Hi–
I wanted to let everyone know where the rights for Immortal Beloved have been sold so far, so you’ll know if it’s coming in translation to your country. Several of these countries are planning to publish IB in Spring 2011. Some I don’t know about.

But here’s a current list:

The UK
The Netherlands
Spain (Spanish and Catalan)
Russia
Brazil
Bulgaria
Poland
Italy
Germany
France

I might be forgetting a couple. I’ll update the list as agreements develop.

I’m so excited that Immortal Beloved will reach a wider audience than any of my other books! Then maybe the publishers will also want to publish Sweep and Balefire! Fingers crossed!

Cate

So, for the most part, my life is pretty ordinary, with groceries, housework, family, etc. All of the weird stuff happens inside my own head, and doesn’t show much on the outside. But sometimes unusual things happen that sort of defy explanation. I love that stuff. I wanted to share something unusual with you.

First off, I have a posse, and we get together a couple times a month to talk about whatever. We’re all kind of different, but all open to other viewpoints. One of our members practices an ancient Peruvian tradition of shamanic healing. (I didn’t know anything about this–) Last night she talked about it with us, and then led us in an exercise.

One of the basic tenets of her practice is that everything, trees, rocks, water, everything, is alive and has a consciousness. She had brought a small jar of rocks with her–she called them the stone people. We each were allowed to choose a rock, hold it in our hands, and then ask the rock to help us with whatever we were having trouble with. And then ask it what it wanted us to know about itself.

So we were all, sure, what the hey, and passed around the jar of rocks. I was last, and instead of dumping out the rocks (stone people) I decided to close my eyes and choose one by feel. I felt around, and suddenly one rock fit perfectly into my palm. It wasn’t the biggest or the prettiest, but it fit in my fingers perfectly. So I concluded this was my rock. (I’d never done anything like this before.)

Then we each closed our eyes and thought. I’ve been having a lot of trouble lately focusing on work. I have two projects going, and instead of buckling down and working on them, I find myself frittering away my days on other stuff. In the meantime, deadlines are ticking down, and if I don’t turn things in, I don’t get paid. So I’ve been stressing about this. And I silently asked my stone person what it thought about this. And then (this is my perception of what happened), I felt it answer: “My sister is waiting to help you. She’s been waiting.” I was like, wha? And it said that its sister was on my desk, and that I needed to hold it in my hand for five minutes at the start of the day. I had to concentrate and focus on it, and then I would be ready to sit down and work. Basically, the stone person was laughing at me because the answer seemed so obvious and simple.

Here’s the thing: I have a stone on my desk. I don’t even remember where I got it from–maybe the beach in California? Or Florida? I don’t know. I tend to collect stones from places. But this stone, that fits nicely into my palm, always sits on the base of my monitor, and if it gets moved, I always move it back. It’s been on my desk for ages, years. This stone is my stone person’s sister (I guess they all feel related.) And the stone on my desk has been waiting for me to use it to help me focus. I was somewhat freaked out about this, but agreed to try it the next day.

Then I asked what else the stone person wanted me to know about it or its people. It said, Our relationship is not one-way–you, acting on a stone. It goes both ways, and I can give back just as much as you give me.

Which is a whole huge thought, and I’m dying to put it into a book soon.

Then my friend said that if we wanted, we could take the stone person home–if we felt it wanted to go home with us. Everyone except me wanted to take their stone home, and felt their stone wanted to go home with them. I felt that my stone definitely wanted to go back to the jar with the other stone people: its job was done. It had come there to help me with this one thing, and now that that was done, it would go back home. So I put it back.

This morning I got up and sat at my desk. I quickly went through email and answered what I needed to. And then I didn’t do all the usual stuff I do that wastes time. I picked up my stone person from my desk and held it, and sat there for five minutes focusing on work. It felt endless. I was restless. I wanted to be doing something else. But I did it. And today I haven’t wasted much time, and have sat here and worked.

Thank you, stone person.

