Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Point of View Askew.

Ah, the mental battle of deciding what point of view to use. Nothing punches you in the face hundreds of times the way choosing a point of view does. Well, for me anyways.

What's really fun is when you get 25k words in and think "Hey, this would be great if it was in first person!"


Immediately after that discovery, you want to push your thumbs right through your eyes and into your skull because now you have to revise all of it. And when you do that you almost always change a thousand plot points along the way. Then you find yourself re-writing everything... shortly afterwards you just want to strap the entire thing to a rocket and send it into space where it will inevitably set on fire as it makes it way through the atmosphere and then falls like little ashes of failure all over the world.

Exhibit one: While rewriting, my MC went from wearing jeans and a leather duster to a sun dress and a hunting knife. How the hell did that happen? How does a sun dress go with a hunting knife anyway? Do I want her to be gruff and boyish or psychotic and girly? I wish I knew because right now her identity crisis is giving me a head ache from hell. If I had time to take a writing class I probably wouldn't because of my social anxiety issues, but that's not the point. The point is, I need to find a way to not be so sporadically insane.

I'm going to spend the next 20 years of my life on my book aren't I? And by then I will have probably moved to an igloo in Antarctica to escape all things writing. Hey, I think my round head would look great in a parka. That and I hear that cold weather keeps the skin young.
Actually, I just made that up.

Moving on, I thought that I liked writing in third-person omniscience because I liked the idea of being in every character's head. I liked to put their thoughts on paper. I liked to play god in a world that was only mine. Turns out, god's job sucks and its too much work.

But if I look at in a realistic way, maybe I would rather write in first person. Other peoples thoughts are probably not all the interesting. Also, other peoples thoughts aren't all that hidden if you watch their body language and facial expressions, right? Maybe readers don't have time to dissect every characters thoughts? Maybe they want the guy with the leather chaps to only pick his teeth and have no thoughts whatsoever. Or maybe they want the supporting character to wheeze and cough without really knowing how he feels about.

I mean really, is it necessary to know everyone's thoughts? Is it so bad that there is allot of mystery? No it isn't. Mystery is good. Especially in a man. Because once the mystery is gone your left with beer farts and pubic hair in the shower drain.

I don't think I could write another persons thoughts all that well because they would be thinking the following all the time;

"I should go away for a very long time." This would be their only thought.

Because for some people I know and I'm not pointing anyone out, especially my boyfriend... but that's what I would want them to be thinking....What can I say, I miss being alone.

So what I want to know is what pov gets you going? When you write, how do you decide on a point of view? What pov do you like to read the most? Your thoughts??

Teaser Tueday?

I wasn't aware that there was a special day for teasers until my dashboard popped up with all the madness. I have to say that this makes me excited and I have a feeling like I want to throw up. But hey, in light of a "blog holiday" I will be happy to share. You guys share, why not me? You guys put your balls on the line...I can too.

So I will post a piece of my WIP and hopefully I won't lose every one of my new blogging friends. Please excuse the bad grammar because it's all I have.

Dropping out of high school wasn't the best decision ever, but then again neither was my haircut.

I have had the same hair for 27 years. Except for a small part in the 90's where it was always crimped. And today it looks more like George Washington's wig with a clip in it.

But this isn't about my hair...this is about Teaser Tuesday and how I'm more than a little freaked out to share this because it quite possibly will suck beyond all sucking.. But without further small talk here is an expert from my YA novel.. enjoy and thanks for stopping by!

*removed due to construction*

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Let her be.

I am proud to annouce that I have been writing! Yes, it's true... everyone may breath with ease now.

It's not a giant amount of writing, more like a slow drip from a clogged faucet but I'm not complaining.

I'm getting into dialogue at the moment and now that I'm forcibly ripping it out of my skull the words have become submissive to my irresistible charm. Besides I have determined that most of my writers block is fear mixed with laziness. I will not be won by my own sloth like ways! Onward and Upward, you 30% finished manuscript...

Additionally, now that I have mentally punctured myself to the point of swallowing a whole box of oreos, beer-bonging red bulls and slamming my face into my desk things seem to be set in motion. Or it might be signs of type two diabetes and a mild concussion.

Anyway, after all the self defilement I was rewarded with a dialogue that has opened like a toxic anemone, ready to poison the world with it's wit and cleverness. It is no longer stiff like a terrorist interrogation...it is now skippy and delightfully twisted. Which means I have to back track and fix past dialogue, which gives me a strange urge to slit my wrists.

