Just another wannabe author…

Archive for the ‘On Writing’ Category

Bad Blogger, Bad

So, yeah, I know I’m supposed to be updating this thing regularly.  I just don’t have something to say often enough.  I’m working on that, since I actually do have plenty to say.  It’s just not always relevant.

My work view

This is how revisions look. Seriously.

Does it always need to be relevant?  I don’t know.  I feel as if it does, but I’m not so sure.

Right now, I’m suffering through Revisions Hell.  And let me tell you, it is Hell.  Maybe not Ninth Circle of Hell material, but Hell nonetheless.  I not only have to read my own writing while convincing myself it is far less worthy than it really is, I have to FIX it.  Now removing all my beloved ellipsis and run on sentences is easy.  Flow and plot holes takes more finess.  Keeping at it is the hardest part.  It takes a great deal of focus and focus is hard to find lately.

Far more enjoyable is planning.

Planning what, you ask.  (Yeah, I’m sure you asked, don’t burst my bubble.)

Why, I’m glad you asked!  I am planning a collaboration with a friend and fellow abused writer.  We shall be writing a post apocalyptic dystopia together.  It’s been a great lesson in world building. (He’s much better at world building.  I hope I can teach him as much about character building.)  I haven’t ever done a collaboration before, not willingly anyway.  Sometimes it’s hard when ideas clash, but when it works, it works beautifully.  I can only hope that it will continue being an interesting experience.

I’m also planning a series of short stories that I hope won’t ever see the light of day.  Possibly the dark of night, though.  Very dark night.  Either way, it will be fun for me to write, and that’s what counts sometimes.

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Fun With Paint and the End of an Era… or Not

I say again, I should not be left alone with a paint program.  Ever.

I draw things… and then, worse, I show them to people.  I post them publicly.  Really bad things.

So you, my lucky ducky readers, get to see my horrendous versions of my main characters.  Yeah, you don’t know how good you have it.  Then I shall open myself to your laughter, because I’m laughing my ass off at myself.

First up we have the wonderful Stu.  He is a white knight in dragon form, prone to rescuing little helpless elves and then seducing them with his bipedal form… which I spared you all from having to see.

 

Next, I present to you the ever lovely raven haired beauty, Sue.  She is giving and kind and possesses a fiery temper than Stu finds impossible to resist.  A dragoness in the body of a slender elf maiden.  Perfect and feisty and oh so sweet.  And lovely, dammit!

 

Yeah, yeah, wipe away your tears of mirth.  Paint is an evil program and I can’t resist it.  It’s so…. so… I have no words.

On to more serious matters.

Stop laughing.

Right.

So, I made it ten full days of writing the bare minimum.  Then I ran into a snag.

A really big snag.

He weights around forty pounds, has red hair and is obsessed with watching Pocoyo.

Yes.  Toddler.

You see, I am writing an erotica.  With BDSM themes.  It’s supposed to be sexually charged, erotic, and all around sexy.

I have discovered something I’ve known.  It is really hard to feel sexy when you have a toddler jumping on you and screaming in your ear.  It is nearly impossible to think and write a sexy scene when those things happen.  I can’t do it.  I get about five whole minutes, just get into the right mindset, and then he’s climbing on me, demanding attention.  The whole attention needing thing isn’t the problem.  It’s that I can’t write when he’s doing that.

Today I am trying to write an actual sex scene.  Smut.  Really smutty smut.  And I can’t do it.  I can’t focus long enough to get the whole scene out, let alone the word count.  It is frustrating.  So now I will be waiting for his naptime, if it happens, or bedtime.

That means my streak is probably broken.  And even if it isn’t, when I hit my groove, I’m going to keep going out of sheer desperation to take full advantage of sleeping child time.  So, everyone now gets to stare in jealousy at my lovely graph while I bang my head on my keyboard, then go play with kiddo.  Maybe we will go shopping.  Being out in the heat always tires him out.

On Cheating and a Gratuitous Baby Picture

I gave myself a writing challenge this month.  To write slowly.  Specifically, I am allowed to write the bare minimum to finish 50,000 words by the end of August.  That is 1613 words per day.  I fudge a little bit just to keep from stopping in the middle of a sentence or paragraph.

Today is day Six, both of Camp NaNo and of my own personal challenge.

Today I began contemplating ways to cheat my own system.

Somehow, I am not sure I will make it to the end of the month writing so slowly.

Today, as I reached the end of my arbitrarily designated allowed number of words, I was on my game, in the zone and truly on the ball despite the fact I feel in no way sexy.  The writing was flowing, it was beautiful, complete with the high that lets me churn out huge word counts without breaking a sweat.  I wasn’t aware of the heat, or the bad songs that creep up on Pandora.  I was unbothered by having Toddler sitting on me watching Pocoyo in various languages other than English.  In short, I hit my stride.

Stopping myself was nearly a painful experience.

As I posted that section, complained to my writer’s group and skipped said bad song, I began having a conversation with myself on how to cheat my very own system.  It went something like this:

“You could keep writing today, not post the number, and then take a break tomorrow.”

“No, that would be cheating!”

