stories and trying to turn it into a novel. This was the year that everything fell into place. I loved that book. I loved the characters and the energy and... It was the year I screamed NaNo's praises from the rooftop.
Lesson learned in 2010: Sometimes the stars align and things just work (it sounds lame, but this is  a very important thing to remember in the world of publishing.)

By the next year, I had several publishing credits under my belt, and one of my novellas had even won Book of the Year at a review site. But I was tired. So I decided to take a break. Not from NaNo--that's crazy talk--but from what I had to write. I dove into a project that had been calling to me for a while and wrote with gusto. It was another one that I finished drafting in December--and it was the longest book I'd ever written. But I was pretty sure it was unpublishable, so I shelved it. But I was renewed and got back to work with vigor. (Note: I plan to pull this one out as soon as i have a break in my schedule. I'm less convinced it's unpublishable now.)
Lesson learned in 2011: Every once in a while, it's okay to take the time to get your mojo back.

shhh...nothing to see here

2012 was the year of the sequel. This was another heavily prepped for book with much plotting and an index card board that looked like I'd lost my mind. But at this point, not only was I a professional who regularly wrote at well over the minimum daily word count, but I was also dealing with edits for other projects pouring in. It was a messy year and one I wasn't sure I'd finish. I plowed through anyway.
Lessons learned in 2012: Published authors don't get to coast through NaNo. Deadlines matter more, so words have to come in massive spurts when you can get them. Also? Sequels are hard for me to write. So are books with seven point-of-view characters. But if you're stubborn enough, you can do it all.

Now it's 2013, and I'm once again attempting a sequel--actually the last book in that series. Because of other projects, I didn't have time to plot it in advance, which is making me twitchy, and it feels way too much like that first year where I was desperately trying to figure things out as I went. Oh, and I have edits on two (or more) very important projects coming in the next few weeks. And my kitchen's being torn out and redone the week of Thanksgiving. There are still over three weeks of NaNo left, but I think this might be the year that beats me. Then again, it might be the year that I finally give into the need to project jump and just work on the book that is calling to me. I don't know. What I do know is NaNo is always an adventure, and there is always something to learn.
Lessons learned so far in 2013: Don't forget everything else you learned along the way. Sometimes, no matter how stubborn you are, you can't do it all. It's okay to step back and change course. 

Long story short? NaNoWriMo has taught me how to be a better author in the crazy world of modern publishing. The lessons, both big and small, have shaped me into who I am today. I'm pretty sure without the push of this event early on in my career path, I probably would have given up. So than you, NaNoWriMo. I couldn't have done it without you.

What about you? Have you learned anything by doing/attempting NaNo?

Steam-What?

People often ask me what makes a book steampunk.

There are so many possible answers for that, I rarely know where to start. So let me try to break it down for the uninitiated... 

1) Power is steam-generated. But within that, there can be seriously advanced technology. (This is usually a requirement for steampunk. Otherwise where does the steam part come from?)

2) Scientists. They can be good. They can be evil. But there is usually at least one in there somewhere--often an inventor or researcher. (These are the people who are trying to change the world. They tend to think they're doing the right thing--regardless of which side they're on.)

3) Gadgets. This goes with the above. There are gizmos in steampunk. Things that we don't use in our every day world. Rayguns. Monocular. All manner of clockworks--both intelligent and not. (They are shiny. People like shiny things. Thus...gadgets. Pretty much if you can imagine it, you can probably squeeze it in there.)

4) Airships. These might not be strictly necessary for steampunk, but damn they're pretty. With the world running on steam, there aren't planes like we're used to. And as good as trains and boats are, they're not quite the same. 

5) Victorian sensibilities...or not. More often as not, there's an alternate history aspect to steampunk, so it can go either way. However, there's usually at least a nod from someone about what is proper and acting like a lady. (I tend to go for the Miranda Lambert variation of being a lady. All it requires is "hiding your crazy"--most of my characters are good at that. And the others couldn't give a hoot about propriety.)

6) Brass. Actually a lot of metals, but brass is a big one. Remember the shiny things from above? Yeah. That. On repeat. 

7) The look. Goes with the brass and the shiny. Steampunk in a lot of ways is about dichotomy. Think HG Wells' Time Machine. On the surface, things are all shiny and pristine, but underneath there's a darker, grimy, gritty layer. 

8) The clothes. Oh my, the clothes. It's like Madonna meets Queen Victoria. Undergarments become overgarments, and your bustle skirt doesn't have to cover your knees much less your ankles...but it can if you want it to. There's leather and lace and silk and freaking burlap! It's like the gadget thing taken to an extreme--if you can imagine the clothes, someone, somewhere in steampunk would probably wear it. (And the brown thing is a myth. It's common in steampunk cosplay because of the whole brass thing, but it became common because most early photography has a sepia tone to it that made everything look brown. Don't be afraid of color.)

9) The punk. Steampunk is very political in nature. It's stories that take an issue and drag it kicking and screaming into the light to be dissected. It's subversive and awesome.

10) The people. Because of all the above, steampunk characters don't have to fit a standard mold. Your heroes don't have to be alphas (especially if your heroine is). None of your women have to be meek, mild, damsels-in-distress. All of them can be more than what their situations would dictate in reality. Make them bold. 

So yeah. There's my short brush up on what makes something steampunk. Does it have to be all those things? Nah. Can there be magic? Sure! But for myself, I see that list as a pretty solid place to start. 

What about you? What do you think when you hear "steampunk?"

The Doctors Mason

It's only appropriate that the last stops on my Clockwork Mafia blog tour are here and the Carina Press blog. The only bad part? I'm on my way to the Romantic Times Booklovers' Convention today, so I'll be a little hit or miss. In the meantime, I wanted to share a little taste of Henrietta's past...

