Well, the taxes are done. It's Friday. My kids are getting healthy. The in-laws are coming tomorrow to see the grandkids. And I'm feeling pretty good.
I know where to start the book now. I think I'm going to have to just start with a complete rewrite instead of the piecemeal stuff I was doing. It will probably work better that way. If I can incorporate some of the chapters I already went over, I will. Otherwise, they end up in the pile of "pretty, but unused." It's nice to be starting again.
Originally, I had anticipated being a good way through the first round of rewrites at this point. Wishful thinking on my part when there are so many other things going on in my life at any given time. The nice thing is that I can just start over with a new set of (very flexible) expectations and see what happens. I think I've had a long enough break from consistently writing that I should be able to come at it with fresh eyes and a new wave of enthusiasm. (I know. I keep saying I'm excited about writing and then the next post says the same thing again. Maybe it's just that I've been building up steam in the pressure gauge that is my creativity and it's now ready to blow.)
New goal: finish this draft by the end of February. Find some good betas. Get feedback. Start over again in March. Ready, steady, go!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
It's going around
My kids got Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. And gave it to my husband and me. Apparently, it's really contagious. And usually a childhood disease. Which makes me wonder what kind of childhood we had that didn't provide us with immunity when we got older. It's something that's going around.
Also going around right now: dejection. I've been reading blogs and talking to people and it just seems like right now is a difficult time for every body. It's hard to feel motivated. It's hard to find focus once you get going. It's hard to make time for everything.
Maybe it's the time of year. My house is surrounded by about 1.5 feet of snow. The sun hasn't broken through the cloud cover in two days. The sky has been a blurry sort of gray for a long time. It's easy to understand feeling gray when the world around you is gray too.
Maybe it's that things are catching up to us. I know that I go in creative spurts. I can write consistently for weeks on end, but then I run out of steam. And it all peters out for a couple of weeks until I can work up the gumption to start again. Usually, something else of importance has to be done and that interrupts the flow.
Maybe it's something else. I don't know.
The big thing is that a lot of people are going through it, for whatever reason. And in a way, that makes it seem not so bad. When I can look at people I think are amazing and see they have their difficulties too, it makes my difficulties seem manageable. So, here's to all of us. We can do it. We can break out of the gray and blurry world and walk into the sunshine. In fact, I'm going to do just that. Right now. Hello heater vent and hot chocolate, my new friends. I think we'll make today pretty good, yet.
Also going around right now: dejection. I've been reading blogs and talking to people and it just seems like right now is a difficult time for every body. It's hard to feel motivated. It's hard to find focus once you get going. It's hard to make time for everything.
Maybe it's the time of year. My house is surrounded by about 1.5 feet of snow. The sun hasn't broken through the cloud cover in two days. The sky has been a blurry sort of gray for a long time. It's easy to understand feeling gray when the world around you is gray too.
Maybe it's that things are catching up to us. I know that I go in creative spurts. I can write consistently for weeks on end, but then I run out of steam. And it all peters out for a couple of weeks until I can work up the gumption to start again. Usually, something else of importance has to be done and that interrupts the flow.
Maybe it's something else. I don't know.
The big thing is that a lot of people are going through it, for whatever reason. And in a way, that makes it seem not so bad. When I can look at people I think are amazing and see they have their difficulties too, it makes my difficulties seem manageable. So, here's to all of us. We can do it. We can break out of the gray and blurry world and walk into the sunshine. In fact, I'm going to do just that. Right now. Hello heater vent and hot chocolate, my new friends. I think we'll make today pretty good, yet.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
In which I overcome self pity
My sister recently started reading my current work in progress. The one that I started revising with great enthusiasm. Her opinion, so far, is that I need to just cut the first several chapters because they are pretty boring and don't really draw anyone into the story. She's right. I hate that. (She's my little sister and has no right to be right. That's my job.)
I'm realizing that it's hard to ignore criticism. It feels so personal, like they are seeing something terrible in me as a person, not my writing. It almost makes me think I'm not cut out to be a writer. And then, I let it sit for a while. And I lose the groove I was in. I haven't actually done anything with my rewrites since she talked to me.