I talk as I type, the characters are here in my office as my fingers glide across the keys, hovering over me like gnats, urging me to make them seem more resilient, more mysterious, more not stupid.

Especially my heroine. Who has in fact become a pain in the padded ass to write. She's oddly menstrual, strangely detached and a little on the psychotic side. As you can imagine I have spent months trying to figure her out and I still can't seem to squeeze the ketchup out of the bottle.

So, I have officially given up. But this is what I have come too, maybe that's just the way she is. Maybe she is like a man in the aspect that no matter how much I try to tweak and adjust her, it just never seems to change. So now, I will give up on figuring her out because since I have failed to do that with "real" people in my own life, there is certainly a fair chance that I will not figure her out. Plus, I'm tired.

She is hopeless and wonderfully irritating and thats the way she'll stay. Which is just peachy, because it's quite possible that the best thing about her is that she is insane, dresses horribly and perhaps even smells a little. Other characters want to strangle her, push her off a cliff or even set her house ablaze while she sleeps in her bed and yet as hard as they try they have a unrelenting urge to emancipate her....perhaps even fix what's broken.

So, I'm going to let my heroine be the way she is. Perfectly disturbed. Smelly and emotionally constipated.

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!!

1. Bethany

2.Lisa and Laura





7. Elana

So there is is!! Check em' out! Thanks again so much Johana! Very cool indeed.

My Tuesday offically kicks ass.

Monday, March 22, 2010

My shin hurts...

Happy Monday Blog! Someone shoot me.

I would like to say that the wedding party was a mild success! I was triumphant in getting insanely drunk followed by a period of time that, although I was conscious, I have no memory of it what so ever. My muscles hurt in places that I didn't know I had muscles in. Like my shin for instance. I was under the impression that the shin part of the leg was mostly bone but apparently there is a light layer of muscle there too. great. I'm walking around the office like I was raped by a rugby team.

My boyfriend told me that I punched him in the face five times. This I do not remember. However it explains why I can't move my wrist without a sharp pinching sensation. He says to me "Why did you punch me in the face?" I say "Because my sub-conscious hates you."

I pat him on the head and tell him I'm sorry then I commence with the rest of my wasted Sunday.

Also, I was drunk enough to not notice my middle body in a death grip, complements of my "suddenly skinny" top. However, I do remember it rolling up over my stomach several times. What is it with things rolling up over my stomach? When I stand it's not so bad, but when I sit there is a process of adjusting and pulling that makes wearing clothes highly over rated. Being chubby is like having three extra kids, it makes you tired and you wish you were somewhere else.

When I woke up in the morning I realized that I had stripped the shirt off and tried to stuff it down the motel toilet. I suppose my subconscious hated the shirt too.

I decided to leave the shirt in the toilet. I meandered around the motel room still drunk and laughing at my own idiotic behavior. For some reason I was alone, when I know I came with the boyfriend, oddly enough I wasn't worried about it. I drove back to my house at 80mph listing to Muse and chugging a Red Bull. I now know that I am too old to be drinking all night long. It is two days later and I still feel like I was violently mugged, ran over by John Deere tractor and then vomited out into a porta-potty.

All I can say is I'm glad no one had a camera.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Suddenly Skinny...or not.

Good Afternoon Blog Spot Land!!

Today I actually got a little writing done. If you want to call 300 words writing, but hey, after a torturous two weeks of suffering writer's block and extreme depression I consider this to be a success. The glass ceiling was slightly by-passed today, even though my ceiling is more like petrified crap, flaking it's disease all over my motivation.

I have ingested half of a 16oz Red Bull and a bag of peanut butter M&M's and I'm feeling like I could walk on water right about now. Or I'm having a silent heart attack, either way it's sure to be a good time.

So, today much like the days before, is about the same. A mirror if you will, of time repeated unto itself. I'm still chubby, my diet tanked and my home life, well, there isn't much to say about that except that I'm definitely going to grab another Red Bull before the days end.

