When someone nags you, the usual response is to say simply, "Knock it off!" As a group, people don't like to be nagged. We'll get to whatever it is when we're bloody well ready. But sometimes we need to be nagged. Some people don't get anything done unless they are nagged, some projects require that kind of hovering as well. Well, a writer is one of those people that needs a nagger. I'm sure there are some out there that don't need one, I wouldn't doubt it. I'm also equally as sure that there are people who simply say that so-in-so merely supported them instead of nagged. While it's true, the support part, the reality is that once again us writers are conducting subconscious warfare on ourselves. We allow the supporting cast to nag us though we won't say it that way unless we're completely open about it.
The role of the nagger, whether they are a spouse, friend or simple writing buddy, is quite simple. Their job is to ask for a chapter or section of the story. They read it, they like it or even if they don't like it they pretend they do or tell us why they don't then they constantly, over a period of months ask the fateful question "Where's the next part?"
It starts slow, gradual, months pass the first time before they get impatient and demand, "I need the next part, what happened next?" Or "Did you make any changes to what I've read? Can I see it?" Then you oblige, grudgingly but also nervously because you honestly want to know what they think...or so you tell yourself. You mutter to them how inconvienent it is, that you'll get it to them when you bloody well finish and that they should show some patience! Yet, still you send it. It mollifies them for another few months, subtract just one week from their patience then they are back again asking, "What happened next? Where's the next chapter?"
Again, because you actually finished it two weeks prior, you give it to them while muttering to just yourself this time that impatience never gets anyone far in life. By now they probably have three or four chapters worth of your story and the nagger begins to get a bit more irritating. While they are still polite about it, they ask once again can they have the next chapter, have you finished it yet? If not, then when you finish it can they have it.
Just to satisfy this person because in truth you don't want to tell them to shove it where the sun doesn't shine, you write more faster...and faster...and faster until not a week passes between sending of individual parts before this special person(s) ask "Where's the next part! Write faster damn it!"
You're annoyed, you're gritting your teeth as you shove the next and final piece in their hand and say "THERE! Now you have all of it, now SHUT UP!"
You huff, you puff then realize in a blink of an eye that you actually finished a 200+ page novel in just under 18 months because this well meaning person(s) badgered you until you had finished the damn thing. The nagger, for their part, glorify in the fact that they got to read it first of all the people in the world. That while it's not perfect (first drafts never are) it's still a story that captivated them. These people rarely realize that they played an even bigger part to writing the book unless told by the writer themselves "I never would have finished this story if it hadn't been for you badgering me."
Do we tell them? Of course not because to do so might risk them not doing it again and we all need, nay, want someone to badger us until we're huffing and puffing to keep up with the ever present demand that this individual(s) placed upon us.
Does this psychology work on other aspects of life beyond the writer? I would assume so, not just creatively but would I get my house clean and keep it somewhat reasonable if it wasn't for the children always wanting to play on the floor or the need for counter space? Probably not, why? Because I'm lazy. I'd rather stretch the creative instead of the physical muscles during the day. It's natural, it's expected and yet I'm nagged into doing it. I'm nagged into going to the gym.
The role of nagger is never pleasant, no one wants to think of themselves being that pushy. Well, I say to all the naggers out there in the world, do not be ashamed of your talent. You spur people on, push them forward when they need it and sometimes when they don't want it. To those of us that are privy to their talents, don't scorn, shout or ignore the attempts, look it at in a different light. That they are needed, as much as the writer, the editor, the publisher and even the advertiser. Nag my friends, nag and be done with it.
In this post I would like to pay special omage to a very good friend of mine that is my personal nagger. If it hadn't been for her I probably wouldn't have had Memory Lane finished in less than two years.
So to Samantha, I tip my hat off to you. Thank you and please continue to bug the hell out of me.
Friday 7 August 2009
Thursday 30 July 2009
Title Change
So why change the title of my Blog? Well, I had been doing a lot of thinking lately. It happens from time to time, I just get lost in a well of thoughts that masqurades as dreams. Okay, maybe that's too poetic.
I guess the thing is that as I read over old posts here I realize that I'm not always talking about just writing, I'm talking about the things that make up who I am. Since writing is an integral part of that the reality is that I'm talking about my journey. It's not one of becoming a writer, no I'm that already, it's a journey to self-discovery through my writing.
I've been having a bunch of confusing dreams lately and unfortunately I don't remember enough of them to put them to words. I just know it's confusing because I wake up confused or out of touch. Like I'm not inside my skin until I'm awake. I suppose I could be astral projecting, but I've only done that once under very controlled...and lucky....circumstances. I'd go into it, but honestly I think it's more for my private journal than for anything someone might find on the internet. If I do figure it out I'll probably mention it here because I think it plays a big part on my journey. I just don't know how though.
I guess the thing is that as I read over old posts here I realize that I'm not always talking about just writing, I'm talking about the things that make up who I am. Since writing is an integral part of that the reality is that I'm talking about my journey. It's not one of becoming a writer, no I'm that already, it's a journey to self-discovery through my writing.
I've been having a bunch of confusing dreams lately and unfortunately I don't remember enough of them to put them to words. I just know it's confusing because I wake up confused or out of touch. Like I'm not inside my skin until I'm awake. I suppose I could be astral projecting, but I've only done that once under very controlled...and lucky....circumstances. I'd go into it, but honestly I think it's more for my private journal than for anything someone might find on the internet. If I do figure it out I'll probably mention it here because I think it plays a big part on my journey. I just don't know how though.
Friday 24 July 2009
Ah HA! I'm not alone!
Periodically, I re-read books that I already know. I do it for several reasons. The first is because, well, it's a good read. The second is because it sometimes helps get me in the mood to write. The third is because they ask me to. It's like this subconscious desire to just reach out and take the book. Only a few authors do this for me though. David Eddings, who recently passed away, Anne McCaffrey, though I mostly just re-read the Harper Trilogy. Last, but never least, is Laurell K. Hamilton. I would have to say she is one of my favorites. The reasons are numerous.
First off all, she writes really well. The second is that her books are all done in first person from the perceptions of the character in question. I've read very few authors that pull this off really well and she's one of them. Another is that both of the series that I'm a major fan of has a very strong female character. This speaks to the feminist in me. I get so tired of women being depicted as someone needing saving, needing a strong male to do the dirty work. In the Anita Blake series, Anita Blake is the one they call to do the dirty work. She's a Vampire Executioner and Hunter. Her nickname with the Vampires is The Executioner just to give you a hint. The only other Hunter that's better than her is a guy named Edward who is my other favorite character in the whole series.
Her other series, the Gentry Series, also has a strong female character is who is a Faery Princess of the Unseelie Court. I could go into the whole bit about it, but I'll be honest, if I did this post will be about her instead of what I really want to talk about. Another reason I enjoy her writing is for a more personal reason. I have suspected for a long time now that Laurell Hamiliton is a Wiccan. My suspicions came from the very realistic descriptions she gives in regards to rituals and other such matters in her books. I finally received confirmation recently in her blog. I was thrilled for more reasons than I'm willing to go into.
Anyway, I just recently re-read her book called Bloody Bones which was written a little over ten years ago. I had bought the book again when it was released in hard cover again because those last longer. She had included in it an Afterword which is always neat in my opinion because often writers put their thoughts, explanations and reasons for why characters do something. In reading this I realized that I'm not as nutty as I feared.
In an earlier post I had talked about two problematic characters that simply wouldn't cooperate (for any interested Cyrilla is stilling having problems, but Tim and I worked it out). In it I also often referred to both of them being real and being a pain in the ass on purpose. I had tried to keep it down at a dull roar because I was a bit worried that it would make me seem crazy.
Then tonight I read the Afterword and the first thing I said to my husband was "I'm not alone!" That's right folks, Laurell Hamiton talked not only about Anita, but also about Jean-Claude, Jason and Larry as if they are real people. "Anita would miss him." And various other comments like that. I was thrilled! I'm not crazy!....Or at least if I am then I'm not the only one.
It has gotten me thinking though, why do writers tend to look at their characters as if they are people too? Is it just something we started doing? Did we learn it? Or are really deranged?
Hmm, well, I don't seem to remember reading in any book that I should start considering my characters to be real. I also can't recall when that habit actually began. I suppose that this might fall under the category of things that make you go Hmmm. I just don't know and I would love to hear other opinions on the matter. Why does anyone that writes or even role-plays feel like their character isn't just a character, but a real person?
First off all, she writes really well. The second is that her books are all done in first person from the perceptions of the character in question. I've read very few authors that pull this off really well and she's one of them. Another is that both of the series that I'm a major fan of has a very strong female character. This speaks to the feminist in me. I get so tired of women being depicted as someone needing saving, needing a strong male to do the dirty work. In the Anita Blake series, Anita Blake is the one they call to do the dirty work. She's a Vampire Executioner and Hunter. Her nickname with the Vampires is The Executioner just to give you a hint. The only other Hunter that's better than her is a guy named Edward who is my other favorite character in the whole series.
Her other series, the Gentry Series, also has a strong female character is who is a Faery Princess of the Unseelie Court. I could go into the whole bit about it, but I'll be honest, if I did this post will be about her instead of what I really want to talk about. Another reason I enjoy her writing is for a more personal reason. I have suspected for a long time now that Laurell Hamiliton is a Wiccan. My suspicions came from the very realistic descriptions she gives in regards to rituals and other such matters in her books. I finally received confirmation recently in her blog. I was thrilled for more reasons than I'm willing to go into.
Anyway, I just recently re-read her book called Bloody Bones which was written a little over ten years ago. I had bought the book again when it was released in hard cover again because those last longer. She had included in it an Afterword which is always neat in my opinion because often writers put their thoughts, explanations and reasons for why characters do something. In reading this I realized that I'm not as nutty as I feared.
In an earlier post I had talked about two problematic characters that simply wouldn't cooperate (for any interested Cyrilla is stilling having problems, but Tim and I worked it out). In it I also often referred to both of them being real and being a pain in the ass on purpose. I had tried to keep it down at a dull roar because I was a bit worried that it would make me seem crazy.
Then tonight I read the Afterword and the first thing I said to my husband was "I'm not alone!" That's right folks, Laurell Hamiton talked not only about Anita, but also about Jean-Claude, Jason and Larry as if they are real people. "Anita would miss him." And various other comments like that. I was thrilled! I'm not crazy!....Or at least if I am then I'm not the only one.
It has gotten me thinking though, why do writers tend to look at their characters as if they are people too? Is it just something we started doing? Did we learn it? Or are really deranged?
Hmm, well, I don't seem to remember reading in any book that I should start considering my characters to be real. I also can't recall when that habit actually began. I suppose that this might fall under the category of things that make you go Hmmm. I just don't know and I would love to hear other opinions on the matter. Why does anyone that writes or even role-plays feel like their character isn't just a character, but a real person?
Sunday 19 July 2009
Writing Space
I'm reading this interesting book talking about our Writing Space and it got me thinking about just that, my writing space. I look over my physical space and realize, yikes, talk about counter-productive. Let me see if I can describe it for you.
I have a desk that's shaped like an L. The shorter part of the desk holds the brunt of my stuff. To the the right sits a little cubby that holds five binders. One of the binders has my playing cards (Star Trek....yes, I'm a nerd and proud of it), one holds the printed copy of the Golden Crown, another holds half of the printed copy of Memory Lane and the other half is upstairs currently asking me to take it downstairs, but more on that later. Next I have a binder with my household chore list and a few other household business information in it and as to why I need this binder, well, that's complicated. The last binder holds Star Trek scripts that a friend...acquaintence....had sent to me eleven years ago. I haven't heard from him since and I should shred it and dispose of it, but it just seems to go against my genetic code.