The good news is I still love what I'm doing. And she was right. The bad news is that all the time I put into the first several chapters (which didn't change noticeably in excitement levels) is pretty much down the drain. I'll be scrapping those chapters, or maybe inserting them somewhere else in the story (in a heavily edited version since they won't fit the way they are now.)
It's hard to be at the beginning of this whole writer thing. I haven't learned to be thick-skinned or to be really consistent, even when I don't want to be writing. I'm pretty sure it's a normal thing to go through, but still. It's just one more part of the process that I hadn't been expecting.
So, I'm starting over again. Day one, rewrites. My goal for today is to figure out where to start the story if I don't start it where I have been. I don't even know if I will actually get anything down on paper to fix later. I just need to know where I'm starting so that I can move forward again. (Here's hoping I get the taxes done today or tomorrow so that I can channel that energy into writing.)
I'm realizing that it's hard to ignore criticism. It feels so personal, like they are seeing something terrible in me as a person, not my writing. It almost makes me think I'm not cut out to be a writer. And then, I let it sit for a while. And I lose the groove I was in. I haven't actually done anything with my rewrites since she talked to me.
The good news is I still love what I'm doing. And she was right. The bad news is that all the time I put into the first several chapters (which didn't change noticeably in excitement levels) is pretty much down the drain. I'll be scrapping those chapters, or maybe inserting them somewhere else in the story (in a heavily edited version since they won't fit the way they are now.)
It's hard to be at the beginning of this whole writer thing. I haven't learned to be thick-skinned or to be really consistent, even when I don't want to be writing. I'm pretty sure it's a normal thing to go through, but still. It's just one more part of the process that I hadn't been expecting.
So, I'm starting over again. Day one, rewrites. My goal for today is to figure out where to start the story if I don't start it where I have been. I don't even know if I will actually get anything down on paper to fix later. I just need to know where I'm starting so that I can move forward again. (Here's hoping I get the taxes done today or tomorrow so that I can channel that energy into writing.)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
A break
We interrupt this blog for a special announcement. Happy birthday to me. You may now return to your previously scheduled blog.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Inspired
A lot of people get the question, "What inspired you to write...?" or "Why did you decide to be a writer?" The answer to those questions is different for everyone, I think, but it all comes down to one thing. We love to write.
For me, I first felt inspired to write in high school. I had the most amazing English teacher in high school. I took a class from her every year and felt like it was the greatest thing ever. In fact, when I first started college, I majored in English with the thought that I wanted to be an English teacher and inspire others to love reading and writing like she had inspired me. I wrote a lot of stuff during my teenage years. At least half of it was angsty poetry. (I still have all of it. I was pretty proud of myself.) In fact, I'm still proud of a lot of it. Here's a few short examples:
Secrets
Hiding, long gone secrets,
oceans caress the
once knowing shores.
They send out waves
with gentle whisperings
of things
swallowed
by the dark depths.
Buttons
Small faces
that smile
through a covering
of cloth,
they are
the peacemakers
between the left and the right.
Untitled
A
river,
siphoning
away the aches
in my weary soul,
the tears fall over
the mountains of
my face.
I have stories that I started and never finished. Most of them are only one or two pages, but they have a lot of potential in them. I think I might have been a better story teller then.
Somewhere along the way, I lost the desire to be writing. I gave up on the English major. I just didn't love it any more. And I went on a really long, personal journey that ended with a psychology degree, a husband, and two kids.
It was at the end of that journey that I found myself thinking, "What am I doing with my life? Where do I find fulfillment on a personal level?" and I couldn't think of a single thing.
One night, I couldn't sleep. I rolled over and said, "Help me fall asleep. I've tried everything I can think of." My husband said, "Tell yourself a story." So I did. It was more of a question when it started. What would happen if you cross Cinderella with the Ugly Duckling. And my first novel was born. I worked on it in the evenings for months. And when I had it finished, I looked back at the creative process and realized that I really enjoyed it. I felt that sense of accomplishment and fulfillment that had been missing in my life.
