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 Magic of Switching Gears

No, I'm not talking about driving. Anyone's who's paid much attention to my backlist knows that I've done some bouncing around the speculative fiction world. I like to do that. It helps keep my brain fresh so I don't get bored in any one world.

But you see...I also like other people's worlds. I'm a bit of what is politely (or not so politely) termed "a geek." So when a call went out last year for novellas for a "geek collection," my heart grew ten sizes that day. (I know it isn't Christmas, but it was the reference I had handy.) I wanted to do it. Wanted to do it badly, but...all my ideas were "real world." I mean, I'd sort of made the jump to contemporary once, but did I really want to do it again?

I debated for a long time, but the answer kept coming back a resounding "YES!" So I eventually listened. Gaming for Keeps got picked up last summer and I'm beyond excited about its release into the wilds of the internet.

A funny thing happened on the way to contemporary though. I kind of found this subtle little mishmash of genres. It's mostly contemporary with a little romantic suspense and a little twist of something quirky (not quite sci-fi, but... let's just say my editor refers to it as "The Big Bang Theory meets The X-Files" with more romance.) I love this book with all my geeky little heart, and the odd part is...it did eventually lead to me writing some straight contemporary (coming soon to an e-tailer near you!)

So yeah. I'll be getting back to the world of the Badlands soon (and Blood Kissed shortly after), but right now I'm hanging out in something a little closer to reality. It's a little odd to be here, but I kind of like it. I hope you will too.

Pen Holloway’s done with men—in real life. Guys in game are so much less drama. But when her partner from　Heroes of Fallen Gods　invites her to the convention of the year, she panics. What if he’s another jerk? What if he’s not?

Cal Burrows is living his dream of being a spy. One of TRAIT’s misfit spies, but still a spy. It’s the perfect job… until an arms dealer with a taste for blood invades his not-so-secret geek haven. All Cal wanted from ConDamned was to meet his on-line girl. Now, with the threat of mass murder looming, he’s forced to choose between keeping his mission a secret and protecting the girl of his dreams

Despite their attraction, Pen can’t help but suspect Cal’s hiding something. She also can’t shake the feeling he’s not as much of a stranger as he seems.

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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...

Buy at:

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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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The Little Story that Could

My online writing group used to do these monthly writing challenges (they are now less often and I don't participate anymore). One year for February, the challenge involved using song lyrics to inspire a story. I can't even remember the song anymore but it was a ballad, and with Valentine's around the corner, the stories were mostly romantic in nature.

Except mine.

Oh sure, it had romantic aspects to it, but it was actually the story of a woman who felt like her boyfriend was controlling her in a borderline abusive way and how she dealt with it. The story was about 1300 words long and bore the title Of Course I Try (taken from a key line in of dialogue). It won the challenge and I got a cute little picture thing to add to my signature for the website.

The summer of 2010, I submitted the story for publication. I was informed it was too short and asked if I could make it longer. My answer to that was "Of course." I bumped it up to somewhere over 5000 words, which still made it a short story, but it was now a sellable short story. Reviews were good, but one thing kept popping up. "I wanted more."

Initially my thoughts were along the lines of "but it's a short story, it's supposed to be short." Then... wheels started turning, gears started grinding and smoke leaked out of my ears--I had a way to make more work. For the holidays that year, The Ghost of Vampire Present came out, continuing the story of the heroine from the first short. Basically it's a little bit of A Christmas Carol, combined with a little bit of The Lady or the Tiger, combined with vampires and a modern setting.

Obviously, by the end of that story it was clear it most definitely wasn't the end. In fact, those shorts were only the beginning. When I started pondering more, it wasn't a little more that came to mind, it was this whole world built around the idea that vampires wanted Jocelyn. The hows and whys and whens became far too big for short stories. From the moment I conceived the second story, I knew there'd be more and those shorts would serve as prequels to the bigger story.

On August 28, the first installment of that bigger story will be released. A far cry from the humble beginnings of a 1300 word story, Kiss of Death is a full-length novel (the first of three) that will explore the world of my vampires and their link to Jocelyn (the heroine of those prequels). And, it will introduce my favorite of all my characters to the world. In fact, he'll be taking over the guest blogging duties at several of the stops on my blog tour over the next two weeks. I hope you'll follow along. And for those of you who have been on the journey with me since the first Blood Kissed story hit the internet, thank you for your support. Kiss of Death wouldn't have happened without you.

Start the New Year by Reading and Fighting Cancer

About a year ago, my sister suggested I write a book where the main character had battled cancer. It was the hardest thing for me to say no to her. You see, she herself is a cancer survivor, and I completely understood the desire to see a heroine she could relate to in a romance novel.

If you think about it, even more than ethnic and racial minorities, people with disabilities or who have battled an illness like cancer are severely underrepresented in romance novels. I’m sure part of it is the desire for that whole happily-ever-after thing, and readers have a hard time reconciling that with deadly diseases. Romance novels aren’t supposed to make you ponder your own mortality.