Below this cubby is my Bamboo Fun pad which helps me in regards to my various hand problems that I have. If I was to use a mouse instead I'd last about twenty to forty minutes, with the pen tablet I last for several hours. In the area beside the cubby is my computer stuff and a container for my pens. I have a lot of pens, I guess you can say I collect them. So the pen container is on the right side of the monitor while on the left are two notebook/book holders. One has three notebooks and two magazines plus some other odds and ends while the other holds my school book.
Next comes the little space with a door that I throw technical wires, envelops plus a few odd and ends. I'll go weeks or months not looking in there if I'm not careful. Under the cupboard are a stack of books ranging from organizing, web design, Wicca books and a few health books, stacked neatly out of the way then we hit the turning point.
From there is a small notebook holder, meaning the notebooks it holds is small. I have my character development notebook in there...which I haven't worked in for a while, plus a few other books that have nothing to do with writing. In fact one has information about great places to visit in San Antonio. It comes with a drawer that again has a few odds and ends that I haven't looked at in months. Next is my set of dictionary, thesaurus and a Style Guide. I've used the dictionary occasionally, the other two not yet. One of my favorite writers said once that if you have to pull out the thesaurus you're using the wrong word. I guess you can say I take that to heart.
Beside that, and I really mean a few inches on down the desk in reality, is all the paperwork that I have to sort through. This includes paid bills, printed up story information, unpaid bills (though I really hope not) and who knows what else is in there because I haven't sorted through it. Next to that is another pile of stuff that I have to sort from notebooks to magazines and to who knows what else. Between the edge against the wall and myself is a stack of CD's/DVD's plus a few notebooks of information for my web design.
This desk of mine sits in a corner of a large room. Moving out in the room on the left wall are three bookcases while on the right is the printer and my husbands desk. Behind me is the playing area of my kids..........
Hmm, I wonder why I can't focus on my writing?
And I didn't even mention the top shelf which really only holds the decorative things on my desk. Apparently putting it on the bottom part causes them to either be lost or broken...perhaps both. Then of course there is the area under my desk that has stuff from the CPU of my computer, several software booklets and two small portable filing boxes that has magazines or notebooks.
Space is more than the physical area certainly, the book mentions that and I already knew it (though I believe it's going to go into more detail about it later on). I have to be in the right mind frame for it. If I'm not it's a waste of time. However the key is trying to create the mind frame because I should be writing every day. I'm not, I never have and I suppose if I had then it wouldn't take me quite as long to actually finish a book.
It's just that, and excuse the sudden need for justification, I have a lot of activities on my plate that require some kind of creative energy. All these projects are of my choice of course, I also want to make that clear. I don't feel pressured to do them...okay, most of the time I don't... so I guess it could be say that while I don't necessarily write every day, I am creative every day. That's almost the same thing right? RIGHT?
........Okay, even I have to admit that I'm sounding a bit petulant and that's probably because I'm feeling like I'm focusing my magnifying glass a bit too close to the skin.
Well, one thing that a magnifying glass shows someone is if they need a change. Once you see the reality, the truth of perception, it becomes a matter of deciding to do something about it or just shrug it off.
Writing space is important, not just for the practical reasons, but also for the mental. If you have things that distract you, that pull you from what you need to focus on then you'll only ever be able to type words and not work on a story. Our space is more than just the physical though, it's the mental. It's doing that mental sabotage of yourself just to get things going. It's just like when I had talked about editing where you need to lie to yourself to make it possible.
If you can get these two spaces set then you're on a better path than before. The book is sure to talk about other types of spaces that make it easier and better for us to tap into that creative zone that works with the words instead of pictures or web sites. Perhaps as I learn more from this book I'll share it with everyone.
Obviously I have to make some changes though what I'm not sure about yet.
I have a desk that's shaped like an L. The shorter part of the desk holds the brunt of my stuff. To the the right sits a little cubby that holds five binders. One of the binders has my playing cards (Star Trek....yes, I'm a nerd and proud of it), one holds the printed copy of the Golden Crown, another holds half of the printed copy of Memory Lane and the other half is upstairs currently asking me to take it downstairs, but more on that later. Next I have a binder with my household chore list and a few other household business information in it and as to why I need this binder, well, that's complicated. The last binder holds Star Trek scripts that a friend...acquaintence....had sent to me eleven years ago. I haven't heard from him since and I should shred it and dispose of it, but it just seems to go against my genetic code.
Below this cubby is my Bamboo Fun pad which helps me in regards to my various hand problems that I have. If I was to use a mouse instead I'd last about twenty to forty minutes, with the pen tablet I last for several hours. In the area beside the cubby is my computer stuff and a container for my pens. I have a lot of pens, I guess you can say I collect them. So the pen container is on the right side of the monitor while on the left are two notebook/book holders. One has three notebooks and two magazines plus some other odds and ends while the other holds my school book.
Next comes the little space with a door that I throw technical wires, envelops plus a few odd and ends. I'll go weeks or months not looking in there if I'm not careful. Under the cupboard are a stack of books ranging from organizing, web design, Wicca books and a few health books, stacked neatly out of the way then we hit the turning point.
From there is a small notebook holder, meaning the notebooks it holds is small. I have my character development notebook in there...which I haven't worked in for a while, plus a few other books that have nothing to do with writing. In fact one has information about great places to visit in San Antonio. It comes with a drawer that again has a few odds and ends that I haven't looked at in months. Next is my set of dictionary, thesaurus and a Style Guide. I've used the dictionary occasionally, the other two not yet. One of my favorite writers said once that if you have to pull out the thesaurus you're using the wrong word. I guess you can say I take that to heart.
Beside that, and I really mean a few inches on down the desk in reality, is all the paperwork that I have to sort through. This includes paid bills, printed up story information, unpaid bills (though I really hope not) and who knows what else is in there because I haven't sorted through it. Next to that is another pile of stuff that I have to sort from notebooks to magazines and to who knows what else. Between the edge against the wall and myself is a stack of CD's/DVD's plus a few notebooks of information for my web design.
This desk of mine sits in a corner of a large room. Moving out in the room on the left wall are three bookcases while on the right is the printer and my husbands desk. Behind me is the playing area of my kids..........
Hmm, I wonder why I can't focus on my writing?
And I didn't even mention the top shelf which really only holds the decorative things on my desk. Apparently putting it on the bottom part causes them to either be lost or broken...perhaps both. Then of course there is the area under my desk that has stuff from the CPU of my computer, several software booklets and two small portable filing boxes that has magazines or notebooks.
Space is more than the physical area certainly, the book mentions that and I already knew it (though I believe it's going to go into more detail about it later on). I have to be in the right mind frame for it. If I'm not it's a waste of time. However the key is trying to create the mind frame because I should be writing every day. I'm not, I never have and I suppose if I had then it wouldn't take me quite as long to actually finish a book.
It's just that, and excuse the sudden need for justification, I have a lot of activities on my plate that require some kind of creative energy. All these projects are of my choice of course, I also want to make that clear. I don't feel pressured to do them...okay, most of the time I don't... so I guess it could be say that while I don't necessarily write every day, I am creative every day. That's almost the same thing right? RIGHT?
........Okay, even I have to admit that I'm sounding a bit petulant and that's probably because I'm feeling like I'm focusing my magnifying glass a bit too close to the skin.
Well, one thing that a magnifying glass shows someone is if they need a change. Once you see the reality, the truth of perception, it becomes a matter of deciding to do something about it or just shrug it off.
Writing space is important, not just for the practical reasons, but also for the mental. If you have things that distract you, that pull you from what you need to focus on then you'll only ever be able to type words and not work on a story. Our space is more than just the physical though, it's the mental. It's doing that mental sabotage of yourself just to get things going. It's just like when I had talked about editing where you need to lie to yourself to make it possible.
If you can get these two spaces set then you're on a better path than before. The book is sure to talk about other types of spaces that make it easier and better for us to tap into that creative zone that works with the words instead of pictures or web sites. Perhaps as I learn more from this book I'll share it with everyone.
Obviously I have to make some changes though what I'm not sure about yet.
Friday 17 July 2009
Ohhh Baby!
I was looking at templates for my class and I found this. I love it so much I just had to have it here. Maybe I'll find something else in time, but for now, this is so much COOLER! Don't you think?
Tuesday 23 June 2009
Writers Block
First, before I begin, I wish to warn all that I'm having some personal problems that have left me waspish, angry and bitter in certain ways. I can't seem to keep a humorous mind frame or can I write a different voice for different characters. This has left me in a type of agony that frankly drives me a bit batty. I'm a writer and the idea that I can't write anything of consequence or of any use in any way leaves me feeling slightly hopeless. I know it will pass, but I can't wait until it does.
I have realized within the last day or so that this is a form of writers block and it's the worse kind because it's not that I don't have the words, I just don't have the emotions for it. Now writers block is fairly simply, don't get me wrong though as it's a whole new level of frustration that I don't think anyone could adequately explain simply due to the fact that it affects each and everyone one of us very differently.
For me the traditional form of writers block relies simply in staring at the document, story or brainstorm helplessly, wanting to write something only to get frustrated when I can't then storm away. This is usually accompanied by a continuous strain of comments toward the computer and anyone who is willing to listen. To say that this makes family life interesting is an understatement simply because when I start to vent my language tends to deteriorate into the more cruder elements of the English Language. Essentially I cuss and as it goes further along the words get stronger moving from a simply damn to a full blown string of four letter words that my kids shouldn't be hearing from anyone.
Needless to say when I'm going through the agony of the block I make sure to only pull it out and bang at it with my fists after the kids go to bed, just in case you realize.
Usually this form of writers block passes, the length of time it takes for it to do so varies of course, but once it does then I become a writing machine. It's almost as if during the block and inability to write my brain had stored up all the words so that when I had finally managed to find the trigger it could just flow like a river. Typically, when it starts, it takes a near miracle or tragedy to get me to stop. I get short tempered at people who interrupt it and this is another problem because usually the river doesn't wait until the children hit the sack. This leaves me on the edge between the duty of mother and the drag of writer. The effort to balance the two, usually slightly unsuccessfully I might as well add, leaves me emotionally exhausted when life finally settles down again. Knowing the process as I do I am seriously tempted to start taking the kids to day care during such times so that it's less of a balancing act and they can get some interactions with someone other than Mommy. I'll just have to wait and see.
This is all fairly typical of writers block, you either can't write or you write badly. Even people who don't want to be novelist or do anything with stories suffer from this kind of block, just ask my husband when it comes down to EPR time. I think it's just a defense mechanism in our brains to keep us from getting too big of an ego.
Anyway, I've recently discovered another form of writers block that has never occurred to me, though in hindsight it probably should have.
I think I'll start calling it the Emotional Writers Block and there are several reasons it should be named as such. The first is the simple fact that when we write, especially those who write stories and work with characters on a regular basis, we use ourselves as the guide. Our emotions, the actions, the thoughts all come from within us. We know what we feel like when we're happy, sad, angry, thoughtful. How the mind moves from point A to point B, or for some of us how and why it skips all the way to point D without even needing a point C. (If you're one of those people, I'd like to know what it feels like to you as I need point C).
So, keeping that in mind, it really shouldn't be that surprising that our current emotional standing on a personal level would affect our attempts. It shouldn't but that doesn't mean it isn't. As I stated I'm going through a hard time at this moment, the only part of me that doesn't feel like it's raw and dragged over the coals is my spirit, which is a first for me. It definitely makes me wonder if another reason that the Lord and Lady took a direct hand in my adjustment period was that they saw this current situation in my future. Which would then suggest that this is fate...... Yeah, I don't want to pursue that thought until I'm through this crisis. I don't think I'm ready for it yet.