Isn’t that an odd thing to happen? I have no explanation about it, except that it happened and feels real to me. Just a tiny, brief connection to The Other.

For all of you who have been bummed trying to get copies of Balefire, some of which is out of print, I was just sent the cover art for the future 4-in-1 bind-up that will be available in December. This will be all four books in one volume, and I love the cover design. Here it is, so you’ll know what to look for:

I think it’s fah-bulous! Can’t wait till December!

I meant to mention that the Immortal Beloved cover that you see here is the actual official IB cover, which is what you’ll see at bookstores (in America. Other countries will have different covers.). The white cover was just a placeholder so you wouldn’t have to look at a black box.

I’m looking for feedback here–will this cover stand out on the shelves? Does it make you want to pick up the book and see what it’s about? If you’ve read the excerpt from IB on this site, do you think this book cover is representative of what you’ve read?

I’m asking because I saw several different designs for this book, and this one was the best. But what are your thoughts?

I’ve been wanting to add photos to this blog for ages, but being technologically challenged is a burden I struggle with. But I think I’ve figured it out! (There’s a little button that says “Upload photo.” Heh. Who knew?)

So now I can inundate this site with pictures of:

This tree in my front yard. It's a Bradford pear. It does not make actual pears. The pink box on the right is the bird feeder where deer come and tip it and suck all the seed out of it.

and this:

This is me, last month. I think this is in my bathroom, but I have no idea why I have it or what was going on or anything. Hoo, boy, washed out, huh?

and this:

This might be too much information. A snapshot of a life that maybe you really don't want to know about. But basically, this is my bed. The dog is Zsazsa, who belongs to my husband's best friend. They were visiting from Florida. The muddy pawprints you see all over the down comforter are muddy pawprints, because we apparently set no limits as to where guest dogs can go. The dresser in the back is covered with crap because that's how we roll. I'm sorry if I just destroyed whatever image you had of me. I'm just walkin' in the truth here.

I bet you’re so, so excited, huh?

Cate.

I’ve been wanting to add photos to this blog for ages, but being technologically challenged is a burden I struggle with. But I think I’ve figured it out! (There’s a little button that says “Upload photo.” Heh. Who knew?)

So now I can inundate this site with pictures of:

This tree in my front yard. It's a Bradford pear. It does not make actual pears. The pink box on the right is the bird feeder where deer come and tip it and suck all the seed out of it.

and this:

This is me, last month. I think this is in my bathroom, but I have no idea why I have it or what was going on or anything.

and this:

This might be too much information. A snapshot of a life that maybe you really don't want to know about. But basically, this is my bed. The dog is Zsazsa, who belongs to my husband's best friend. They were visiting from Florida. The muddy pawprints you see all over the down comforter are muddy pawprints, because we apparently set no limits as to where guest dogs can go. The dresser in the back is covered with crap because that's how we roll. I'm sorry if I just destroyed whatever image you had of me. I'm just walkin' in the truth here.

I bet you’re so, so excited, huh?

Cate.

So I think it’s really going to happen–I believe Penguin is planning to rerelease all four books of Balefire together in one bind-up, like what they’re doing with Sweep. It will have a fabulous new cover, new typesetting, everything, and I’m sure it will be amazing. I’m so happy they’re doing this! I believe the books are planned to be released around Christmas, this year. Hard to wait that long!

I get a lot of questions about how I got started writing, where do I get my ideas, how did I think up all this stuff. Since I’m wrestling with the outline for the second Immortal Beloved book, I’m dealing with these issues right now. The “how I got started” part is explained in a couple of places, including the recent interview at BlogCritics. I posted its link on the Blog page because I haven’t figured out how to access the News page. (Oh, yeah–I’m not technical. But then you knew that.) But I can talk about some of the other questions because 1) they’re on my mind, and 2) writing about them means I’m not actually doing them. *One of the first skills a writer has to master is the art of procrastination.*

