Also, for a limited time, All the Pretty Girls is available for free!

Check it out here!

How much do we need? How much is too much? At what point does our dependence on information supersede our creative life?

These are all questions I’ve been asking myself this week.

I will be the first person to admit that I’m an information junkie. News, current events, politics, heck, even the weather: I’m constantly updating my internal databases with the latest news. The same goes for my publishing career. I’m always asking questions, wanting the latest information. I read the industry blogs, get daily mails from Publishers Weekly, Publisher Marketplace (silly, because the information contained therein really is redundant, I should pick one and let the other go) Galley Cat; newspapers, police sites, anything that might help me research, or learn, or feel informed.

I subscribe to RSS feeds of several major publishing related blogs, like Sarah Weinman. And I subscribe to several other kinds of blogs – news oriented, productivity oriented, wine blogs, funny blogs. It takes me nearly an hour to catch-up every morning, and more and more lately, I’m falling behind because I run out of the allotted time. (Because if I don’t allot a specific amount of time, I can easily splurge and read blogs all day.) There are just so many fascinating parts of the world to explore, and many, many writers who explore them in ways that I never can. So I read and experience these things vicariously, and feel smarter because of it.

Perfect example, right now I’ve subscribed to the Crime RSS feeds of the London newspapers, because I plan to set a book there and I want to get a sense of what’s happening. Do I need to do this? No. I could wait until I get ready to write the book and do the research then. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.

But why is this necessary? Why do I need to know all of these things? Need. Want. Two very different beasts.

I’ve been “complimented” in the past for being “plugged in.” I was actually introduced to a group as having my “finger on the pulse of publishing.” You can only imagine the internal cringe when I heard that. And it’s not true at all – I rely on others to feed me the most current information. Then I synthesize it and apply it to whatever project it needs to get applied to. I don’t take this as a compliment – to me it says I’m spending too much time away from my job. I’m a novelist, after all, not a journalist.

There is a tipping point, a moment when you realize that while it would be nice to know every single detail of the world, you don’t need to. Trying to know everything is incredibly, incredibly stressful. My tipping point came last week, when I realized I was spending half my allotted blog reading time slogging through Mashable. Mashable is a cool site, with lots of content. So much content that you could easily read Mashable alone and never get a chance to do anything else. It’s information overload at its finest. The day I deleted Mashable from my RSS feed was my first step toward information independence.

Here’s more irony for you—late last year I adopted a minimalist lifestyle, which included trying to have a more minimalist experience on the Internet. I just realized that in my quest to learn about minimalism, I ended up subscribed to 12 minimalism/productivity blogs, all of which basically repeat the same information over and over again. Not very minimalist. It was ridiculous, really. Anyone can talk the talk. It’s walking the walk that’s the hard part. There’s one blogger (who shall remain nameless) that I used to love. When I realized that he spent all his time talking about creativity, yet never creating, I deleted him from my feeds.

Psychology time. The most minor self-examination led me to a quick conclusion: It all boils down to the fact that I have a few small issues with control. As in, I'm a control freak. I’ve been known in the past to end up lifting heavy projects myself because I don’t trust others to do it right. It’s narcissistic, at best, to assume that my way is the best way. So the way I approach information is similar: If I KNOW all these things, then I'll never get caught short out in the real world.

I think we all experience this from time to time – we are the ME generation, after all. We want to be smart, to be hip, to be now, to know more than the person next to us. It’s borne from the same motivation that causes us not to listen to others when they speak—the weird way our brains work in conversation, mentally composing our next sentence to sound witty, erudite, charming and funny, not fully paying attention to what the other person is saying. Come on, admit it, you’re guilty of that just like I am. Naughty, naughty.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a certain amount of information that you absolutely need to know to succeed in your business. But do you need to know everything? Every nitty, gritty detail? No. The world is not going to end if you hear about the Google Settlement the day after it happens through the grapevine. We lose days talking about publishing houses getting kicked out of writer’s organizations, authors who take on reviewers and end up in the New York Times, Twitter gossip – all under the guise of necessary information. But is it really necessary? No. Not necessary.

Deciding the difference between necessity information and curiosity information is a good place to start with this. What do I need to know to get through my day? What will niggle in the back of my head if I don’t give it a glance?

While analyzing that dichotomy, I realized that the level of information I need has changed dramatically over the years. When I was first starting out, I HAD to know as much as possible, because having a little insider information might have made the difference between getting a contract and not.

But now? Now I don’t need to be up on the latest news from agenting. I don't need to read about creating a synopsis. I definitely don't need to read people's publishing stories, because no matter what, it ends up being a comparison of apples and oranges, and many of the oranges have had a rough go of it lately, and are getting a wee bit negative on their blogs. (These posts are more likely to bring me down than up, and that's not what I want from my online reading excursions.)