Anyway, due to this situation I'm in emotionally I have found something very disturbing in the simple fact that any verbal exchange that I create between my characters all come out heated, angry and quite a bit melodramatic, showing me something I think I would rather not think about. It's as if all my characters are ganging up and trying to force me to visually see the churning emotions within me to such a degree that it borders on absurdity. One would think that I would have more control over the interactions. To be able to change my mind subtly to reflect the character more than myself. After all, they all sound the way they do for a reason at the moment where I am in the story. Even more frustrating is that I don't currently have any characters in the current mind frame that I find myself in these days.
Being distracted and unable to concentrate is one thing, after all that is a defense mechanism to keep from feeling too hurt and to escape the cascading tears that seem to never want to stop. Keeping my nose buried in a book, my head in the clouds and my eyes fixated on the moving pictures on the television allows me to avoid the thoughts and emotions. However, the ultimate escape for me has been taken away because instead of being able to shunt myself to the side so that I can channel these characters the way they should be I find myself forced with the very emotions and thoughts that I wish to avoid.
To say I'm frustrated is an understatement, to admit annoyance and irritation is to open the doorway toward the stronger emotions buried deeper within. So I find myself suddenly hit with an emotional writers block that leaves me with a decision to make. I either have to create and start writing a character that will sit in the same precise point that I am emotionally and just let all of it flow out of me. Or I could avoid writing until it is under a reasonable amount of control.
Creating a character and scene to help me deal with the emotions is probably the wiser of the two options because let's be honest, hiding from emotions doesn't do anything to help. All it ever does is allow it to fester and grow until there is nothing left but those emotions. Wiser yes, easier no. Sometimes I have found that if I avoid confrontation with myself for a significant amount of time I can build up a skin thick enough for when it's time. Instinct tells me that I should continue to do so, to keep my nose out of the stories and leave it in the books of others creations.
So the question ultimate comes down to a contest between wisdom and instinct. In all honesty instinct is easier and I am already doing it so to continue it would be the easier solution. This has put me in another impasse as I have taken great pains to condition myself to take the harder road as I have found more reward in that than in the easy way. With that said, I also recognize that sometimes retreat is the better part of valor too.
You see what I mean by an emotional block that keeps me from doing anything but writing about or in relation to my current situation?
If I was to do a comparative study between these two types of writers block I believe that the numbers will come down on the Emotional Writers Block as being the worse of the two because you know you can write and that it would probably be pretty good if the story can benefit more than be hurt by the current emotional baggage. The problem is that frequently we might find ourselves without a story or situation that such emotions have a place in, so finding a way to solve the problem is paramount........if you're willing to finally face the problem head on......... which I'm not....yet.
I have realized within the last day or so that this is a form of writers block and it's the worse kind because it's not that I don't have the words, I just don't have the emotions for it. Now writers block is fairly simply, don't get me wrong though as it's a whole new level of frustration that I don't think anyone could adequately explain simply due to the fact that it affects each and everyone one of us very differently.
For me the traditional form of writers block relies simply in staring at the document, story or brainstorm helplessly, wanting to write something only to get frustrated when I can't then storm away. This is usually accompanied by a continuous strain of comments toward the computer and anyone who is willing to listen. To say that this makes family life interesting is an understatement simply because when I start to vent my language tends to deteriorate into the more cruder elements of the English Language. Essentially I cuss and as it goes further along the words get stronger moving from a simply damn to a full blown string of four letter words that my kids shouldn't be hearing from anyone.
Needless to say when I'm going through the agony of the block I make sure to only pull it out and bang at it with my fists after the kids go to bed, just in case you realize.
Usually this form of writers block passes, the length of time it takes for it to do so varies of course, but once it does then I become a writing machine. It's almost as if during the block and inability to write my brain had stored up all the words so that when I had finally managed to find the trigger it could just flow like a river. Typically, when it starts, it takes a near miracle or tragedy to get me to stop. I get short tempered at people who interrupt it and this is another problem because usually the river doesn't wait until the children hit the sack. This leaves me on the edge between the duty of mother and the drag of writer. The effort to balance the two, usually slightly unsuccessfully I might as well add, leaves me emotionally exhausted when life finally settles down again. Knowing the process as I do I am seriously tempted to start taking the kids to day care during such times so that it's less of a balancing act and they can get some interactions with someone other than Mommy. I'll just have to wait and see.
This is all fairly typical of writers block, you either can't write or you write badly. Even people who don't want to be novelist or do anything with stories suffer from this kind of block, just ask my husband when it comes down to EPR time. I think it's just a defense mechanism in our brains to keep us from getting too big of an ego.
Anyway, I've recently discovered another form of writers block that has never occurred to me, though in hindsight it probably should have.
I think I'll start calling it the Emotional Writers Block and there are several reasons it should be named as such. The first is the simple fact that when we write, especially those who write stories and work with characters on a regular basis, we use ourselves as the guide. Our emotions, the actions, the thoughts all come from within us. We know what we feel like when we're happy, sad, angry, thoughtful. How the mind moves from point A to point B, or for some of us how and why it skips all the way to point D without even needing a point C. (If you're one of those people, I'd like to know what it feels like to you as I need point C).
So, keeping that in mind, it really shouldn't be that surprising that our current emotional standing on a personal level would affect our attempts. It shouldn't but that doesn't mean it isn't. As I stated I'm going through a hard time at this moment, the only part of me that doesn't feel like it's raw and dragged over the coals is my spirit, which is a first for me. It definitely makes me wonder if another reason that the Lord and Lady took a direct hand in my adjustment period was that they saw this current situation in my future. Which would then suggest that this is fate...... Yeah, I don't want to pursue that thought until I'm through this crisis. I don't think I'm ready for it yet.
Anyway, due to this situation I'm in emotionally I have found something very disturbing in the simple fact that any verbal exchange that I create between my characters all come out heated, angry and quite a bit melodramatic, showing me something I think I would rather not think about. It's as if all my characters are ganging up and trying to force me to visually see the churning emotions within me to such a degree that it borders on absurdity. One would think that I would have more control over the interactions. To be able to change my mind subtly to reflect the character more than myself. After all, they all sound the way they do for a reason at the moment where I am in the story. Even more frustrating is that I don't currently have any characters in the current mind frame that I find myself in these days.
Being distracted and unable to concentrate is one thing, after all that is a defense mechanism to keep from feeling too hurt and to escape the cascading tears that seem to never want to stop. Keeping my nose buried in a book, my head in the clouds and my eyes fixated on the moving pictures on the television allows me to avoid the thoughts and emotions. However, the ultimate escape for me has been taken away because instead of being able to shunt myself to the side so that I can channel these characters the way they should be I find myself forced with the very emotions and thoughts that I wish to avoid.
To say I'm frustrated is an understatement, to admit annoyance and irritation is to open the doorway toward the stronger emotions buried deeper within. So I find myself suddenly hit with an emotional writers block that leaves me with a decision to make. I either have to create and start writing a character that will sit in the same precise point that I am emotionally and just let all of it flow out of me. Or I could avoid writing until it is under a reasonable amount of control.
Creating a character and scene to help me deal with the emotions is probably the wiser of the two options because let's be honest, hiding from emotions doesn't do anything to help. All it ever does is allow it to fester and grow until there is nothing left but those emotions. Wiser yes, easier no. Sometimes I have found that if I avoid confrontation with myself for a significant amount of time I can build up a skin thick enough for when it's time. Instinct tells me that I should continue to do so, to keep my nose out of the stories and leave it in the books of others creations.
So the question ultimate comes down to a contest between wisdom and instinct. In all honesty instinct is easier and I am already doing it so to continue it would be the easier solution. This has put me in another impasse as I have taken great pains to condition myself to take the harder road as I have found more reward in that than in the easy way. With that said, I also recognize that sometimes retreat is the better part of valor too.
You see what I mean by an emotional block that keeps me from doing anything but writing about or in relation to my current situation?
If I was to do a comparative study between these two types of writers block I believe that the numbers will come down on the Emotional Writers Block as being the worse of the two because you know you can write and that it would probably be pretty good if the story can benefit more than be hurt by the current emotional baggage. The problem is that frequently we might find ourselves without a story or situation that such emotions have a place in, so finding a way to solve the problem is paramount........if you're willing to finally face the problem head on......... which I'm not....yet.
Monday 8 June 2009
Sorrowful Passing
I just recently learned that one of my favorite authors, David Eddings, passed away due to natural causes. This is very significant to me because he's one of the few authors that actually inspired me when I was younger toward the genre of fantasy. Him and C.S. Lewis. I've read the Belgariad and the Mallorean Series too many times to count and pulled his book about the intricate details of the world for both series apart inch by inch, hoping to learn how to make a world just as rich as he did for the Golden Crown. He was my inspiration and my guide in many ways. Thinking about his passing and the fact that I will never again be able to snatch a new book of his off the shelves grieves me in a way that I can't fully explain.
Rest and be Merry David with your wife Leigh. While I never got to meet you in person, I still feel as if you were almost a part of my family and you will always be in my heart.
Jess
Rest and be Merry David with your wife Leigh. While I never got to meet you in person, I still feel as if you were almost a part of my family and you will always be in my heart.
Jess
Tuesday 2 June 2009
Character Agitation
Characters, characters, how I hate them sometimes. They never seem to cooperate when I absolutely need them to. It's irritating and to make it worse, they hide sometimes too. Talk about rude.
As you can tell, I'm having some serious character problems. Fortunately they are not my usual kind of problems. This time they are acting up in the wrong way. I have two of them in particular that's being a real pain in the butt. I'll start with the nicest of the two.
Her name is Cyrilla and she's the High Priestess for the Goddess Celency, the Goddess of War for the Dancers. The scene is right after Nyx becomes, well Nyx (she was Mia at the beginning, but nothing ever stays the same). Nyx goes into the temple as Mia, the Goddess changes her and she comes out Nyx, but it can't be official by the rules of the Order until Cyrilla, as High Priestess, swears her onto the Path of Celency. A formality in this instance, but an important one. The problem is this: The words that Cyrilla should say as her hand rests on Nyx's forehead to do the blessing just refuses to come. It sounds static, forced and frankly incomplete. Here, let me show you:
It took her a moment to smooth her face into something serious, when she did she moved to Nyx and placed her hand on top of the girls head, closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she held it then let it flow out of her like Renata had, "Mia, when you came to be among us, you were but one child among others. In the time you’ve been with us we have seen you grow and change," Cyrilla’s voice faltered for a second and Rena had to hide a smile, "becoming the Dancer as you were meant to be. Out of the silence a Voice has echoed, calling you to stand on these steps and take on the Trials and Faith of our Warrior Goddess Celency. This path is not for the faint of heart, but it has been laid before you. Do you willingly accept the trials, tribulations and simple joy that will be given in true faith?"
In a strong voice Mia answered, "I do."
Rena felt the air get heavier around them and could barely suppress a shudder. One look at the other ladies showed she wasn’t alone, but only Cyrilla seemed to be unaffected by it. Instead both her and Mia had a look of absolute joy as Cyrilla removed her hand from Mia’s head, "Then rise Nyx, Dancer of the Night as a Dancer of War. You will take your place among our Sisters, paying service to the Goddess Celency. Stand and be recognized."
See? See! It's infuriating to say the least, maddening to say the most. I've gone through three different versions and all of them aren't completely right. This one is the closest but something is still missing, but I'll be damned if Cyrilla isn't telling me what........
