Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I almost had a cardiac arrest with excitment and peed on myself. First of all I never get awards. In fact I asked my boss this morning if she would give me an appreciation certificate because I felt I deserved it. (yeah, I know I have problems) So this is beyond AWESOME! THANK YOU JOHANA! I am honored and SEVERELY DELIGHTED! People actually do apprciate my rambling nonsense. This is great, okay...
I want to give this to every one of my new friends but I suppose the rules go for only some so here it goes!!
So there is is!! Check em' out! Thanks again so much Johana! Very cool indeed.
My Tuesday offically kicks ass.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
It could be the two energy drinks I had this morning. It could because my quarter-written novel is confiscating the only piece of sanity I have left.
I am fully annoyed with myself. I hate that I can't write. I hate even more that I know what I want to write but I just can get focused.
I think what I need is an abrupt and violent smack on the head with inspiration. Or maybe someone could take over my life for a few days so that I could sit in the dark with a laptop and a large glass of rum.
I pick up my pen, a copy of my ms in hand, ready to edit. I'm reading through the first sentence, Two and a Half Men is blaring in the background...no one seems to notice that I'm doing something for myself...it's safe...I read on. Then out of nowhere my skin tightens at the sound of "MOM, I need juice."
Have you ever noticed, or maybe it's just my life, that when you finally do find a small window of time for yourself someone somewhere, immediately needs something? It's "Can you get me a glass of water?" "Can you find my wallet?" "What did you do with the left over steak?" "Can you sign over your soul?"
People tell me that I need to find time for myself in order to write. They say that I need to make it a mandatory priority in my life if I'm going to be happy at all. They say "You should write at night when everyone is asleep.." Well, that would be super if by 9 pm I wasn't so riddled with exhaustion that I almost couldn't produce drool. Abraham Lincoln himself could come over at midnight for tea and crumpets and I would probably shoot him in the face. That's how much I can't stay up at night.
What is going on with these writers, like Stephanie Meyer who talks of this amazing husband who actually let her lock herself up in the room to write? My belief is that her marriage is a complete fabrication of lies and tall tales. Maybe she omitted that he was a paraplegic. My logic tells me that unless he was bed ridden and lost his legs in a terrifying cheese grading accident that he was constantly breathing down her neck. I also think that she added him to her acknowledgements because he is extremely insecure and needed validation of her love through copyrights and global appreciation and she wanted to shut him up before she drank his blood.
But that's just me.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
You eat...then you smoke.
You're insanely angry...then you smoke.
You have to pay property taxes..then you smoke.
You realize your manuscript is a tangled mess that possibly you are the only one on earth that will appreciate it....you smoke.
Someone just put a stack of employee files on your desk to thoroughly audit...wait I need to smoke first.
It is the perfect extension of emotions to which I am grateful. Sure, I'm going to age faster, my voice with wither and become raspy but hopefully in a sexy Lindsey Lohan sort of way. This is my blog post to praise my cigarettes. Thank you for being there when no one else was. If you were a man I would marry you...then years later resent you for ruining my life...which is how most romances end. NEVERTHELESS, you are my friend that I am intensely appreciative of.
Now I must go home. I am at my mothers house and needless to say I have grown weary of the company of eyeless dogs and strange smells... It is a pleasant mixture of vodka and darkness. Perfect for a writer...hmm..maybe I should come over more often.
Alas, I have a mound of something to do. Of that I am sure.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
I am at work with a mountain of paperwork and files on my desk. It's safe to say I won't get any writing done. I know how disappointed you must be.
I'd like to talk about outlines and how they pertain to me. About 6 months ago I attempted to start an outline. I was fully involved in getting one going. I assumed that all writers used outlines and that I should too for the sake of being in the "in crowd". Until I realized what a nerd I was being thinking that writers were even in a "in crowd" at all. I tormented myself, pulled out my hair, cursed the skys, "WHY CAN'T I WRITE AN OUTLINE,DAMN YOU!"