“But it feels so good!”

“It’s still cheating!  Cheating myself, no less!”

“How about you just adjust your daily goal.  You know, till your brain shorts out each day, like usual.”

“That’s cheating too!  1613 words!”

“But it feels good!”

*whines* “But it will screw up my pretty graph!  Think of the graph!”

It’s still going on in the back of my head, even while I write out this blog post.  One of these days, the shifty eyed part of me is going to win.  I will cheat my own system, or, more likely, throw it out the window while cackling like the Wicked Witch.  Definitely cackling.

Gratuitous picture from a year ago of me and Toddler. Enjoy.

Bringing Sexy Back

So, I’ve been thinking a great deal on writing sexy.

I’ve also been reading a great deal of erotica.  Research, you know.  Not that all erotica is sexy.  Or even good.  But, there IS good erotica out there once you dig through the crap.

But that is not what this post is about.  Not really.

I’ve discovered that Toddler doesn’t want to sleep anymore.  Ever.

It used to be that he would nap and I could crank out a few thousand words and rock with my bad self.  This wonderful situation is now a daydream of epic proportions.

Now my writing goes something like this.

I sit down at my computer and screaming starts from the bedroom where he is jumping on the bed with my cell phone for entertainment.  Not “I fell off and I’m dying” kind of screams, which would have me in there so fast my computer would still be attached to me.  No, this is “this video is not what I want to be jumping to and you aren’t here to watch me jump anyway so I’m gonna shriek in frustration and not use my words because words suck” kind of screaming.  It’s the kind that grates on nerves and never lets you forget that you really just have to sexy anymore.  Because you have a toddler.

Or maybe I sit down to write and he sits next to me playing the Gummy Bear song on full volume for hours on end while leaning on me to make me watch with him.

None of these, or their variations,  are conducive to writing the sexy.

To write sexy, I need to think sexy and it is nearly impossible to think, feel or be sexy when I have Toddler sitting on me or screaming at me.  It makes finding that mindset so much more difficult.

I have no trouble pretending no one will read my smut.  I have no problem letting people read my smut.  I’ve developed an increasing problem writing any sort of sexy scene.

I miss naptime.  I really really miss it with a passion usually reserved for chocolate during pregnancies.  Naptime was me time.  Well, on with the attempt at bringing sexy back for Camp NaNo.

Words Are Ebil

Yesterday I entered Revisions Hell.

Revisions Hell

It is not really a nice place to be, but maybe I can at least get a tan while I’m visiting.

I discovered, just while doing spell check, that I am a word addict.  Not in the general sense of ‘I’m a writer, I’m addicted to words.’  No, I fall into the ‘I just can’t help myself, I must use this word over and over and over again and misspell it EVERY DAMN TIME.’

I also make words up.  Particularly adverbs, which I should be limiting, not making up more of.

I cannot help myself when it comes to complicated sentences that look like comma confetti.  I cannot tell you just how many sentences I’ve had to pick apart, simply because they are impossible to read.

I have, apparently, left sanity behind at some point.  And the rules of grammar.  (Ok, my grammar isn’t too bad, I’m not often finding things that are glaring mistakes or massive mis-usages.  Which is just wonderful.  I am just prone to gross abuse of those rules.)  And there I go making up words again!

So, here is my little list of words I over use with a glorious disregard to conventions of literature:

Embarrass – FMC (female main character) is always embarrassed and I spell it wrong every single time.

Murmur – None of my characters are very up on diction and enunciation.  Go figure.

Scraggly – This is a particular favorite of mine.  Everyone needs to go get themselves cleaned up, since half my characters are described as being scraggly.

Eyes – I have a distinct obsession with my characters’ eyes and I refuse to use words like ‘orbs,’ and ‘optics’ to replace it.

Though – I have no defense, though I’m having a hard time getting rid of them.

Weird – This is another one I habitually misspell.  And yes, everything is weird.

Guilt – Not remorse, retribution, blame, culpability or any other synonym.  Just guilt.

There are more.  So many more.  I should keep a proper list and share the whole thing.   I have made good friends with a thesaurus to help with this horrible affliction.

This is Not a Tomato

My toddler is beginning to talk.

He doesn’t use proper words often, but when he does, it’s worth listening to.

Toddler:  “Stuck!”  He holds out my tool box.

Mommy: “These are my toys.  You have lots and lots of toys, I only have a few that you can’t play with.”

Toddler: “Don’t need toys.”   Then he tries to get me to open the tool box for him.

See?  He doesn’t need toys, he just needs tool.  Or my phone.  Or my camera.  Or my laptop.  Or anything else that is mine that I don’t want him to play with.  Easy.

This is not a tomato.

(more…)

Titles, Titles Everywhere!

And not a word written?

I spend far more time on the NaNoWriMo forums than I really should.  I love them.  I love the horror stories and the stories of triumph.  I get drawn into discussions of NaNoisms and the threads all about what Non-NaNoers think about WriMos.  I try to commiserate with the people who didn’t back up their work.  I feel good when I can offer some snippet of advice or assistance or encouragement to some struggling writer. (more…)

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