What’s That in the Shadows?

I think I found another reason why it’s taking me so long to write this story. 

It’s actually a little embarrassing.  So what better reason to post it here for all the world to see.  In a way it’s like pulling back the drapes to let the light flow in and cleanse the place. So here it is.  My new novel…

Scares me.

 

I know, I know.  It’s silly to be afraid of a story, especially one that I’m creating.  The entire novel is fictionalized, but some could say it’s planted in truth.  Really it not.  I’m taking an idea that’s been around for millennia and turning it on its ear.  If I can convey this fear to my readers, I would all be worth it.  So, I’m continuing on for the greater good… My Readers.

 

Let’s dive a little deeper into this.  When it comes to writing everyone has a different style, a different way they approach it.  For me, the beginning stages are meditative.  No, it’s more than that.  When I’m getting to know the characters and their situation, the best I can describe it as is channeling.  I’m no longer sitting in the dinner.  The din of the cafe and the music feeding my ears from noise-reducing earbuds all melt away.  Slowly, layer by word-typed layer, I am emerged into the story.

I’m sure there’s an off-shoot somewhere that would contend it to be automatic writing, the process of someone or thing writing through you.  I don’t buy into that theory, but I have gone back to read what I had just wrote and thought, “Where the hell did that come from?”

Do you see the dilemma yet?  Here, let me spell it out.  When I write my story, I, in a sense, become my story.  Now I’m dealing with a subject that makes me uncomfortable.  See it?  In order for me to write (write good, anyway) I need to open myself up to it.  The subject I’m dealing with is making clench up inside.   Maybe I should save this for a therapy session, but those cost money.

Maybe it’s like a loose tooth.  I can’t stop poking at it until it’s out.  Whatever the case, I’m not letting the story get the better of me.  It needs to be written, and damn it, I’m going to do it.

So how do I get around this inability to fall asleep because I’m worried about what’s lurking in the shadows?  The easy answer would be to write early in the day.  That way I’d have the rest of the day to get it out of my mind.  If it were that easy.  I don’t get time during the day to write.  95% of my writing happens at night and away from home.

So I guess what I’m saying is, I’ll suck it up and write the story already.

How do you get around writing about things that make you uncomfortable?  I’d like to know.

One Step at a Time

Alright.

I feel like I’ve walked into a room that hasn’t been used in years.  Cobwebs stretch and pull apart as I open the laptop.  My fingers leave trails in the dust on the track pad.  So I’m being a little melodramatic.  Sue me.

As I previously said, in more than one post, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything substantial.  I don’t just mean here, either.  I have started a new novel, but in the last year it hasn’t gone past chapter four.  I would like to blame it on the lack of time.  Although anyone who writes seriously knows that’s a load of crap.  I have time, but I look for other things to occupy that time. Maybe a new show on television, a new book to read, some chores to do around the house.

Wait.  Chores?

That’s when I realized I had a problem.  What was so bad about my writing that I would willingly look for chores to do? The answer should be no.  Then why wasn’t I getting any writing done?

Fear.

Plain and simple.  I was afraid I couldn’t do it again.  I finished my first novel, and even though I know it was nowhere close to being exposed to day light, I couldn’t have been prouder of myself.  What if it was a one-time fluke?  What if I couldn’t even make the second attempt as good as the substandard first attempt? Then I would have to face the reality that I would have to work the rest of my life in a job that I never wanted in the first place.  I would start playing the lottery in hopes of another way out of this droll existence.

Then I read a friend’s blog.  He set a goal of writing 2,000 words a day.  Go ahead and check out his blog to see how he’s doing.  In any case, it reminded me of what i had done for myself in the very beginning.  A word count goal.  I’ll admit that I don’t think I can set such a lofty goal for myself as 2,000 words a day.  At least not at the moment.  But a goal I shall set.

I need to keep it real, keep it simple, but not to undermine my actual ability.  On one hand, anything less than a hundred words is pointless.  I write as much if not more in just the number of email I need to make during the day. On the flip-side, I don’t want to binge write either.  Forcing thousands upon thousands of words out as required by some month long  writing foray that shall remain nameless.