The Doctors Mason

Henrietta clutched the piece of paper to her chest. Such a little thing, but it was going to change her world. No more pretending. No more pats on the head.

Blowing out the breath she'd been holding since she exited the steam carriage, she pushed open the heavy door in front of her. The hinges groaned like they hadn't seen use in years. Odd. Her father worked here every day. "Father?" she called into the depths of the lab.

The only answer was the ghost of her own voice echoing back at her. When her attempts to ignite the gaslamps failed, she stepped into the gloom. Where was he? She'd already checked the hospital. She rested a hand on the nearest bench and narrowed her eyes at the apparatus before her. In the darkness, she couldn't tell, but it looked as if it had been abandoned mid-experiment, the fluids inside congealing.

She shook her head. Preposterous. Her father was merely taking a much needed day off. Uncommon to be sure, but not unheard of.

Squaring her shoulders, she returned to the street, shutting the door tight behind her. A steam carriage pulled up almost as soon as she raised her hand to hail it. She climbed inside and gave her address to the driver as he closed the door. As the carriage lurched away, she gripped the door, only letting go once they were rolling smoothly along the road. And now the fingers of her glove were coated with dust. Wonderful. The one day she tried to present herself as pristinely as possible and a filthy carriage door did her in.

She plucked the fingers of the gloves until she was able to pull them off. If she'd carried a bag, she would have tucked them inside, but there was nothing for it. She'd just have to carry them along with her precious slip of paper. Surely he wouldn't notice the gloves. He noticed so little about her these days. But all that would change now. She sucked in a breath so full and deep it made her shudder with anticipation.

The driver let her out in front of the big house she shared with her father. Not so long ago, her mother had lived here too. A painful lump formed in Henrietta's throat as she remembered her mother's long and painful battle. Her death had been tragic in many ways, but it had also been a blessing in that she'd finally been free from the agony. If she'd only known how her husband would change after her passing, Louisa Mason might have held on longer. Might have lived forever, in fact. But that was a child's dream. Henrietta lived with both feet firmly planted on the ground of reality.

The front door swung open at her approach, their maid grinning as she swept Henrietta inside. "Welcome home, Miss Mason, or is it--"

"Until I speak to my father, nothing has changed. Is he in the study?"

"Understood, miss. But no, your father hasn't been home since early this morning."

Strange. He hadn't been at the lab or the hospital. Where could he be? "Thank you. I'll wait for him there. Please let him know when he returns home."

"Of course, miss."

Henrietta crossed the foyer, her books clicking on the marble tiles as she rounded the staircase and stepped into her father's study. Old lab equipment and books on all matter of science lined the mahogany cases along the wall, framing the massive desk in the middle of the room. Sucking in the scent of books and knowledge, Henrietta settled into the armchair near the window and waited.

A noise startled her awake, and the sun that had shone bright in the sky outside had disappeared, replaced by its pale reflection on the surface of the moon. She blinked. Her father hadn't come for her?

Suddenly the door swept open and he hurried in, gaslamps sputtering to life. "What is so important you spent all evening in here?"

No hello. No how are you. Only admonishment veiled in concern--lightly veiled at that. Henrietta stood, smoothing her skirt, and picked up the sheet of paper from the table next to her.

When she held it out to her father, he didn't spare it a glance. "Child, go to bed. This isn't anything that can't wait for morning. I've been at my laboratory all day and I'm exhausted."

What? "Firstly, Father, I'm not a child. I haven't been for some time, but this piece of paper you dismissed places me as your equal."

"Impossible." Now he snatched the medical license from her fingers, brows knitting together as he read it.

"Not impossible. I told you I wanted to be a doctor. Now I am. I did what everyone said couldn't be done. You didn't need a son, Daddy, I can be just like you." But as he continued to frown, his other words nagged at her. "And why did you say you were at the lab? I stopped there. It was dark and empty."

His eyes shot to her for a second before returning to her license. "I have a new laboratory I'm working from much of the time. That's not your concern. As for this--" He waved her license. "--the timing couldn't be more ideal. I've recently secured another trading ship and they have need of a medical officer. It will be the perfect place for you to hone your skills." He looked up at her at last, blue eyes so like her own glowing in the light of the gaslamps.

"A trading dirigible? But, Father, I--"

"I'll hear no more of it. If you want your own practice some day, you need experience. This is the perfect answer. Good night, child, and congratulations." He handed her license over to Henrietta's limp fingers and strode to the door. As he left, he doused the lights, cloaking her in darkness and the despair of a daughter who could never be what her father wanted...could never be a son.

Clockwork Mafia:

Inventor Henrietta Mason is retiring from airships and adventuring to return home to Philadelphia. Determined to erase all trails leading to her late father's duplicity, she dismantles his lab and removes all records of the Badlands gold. While in the city, she can't resist the lure of a charity gala but winds up regretting the whole experience. Well, everything except a heart-racing dance with a certain U.S. Marshal.

His career and vengeance on the line, Carson Alexander must prove a connection between Senator Mason and the mafia. He lucked out happening across Mason's strikingly beautiful daughter, only to have her slip through his fingers. On a desperate hunt to track her down, he never expects his search to take him into the brutal Badlands.

With a mechanically enhanced enforcer after them, only Carson knows the extent of the danger they face. He'll have to win over Henrietta's trust, and her heart, before it's too late...

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If you aren’t going to be able to see her next week at the Romantic Times Booklovers’ Convention—or even if you are—you can also find Seleste around the internet:

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