I realized in just this second that I might be sounding a bit nutty in the fact that I'm talking about Cyrilla as if she's a person instead of just a character. It happens with some characters though, they become a person instead of just someone I made up though deep down I do still acknowledge that she's my own creation and the problem isn't her, but me. Admitting that though would require that I toss away my pride and grovel at the feet of greater writers than myself for help. But I'm not admitting it, not here anyway. I'll save that kind of admittance for my prayers thank you!
So that's my problem with Cyrilla and honestly, it's the least. The other problem is Tim, who is a character in Memory Lane. His role is fairly simple, not completely straight forward until the end, but simple as he's the hostage-taker leader (that's not the technical term for his role, but today that's what I want to call him so there!). The problem is that I seemed to have lost him. He had meat to him at page 124, but apparently between then and page 133 he went on a diet. The nerve of him!
Unfortunately in this I can't blame Tim like I can blame Cyrilla, this is really my fault due to the fact that I'm trying to enrich the story. This means that I have to give the meat that unfortunately Tim never really had at page 133. The true problem is that I'm not sure what button to push to get him to go into the rage that I require. Alex is suppose to taunt him, antagonize him to the point that he remains focused on her instead of the innocents in the crowd watching. She's also hoping to get information out of the bastard too. The way it is now, without the editing done prior, his button apparently is being called a coward. This is hardly realistic because if this man is more than capable of organizing and implementing such a daring (and idiotic) plan of capturing a whole crew of a television show then clearly he doesn't need to validate his bravery quota.
So now I have to find out what his button is and how Alex is going to find it. It's either that or leave Tim paper thin....and I only kind of mean the pun. More not than do.
These two problems have left me distracted from other important things because I keep looking at both instances with a frown, a growl and probably a few head shakes though I haven't descended into the swear words yet. If it continues on for another month then I might finally give into the harsher words of the English Language.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, the big picture of life, these two problems are probably minor. I mean, if I don't get them fixed then going on with either the story about Nyx or finishing third draft of Memory Lane will take longer and that's a problem, but when you compare it against my family, school assignments, newsletter articles and my other commitments it pales. Then again, if I don't get the third draft finished, I can't get to the fourth or to a publisher so that it can make it to print, thereby supplementing our income could be a bigger problem.
But that isn't my concern. My problem is with the pair of them and damn it, I want it fixed simply out of pride than of necessity. I mean I wrote them, it shouldn't be this annoying or difficult. Cyrilla theoretically is easier to work with than Tim. At least Cyrilla is established, she has some meat to her bones. Tim is a different ball and chain that really shouldn't exist in the first place. That doesn't change the reality, but it really burns my britches......
As you can tell, I'm having some serious character problems. Fortunately they are not my usual kind of problems. This time they are acting up in the wrong way. I have two of them in particular that's being a real pain in the butt. I'll start with the nicest of the two.
Her name is Cyrilla and she's the High Priestess for the Goddess Celency, the Goddess of War for the Dancers. The scene is right after Nyx becomes, well Nyx (she was Mia at the beginning, but nothing ever stays the same). Nyx goes into the temple as Mia, the Goddess changes her and she comes out Nyx, but it can't be official by the rules of the Order until Cyrilla, as High Priestess, swears her onto the Path of Celency. A formality in this instance, but an important one. The problem is this: The words that Cyrilla should say as her hand rests on Nyx's forehead to do the blessing just refuses to come. It sounds static, forced and frankly incomplete. Here, let me show you:
It took her a moment to smooth her face into something serious, when she did she moved to Nyx and placed her hand on top of the girls head, closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she held it then let it flow out of her like Renata had, "Mia, when you came to be among us, you were but one child among others. In the time you’ve been with us we have seen you grow and change," Cyrilla’s voice faltered for a second and Rena had to hide a smile, "becoming the Dancer as you were meant to be. Out of the silence a Voice has echoed, calling you to stand on these steps and take on the Trials and Faith of our Warrior Goddess Celency. This path is not for the faint of heart, but it has been laid before you. Do you willingly accept the trials, tribulations and simple joy that will be given in true faith?"
In a strong voice Mia answered, "I do."
Rena felt the air get heavier around them and could barely suppress a shudder. One look at the other ladies showed she wasn’t alone, but only Cyrilla seemed to be unaffected by it. Instead both her and Mia had a look of absolute joy as Cyrilla removed her hand from Mia’s head, "Then rise Nyx, Dancer of the Night as a Dancer of War. You will take your place among our Sisters, paying service to the Goddess Celency. Stand and be recognized."
See? See! It's infuriating to say the least, maddening to say the most. I've gone through three different versions and all of them aren't completely right. This one is the closest but something is still missing, but I'll be damned if Cyrilla isn't telling me what........
I realized in just this second that I might be sounding a bit nutty in the fact that I'm talking about Cyrilla as if she's a person instead of just a character. It happens with some characters though, they become a person instead of just someone I made up though deep down I do still acknowledge that she's my own creation and the problem isn't her, but me. Admitting that though would require that I toss away my pride and grovel at the feet of greater writers than myself for help. But I'm not admitting it, not here anyway. I'll save that kind of admittance for my prayers thank you!
So that's my problem with Cyrilla and honestly, it's the least. The other problem is Tim, who is a character in Memory Lane. His role is fairly simple, not completely straight forward until the end, but simple as he's the hostage-taker leader (that's not the technical term for his role, but today that's what I want to call him so there!). The problem is that I seemed to have lost him. He had meat to him at page 124, but apparently between then and page 133 he went on a diet. The nerve of him!
Unfortunately in this I can't blame Tim like I can blame Cyrilla, this is really my fault due to the fact that I'm trying to enrich the story. This means that I have to give the meat that unfortunately Tim never really had at page 133. The true problem is that I'm not sure what button to push to get him to go into the rage that I require. Alex is suppose to taunt him, antagonize him to the point that he remains focused on her instead of the innocents in the crowd watching. She's also hoping to get information out of the bastard too. The way it is now, without the editing done prior, his button apparently is being called a coward. This is hardly realistic because if this man is more than capable of organizing and implementing such a daring (and idiotic) plan of capturing a whole crew of a television show then clearly he doesn't need to validate his bravery quota.
So now I have to find out what his button is and how Alex is going to find it. It's either that or leave Tim paper thin....and I only kind of mean the pun. More not than do.
These two problems have left me distracted from other important things because I keep looking at both instances with a frown, a growl and probably a few head shakes though I haven't descended into the swear words yet. If it continues on for another month then I might finally give into the harsher words of the English Language.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, the big picture of life, these two problems are probably minor. I mean, if I don't get them fixed then going on with either the story about Nyx or finishing third draft of Memory Lane will take longer and that's a problem, but when you compare it against my family, school assignments, newsletter articles and my other commitments it pales. Then again, if I don't get the third draft finished, I can't get to the fourth or to a publisher so that it can make it to print, thereby supplementing our income could be a bigger problem.
But that isn't my concern. My problem is with the pair of them and damn it, I want it fixed simply out of pride than of necessity. I mean I wrote them, it shouldn't be this annoying or difficult. Cyrilla theoretically is easier to work with than Tim. At least Cyrilla is established, she has some meat to her bones. Tim is a different ball and chain that really shouldn't exist in the first place. That doesn't change the reality, but it really burns my britches......
Wednesday 20 May 2009
The itch that must be scratched
You can thank my husband for today's title as it came out of a conversation in regards to my writing. Before I go into it though, let me start at the beginning.
I take you back to a time when I was fourteen, I was in High School back then and I had been just puttering around in my room. I don't recall being in the middle of anything important and in truth, I don't remember the specific date either. What I do remember is that I had this character, she didn't really have a name, at least not one I can pinpoint as being the first. However I knew everything else from her height, the color of her hair and eyes, even her attitude in general. She is, and I say this honestly, my first character. I've spoken about her a number of times off and on so I'm sure it's obvious that I'm talking about Nyx.
On this one particular day I asked a question of myself that led me to where I am now. I asked simply "How did dancers (as in the profession) come about?" Simple and you wouldn't think it would go anywhere, but it did for some reason. I started having visions of them being mighty warriors, skilled in all aspects of things. A group of people that were not only respected, but envied and left those they passed in simple awe. Immediately I knew that my character would work exceptionally well within in this profession. I went running from there with the idea. I did my research and started to craft together a race of women who lived together in an order. I'm not sure why I didn't come up with something more original than just calling them Dancers. It doesn't matter any more really because there is no doubt in my mind that is their name and that it's always been like that.
Anyway, from the Dancers I began to craft an idea for a story. As a fourteen year old girl I'll admit, the structure I had thought up was, well, depressing. Half formed ideas, concepts that were displayed poorly and frankly my transitions scenes were non-existent. I still have that very first draft of the book and when I look back at it I can't help but laugh at the paltry nature of it.
They are not the first story to suffer from this, nor will they be the last as I slowly move old writing from the paper to the computer. I just can't help but tinker at it. This one story however is the bane of my existence in a way. I'm unable to avoid the thrall of it, though in all truth I don't put that much effort in trying either. It's my story after all so why should I? That's not the problem though, not really. It's a, and I'm extremely biased of course, good story. The problem is that I can't seem to finish the damn thing.
I get about halfway through it and suddenly, bam, I get this idea of how to improve it. Or worse, and I always hate this when it happens to any of my stories, I realize that I didn't do enough preparation time into the bloody thing. There's a question of what next that I can't ever seem to answer even though, ideally, it should be something that I should be able to answer because again it's my book. The hard thing is that when I think I can answer it I realize that to answer question A, I need to know item b, c, and d. If I don't know the items, the question isn't quite so obvious.
To make this even more interesting is that I'm not the only one who is frustrated by this. No joke folks. So many people have heard about the Golden Crown in the last 14 years that I think I've gotten all of them so eager to read it that they wouldn't care if its horrible. They just want it done. My husband is no exception, actually I think he's leading the pack. He tells me constantly to just keep going, to push through past the need to know the items to answer the question, just answer it and get on with it.
Intellectually I know he's right, emotionally I know it too, but for some reason I can't do it.
Here's the usual sequence of events that happens every time the Golden Crown comes out. First I get an idea, I start thinking about it. It gnaws at me for several days until finally I give up and start writing whatever the thought is. I explore it with the words, with my minds eye, even with my ear (yes folks, I talk out my stories, leave me alone). Then, I get to this point that simply exploring the idea isn't enough because snippets of paragraphs, dialogs and over all thoughts from the characters themselves start to invade my writing. I try to push past them, jot down the snippets to go back to the exploration. It doesn't work, it gets worse, more insistent to the point that it invades my dreams until finally I give in and I start writing the scene.
I begin and in two days I write 15 pages worth of stuff, okay, technically it's 14.5, but whose being specific anyway? It shocks me, surprised that so much can flow out so fast. The reality is that these long bursts of writing happen so often that it really shouldn't be a surprise or a shock and that frankly, I should just give in at the very beginning when they first start pushing at me (the snippets that is) and save myself from agony. But can I do something like that? Noooo, that's indecent!
Anyway, so the shock leaves me bewildered, I do my little head shake and despite my vow not to tell Ike that once again I'm almost back to the drawing board instead of writing the story about the Golden Crown, I have to say "Wow dear, can you believe that in two days I wrote 15 pages worth of stuff?"
Naturally Ike asks me what did I write about? Which story is it this time? I then give him some speech about how I'm not sure if I should tell him because I know how he's going to react. Usually he says tell me anyway so I do. Tonight though he did something different. I told him that and he shrugged and said, "Okay, then don't tell me."