But that has nothing to do with why I said no. Hell, without batting an eye, I could write a romance about a woman who suffers from depression and fights the urge to kill herself.

Because I could do it justice. I know what that feels like. I have a deep-seated understanding of that pain. And I know I could make it a happy book in the end.

I can’t do the story of a cancer-survivor justice. When my sister was going through chemo and radiation, I lived and worked on the other side of the state. I visited when I could, but I wasn’t there. I didn’t live it. As much as I could talk to her about what it was like and research it and do all that, I would still be an outsider.

And I don’t think I could do it, not where it would be worthy of those who have won and lost the fight. At least not until I'm a much better writer.

So, I do what I can. Part of that involved volunteering to be part of Decadent Publishing’s Read for a Cure program. Each month Decadent chooses a book, and for that month all publisher profits go to the American Cancer Society via Relay for Life. This month, the Read for a Cure book is my novella, The Ghost of Vampire Present, and in addition to the publisher profits, I will be adding fifty cents for each copy sold this month to my donation to my sister’s Relay for Life team.

If you received an e-reader for the holidays, if you’ve owned one for year, or if you’re willing to read on your computer, I hope you’ll consider a copy of The Ghost of Vampire Present before December is over.

The Ghost of Vampire Present is available at:

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and other online retailers

The American Cancer Society and I thank you for your support and wish you a joyous and blessed New Year.

Watch Out! Angry Frat-boy Archer on the Loose

Sometimes the book you start out to write isn't the one you turn in. When I started my little tale of the rock star and the principal, it was a straight contemporary for a contest. For better or worse though, the contest had a 7,000 word limit. I knew very quickly the story wouldn't fit in those confines, which gave me the opportunity to re-look at my hero and heroine.

Kira is a high school principal and very straight-laced, whereas one look at Jesse would make two words fly into the heads of women everywhere: bad boy. They definitely weren't people who would automatically gravitate toward each other, so I decided what they needed was a push in the right direction. Enter Eros (aka Cupid) and his arrows.

My initial reaction to the thought was abject horror. A little guy in a diaper flying around shooting people and making them fall in love? Plus, if Cupid was actually doing his damn job, would romance be in the sorry state we see these days? Of course not.

Which means he wasn't doing his job. And that opened up a world of possibilities, one I knew was far too big for me to handle on my own. Still, I had to get the ball rolling. I had to build an Olympus where this could happen.

Basically, where I ended up is with a college-like Olympus with Eros as frat-boy extraordinaire. And a very pissed off Dean of Students in Zeus who expels him until he shapes the hell up. Because really...what other kind of Cupid would look at Kira and Jesse and say, "Yeah. Those two need to be together" except one who thought succeeding in an unexpected match would earn him brownie points.

I'm really happy to say that other people have embraced my crazy vision as well. GunShy, the first book in the Cupid's Conquests series, is out now at Evernight Publishing. (Other authors have taken up the call and are penning stories for this series right now. Each one will follow Eros as he unites a couple--or more--in love.) For now, here's a little taste of Eros's magic...

As she staggered to a stop, the man peeled the card from his pants and held it out to her. “Lose something?” His deep, gravely voice sent a shiver all the way to her toes as she took in the six-foot- plus wall of muscle.

Kira wasn’t a small girl by any stretch, but in front of him, she felt tiny. “I... uh... dropped that.”

He read the card aloud. “Take a chance, huh?” Kira started, knowing those weren’t the words she’d read a moment before. With a shrug, he pressed it into her hand. “Better hold on tighter next time.”

When his fingers left hers, something pricked into her shoulder. She slapped her free hand against the pain and felt something. In her palm, she held a tiny golden arrow, but when she blinked, it was gone—replaced by a very dead wasp.

The guy in front of her, t-shirt straining against his chest as he moved, leaned close. His words belied the gruff tone of his voice. “That’s weird. Someone must have fucked with a nest. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“N—n—no,” she stammered, staring at the arrow-wasp.

Gently, he gripped her wrist and tipped her hand until the insect fell to the ground. “Why don’t I take you to first aid anyway?” The words on the card drew her gaze: Take a chance. They’d

been different before; she was sure of it. Then Kira looked up at the man in front of her, his leather jacket and jeans such a stark contrast to Nolan’s polo and pressed khaki shorts, and the wasp sting burned. The strange, but not painful, heat traveled from her shoulder through her body to settle between her legs. She bit her lip, wondering where the feeling really came from. The guy in front of her wasn’t her usual type. Too big, too muscly, too rough around the edges right from his worn boots to the scruff along his strong square jaw.

In her mind, her teeth grazed that same jaw, and a shiver ran through her as she tore her gaze away. “Yeah. I think the pain is getting to me.”