So . . . where do I get all my ideas? I buy them in bulk from a store, like Costco. No, not really. I wish. Of course there’s no one place or one way I get ideas. Sometimes I wake up with them, or get them when I’m doing housework or raking, sometimes a picture in a magazine or a sentence in a book or a scrap of overheard conversation spurs my thought process, or a painting in a museum or a dead animal my dog brings in or just a random thought that pops into my head and who knows where the heck it came from . . . In truth, a lot of my job involves me just–thinking. Because I’m an overachiever with guilt issues, I usually do something else while I’m thinking, like sweeping the patio or washing the dog bowl. But sometimes I really am just sitting quietly somewhere, thinking, and if someone comes in and talks to me, I don’t even hear them. Ideas, pictures, conversation, emotions just come to me like bits of clay, and then I mash them all together and try to make a pot out of them. And that little writing metaphor explains why I’m not everywhere teaching writing seminars. I don’t know how to teach it, and I can’t even explain it well. I know only how to do it.

I’ve read a lot, taken literature courses, and listened to other writers talk about writing. Every writer has her own method of working. A friend of mine writes out of sequence, coming up with ideas and scenes and then later putting everything into  a normal time frame. That very idea just makes my stomach hurt.

How do I write?

I think about what I would like to read, myself. Or an idea I want to explore. Virtually all of my books are about a female character discovering her inner strength and using it to overcome bad stuff. That’s the general message I want to communicate to my readers: you have inner, untapped personal strength, and you have the ability to overcome whatever bad stuff you’re dealing with. I like that message more than, say, “other girls are your enemies and you should sabotage them so you’ll get the cutest boys and be more popular.” Or “obsess about your weight and appearance in a futile attempt to achieve perfection so that X will finally love you.” Those are not helpful messages, in my opinion.

This is just me, but I don’t think of a story, and then put people in it. I always think of the characters first, and then put them in a story that allows them to reveal their personas in a dramatic way. It’s hard for me to tell a story. It’s not hard for me to find virtually everyone fascinating and want to explore their pysches exhaustively and figure out what makes them do the things they do, make the decisions they make. So I’m usually not struggling to produce a work of a certain length because I’ve run out of plot–I’m usually overwriting because I can sit there and talk about these people forever.

I tend to think in story arcs that are three or four books long–it seems like I just need a lot of space. Because I’ve finally cottoned on to basic plot requirements after almost twenty years of writing, I come up with a story line and make sure it has a beginning, middle, and an end. Plots are not my strong point and tend to be secondary to my characters. Ideally the plot and characters should seem as if they can’t exist without the other. But this is all the technical stuff that makes my eyes glaze over–one learns it in high school and college and perhaps absorbs it. I do know writers, writers I really respect, who are all about structure and turning points and raising the stakes and first denouement and second denouement. But that’s not me. I come up with a character who intrigues me, who I want to know better, and then I put her in an interesting situation that would be fun to write about. I make sure she grows and changes by the end of the book, and that’s one of the most important aspects to truly comprehend: your characters must grow and change throughout the book. They must learn something about themselves. They must go on a journey, either physically or emotionally or psychologically, and that journey must change them. And then you put in subplots that offer interesting parallels or counterpoints to your main plot.

If I could write anything at all, it would probably be a series of romantic setups with tons of longing and emotion and tortured love that finally totally works out in the end and everything is fabulous. If someone would pay me to do that, it would be great. In my experience, they want more story and setting and the whole rest of the plot. That’s what makes it difficult.

I usually write for anywhere from an hour or two to maybe five or six hours a day. But it takes all day to do that. I’m usually at my desk most of every day. I’ll take little breaks and throw in a load of laundry or something. I do a lot of research online. I read other writers’ blogs. There are certain writers I read who, by their work, show me different patterns of conversation or humor, different ways of getting a person in and out of a room. A book will have a certain tone, a certain voice, and I’ll read it and figure out why it works, and if I can do something similar. I let the dogs out. And then in. And then out. And then in. Maybe a thousand times a day. That takes time. But the actual writing, the tapping of keys–I usually don’t do that for more than about six hours total, because after that my head feels like it’s going to explode and my eyes will bleed. And I try to be out of my bathrobe before my husband or I get the kids from school.