I was caught completely off guard and now, an hour or so later, I realize why he did it, because he already knew just by me saying it what story I was working on. I stare at him, he smiles then tells me to go ahead and say it because if I don't it's just going to eat at me. So I do and sure enough he has this look of not again.
Just like always I try to justify it "I'm not changing the story, not starting over. I'm just exploring a certain part that I hadn't before. You know, filling it out."
He then tells me that he thinks I'm now starting to make it too complicated (which he may be right about, but I'm not sure). I explain how I can't help it and once again equate the Golden Crown and Nyx to being my ultimate story. It's the story to rule them all and since Tolkien and C.S. Lewis are both big inspirations for me in regards to what a grade A super novel should be like I am hoping, praying, wishing that the Golden Crown and Nyx will be that for me. Tonight though Ike suggested a different comparison because while yes, both Tolkien and Lewis put in a boat load of details (Tolkien more than Lewis as anyone who has read both can attest to) in their books, it probably didn't take them 20 years to do it. I'd have to research it to find out though as I'm not completely sure on if he's right.
He then mentioned another favorite author that we share, Stephen King. Now anyone who is a Stephen King fan knows all about the Dark Tower Series. He's got bits and pieces of the whole series in everyone one of his books, or if not all of them at the very least most of them. I noticed it first in Insomnia, but you can find it in his earlier books as well. It's like the itch you just can't stop scratching. It's always there, pulsing against your skin begging for relief to the point where you know if you don't itch it, it'll just get worse.
Thinking about it, I realize he's right in a way though I don't think I can slip tiny details about Nyx and the rest of the cast of the Golden Crown into Memory Lane (it's a totally different kettle of fish) or other books (though I do have an idea of where I might be able to pull it off....that's a different subject though).
The joke though isn't that I'm comparing myself to Stephen King (though you have to admit that's pretty funny), no. Instead it deals with the fact that it took Stephen King about 20 years to finish the Dark Tower Series so I figure, if the situation is really like that in regards to the Golden Crown, then I have only 6 more years to struggle with it before it all comes together....yippee!
I take you back to a time when I was fourteen, I was in High School back then and I had been just puttering around in my room. I don't recall being in the middle of anything important and in truth, I don't remember the specific date either. What I do remember is that I had this character, she didn't really have a name, at least not one I can pinpoint as being the first. However I knew everything else from her height, the color of her hair and eyes, even her attitude in general. She is, and I say this honestly, my first character. I've spoken about her a number of times off and on so I'm sure it's obvious that I'm talking about Nyx.
On this one particular day I asked a question of myself that led me to where I am now. I asked simply "How did dancers (as in the profession) come about?" Simple and you wouldn't think it would go anywhere, but it did for some reason. I started having visions of them being mighty warriors, skilled in all aspects of things. A group of people that were not only respected, but envied and left those they passed in simple awe. Immediately I knew that my character would work exceptionally well within in this profession. I went running from there with the idea. I did my research and started to craft together a race of women who lived together in an order. I'm not sure why I didn't come up with something more original than just calling them Dancers. It doesn't matter any more really because there is no doubt in my mind that is their name and that it's always been like that.
Anyway, from the Dancers I began to craft an idea for a story. As a fourteen year old girl I'll admit, the structure I had thought up was, well, depressing. Half formed ideas, concepts that were displayed poorly and frankly my transitions scenes were non-existent. I still have that very first draft of the book and when I look back at it I can't help but laugh at the paltry nature of it.
They are not the first story to suffer from this, nor will they be the last as I slowly move old writing from the paper to the computer. I just can't help but tinker at it. This one story however is the bane of my existence in a way. I'm unable to avoid the thrall of it, though in all truth I don't put that much effort in trying either. It's my story after all so why should I? That's not the problem though, not really. It's a, and I'm extremely biased of course, good story. The problem is that I can't seem to finish the damn thing.
I get about halfway through it and suddenly, bam, I get this idea of how to improve it. Or worse, and I always hate this when it happens to any of my stories, I realize that I didn't do enough preparation time into the bloody thing. There's a question of what next that I can't ever seem to answer even though, ideally, it should be something that I should be able to answer because again it's my book. The hard thing is that when I think I can answer it I realize that to answer question A, I need to know item b, c, and d. If I don't know the items, the question isn't quite so obvious.
To make this even more interesting is that I'm not the only one who is frustrated by this. No joke folks. So many people have heard about the Golden Crown in the last 14 years that I think I've gotten all of them so eager to read it that they wouldn't care if its horrible. They just want it done. My husband is no exception, actually I think he's leading the pack. He tells me constantly to just keep going, to push through past the need to know the items to answer the question, just answer it and get on with it.
Intellectually I know he's right, emotionally I know it too, but for some reason I can't do it.
Here's the usual sequence of events that happens every time the Golden Crown comes out. First I get an idea, I start thinking about it. It gnaws at me for several days until finally I give up and start writing whatever the thought is. I explore it with the words, with my minds eye, even with my ear (yes folks, I talk out my stories, leave me alone). Then, I get to this point that simply exploring the idea isn't enough because snippets of paragraphs, dialogs and over all thoughts from the characters themselves start to invade my writing. I try to push past them, jot down the snippets to go back to the exploration. It doesn't work, it gets worse, more insistent to the point that it invades my dreams until finally I give in and I start writing the scene.
I begin and in two days I write 15 pages worth of stuff, okay, technically it's 14.5, but whose being specific anyway? It shocks me, surprised that so much can flow out so fast. The reality is that these long bursts of writing happen so often that it really shouldn't be a surprise or a shock and that frankly, I should just give in at the very beginning when they first start pushing at me (the snippets that is) and save myself from agony. But can I do something like that? Noooo, that's indecent!
Anyway, so the shock leaves me bewildered, I do my little head shake and despite my vow not to tell Ike that once again I'm almost back to the drawing board instead of writing the story about the Golden Crown, I have to say "Wow dear, can you believe that in two days I wrote 15 pages worth of stuff?"
Naturally Ike asks me what did I write about? Which story is it this time? I then give him some speech about how I'm not sure if I should tell him because I know how he's going to react. Usually he says tell me anyway so I do. Tonight though he did something different. I told him that and he shrugged and said, "Okay, then don't tell me."
I was caught completely off guard and now, an hour or so later, I realize why he did it, because he already knew just by me saying it what story I was working on. I stare at him, he smiles then tells me to go ahead and say it because if I don't it's just going to eat at me. So I do and sure enough he has this look of not again.
Just like always I try to justify it "I'm not changing the story, not starting over. I'm just exploring a certain part that I hadn't before. You know, filling it out."
He then tells me that he thinks I'm now starting to make it too complicated (which he may be right about, but I'm not sure). I explain how I can't help it and once again equate the Golden Crown and Nyx to being my ultimate story. It's the story to rule them all and since Tolkien and C.S. Lewis are both big inspirations for me in regards to what a grade A super novel should be like I am hoping, praying, wishing that the Golden Crown and Nyx will be that for me. Tonight though Ike suggested a different comparison because while yes, both Tolkien and Lewis put in a boat load of details (Tolkien more than Lewis as anyone who has read both can attest to) in their books, it probably didn't take them 20 years to do it. I'd have to research it to find out though as I'm not completely sure on if he's right.
He then mentioned another favorite author that we share, Stephen King. Now anyone who is a Stephen King fan knows all about the Dark Tower Series. He's got bits and pieces of the whole series in everyone one of his books, or if not all of them at the very least most of them. I noticed it first in Insomnia, but you can find it in his earlier books as well. It's like the itch you just can't stop scratching. It's always there, pulsing against your skin begging for relief to the point where you know if you don't itch it, it'll just get worse.
Thinking about it, I realize he's right in a way though I don't think I can slip tiny details about Nyx and the rest of the cast of the Golden Crown into Memory Lane (it's a totally different kettle of fish) or other books (though I do have an idea of where I might be able to pull it off....that's a different subject though).
The joke though isn't that I'm comparing myself to Stephen King (though you have to admit that's pretty funny), no. Instead it deals with the fact that it took Stephen King about 20 years to finish the Dark Tower Series so I figure, if the situation is really like that in regards to the Golden Crown, then I have only 6 more years to struggle with it before it all comes together....yippee!
Saturday 2 May 2009
Story meets life
I believe I had mentioned a few months ago a story that I was trying to create for a writing contest. Well, since then I have finished it and managed to do it in 3,962 words. Since the max limit had been 4,000 I'm quite proud of myself. It's called an Immortal Life.
The main character is Sela and she's, you got it, an Immortal. Currently we're looking in on her during a week that she takes for herself every year to take a trip down memory lane. She does it for sanity purposes. Overall I think the story is good, I need to spruce it up a bit of course, but on the whole, it's a good story. I do have one complaint and that's only because I couldn't do what I really wanted to do which was go from Sela's trip down memory lane then on to the drama of dealing with another Immortal that she hates because he's in jail for murder. His sentence is life, which as I'm sure you can imagine, would be a problem.
I had this whole time line planned out, meet Sela during her birth week (thanks to a friend of mine I found out that during the time period I had chosen for Sela, the idea of a date to celebrate ones birth hadn't taken hold at the time. Because of this fact Sela choose a date that is close to when she thinks she was born, the first few hundred years is a little hazy for her though so she doesn't know for sure, you understand.) Then go on to the prison to talk to the guy she hates, the only guy she hates. Lots of snippy comments back and forth, a little flash black and tiny breakout attempt (or was it an attempt?) then the story is over.
The problem is that putting that much detail into 4,000 words is impossible. I know, I tried it. Sigh, so maybe someday I'll be able to flesh out the rest. Hell, maybe I'll do it just for the hell of it. If I don't win the contest perhaps I can do that for another contest that allows more than 4,000 words. 25,000 is a good number, I'll look for that instead then I'll be in business.
Anyway, that's not the point I actually wanted to talk about. The point I do want to discuss is how cool, if not a bit ironic, a particular part happens to directly relate to a personal epiphany that I had. Here, I'll quote from the story then go on to explain how I mean.
It was during this time that Sela could feel a role reversal with them. These mortals would take this time to throw off their cares and worries, experience the moment for what it was. To live in just this space without having their problems drag them down. For this one week Sela relied on that fact, needing it like a drug addict needed their fix. It kept her from going down a path of insensibility, kept her sane as she allowed memories of events, friends and families long past to rise up for their say.
That kind of sums up the theme of the story in regards to Immortals, at least in my opinion. I've asked a slew of people whether they would want to be immortal and everyone said yes as long as their was a provision allowing their loved ones (spouse, children, maybe parents) could be immortal together. This says something to me as a whole, that we all wish we could stop worrying about the future (think about it, the phrase I'll get to it eventually takes on a whole new meaning when you can live forever) and that they value the people around them in such a way that they think they can stand being around them for all eternity.
This, however, is not my epiphany though I can't exactly call it an epiphany. Usually those are almost instantaneous, kind of a big huge wham, bam, oh my if I had only figured that out ten years ago! So technically it's just a revelation that I believe started with Sela. My realization is that it's okay to surrender to the pull of life around me.
All right, I can imagine some of you saying "Well duh, we all know that." But do we really? How many of us really put that thought into this moment? I mean, right now I am sitting in front of a computer, trying to focus with contacts that I'm about ready to take out just so I can read this easier, but does it mean anything? Usually I'm wondering, during the pauses of my thought process that is, what do I have to do next. What is on my agenda, what is on my plan for the day. I have since realized however that doing that kind of worrying is extremely stressful. We can all make lists until our hands are crippled in a serious cramp, but what does that get us?