NaNoWriMo.

I suck at secrets.  I won’t knock it completely, but throwing that much wordage out in such a small amount of time doesn’t sound like jump starting the muse so much as waiting for its heart to explode from the over-use.  I’m sure you would be left with writer’s fatigue (if such a thing exists) for the next eleven months.  Coincidentally enough, just in time for the writing binge.

So where was I?  Oh, yes.  Word count goals.  I’m going o stick with the goal I first gave myself years ago in the midst of Raven’s Mark.

500 words.

It’s enough to keep me in my seat for a time, without feeling hopeless in reaching my goal.  If I go over a bit.  Cool for me.  Eventually I will need to increase that number.  Especially when I notice that I can do more without risking of shooting too high.  If I do that, the guilt could set in.  I think I went into that enough in my last blog.

So for today, including this blog because, hey, it’s writing.  Today I reach over 600 words.  It’s no King, Carver, or Card, but then again, I’m going for Green.

Thank you Mr. Greenwald for helping get back on track, to all who have commented or will comment, and The Bakery for the use of their lobby (damn their cookies are good).

Ramble on and keep writing.

Pssst… over here.

Hard to believe I almost forgot my password.  It’s only been– what?– how many months now?

No excuses.  I stopped blogging.  I finished with my first novel, and I quit writing altogether.  Definitely not a good thing to do for an aspiring author.  Life got busy and my priorities changed for a while there.  New work environment, wife graduating and starting teaching.  My kids are getting older, but are as fun as ever.

So here I am, hanging my head in shame.

Forgiveness?

I’m not sure I want it.  I made the decision.  I’ll live with it.

Now I’m trying to move my life back to writing.  I found I’m the most happy when I’m at the keyboard (typing, not surfing), or giving/getting a critique.  It’s more than just the acceptance of the characters that live in my head.  It’s that their stories bring people entertainment or value of some sort.

I’ve started a new project that I want to set the fire under.  It’s urban fantasy but leaning towards horror.  The work title is Knight Terrors.  I’d give more detail, but the story is still coming to me.  As the world shows more to me, I’ll post back with things I feel need to be posted.

Or not.

I give no promises.  For the moment, the best thing for my writing is to keep it guilt free.  That means if I say I’ll post weekly and forget, I’ll feel bad.  When I feel bad, I avoid whatever I’m feeling bad about.  That would be writing.  Sure, it would be writing a blog, but I’d associate it with writing almost anything at all.  I can’t have that, now can I?

So.  I hope to be here more often.  If you feel the urge, drop me a comment.  Knowing that there’s an audience is a motivation to keep coming back.

May your dreams be safe and your lives adventurous.

Ending the Hiatus

This month tends to get crazy around the house. Within the span of five weeks, all four of us have birthdays. My son turned six. My daughter, fourteen. My wife, twenty-seven. In two days time I will be a whopping thirty-two years old. Sprinkled within those four dates are also a father-in-law, nieces and nephews, and a few friends. So if I’m not attending a birthday party, I’m either hosting one or planning one. The current tally is: Attended=1, Hosted=2, Guest of Honor=0. As the month goes on, I’ll keep you abreast of that total.

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During a rare moment of quiet this chaotic month, I managed to slip away to see one of my favorite authors on his most recent book tour. This month Jim Butcher released his tenth book in the Dresden Files series, Small Favor.  For about a half an hour he answered questions and related amusing stories.  A few of them I’ve heard from previous signings I’ve been to.  One thing I found interesting that heard for the first time that day was how many drafts his books go through before reaching the everyday reader.  Seven.

There’s his first draft.  Then he makes his own revisions.  Then it goes to some beta readers, and he makes changes according to them.  Then off to his agent and more revisions.  From there it’s to the editor and a fifth round of edits.  The publisher and then the copy editor bring the tally to seven.  By that count he has seven versions of every book that he has written.

It was an enjoyable afternoon, and I’ll probably see him again if he should happen tour through this town for later books.

