Ninety-nine bottles of blood on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of blood...

As of today, it is ninety-nine days to the release of Discount Armageddon. This is the first book in the InCryptid series; it's my first new series since 2010 (and wow, does that feel like a weird thing to say). It's the introduction to my huge, crazy, wonderful family of cryptozoologists and happy eccentrics, who think that taxidermy and talking mice are perfectly normal things to have around the house.

I am excited. I am terrified.

See, when A Local Habitation came out, some people compared it to the latest Dresden files book and said that Toby lacked the emotional resonance of Harry Dresden. This was sort of understandable, given that I had two books to build my character, and Butcher had like eleven, but it also awoke in me a deep existential dread. Which is now back, full-force, since following One Salt Sea with the start of a new series is a really good way to invoke that same critique. I don't borrow trouble. I rent it, and yes, I am an insecure blonde sometimes.

I am also mad happy, because I love this series so much, and I love this family so much, and I'm writing nine books to make you care enough to let me write book ten, Spelunking Through Hell: A Visitor's Guide to the Underworld and have you really really care and WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. You know I was an alien pod plant when you picked me up.

While I'm loving on things, I love my cover (and so do some other people, which is mad awesome, much like the cover itself). I love my subject matter experts. I love my Machete Squad. I love my publisher. I love my editor. I love The Agent. And I love everyone who has been involved, no matter how tangentially, in making this series a reality. It's had a long, weird genesis, and I am excited beyond words.

It's gonna be a book.

Thoughts on Writing #46: "Easy" Is For Other People.

The time has come for the forty-sixth essay in my fifty-essay series on the art, craft, and barely controlled interpretive mosh pit that is writing. I know, it's been a little while. Blame my deadlines. All fifty of the essays in this series are based around my original fifty thoughts on writing, meaning that I'm nearly done. Yay!

Now, to the essay itself. Our thought for today:

Thoughts on Writing #46: "Easy" Is For Other People.

That's a little hard to follow. Here's today's expanded thought:

Not everything you write is going to be easy, and not everything you write is going to be fun, and if you think "easy" and "fun" are your rights as a writer, please go find something else to do. Every book has a chapter you don't want to finish. Every story has a connective segment you just want to be done with already. It's going to happen. Acknowledge it now, and when it hits, you won't be so surprised. But you'll still be a little surprised. The painful parts of a project are like ninjas, and they sneak up on you.

Writing a book is a lot like cleaning a house. For every counter you de-clutter or deliciously sweet-smelling sheet you tuck into place, there's a toilet to be cleaned, a stove to be scrubbed, and a distressing stain to be attacked with baking soda and prayer. If you only take care of the easy, fun parts, you're going to wind up with a house that's one part showroom, one part disaster...and the disaster will spread. The hard parts are often the important ones, even if they're the parts that no one appreciates but you.

Today we're going to be talking about the hard parts, why they matter, the forms that they take, and why you can't avoid them, no matter how hard you may try.

Ready? Good. Let's begin.

( My thoughts are not your thoughts; my process is not your process; my ideas are not your ideas; my method is not your method. All these things are totally right for me, and may be just as totally wrong for you. So please don't stress if the things I'm saying don't apply to you -- I promise, there is no One True Way. This way for my thoughts on doing the hard stuff. )