I have an agent. He’s wonderful. I'm not looking for a new one. I find myself reading agent blogs, thinking, hey, that’s good advice, and passing the information along to the folks I know who need it. And while that’s nice of me, it’s really not my job to educate people about how to get an agent. (Narcissism again. Tsk.) I don’t need to be reading every detail of the DRM issue. I’ve put a team in place to work for me, to deal with these issues so I can focus on my writing. Knowledge is power, most definitely, and I don’t advocate falling off the train entirely. But ascertaining what you must know versus what you want to know can shave hours off your day.

If pushed, I would say that I felt like so many people helped me out along the way, I owe it to the next class of writers to help them up too. But then I remember that weird thing called bootstraps, which I used to pull myself to the top of the heap by doing my own research on how to get an agent. I didn’t go to a writer and ask how, I researched the living hell out of it. (Hmm. Note to self. Next time someone asks me how to get an agent – I shall tell them to Google it. That’s how I got started…)

You get my point. I’m moving on.

I took some of my own advice, and deleted a ton of blogs from my daily roundup. I installed Instapaper on my Mac so I can skim headlines in the morning and give myself the sense that I’ve covered the bases, and save the detail for later in the day, after I’ve gotten my creative work done. I changed my RSS feeds – deleting about 50 that were either redundant, inactive, or otherwise not necessary to my daily being. I deleted a bunch of bookmarked pages, streamlined my toolbar so only the vital sites are visible. I dropped ALL of my social networking sites into a folder, and stowed that folder out of sight in my bookmarks that I don’t open regularly. Out of sight really is out of mind for me.

Having so many sources of information wasn’t giving me a broad-spectrum view of my interests. It was stressing me out. So it felt very good to crash my system and start fresh with LESS.

It's only going to get worse from here, folks. E-Readers will access the internet (and where's the fun of escaping into another world if you're email beeps in the background?) smartphones already do, netbooks - you know why I love to travel? Because there's no internet on the plane. That's X number of hours that I don't have to feel guilty if I'm not available. When that small bit of heaven is taken from me, I don't know how I'll ever escape. So I'm starting my good habits early, before the world goes haywire and Google starts broadcasting into our brain chips.

I challenge you to this information duel. Skip a day. Just… skip a day. Don’t read the paper. Don’t turn on the television. Don’t read your blogs. Don’t look at Twitter. Forget about Facebook, just for one measly little day.

A note on the challenge: You’ll need to replace your Jones with something. Go for a walk. Play with your kids. Write a letter to a friend you haven’t talked to in a while. Take yourself to lunch. Read a book. Something, anything, to get away from the information overload.

And here’s the kicker. When you come back the next day, delete everything. You’re not allowed to go back and read yesterday’s news or blogs. Move forward with your life, and see what happens. I’m willing to bet cold, hard cash that the world will continue spinning on its axis.

Go forth, my friends, and free your minds.

Wine of the Week: Chateau Borie de Noaillan - a very nice Bordeaux that I plan to restock my every day cellar with.

PS: I'm running a contest to celebrate the upcoming release of THE COLD ROOM February 23. Swing by Fresh Fiction and enter for a chance to win a Barnes & Noble Nook!

(Subliminal Messaging: Breathe in, deeply. Listen to my voice. Block out all other distractions. You're feeling very calm, and generous. Now, listen carefully. You really want to buy this book. You really want to buy this book. You really want to buy this book.)

You won't be disappointed. Allison is a fantastic author - and if you're not reading her, you should be. Check her out here and here.

East Wall After

West Wall After

We've given away half of our belongings (only a slight exaggeration - after nearly 18 years, we've accumulated quite a bit of Stuff) cut two beautiful skylights into the roof, moved a wall, and now the bonus room is being restructured and painted. It's going to be stunning.

View from Skylight #1

THE COLD ROOM releases in a mere 26 days. Click here to see the tour dates - this is almost entirely finalized - we're adding one day March 17 in Washington, D.C. Otherwise, I think this is quite enough, don't you?

I just turned in THE IMMORTALS for its journey to copyedit. There's nothing quite as lovely as knowing a book is substantially finished. Now I need to refocus my brain to THE PRETENDER. I'm using a great software called Scrivener for this book, and it's changing the way I look at my stories.

A quick plug for a friend: Alexandra Sokoloff has a great new e-book available called SCREENWRITING TRICKS FOR AUTHORS. I highly recommend giving this a looksee.

Watch this space - there are more cool giveaways to come shortly!

I leave you with this thought.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

~Ferris Beuller

"If you work really hard, and you're kind, amazing things will happen."

~ Conan O'Brien 

  Have a great night!