I do work from an outline. The outline is roughly chapter by chapter, but it can be fluid–I don’t strictly have to adhere to what I plotted out. Some people write really detailed outlines, 50 pages long, and some people work with no outline at all, which freaks me out. My outline is pretty much what needs to happen, sticking in things that are important, and it’s usually around 15-20 pages. I’ll put in bits of dialogue or specific details that crop up while I’m writing it. Sometimes it’s kind of in shorthand: They meet at the place, he does the thing, she gets mad, they run into X. From that I could write a twelve-page chapter. But I get as detailed as I need to.

So I sit down with my outline and something to drink, and I write until I need to stop. The next day I reread everything and clean it up. Sometimes I’ll think it’s no good and I’ll delete pages. Which is hard. Or I’ll have a certain bit I really love, but it actually doesn’t fit with the story, or it’s out of character, and it has to go. Also hard. And so on and so forth, for anywhere from 200 to 400 pages. The Sweep and Balefire titles were pretty short, but they came out several books a year. Immortal Beloved is about 400 pages, and it will come out once a year. I try to write at least six double-spaced pages a day. Sometimes I’m lucky to get three. If I’m way behind schedule or am writing something I’m really into and excited by, I can write twelve or fifteen pages. Usually it’s about six.

The story changes from the original outline. It goes in directions that I didn’t expect. The characters do things that surprise me and change what happens next. Or I’ll simply come up with a different idea that seems better than what I had before. It’s organic and it grows and changes. Every once in a while, it’s significantly different from what the editor was expecting, but that usually isn’t a problem, as long as it’s good.

I can’t tell you how to write–and it sounds like many of you are writers or want to be writers. I can only tell you how I do it, which is not how anyone else does it. But the one universal place that every writer comes from is: writing is communication. What are you trying to say? Who are you trying to say it to? Why do you need to say it? Figuring out those questions is usually the hardest part, and the step many people skip.

The more you know yourself, the more you’ll know and understand your characters.

Read other people’s writing. A lot.

Chocolate seems to be a crucial part of the process.

Don’t spill anything on your computer.

And now I have to go do it myself.

Cate

Here’s an interview that posted at BlogCritics.

http://blogcritics.org/books/article/interview-with-cate-tiernan-author-of1/

I never know how I come off in things like that . . .

Hi–
I’ve been getting so many great letters through this site, and I really appreciate it. I know I’m really slow at answering them, but I do intend to, swear. But there’s a whole genre of questions that I can answer right now, all at once.

Basically, I write the books and the publisher pays me, and that’s pretty much the extent of what I have influence over. Sometimes they mention cover ideas or show me ads they’re thinking of doing, but I don’t really have much say. I’m not complaining; I’m explaining. I control the words in the story, the plot of the story, the characters in the story.

I want to explain this all upfront, because I get so, so many letters from people who are upset that they can’t find certain books, or the format of books, or which countries the books are sold in, or why books cost so much. And letters about the book covers, and the models on the covers, and the art on the covers.

And the answers to all those questions is: I don’t know. I *sometimes* might know, possibly, when a book will be published for the first time, but in general, they usually don’t tell me if a book will be reissued or discontinued or get a new cover or put in a new store. But I have no idea why some bookstores have certain copies of Sweep but not others, or if they’ll make a boxed set some day, or why certain editions are really hard to find. I have no idea who the models are on the covers. It would be fun if I did, and I would feel happier if I knew why some bookstores had my books and some don’t, or if I knew when or why a publisher makes other decisions about the books, but I simply don’t. Most authors don’t. Really big name authors sometimes do. But I don’t.

I hate to disappoint you guys by writing back, I don’t know, I don’t know, but it’s just how it is.

I like answering other questions, though.

Love, Cate