The one idea spawned another idea and I wrote another book based on it. Everything just kind of flew together. I am still working on the craft, but I feel so fortunate to have found something that I love to do. (Although, revising is not my favorite. I really did want to have the perfect first draft. Sweetly naive, I know.)
I have to remind myself why I am doing all this in the first place. It seems so easy to forget the part where it's fun and rewarding. It's easy to get caught up in the "I'll never be as good as" or "It's a lot of work that I didn't expect" or "the people that matter to me don't like it."
When I am writing, it doesn't matter how many other things are going on. I always find the time for them. It's just a matter of feeling inspired again. When I'm feeling inspired about this one aspect of my life, everything else is inspiring too.
For me, I first felt inspired to write in high school. I had the most amazing English teacher in high school. I took a class from her every year and felt like it was the greatest thing ever. In fact, when I first started college, I majored in English with the thought that I wanted to be an English teacher and inspire others to love reading and writing like she had inspired me. I wrote a lot of stuff during my teenage years. At least half of it was angsty poetry. (I still have all of it. I was pretty proud of myself.) In fact, I'm still proud of a lot of it. Here's a few short examples:
Secrets
Hiding, long gone secrets,
oceans caress the
once knowing shores.
They send out waves
with gentle whisperings
of things
swallowed
by the dark depths.
Buttons
Small faces
that smile
through a covering
of cloth,
they are
the peacemakers
between the left and the right.
Untitled
A
river,
siphoning
away the aches
in my weary soul,
the tears fall over
the mountains of
my face.
I have stories that I started and never finished. Most of them are only one or two pages, but they have a lot of potential in them. I think I might have been a better story teller then.
Somewhere along the way, I lost the desire to be writing. I gave up on the English major. I just didn't love it any more. And I went on a really long, personal journey that ended with a psychology degree, a husband, and two kids.
It was at the end of that journey that I found myself thinking, "What am I doing with my life? Where do I find fulfillment on a personal level?" and I couldn't think of a single thing.
One night, I couldn't sleep. I rolled over and said, "Help me fall asleep. I've tried everything I can think of." My husband said, "Tell yourself a story." So I did. It was more of a question when it started. What would happen if you cross Cinderella with the Ugly Duckling. And my first novel was born. I worked on it in the evenings for months. And when I had it finished, I looked back at the creative process and realized that I really enjoyed it. I felt that sense of accomplishment and fulfillment that had been missing in my life.
The one idea spawned another idea and I wrote another book based on it. Everything just kind of flew together. I am still working on the craft, but I feel so fortunate to have found something that I love to do. (Although, revising is not my favorite. I really did want to have the perfect first draft. Sweetly naive, I know.)
I have to remind myself why I am doing all this in the first place. It seems so easy to forget the part where it's fun and rewarding. It's easy to get caught up in the "I'll never be as good as" or "It's a lot of work that I didn't expect" or "the people that matter to me don't like it."
When I am writing, it doesn't matter how many other things are going on. I always find the time for them. It's just a matter of feeling inspired again. When I'm feeling inspired about this one aspect of my life, everything else is inspiring too.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
About me
Contrary to what you might think, this isn't going to be some kind of rambling "get to know me" session.
I had a thought recently that I wanted to remember. I'm in the process of editing. It's really my first attempt at serious editing since I only have two completed first drafts and I'm learning a lot about the process as I go. The things that work for me and the things that don't. Mostly, right now, I'm trying to make sure that I have a good grasp of my characters.
The current project is focused around a girl who has been trapped by circumstances and has overprotective parents. She's willful, independent, and prone to rebel against the situation she finds herself in. It's been hard to portray those aspects of her without making her come off as a total brat. She's also kind and concerned about others, but in that teenage, what's it going to get me sort of way.
I didn't realize until last night that I was really writing about myself. If I tried to describe my young adult years, it might go like this: parents wouldn't let me date. Parents tried to help me be my best self (which I saw as being interfering.) I stayed out late with a boy (frequently) to show them I was old enough and smart enough to handle myself. When they tried to talk to me about my behavior, I didn't listen. I knew all the answers. I distinctly remember one particular discussion in which I stopped paying attention to them and eventually interrupted my mom with "I think I need a new yellow shirt." I walked out of the room and continued to do what I thought I wanted. It's not that I was trying to be a brat. Or that I didn't appreciate my parents. I just didn't have the same perspective that they did or that I do now.