But luckliy for me, I give up ideas very easily and an outline was an idea I forgot all about. I decided I didn't need it... it turns out I really didn't.
I cannot seem to wrap my head around a functioning outline. I always change my mind and mostly the whole format just makes me want to punch something. Does anyone out there start a project with an outline? Because if you do, you are now and forever my hero. Much like math, I do not get outlines. However, I commend and am slightly jealous of those who do. I always watch in awe when someone is overly organized. These people seem so in control...glassy like the ocean before a tsunami..
My brain is like an IPAD and a blackberry all in one. Sure, there are the occasional glitches where I forget to put on deodorant or toss my car keys in the freezer, sight unseen, but I've lived this long on pure brain power. Which isn't saying much since I possess more similarities to lawn gnome then an actual human being. Except slightly better looking.
I like the thought of my writing spilling straight out onto a blank ms word document wild and misshapen. It's a mess, it's hard to read, people will never buy it. That's fine with me because above all else, editing is my favorite thing to do. It's like adding flesh onto a skeleton. As I edit I feel like a I finally have my soul back. That it sits with me and wanders through the golden wheat fields as my heroine gradually loses her mind. Stephen King says it best...
"Words create sentences; sentences create paragraphs; sometimes paragraphs quicken and begin to breathe."
Please note that from this moment on I will never use an outline as a means to follow order! I will use post-it notes for ideas and various scribblings in random notebooks. These will be the vessels in which to record my thoughts should inspiration strike! A post-it note can go a long way if you write very small...Unfortunately my hands are freakishly large.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Being busy at work mixed with kids and a co-dependent significant other makes it next to impossible to write or even think of writing. My characters won't talk to me anymore. It's safe to say they hate my guts. They are probably at a bar right now having a pitcher of New Castle discussing what a flake I am. I even think they are avoiding my text messages.
Rapidly I am losing hope. Everyday I say to myself "Today you will write!" and theres always a reason I don't. Let me paint a better picture for you so I don't look like such a lagger. I am tired. Not just tired but extremely monstrously tired. It's everyday, not just a certain part of the day. I cannot catch up with myself. I have self-diagnosed chronic fatigue and mild obsessive compulsive disorder. If I didn't have kids I would live in a small attic in London looking over a landfill. Just depressing enough to get some good writing done.
So here I am at work, sitting dis-tractable at my oversized oak/particle board desk. My hair is screaming for a brush and my McDonald coffee is getting dangerously cold. I hear the typing of keyboards floating out of the other offices, the transferring of meaningless calls. My manuscript is in a file in my documents folder...will I open it? Do I dare to write only to give up for some frivolous reason?
You bet I will.
Friday, March 5, 2010
I'll have you know, whoever you are, that I am back on track and in the grand 'ol think machine, turning the gears trying to get the clutch un-stuck, the engine roars to life and I jolt forward into fiction land!!! Hopefully.
It's a good thing too, because reality just isn't a fun place. For someone my age I definitely hold up the whole world on my shoulders and to top it all off I'm getting sick again. My diet it boring me to death and I miss carbs. How will I ever delve into my imagination when I'm constantly thinking of bread and ding dongs? Maybe I should write about the effects of a carb-less life and fixations on whip cream?
I have just recently come to the grips of realizing how many people are actually writing books right now? It is beyond insane. Each one of these people built worlds and characters and knows their book is good. But how many of them will get published? Will I get published? Probably not. So what do we do, how do we continue on the vast road of publish-hood? We convince ourselves it will work out that you will find your soul mate in an agent and they will realize that you are the next big thing.
Or like me, you convince yourself that writing is the only thing you have that you actually don't dread doing. It isn't a chore, your characters don't want you to rub their feet or do their laundry. They only want you to write them.
So, starting Monday... I will write like the wind. My heroine will change her attitude thus becoming more insane and detached, which I'm excited about. My hero will be driving with me to work, smoking his cigarette, sitting in concentrated silence. Thats how I like my men, silent and smoking.
have a good weekend whoever you are!!