A Not-So-Pleasant Shade of Green

I recently read a blog post at Purple Hearts talking about envy.  In Jessica’s blog she tells how she, on occasion, feels envy for her fellow authors and their publishing credits.  More importantly it’s about how she in turn uses the envy to help motivate herself into writing more.  While I commend her on finding motivation where she can, I have to respectfully disagree.

Although envy might not be as poisonous as jealousy, the lingering aftertaste can make any amount of success bitter.  Let me explain what I mean.

When I write, I do it because I have a story to tell.  A message I want people to hear.   In some way or another it is unique in either subject or conveyance (I should hope anyways).  Once envy takes a hold, I’m no longer focusing on my unique work, but instead focusing on other’s unique work.  The danger in that is altering your own work to sound like the unique works of those you were busy being envious over.

I know it’s hard being on the outside looking in, wanting so bad to be included.  Stop and think for a moment.  What would you rather have, changing who you are and what you write so one day you could possibly be accepted by your peers, but know inside you would feel untrue to yourself, or would you rather continue creating the work that is uniquely you and gain the admiration from your peers, bring that party to you instead?

I know which I’d rather have.

It is human to have and deal with these emotions.  Letting them go and moving on takes more effort, but ultimately does ourselves better.

Time for Change

Change is definitely in the air. First, my daughter’s school called me on Friday to tell me they want to move her up to the advanced classes starting today. She’s so nervous that she’s making herself think she’s sick. There’s no fever and she’s not puking, so she’s going to school. I know it’s hard to change classes in the fourth quarter, but we talked it over this weekend and we all agreed that this is the best thing for her. She’s bored in her regular classes. If she has any homework, it’s done in a matter of minutes. Come on, her last presentation was on Expressionism and she managed to tie in Existentialism into it. Her instructors said that that was a difficult feat for a college student, and she pulled it off with exceeding marks. That’s pretty impressive for a thirteen year-old. I know I’m coming from a biased view point, but still.

She’s not the only one with good news in the house. My wife has received a letter of intent for a position she’s been stalking for the last little while. She can’t get an actual job offer until she graduates in about a month. No graduation, no job. Not that that’s going to be a problem. She graduating in the top five percent.

Yesterday my son celebrated his sixth birthday. We all had so much fun. We deemed it a water party. All the kids showed up in swim attire and I got to soak them with Super Soakers and pelt them with water balloons. They loved it as much as I did. There’s a little known secret I’m about to share with you. If ever you’re feeling down, a little sad with life, spray a kid with water. It’s so rejuvenating. They laugh. You laugh. All is good in the world.

I needed that burst of life, too. I was feeling down about my lack of writing. I steal scraps of time as I can manage, but life can get so hectic and those scraps never seem to manifest. I knew this heading into this year. Time was going to be limited for me. I need to savor what I can get and remember that my time will be coming. Now that my wife is finishing school, my time to finish will be coming up shortly. All the time and energy I’ve been putting into the job I care nothing about can finally be put behind me. Well, in a year or so at any rate.

There hasn’t been a phone call or party in my honor this weekend, but I know that change is coming for me, too. y writing will take off. The agents will be impressed. The publishers will bid over my manuscript. They will laugh. I will laugh. All will be good in the world.

Write, Write, Write

Three things I’ve failed to do in the last week. I’ve lost focus. I know it’s not writer’s block. I’m of a mind like Neil Gaiman, who claimed at last summer’s Comic-Con in San Diego, that writer’s block doesn’t exist. Writers merely get stuck, at which point you should write something else. Later an idea will occur, and you can go back to that previous story. When I heard that, it made so much sense to me. Here’s a link to a video some made of A Spotlight on Neil Gaiman. I haven’t watched it all the through.  I think it could be the entire panel.  The image is shaky, but the sound is okay. In any case, I’m not at a lack of any ideas. I have many that I want to get out. The problem is, I haven’t thought any one of those ideas out all the way. I need to brainstorm on what I want to say in those stories. Once I do that, I should be able to write straight through them. I spent so much time on the one novel, I think I forgot how I spark new stories. I know the process is different for every person. In fact, it might be different for each story by the same person. I will try again tonight.