That is the journey my character is taking. She's rebellious and independent, but only because she hasn't learned to appreciate that she doesn't know everything yet. Just like pretty much every other teen I have ever known. I don't know if every other writer puts a little of themselves into the characters they create, but they always say 'write what you know' (whoever they are.)
So, my story is about me, wrapped all up in fairy tale trappings. I hope somebody thinks I'm fascinating enough to want to get to know.
I had a thought recently that I wanted to remember. I'm in the process of editing. It's really my first attempt at serious editing since I only have two completed first drafts and I'm learning a lot about the process as I go. The things that work for me and the things that don't. Mostly, right now, I'm trying to make sure that I have a good grasp of my characters.
The current project is focused around a girl who has been trapped by circumstances and has overprotective parents. She's willful, independent, and prone to rebel against the situation she finds herself in. It's been hard to portray those aspects of her without making her come off as a total brat. She's also kind and concerned about others, but in that teenage, what's it going to get me sort of way.
I didn't realize until last night that I was really writing about myself. If I tried to describe my young adult years, it might go like this: parents wouldn't let me date. Parents tried to help me be my best self (which I saw as being interfering.) I stayed out late with a boy (frequently) to show them I was old enough and smart enough to handle myself. When they tried to talk to me about my behavior, I didn't listen. I knew all the answers. I distinctly remember one particular discussion in which I stopped paying attention to them and eventually interrupted my mom with "I think I need a new yellow shirt." I walked out of the room and continued to do what I thought I wanted. It's not that I was trying to be a brat. Or that I didn't appreciate my parents. I just didn't have the same perspective that they did or that I do now.
That is the journey my character is taking. She's rebellious and independent, but only because she hasn't learned to appreciate that she doesn't know everything yet. Just like pretty much every other teen I have ever known. I don't know if every other writer puts a little of themselves into the characters they create, but they always say 'write what you know' (whoever they are.)
So, my story is about me, wrapped all up in fairy tale trappings. I hope somebody thinks I'm fascinating enough to want to get to know.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Finding the balance
We got a kitchen scale for Christmas this year. I actually was really excited because it will help me with managing my weight, something that I dread on a regular basis. I pulled it out this morning to see how much I actually eat when I pour a bowlful of yummy cereal. The answer in a nutshell: too much. You read the back of the box and you think... hey! I'm doing pretty good. One serving is 210 calories. And then, you weigh it and find out that you eat 3 or 4 servings in a morning. Good job, every one. Honestly. Who decided that 52 Grams of my favorite cereal is a serving? It looks like I'll be teaching my body about portion control.
On a similar note, I'm having a hard time weighing what I put on the blog. (See how I tied that in? Weighing food... weighing content... Huh? Huh?) I read different opinions about putting personal information on a writing blog. And if I want this to be a writing blog, how much is too much? I mean, I can talk about my kids till the stars turn cold, but does any one really care that my 1 year old climbed up his dresser and got stuck at the top? It made me laugh, but it's not exactly noteworthy to any one else (unless I'm writing a book about how to be a mother without killing your kids and not die laughing first.)
So, how much of my life should I write about? And how professional do I want to be? I don't know. If any one comes across a scale that measures that, let me know?
On a similar note, I'm having a hard time weighing what I put on the blog. (See how I tied that in? Weighing food... weighing content... Huh? Huh?) I read different opinions about putting personal information on a writing blog. And if I want this to be a writing blog, how much is too much? I mean, I can talk about my kids till the stars turn cold, but does any one really care that my 1 year old climbed up his dresser and got stuck at the top? It made me laugh, but it's not exactly noteworthy to any one else (unless I'm writing a book about how to be a mother without killing your kids and not die laughing first.)
So, how much of my life should I write about? And how professional do I want to be? I don't know. If any one comes across a scale that measures that, let me know?
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