That's an answer for each individual to give, but for myself the answer is nothing. I always felt that I had to be doing something that pushes me forward. That propels me to the next step whether it's cooking dinner or taking the kids out somewhere. Until recently I felt I was nailed down into so many different roles and realities that I felt as if I was being pulled apart by the strain.
While writing Sela's thoughts about living in the moment, it didn't occur to me that I was about to start a very short road from a pressure filled world to a decrease of stress by at least 35% (I'd say more, but that's today, we'll see how it goes tomorrow). In other words folks, I don't feel as tired as I usually do despite having trouble sleeping (really weird and freaky dreams, I'll tell you all about it later once I figure out what flying in lingerie is trying to tell me...p.s. if you know, feel free to tell me).
Okay, give me a sec, I have to take out these contacts, blurred vision is so not fun.....
Ahhh, now I can read the screen....so where was I? Ah yes my revelation.
The first step of this revelation came from Sela I think, a subconscious light flickering on. It just took me about a month and a half for it to go from the subconscious to the conscious forefront. The second came from Ike, my hubby. We were talking about school and the problem I was having about being a writer while going for my web design degree. Basically I felt I was betraying a part of myself due to the school aspect. He said, in a way, that I sometimes just have to surrender to the direction I'm going. While he didn't say that message exactly I think he was trying to, or at least that's what I heard from him.
He was right though, but I didn't realize the truth of his message until later. I want to talk about it though before I explain how it finally sank in. Too many times have I found myself doing something other than writing full time (which, by the way, is my dream reality. To do nothing but write.) To do this though it means I'd have to give up a few things. Like my art, web pages, the various Internet activities that I do. Maybe even more than that. It's a fine ambition, but hardly practical considering the age of my kids. If I keep trying to fight the reality of my life, the various roles that I'm playing as Mother, Wife, Woman, Writer, Artist, Web Designer, etc then all I'm going to do is tear myself up.
Let me tell you, it's not fun doing that. I kept trying to find balance, but it wasn't coming to me. Something always felt like it was more important and that I had to handle that now instead of later.
Then, about three weeks ago I received a Divine Intervention. Close to midnight I was hit with an urge to gather some supplies. It was the type of urge that ignoring it hurts and ultimately I had no choice in the matter. In a short space of time I did an impromptu Ritual that even now I can't remember all that I said or did. There is only one part that is still clear as a bell in my mind even three weeks later.
Now, before this I was starting to get irritated at how some Christian believers can be so pushy about their faith. It's like the idea of believing something else is an affront to a few people and they just keep going on and on without listening or even trying to understand an alternate point of view. There are Christians that are the exact opposite (one is a very good friend of mine and we are involved in a very long conversation about our extremely opposite views and I love it so don't think I'm knocking the religion, just those that are unwilling to be open minded okay) which is fantastic, I wish the whole host of believers were the same way and perhaps one day they will be. My irritation were with the handful that aren't however and it seemed that I was finding them everywhere. Go to my church, this faith is the absolute truth no matter what, etc.
For them, sure, not for me though. Anyway, my irritation was starting to be expressed by severe sarcasm and when I get severe it's so sharp you could cut yourself with it (the gift of being a writer I think). In addition my feelings were starting to ripple toward individuals who aren't like that, but that I know are Christian. This, by the way, is not a very Wiccan way to live, but I couldn't stop myself. It just kept slipping out of me and I was having a serious control issue.
Well, that night I received a very important message from the God and Goddess. They told me very firmly "Don't scorn the Christian heart." In that instant I felt all my irritation and negativity just float away. I literally got the sense knocked back into my skull. What I didn't realize was that they left a parting gift. I have found in my experience that each time I'm in communion with the God and Goddess I often learn more than just the primary message that I get from Them. I've talked to others who have had similar experiences, even with the Christian God as well I might as well add, who find the same circumstances.
Well, the gift they gave me was a deeper understanding of myself. The release of all that aggravation also freed me from this road block I had in regards to my life. Without even realizing it, the moment I closed the circle I actually stopped fighting my life. I was finding my balance. Decisions on going out and doing something for myself were suddenly much easier for me.
The next day I did a major house cleaning, got rid of a lot of old stuff that had to just go. I hung up some pictures (finally) in my downstairs area then lost my dog. LOL. I laugh now, I wasn't laughing then.
What is interesting though is that I think Chelsey escaping from the fence then go missing for two days straight was a test to see if I had really absorbed the message. Despite not being able to sleep or study for my midterms or do my major research paper and even trying to keep the kids from being too upset (btw, if you have young children and your pet goes missing, tell them the pet in question is on an adventure and will be back soon. It worked amazingly well for Raven) I didn't feel like the world was crashing around me. That even though I was really upset I just knew it was going to be okay, that I would find her.
We did find her and I was deliriously happy because my husband came home from his trip two hours later, at which point I then collapsed in bed and slept off the exhaustion I was feeling. And the next day I didn't feel drained like I usually do after a serious situation like that. I wasn't completely rejuvenated, but I also wasn't wondering what else would go wrong.
That was completely uplifting...once I realized it that is (remember, revelations take time to articulate even in our own heads).
There are two more incidents that really pushed the whole concept into my consciousness. The first one that happened did so last week on Thursday. I was talking with my personal trainer when I noticed that despite being only 24, he looked more stressed and tired that I was. I mean, heck he's 24, unmarried (with a steady girlfriend) and a great job. I thought he should be living life for all it was worth, but he wasn't. He was in the process of telling me that he still needed to do my diet and the diet for 30 other people when I got up and closed the door to his office. I told him quite frankly and upfront that he had to start taking care of himself. Take time for himself and I told him everything I've been trying to tell myself, that Ike has been telling me...hell, that everyone I knew was telling me. Take time for yourself, be true to your own needs because if you can't do that then you can't take care of other people.
After I left the gym though I got to thinking about what I told him, what message I was trying to convey to him and realized that I don't do that myself. How could I, a person that was having trouble merging my own life give someone advice on how to do it. That was when I realized that I have to stop making excuses to not do it. That I just had to get up, shake myself and, well, do it.
So I did. The whole next week, since I knew Ike was going to be leaving for another trip, I went out and did something for just me. I bought a new dress (yes, I finally am trying to buy dresses which is something I haven't done since I was 18 I think...I'm not a dress person), I bought a few other pieces for my wardrobe. I also got myself a haircut that I've been meaning to get done and, shock of all shocks, I did something new. Gasp at the horror! LOL. I laugh because before the kids were born I was always about doing something new and now I drag my feet.
However I just went into the Hair Saloon and said "Screw it" then got my eyebrows waxed. I had never done it before and I had been thinking about it, just never had the courage. Last weekend I garnered it and came out with a freshly waxed set of eyebrows. I'll admit, I'm not sure about the shape the lady put them in, but hell it was my first time, how was I to know?
It's like a whole new me started that night after the God and Goddess spoke to me. Not just a new me, but a new lease on life. All because I finally surrendered to the journey instead of striving for the destination.
That leads me to the last and most recent event that solidified the whole concept in my mind. I was talking to my college coach (think life skills coach geared only to my classroom situation though she and I always manage to talk about everything else as well). We were talking about how things have been since my intervention and in doing that phrase came to me. Which, incidentally, is also a Chinese Proverb, or at least a paraphrase of one.
So how does my story meet my life? Well, it's actually pretty simple.
Such short lives, filled with cares that could never compare to history. In some ways Sela wished that she could shake each and everyone one of them, tell them in lurid detail how lucky they were to live and die, to share with them the beauty that simple mortality gave them.
The main character is Sela and she's, you got it, an Immortal. Currently we're looking in on her during a week that she takes for herself every year to take a trip down memory lane. She does it for sanity purposes. Overall I think the story is good, I need to spruce it up a bit of course, but on the whole, it's a good story. I do have one complaint and that's only because I couldn't do what I really wanted to do which was go from Sela's trip down memory lane then on to the drama of dealing with another Immortal that she hates because he's in jail for murder. His sentence is life, which as I'm sure you can imagine, would be a problem.
I had this whole time line planned out, meet Sela during her birth week (thanks to a friend of mine I found out that during the time period I had chosen for Sela, the idea of a date to celebrate ones birth hadn't taken hold at the time. Because of this fact Sela choose a date that is close to when she thinks she was born, the first few hundred years is a little hazy for her though so she doesn't know for sure, you understand.) Then go on to the prison to talk to the guy she hates, the only guy she hates. Lots of snippy comments back and forth, a little flash black and tiny breakout attempt (or was it an attempt?) then the story is over.
The problem is that putting that much detail into 4,000 words is impossible. I know, I tried it. Sigh, so maybe someday I'll be able to flesh out the rest. Hell, maybe I'll do it just for the hell of it. If I don't win the contest perhaps I can do that for another contest that allows more than 4,000 words. 25,000 is a good number, I'll look for that instead then I'll be in business.
Anyway, that's not the point I actually wanted to talk about. The point I do want to discuss is how cool, if not a bit ironic, a particular part happens to directly relate to a personal epiphany that I had. Here, I'll quote from the story then go on to explain how I mean.
It was during this time that Sela could feel a role reversal with them. These mortals would take this time to throw off their cares and worries, experience the moment for what it was. To live in just this space without having their problems drag them down. For this one week Sela relied on that fact, needing it like a drug addict needed their fix. It kept her from going down a path of insensibility, kept her sane as she allowed memories of events, friends and families long past to rise up for their say.
That kind of sums up the theme of the story in regards to Immortals, at least in my opinion. I've asked a slew of people whether they would want to be immortal and everyone said yes as long as their was a provision allowing their loved ones (spouse, children, maybe parents) could be immortal together. This says something to me as a whole, that we all wish we could stop worrying about the future (think about it, the phrase I'll get to it eventually takes on a whole new meaning when you can live forever) and that they value the people around them in such a way that they think they can stand being around them for all eternity.
This, however, is not my epiphany though I can't exactly call it an epiphany. Usually those are almost instantaneous, kind of a big huge wham, bam, oh my if I had only figured that out ten years ago! So technically it's just a revelation that I believe started with Sela. My realization is that it's okay to surrender to the pull of life around me.
All right, I can imagine some of you saying "Well duh, we all know that." But do we really? How many of us really put that thought into this moment? I mean, right now I am sitting in front of a computer, trying to focus with contacts that I'm about ready to take out just so I can read this easier, but does it mean anything? Usually I'm wondering, during the pauses of my thought process that is, what do I have to do next. What is on my agenda, what is on my plan for the day. I have since realized however that doing that kind of worrying is extremely stressful. We can all make lists until our hands are crippled in a serious cramp, but what does that get us?
That's an answer for each individual to give, but for myself the answer is nothing. I always felt that I had to be doing something that pushes me forward. That propels me to the next step whether it's cooking dinner or taking the kids out somewhere. Until recently I felt I was nailed down into so many different roles and realities that I felt as if I was being pulled apart by the strain.
While writing Sela's thoughts about living in the moment, it didn't occur to me that I was about to start a very short road from a pressure filled world to a decrease of stress by at least 35% (I'd say more, but that's today, we'll see how it goes tomorrow). In other words folks, I don't feel as tired as I usually do despite having trouble sleeping (really weird and freaky dreams, I'll tell you all about it later once I figure out what flying in lingerie is trying to tell me...p.s. if you know, feel free to tell me).
Okay, give me a sec, I have to take out these contacts, blurred vision is so not fun.....
Ahhh, now I can read the screen....so where was I? Ah yes my revelation.