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This morning I read a blog by Rachel Caine on publishers and agents. It’s worth a read for anyone interested. I hope to be on the road to finding an agent this summer. I’m sure in the following months I will be scouring the web for all the information I can gather.

And a Happy St. Patty’s Day to You

This is one of the days of the year I wish I was Irish.  Of the seventy-odd other nationalities that make up gene pool, the Irish is not among them.  So what did I do about that.  I found myself a nice Irish woman and married her.  She keeps me on my toes almost every day.  Just one of the many reasons why I love her.  Okay, enough with the gushing.  I’m starting to embarrass myself.

I’m not sure what my fascination is with the Irish.  It could be the accents, the red hair, their beautiful land, the colorful folklore, or the Guinness.  It could even be their entirely stereotypical portrayal in American media.  Whatever the case, I’ve got my green on, tickets to see Flogging Molly (which I bought for Valentine’s Day for my wife), and trying my damnedest not to do my horrible Irish accent.  Even though it seems to be deemed a drinking holiday around here, I will not be partaking.  It’s Monday and I like to drive.

Another little tid-bit about today.  This was when my son’s original delivery date was.  Of course he waited another week before finally deciding he was ready to be birthed.  That ended up putting all four of our birthdays (my wife, kids, and me) within a five week stretch.  There’s also other extended family that falls within that same time frame, at least three that I can think of at the moment.

So.  Have a happy St. Patrick’s Day.  Try not to do anything that I wouldn’t do.  Find a designated driver and have a wonderful time.

I will hopefully get back to writing this week.

Migraine Madness

They don’t happen all that often, but when they do, look out. I feel like the inside of my head wants to burst free. It always starts with my eyes. A little pin prick really. A spot as if I just caught a glimpse of the sun, but it doesn’t go away. It grows. Wherever the spot is in my vision, I can’t see. When I close my eyes, I can still see this spot. This could go on indefinitely unless I take some ibuprofen or the like. Once I get some meds in me, maybe a half an hour to an hour, the vision thingy goes away.

That’s when the pain starts.

My brain tries to flex inside my skull, stressing my temples. Lace in traces of nausea and you have a migraine cocktail. More ibuprofen doesn’t really do anything aside from making me tired. That’s no good while I’m working. So I suffer through. The second I walk through the door at home, I kiss my family and head straight for bed. I get nudged up up once for food and more pills. Sometimes I risk watching a little television, but usually watching TV doesn’t quite work with your eyes shut.

Writing you ask? That takes more concentration than anything else. My head protests at the thought. I might be able to see through the pain enough to get a pen in hand. But with all my strength concentrating on that, I would be too tense to let the creativity flow freely. The best I can do is remember the feeling and use it in a story sometime later when the pain is behind me.

Now it’s the next day and I don’t feel like the two hemispheres of my brain are warring. They might have reached a truce, or they could be laying plans to sneak attack later today. There’s no way of telling. I’m all for the peace. There’s more benefit in that for all.

And So It Goes

Life can get so busy when you’re not expecting it.  Those times you are expecting it, it tends to be even busier.  I had hoped to have at least one of the three short stories I’ve started, finished by last weekend.  No luck.

I’ve gotten far with one though.  I might try to finish it tonight.  It’s a little darker than I feel right at the moment, so I might need to put it off for a day or two.  Then again, who knows what my mood will be like by this evening.  Another of the three ideas I know I’m going to shelf for a while.  At the time I thought of it, I knew it would be a great story.  I still think it is a great story, but I can’t get myself into it.  So it goes back into the idea file for some later consideration.  The third idea stems directly from my current job and a previous world I created.  “Fantasy Farce” I call it.  The first story is called Ogreman Industries.  The gist of it was a job interview gone awry.  I’m considering revising it and posting it here.  Check back for updates.  The new story, as yet untitled, will have to do with a certain job within Ogreman Industries.  I laugh to myself whenever I think about it, which doesn’t necessarily mean it would be funny to anyone else.

So there you have it.  A list of things to write.   A novel to revise.  So little time to get them all done.  Whatever I do manage to complete, I will be sure to let you know.