Releasing her wrist, he rested his hand on the small of her back. The heat of his skin seared straight through Kira’s thin tank top. Her throat went dry within ten steps, and she had to swallow hard before she could speak again. “Thank you for your help, Mr....”He arched an eyebrow at her quizzically before answering. “Stanford. I prefer Jesse though. I killed the last guy who called me mister.”

Kira froze, fighting against the light pressure of his fingertips. “You what?” she squeaked.

He twisted his head and winked. “Kidding. Mister just makes me feel old. And you are...”

“Sorry. Kira Murphy.”

“Well, Kira Murphy, who needs to learn to take chances, consider yourself safely delivered to first aid.” He nodded toward the rickety trailer with the sloppily painted red cross on the side. “Have a good night.”

His hand fell from her back, and this time she shivered from the loss of his heat—heat she very much wanted back. But Jesse had already melted into the crowd. “So much for taking chances.”

With a sigh, she went inside to have the sting tended.

How Adult Is Too Adult?

I'm on vacation with the extended family and had an interesting talk with my (almost) thirteen-year-old niece today. She reads the YA novels I write under my other name, but tonight while we were talking books, she asked what my "Seleste deLaney" books were about.

Pretty sure I went deer in the headlights for a minute there.

You see, I'm the aunt who gets in trouble for answering questions because I believe in honesty. I strive for "age-appropriate honesty" but I don't believe in giving BS answers. For example, I took a different niece to a parent-approved movie, and the word fornication was used in a prayer. She asked me what it meant. Yeah. Rock meet hard place. Needless to say, I got in trouble over that one, even though it's what I would tell my son or daughter if they asked. Basically I said "it's something grown-ups do when they're alone" or something like that. To one parent that's perfectly acceptable. To another...not so much.

So when the thirteen-year-old asked about my "other" books, I was a little leery of answering. But I did it anyway. I didn't talk about the sex, but I did explain the plots. If her mother gets on me about it, so be it. I'll take my lumps, because I realized if I didn't answer her, the easiest way for her to find out would be to just read them.

Now, I'm all for family as fans, but if I thought explaining the plots would get me in trouble, it's nothing compared to the backlash if she read my sex scenes because I wouldn't answer. But the real question is when is a book too adult?

I read my first book with sex scenes in it (that I recognized as such) in sixth grade. Granted, it was much less descriptive than mine, but considering it was coerced sex with a teenaged prisoner for the purpose of impregnation (with an alien baby no less)...I like to think it was "worse" than the sex I write.

What about you? When did you first read books with sex and, if you are a parent, when do you expect your kids will? (And if you want, what is worse? Descriptive sex between consenting adults? Or something like I mentioned above?)

When in the Old West…

A funny thing happened on the way to publication of my upcoming steampunk/alt-history romance Badlands. The biggest one? It actually became a steampunk/alt-history novella.

When I first envisioned it, the story was a space western. Somewhere I still have all the initial background for the planets and the history and the politics. Then I started writing, and I discovered that I made the “world” too big. My crew had to hit multiple planets for the storyline to work and I never felt like I did any of them justice. Plus I felt my characters got lost in the shuffle.

So I shelved it.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I loved the basic storyline, and how much I loved Ever (the heroine). So after letting it sit for a couple months, I decided to take another crack at the story…as a steampunk. When I made the shift, I didn’t realize quite how much would have to change as a result.

The setting was a given, and it was the most simple change. I knew where Ever was going to come from and quickly figured out how to make the society similar to how I had originally envisioned it (with minor tweaks). But in order for that to work, I had to re-examine the political arena. As soon as I realized that America needed to be divided in more significant ways, that moved along smoothly.

So…the big stuff was easy enough. Then I tried to start writing. I never considered changing Ever’s name or appearance. The name fit her too well and I didn’t want every woman in this world to wear corsets and bustle skirts. I wanted her as wild and untamed as the land she grew up in. And since it was a new nation with its own societal rules, I could get away with it.

Not so with everyone else. Not only did I have to severely trim my character list (certain roles no longer made sense on a dirigible instead of a spaceship), but all of them needed new names too. So out went all my cool, wacky, original names, and out came websites with 19^th century monikers. As an author who has an obsession with names fitting characters, this was a big challenge since in my mind all of them fit their old names (in fact one I still think of as “Stone”).

Names took up far more time than they should have…and then I realized the gender of a key character had to change as it wouldn’t work historically to have them as female. It was a major *head-desk* moment. And then I had to think about fashion and character histories that actually, you know, fit history (I was changing many things but still wanted it to feel familiar to readers).

In the end, the story still dictated everything. I just had to work around the genre and time period a bit. It makes me wonder though, how many readers would have cringed at anachronistic names (particularly for the men: Brendan and Stone)? Would a female in a position of power in the late 19^th century US have made you roll your eyes and throw the book?

As the author, it mattered to me, but basically, how much does this stuff matter to a reader?