The first step of this revelation came from Sela I think, a subconscious light flickering on. It just took me about a month and a half for it to go from the subconscious to the conscious forefront. The second came from Ike, my hubby. We were talking about school and the problem I was having about being a writer while going for my web design degree. Basically I felt I was betraying a part of myself due to the school aspect. He said, in a way, that I sometimes just have to surrender to the direction I'm going. While he didn't say that message exactly I think he was trying to, or at least that's what I heard from him.
He was right though, but I didn't realize the truth of his message until later. I want to talk about it though before I explain how it finally sank in. Too many times have I found myself doing something other than writing full time (which, by the way, is my dream reality. To do nothing but write.) To do this though it means I'd have to give up a few things. Like my art, web pages, the various Internet activities that I do. Maybe even more than that. It's a fine ambition, but hardly practical considering the age of my kids. If I keep trying to fight the reality of my life, the various roles that I'm playing as Mother, Wife, Woman, Writer, Artist, Web Designer, etc then all I'm going to do is tear myself up.
Let me tell you, it's not fun doing that. I kept trying to find balance, but it wasn't coming to me. Something always felt like it was more important and that I had to handle that now instead of later.
Then, about three weeks ago I received a Divine Intervention. Close to midnight I was hit with an urge to gather some supplies. It was the type of urge that ignoring it hurts and ultimately I had no choice in the matter. In a short space of time I did an impromptu Ritual that even now I can't remember all that I said or did. There is only one part that is still clear as a bell in my mind even three weeks later.
Now, before this I was starting to get irritated at how some Christian believers can be so pushy about their faith. It's like the idea of believing something else is an affront to a few people and they just keep going on and on without listening or even trying to understand an alternate point of view. There are Christians that are the exact opposite (one is a very good friend of mine and we are involved in a very long conversation about our extremely opposite views and I love it so don't think I'm knocking the religion, just those that are unwilling to be open minded okay) which is fantastic, I wish the whole host of believers were the same way and perhaps one day they will be. My irritation were with the handful that aren't however and it seemed that I was finding them everywhere. Go to my church, this faith is the absolute truth no matter what, etc.
For them, sure, not for me though. Anyway, my irritation was starting to be expressed by severe sarcasm and when I get severe it's so sharp you could cut yourself with it (the gift of being a writer I think). In addition my feelings were starting to ripple toward individuals who aren't like that, but that I know are Christian. This, by the way, is not a very Wiccan way to live, but I couldn't stop myself. It just kept slipping out of me and I was having a serious control issue.
Well, that night I received a very important message from the God and Goddess. They told me very firmly "Don't scorn the Christian heart." In that instant I felt all my irritation and negativity just float away. I literally got the sense knocked back into my skull. What I didn't realize was that they left a parting gift. I have found in my experience that each time I'm in communion with the God and Goddess I often learn more than just the primary message that I get from Them. I've talked to others who have had similar experiences, even with the Christian God as well I might as well add, who find the same circumstances.
Well, the gift they gave me was a deeper understanding of myself. The release of all that aggravation also freed me from this road block I had in regards to my life. Without even realizing it, the moment I closed the circle I actually stopped fighting my life. I was finding my balance. Decisions on going out and doing something for myself were suddenly much easier for me.
The next day I did a major house cleaning, got rid of a lot of old stuff that had to just go. I hung up some pictures (finally) in my downstairs area then lost my dog. LOL. I laugh now, I wasn't laughing then.
What is interesting though is that I think Chelsey escaping from the fence then go missing for two days straight was a test to see if I had really absorbed the message. Despite not being able to sleep or study for my midterms or do my major research paper and even trying to keep the kids from being too upset (btw, if you have young children and your pet goes missing, tell them the pet in question is on an adventure and will be back soon. It worked amazingly well for Raven) I didn't feel like the world was crashing around me. That even though I was really upset I just knew it was going to be okay, that I would find her.
We did find her and I was deliriously happy because my husband came home from his trip two hours later, at which point I then collapsed in bed and slept off the exhaustion I was feeling. And the next day I didn't feel drained like I usually do after a serious situation like that. I wasn't completely rejuvenated, but I also wasn't wondering what else would go wrong.
That was completely uplifting...once I realized it that is (remember, revelations take time to articulate even in our own heads).
There are two more incidents that really pushed the whole concept into my consciousness. The first one that happened did so last week on Thursday. I was talking with my personal trainer when I noticed that despite being only 24, he looked more stressed and tired that I was. I mean, heck he's 24, unmarried (with a steady girlfriend) and a great job. I thought he should be living life for all it was worth, but he wasn't. He was in the process of telling me that he still needed to do my diet and the diet for 30 other people when I got up and closed the door to his office. I told him quite frankly and upfront that he had to start taking care of himself. Take time for himself and I told him everything I've been trying to tell myself, that Ike has been telling me...hell, that everyone I knew was telling me. Take time for yourself, be true to your own needs because if you can't do that then you can't take care of other people.
After I left the gym though I got to thinking about what I told him, what message I was trying to convey to him and realized that I don't do that myself. How could I, a person that was having trouble merging my own life give someone advice on how to do it. That was when I realized that I have to stop making excuses to not do it. That I just had to get up, shake myself and, well, do it.
So I did. The whole next week, since I knew Ike was going to be leaving for another trip, I went out and did something for just me. I bought a new dress (yes, I finally am trying to buy dresses which is something I haven't done since I was 18 I think...I'm not a dress person), I bought a few other pieces for my wardrobe. I also got myself a haircut that I've been meaning to get done and, shock of all shocks, I did something new. Gasp at the horror! LOL. I laugh because before the kids were born I was always about doing something new and now I drag my feet.
However I just went into the Hair Saloon and said "Screw it" then got my eyebrows waxed. I had never done it before and I had been thinking about it, just never had the courage. Last weekend I garnered it and came out with a freshly waxed set of eyebrows. I'll admit, I'm not sure about the shape the lady put them in, but hell it was my first time, how was I to know?
It's like a whole new me started that night after the God and Goddess spoke to me. Not just a new me, but a new lease on life. All because I finally surrendered to the journey instead of striving for the destination.
That leads me to the last and most recent event that solidified the whole concept in my mind. I was talking to my college coach (think life skills coach geared only to my classroom situation though she and I always manage to talk about everything else as well). We were talking about how things have been since my intervention and in doing that phrase came to me. Which, incidentally, is also a Chinese Proverb, or at least a paraphrase of one.
So how does my story meet my life? Well, it's actually pretty simple.
Such short lives, filled with cares that could never compare to history. In some ways Sela wished that she could shake each and everyone one of them, tell them in lurid detail how lucky they were to live and die, to share with them the beauty that simple mortality gave them.
Thursday 12 March 2009
Tears in my eyes
Okay, now before I start, let me first explain that what I'm about to talk about, I mean no offense if any is taken. I respect all manner of belief and I do not judge someone based on what they believe. Some of my best friends are of a variety of religions and frankly I think that just makes them even more special to me.
........
Now that I have affirmed the truth with my statement, let me explain why I had to state all that first. As you know I'm writing a story for a writing contest that needs to be no more than 4,000 words (which I still think is nuts, you can't have a good story in that little amount, but hey, it's their rules). So I'm writing about immortals, but they aren't your typical immortals. If I was to tell you what I mean I'd ruin the story and where is the fun in that?
Anyway, I was searching on the Internet and I found this site:
http://www.livescience.com/health/top10_immortals-1.html#comments
The list is interesting and humorous. I'm always up for a good laugh so of course I wanted to look through it and hopefully get a few research ideas....sadly I didn't get the ideas but I did get a lot of laughs.
If you get a chance, read through the comments. The extent that their discussion went through is priceless and very involved.
The question came up of whether Jesus Christ should have been #1 on the list. It seemed to me that the combatants were split. Yes, I say combatants because of the very nature of the comments. It was clear that half of them were die hard believers (nothing wrong with that as long as you don't try to shove it down my throat) while the other half were a mix of different faiths or clear atheists.
There are five sides to this argument. The first side are the clear believers. They say that because Jesus is Eternal, this makes him Immortal and therefore should be at the top of the list. The second side are the believers who are a bit more open to the differences between the words Eternal and Immortal. They say that because Jesus technically died and while yes he was resurrected and was risen up to live by God until it was time for his return, he wouldn't be considered Immortal in the sense that the word means to live on Earth forever. This is a more literal translation of the words than of the sense I think.
The third side is that Jesus was just a man who died and therefore can't be Immortal. Whether he was the son of God is a discussion for another day. I would classify these individuals as the ones that have faith in a variety of degrees, but also recognize that other people are welcome to their own belief structures.
The fourth side says "Hello, this is a list of fictional characters that are thought to be Immortal and if you think Jesus should be on the list then clearly you must think he's fictional!" Of course, it then gets pointed out that Noah's Grandfather was on the list who is an individual mentioned in the Old Testament.
The last side says very simply religion shouldn't be a part of this discussion because this is suppose to be for fun.
Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but reading their comments sure is fun for me. I've been giggling over and over at the back and forth going on between them. Some of the replies are just so fantasy driven that it makes your eyes pop open. I mean, hello! They mentioned PETER PAN on the list and an Elf from Lord of the Rings. Of course the person who wrote this list wasn't thinking from a religious standpoint and the mentioning of Methuselah was probably because they ran out of names as he's the only one with a religious backgrounds (unless you include the Greek Mythologies as a religious text then there is one other).
With that said, I have to admit that some of the comments that people have left do make a lot of sense. I especially like the one where some guy stated that Jesus was just a man and someone replied in response that either he was a man who was insane, or he really was the Son of God which means that the belief in him is proof that he must be just what he said. As a person who has had this very point used in a discussion about Jesus, I admit the validity of this.
On the other hand, some of the points made are so ridiculous that if you can't laugh at them as well I wish you could read them from my perspective.
Anyway, I just wanted to share the amusement of this site and for the record, I think the Road Runner should have been the first on the list followed very closely by Jerry the Mouse then by Wylie Coyote. I mean come on, those guys are still going strong even though they should be long gone.
Oh and don't forget Mickey Mouse!
........
Now that I have affirmed the truth with my statement, let me explain why I had to state all that first. As you know I'm writing a story for a writing contest that needs to be no more than 4,000 words (which I still think is nuts, you can't have a good story in that little amount, but hey, it's their rules). So I'm writing about immortals, but they aren't your typical immortals. If I was to tell you what I mean I'd ruin the story and where is the fun in that?
Anyway, I was searching on the Internet and I found this site:
http://www.livescience.com/health/top10_immortals-1.html#comments
The list is interesting and humorous. I'm always up for a good laugh so of course I wanted to look through it and hopefully get a few research ideas....sadly I didn't get the ideas but I did get a lot of laughs.
If you get a chance, read through the comments. The extent that their discussion went through is priceless and very involved.
The question came up of whether Jesus Christ should have been #1 on the list. It seemed to me that the combatants were split. Yes, I say combatants because of the very nature of the comments. It was clear that half of them were die hard believers (nothing wrong with that as long as you don't try to shove it down my throat) while the other half were a mix of different faiths or clear atheists.
There are five sides to this argument. The first side are the clear believers. They say that because Jesus is Eternal, this makes him Immortal and therefore should be at the top of the list. The second side are the believers who are a bit more open to the differences between the words Eternal and Immortal. They say that because Jesus technically died and while yes he was resurrected and was risen up to live by God until it was time for his return, he wouldn't be considered Immortal in the sense that the word means to live on Earth forever. This is a more literal translation of the words than of the sense I think.