I'm going to a wedding tomorrow where two people I don't know will join lives forever. Normally, I hate attending these sort of functions because the whole time I'm making bets with myself on when the day will come when the bride will look at her shiny clean groom and wonder what the hell compelled her to marry him. But this isn't why I'm bringing this up. Last night I went shopping to prepare to look decent at the wedding. I bought a "Suddenly Skinny" fat re-tractor tank top to wear under my clothes. I tried it on last night for about 20 minutes. After I peeled it off it felt like my pancreas was pushed up into my lungs slowly making it's way into my esophagus. It was painful and left an unhealthy squished feeling.

I began to inspect the "directions" for this tourniquet of death, when on the label I spotted that there was a skinny model wearing the shirt. That's right, skinny. Why is she wearing it? She's already skinny.
A chub like me puts it on and the title of the garment magically becomes "Suddenly 20% Skinny." What happens when a thin beautiful girl puts it on? They are now "Suddenly Anorexic." Which I will never achieve in my lifetime. I could very well have been born and raised in Narnia with the odd shaped body that I have been blessed with.

They should at least make an effort to put a "big" girl on the label. Then maybe when someone like me is looking for a self esteem boost I won't feel like such a stuffed sausage when I see a super model wearing the same item I just bought.

Realistic logic tells me that if there was a monstrously obese diva sporting the tank on that dreaded label, I would have said something to the effect of "If she can wear it, I can too." Sold. Customer for life. But now, when I wear that top, while my organs painfully shift I will only think of that cute little model on the front and how much I want to hunt her down and set her on fire.
Have a good weekend everybody! If I don't post anything next week it's safe for you to assume that I died of internal bleeding.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Whiny Wednesdays..

Hello Blogspot and all you contain! I have to tell you, that today I am not doing well. This morning I am battling ruthlessly a sudden onset of anxiety. Why you ask? I wish I knew.

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

Damn Brain!

Today marks the day that I have finally accepted my partial writers block. It is nearing almost two weeks now that I have not written in or even looked at my manuscript. It is a painful feeling like when you stub your toe on the bottom of the refrigerator and you know you are missing part of your nail but you don't dare investigate. That's what it feels like to have a neglected manuscript looming around in your brain.

Not to long ago I actually had a break through with my plot line and finally had locked in my brain what the ending would be! It was an amazing feeling, I have to say. I knew where I was going with it, the characters were poised to strike the pages with purpose and determination. All I had to do was write it! But then a black cloud of death rolled over my happiness and left me with nothing. The idea was there, but the motivation was not. My subconscious is violently clutching onto my story while all I can think about is how to avoid sex and get to bed earlier. My brain will not focus on the writing, it is holding up a picket sign in protest refusing to grant me motivation. I hate you brain! You never worked right anyways.

Even though I have the gold to FINISH my book, I have yet to use it. I am at a loss. This makes me painfully sad. Much like the prior 27 years of my life.

The good part about all this is that I think about writing everyday. Which is odd for me because I usually forget about things and move on to more depressing matters, but not with my manuscript. Its like having a stalker that your always worried about seeing...that is what my ms is to me. A stalker with bad grammar.

However, I have some faith that I will open that word document again and chip away at it. I have to. I have fully convinced myself that if I cannot finish writing a novel then I am truly worth nothing, even if it never gets published, it has to be done, it is screaming to be finished. I will never finish anything for the remainder of forever if I can't do this. It you knew me at all you would know that I am self-deprecating and to push myself to do anything I must first hurt my own feelings. It is a strange and vicious cycle, but one that is proven to work.
Bucket list item#2- Finish a novel.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Without My Cigarettes

If I were in a plane wreck..yes, a plane wreck, let's say for imagination's sake that I was flying to ohhh I don't know..Rome..but then the plane malfunctioned and crashed into a remote island infested with mutated coconuts, the only thing I would care to have is a pack, no, a carton of cigarettes. I would smoke them one by one and wait for impending doom. Hey, super models don't eat, they smoke. They are perfectly fine...but I wouldn't want one of them with me, don't get me wrong. My point being is that I would choose cigarettes as a means for survival. Think of it like this..
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

Outlines are funny things.

Good Morning Blogspot!

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

Brain Dead.

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

So Far So Good..

So, I've taken a two week vacation. Not the fun kind where you sip umbrella drinks by the ocean and rinse sand out of your bottom, but the kind where you don't look or think about your unfinished manuscript. It was hard, believe me. I felt like I was forgetting about a good friend. Needless to say, I did not get any plot enhancing ideas while on "vacation" but I think it might have been healthy.
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!!