Click here to join the conversation.

And don't forget to stop by Fresh Fiction and register for the contest. You want a Nook, don't you???

Click here to enter the contest at Fresh Fiction. Five chances to win!!! The contest will only be open from January 18 - February 8, so hurry! One lucky winner will walk away with a brand new Barnes & Noble NOOK!

Can you think of a more perfect gift for the romantic in your life?

GRAND PRIZE: (1 winner) A Barnes & Noble NOOK, preloaded with all four Taylor Jackson novels

FIRST PLACE: (1 winner) a $50 Barnes & Noble Gift Card and a signed copy of THE COLD ROOM

SECOND PLACE: (3 winners) signed copy of THE COLD ROOM

He Can Only Truly Love Her Once Her Heart Stops

Homicide Detective Taylor Jackson thinks she's seen it all in Nashville—from the Southern Strangler to the Snow White Killer. But she's never seen anything as perverse as the Conductor. Once his victim is captured, he contains her in a glass coffin, slowly starving her to death. Only then does he give in to his attraction.

When he's finished, he creatively disposes of the body by reenacting scenes from famous paintings. And it seems similar macabre works are being displayed in Europe. Taylor teams up with her fiancé, FBI profiler Dr. John Baldwin, and a New Scotland Yard detective named James "Memphis" Highsmythe, a haunted man who only has eyes for Taylor, to put an end to the Conductor's art collection.

Has the killer gone international with his craft? Or are there dueling artists, competing to create the ultimate masterpiece?

CLICK HERE to read an excerpt from THE COLD ROOM!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: Comments on this blog DO NOT constitute entry into the contest. You have to go to Fresh Fiction and register over there. Here's the link again: Fresh Fiction JT Ellison Nook Contest

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Whew. Shelley just does it for me. I met a traveller from an antique land? What an amazingly seductive opening. Be still, my beating heart.

Sometimes I forget that my first love growing up was poetry. Though I had dual majors in college, I was an English Lit major at heart. Politics was fun, and stimulating, and, well, practical. But I reveled in the literature course work. Who wouldn’t – homework consisted of reading. Poetry, the classics – my battered, dog-earned, written upon Norton’s Anthology of English Literature was my most prized possession. It still is.

It all started with Tennyson. Alfred Lord, to be exact. Who wouldn’t love the imagery, the absolute desolation of his powerful words?

When I was a little girl, I used to sneak into my parent’s room, to their bookshelf and read. One of the first things I discovered was my mom’s book of poetry. I sat on the floor on the other side of their bed, the door to the hall half closed, blocking me from sight. I was a sneak thief, stealing little moments of influence.

It was early on when I discovered it. The work so compelling, so overwhelming that I snuck in the bedroom as often as I could to read it again and again.

A fragment of a poem, bristling with promise, the glory its very succinctness. The Eagle, A Fragment.

He clasps the crags with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

 The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls:
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt, he falls.

Sigh. What is it about this piece that devastates me so? I’ve never really been able to put my finger on the why. But it opened the door to who I am today. As a little girl, something in my very core shifted the day I read this poem. I wanted to do that. I wanted to find a way to devastate a reader. I wanted to create the words that would blow some other little girl away. It was an epiphany. I started writing.

My parents, of course, knew I was rooting around in their world. They never dissuaded me, only encouraged me. I think it tickled them, their towheaded tomboy in love with words. I read everything I could, tried my hand at writing. Found a vocation. An all-consuming vacuum to get lost in, over, and over, and over. Words.

Quick fast forward through college. I tried my hand at the Business school, but did horribly. The only class I succeeded in that year was English. So I, ahem, transferred schools. But I had to take a semester off, so I worked on a political campaign. Got bit by another bug. When I enrolled at Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, I declared two majors, Politics and English Lit. The politics was fun for a long time, but my romantic soul got too disillusioned to continue in the field. Where did that leave me? Well, Norton’s Anthology was on the bookshelf.

Not to give anything away, but ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS has some of my favorite poems on the pages. Just not the way you’d imagine.

Where did all this come from, you ask? I was up late watching "Byron" (as in George, Lord) last night, which led me to my anthology, and the bookmarked page for Ozymandias, by Byron's good friend, Percy Bysshe Shelley. Good old Percy. Loved him. Loved Ozymandias. It made me remember the moment in college when I read it and felt that same tingle of devastation that I’d had so many years before when I read The Eagle. Sometimes, a short piece of art is just as good as an ode, you know?

I read Oz today, and my heart filled up with that indescribable love again. I forget my roots too often. I labor over my words when I should read the Romantics – learn how to write, how to reach, how to influence all over again.

Thanks for indulging my trip down memory lane. I think Norton and I have a date.