The third side is that Jesus was just a man who died and therefore can't be Immortal. Whether he was the son of God is a discussion for another day. I would classify these individuals as the ones that have faith in a variety of degrees, but also recognize that other people are welcome to their own belief structures.
The fourth side says "Hello, this is a list of fictional characters that are thought to be Immortal and if you think Jesus should be on the list then clearly you must think he's fictional!" Of course, it then gets pointed out that Noah's Grandfather was on the list who is an individual mentioned in the Old Testament.
The last side says very simply religion shouldn't be a part of this discussion because this is suppose to be for fun.
Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but reading their comments sure is fun for me. I've been giggling over and over at the back and forth going on between them. Some of the replies are just so fantasy driven that it makes your eyes pop open. I mean, hello! They mentioned PETER PAN on the list and an Elf from Lord of the Rings. Of course the person who wrote this list wasn't thinking from a religious standpoint and the mentioning of Methuselah was probably because they ran out of names as he's the only one with a religious backgrounds (unless you include the Greek Mythologies as a religious text then there is one other).
With that said, I have to admit that some of the comments that people have left do make a lot of sense. I especially like the one where some guy stated that Jesus was just a man and someone replied in response that either he was a man who was insane, or he really was the Son of God which means that the belief in him is proof that he must be just what he said. As a person who has had this very point used in a discussion about Jesus, I admit the validity of this.
On the other hand, some of the points made are so ridiculous that if you can't laugh at them as well I wish you could read them from my perspective.
Anyway, I just wanted to share the amusement of this site and for the record, I think the Road Runner should have been the first on the list followed very closely by Jerry the Mouse then by Wylie Coyote. I mean come on, those guys are still going strong even though they should be long gone.
Oh and don't forget Mickey Mouse!
Monday 23 February 2009
Begone Age!
I have come to realize that I'm getting older. I'm not old, just older than I was two weeks ago. Actually, to be truthful, I'm older than I was five years ago. I'm not just talking about the physical...though I am...but it's more than that though. I'm actually starting to feel old inside as well. It's not very pleasant.
So here is the situation. I'm at the computer. I'm reading a site that a friend of mine sent me, just doing the looking and saw an article that I like. The problem is that it's on a black background with tiny white type. I'm squinting..then I try not to squint and end up leaning only to squint and lean. Not only is this something I hate, it makes me feel old. It reminds me that I'm only a year and a half away from 30.
So the question becomes this: Does the fact that I'm starting to feel the age that I actually am mean something or am I just having a bad age night? Am I trying to avoid reality or trying to stave it off?
Two days ago my Mom and I were talking about Lasik and PRK surgery for the eyes. She got it done about 8 years ago and she's still a fan. I'm talking about how my eyes have been behaving and she says "Well Jess, you might need to get bi-focals."...........
WHAT?
Now, I'm an open minded individual. I tell people all the time that old isn't until you hit 100, then you can say that you're getting old. I tease my husband because he doesn't want to wear his glasses because they make him realize that he's getting older. Why? Because I have always thought that being concerned with age is a bit of a waste of time. So suddenly when my Mom hit me with that statement I found myself confronted with a plain and simple truth.
I'm a hypocrite!
Here I am trying to help alleviate the worries of individuals who have more years than I that they really aren't old and suddenly when I hear that I might have to get bi-focals I rebel because it means that I'm old-er.
The worse part, I'm not sure what to do about this feeling in my head because it's like beating at my skull saying "You're getting older, you're getting older!" I mean, come on, I'm suppose to be young forever if not in body then in mind right? Right? RIGHT?
I keep saying that to the voice, but for some reason I can't ignore it.......and frankly I'm not happy about it.
Jess
So here is the situation. I'm at the computer. I'm reading a site that a friend of mine sent me, just doing the looking and saw an article that I like. The problem is that it's on a black background with tiny white type. I'm squinting..then I try not to squint and end up leaning only to squint and lean. Not only is this something I hate, it makes me feel old. It reminds me that I'm only a year and a half away from 30.
So the question becomes this: Does the fact that I'm starting to feel the age that I actually am mean something or am I just having a bad age night? Am I trying to avoid reality or trying to stave it off?
Two days ago my Mom and I were talking about Lasik and PRK surgery for the eyes. She got it done about 8 years ago and she's still a fan. I'm talking about how my eyes have been behaving and she says "Well Jess, you might need to get bi-focals."...........
WHAT?
Now, I'm an open minded individual. I tell people all the time that old isn't until you hit 100, then you can say that you're getting old. I tease my husband because he doesn't want to wear his glasses because they make him realize that he's getting older. Why? Because I have always thought that being concerned with age is a bit of a waste of time. So suddenly when my Mom hit me with that statement I found myself confronted with a plain and simple truth.
I'm a hypocrite!
Here I am trying to help alleviate the worries of individuals who have more years than I that they really aren't old and suddenly when I hear that I might have to get bi-focals I rebel because it means that I'm old-er.
The worse part, I'm not sure what to do about this feeling in my head because it's like beating at my skull saying "You're getting older, you're getting older!" I mean, come on, I'm suppose to be young forever if not in body then in mind right? Right? RIGHT?
I keep saying that to the voice, but for some reason I can't ignore it.......and frankly I'm not happy about it.
Jess
Friday 16 January 2009
Neck deep in Cheers, Tears and....
I couldn't come up with a suitable word that rhymed and was accurate about today. It wasn't too bad I suppose, not until night had fallen. I spent about eight hours, off and on throughout the day, working on my homework which is a pain in the butt simply because for some stupid reason we're not suppose to use our other programs along with Flash to do it.....okay, it's not completely stupid. Impractical perhaps simply because in the 'real world' of the profession, the client isn't going to say "Well, we would like to have a furniture gallery and could you please make sure it is done only in Adobe Flash?" In reality he's going to say, "We need a furniture gallery that has some animation to it and something that looks professional and cool."
So I cheated....okay, not exactly what I would call cheat. My instructor, at the beginning of the class, told us that we could take a picture, lock it then trace it using Flash. So, that's what I did...technically. In reality I planned the whole layout of the project in Photoshop then moved it into Flash, traced it, redid it all in Flash and now I'm in the middle of animating it. So it's not cheating precisely, just improvising..... When it's turned in, all the pictures will be done in Flash and he doesn't have to know about me using the Photoshop program.
I don't feel dishonest and I don't feel like I should validate my decision because ultimately, if I want to get a good grade and pass with Honors again then I have to be creative...in more ways than one. So I'll work with what I do best then move it to practice what I don't do so well. It's the way of the Web Designer by the way.
While stressful, that wasn't the hardest part of today. The hardest part dealt with the kids. Currently my hubby is TDY (Temporary Duty) in another part of the US. He's been gone for 6 days and I have 9 days to go before he comes back. That means waking up early every morning, going to bed early (both of which I hate), feed the kids, dress the kids, bathe the kids, read to the kids, play with the kids, handle the kids, discipline the kids, listen to the kids scream, toss fits and oh yeah, break up the kids when they decide to fight. All the while trying to do my homework, work on the my Internet projects, write articles for the newsletter which is due in like a month anyway, work on my book, clean the house, take care of the cat and dog, go to the gym, get Raven started in school, try to find some way to have an eye appointment, empty out a few boxes, remember to feed myself, try to relax, finish a model that I started......
I'm exhausted just writing about it. For the last three days Isaiah hasn't been in the best of moods, which has made my daily routine somehow worse. He is insisting on being with me, either having me hold him or have him sit in my lap. Now this kid is getting heavy and lets be honest, washing dishes with one hand is just not a talent that I've developed. I'm good, but I'm not that good. It gets even harder when he refuses to let me do what is necessary.
For example, tonight we went and did some shopping. Food for the most part, but we also picked up new socks and underwear for Raven today, a new pair of pants because I think she just had another growth spurt, two belts because while she's tall, she's thin too (I'm trying not to be jealous of that fact by the way....succeeding for the most part but there are days....), plus I'm going to try and build my own organizer. Why? Because what I want to use it for, the ones that are available today wouldn't be able to do what I need. I tried using the computer calendar and that crashed and burned so bad that it hurt.
When we got home, I naturally have to bring the packages in. For one thing the dog food was in there and Chelsey (our dog) seems to enjoy eating, go figure. I also had some milk and other items that has to be refrigerated. Now, yes, it is a bit chilly these days, but I'm not going to let that stuff sit outside for an hour until the kids go to bed. So I started bringing it in. Isaiah was screaming and carrying on so badly that he headbutted the door. Amusing when you read it, but when you look at this big shiny red mark on his head, you don't feel like laughing. I'm at my wits end trying to get him to stop being so clingy to me.
I will be the first to admit that I wanted a boy because I liked the idea of a Mama's Boy....to a degree, but this is ridiculous folks. I grew up in a family that was about self reliance, I would like my kids to be the same way, but for some reason it's not working that way. Raven is bad, Isaiah gets really bad. Then again there are some days when both kids are really good about it. They don't cry at the drop of the hat, they don't have tantrums or anything like that every second. Then there are days like today when everything is wrong and Mommy's the reason for it.
What makes this all the worse, in my mind anyway, is that I don't want to do any of it. What I want to do is sit down with my manuscript and work on that...all day...every day. Obviously I can't, if anyone can when they have two children the same age as mine I feel two things for them. One is envy because I wish I could, and the other is pity because they don't choose to spend half or a majority of their time with their children. Now, perhaps, I'm a bit too enveloped in their lives, too deeply ingrained which would certainly explain why Isaiah is as needy as he tends to be at times. Then again, I like being able to share all their cheers and tears with them....
Okay, that settles it, I'm an oxymoron, a paradox that can't be happy or unhappy with the situation as it is. I'm just tired and there are days when I question my sanity then I look into their faces and realize that it's worth every hair pulling day.
----
Today I spoke to Raven about the 'monsters' that touch where they aren't suppose to. It took about twenty minutes to get her to understand it I think. The hang up was the word 'bad people' so it ended up being monsters. I thought that was good idea simply because I have to agree, if anyone molests a child are monsters. She knows that she's suppose to scream, run away and call out for either me or the cops. I tried to tell her she could scream out for her Daddy, but that seemed to confuse the issue so right now it's me and the cops if someone touches her in the bad place. I mention this because I had written last week about the oddity of my thoughts and my actions. Well, this actually is something that falls under that case.
You see I have all the paperwork for Raven to start school, it's filled out and practically ready to go. I plan on going in on Monday to get her started post haste. What I didn't realize until today, was the real reason why I had been putting off taking it in sooner. It came to me as soon as Raven and I stopped talking about the 'monsters'. It was a bit of fear. The idea that Raven is going to a school that I barely know, to be with kids and teachers I don't know very well scares me. I just have this worry gnawing at me unconsciously and I think it's because I was trying to put off the conversation with her.
I mean I wasn't sure if she was ready for it, if she could understand the concept. While I don't think she understands the why it's bad and that she must do what I told her to do, I think she does understand that it is bad and will do as I told her if it happens. I had tried earlier this week to talk to her about the password idea. I'm not sure if anyone is aware of the principle, but basically it works like this.
Let's say I can't pick Raven up at the bus stop for whatever reason...let's say I'm in the Hospital, so I send one of Ike's co-workers to pick her up for us. When he or she arrives there and Raven gets off the bus, the person will naturally say, "Your Mom and Dad asked me to pick you up." The way it's suppose to work is that immediately Raven should ask for the password. If the person knows it then she can go with them. If they don't, run to a police officer or someone of authority (teacher, bus driver...etc). I didn't get very far with that convo....I'm going to try again before Monday and hopefully I can think of a better way to explain it.
Doing this though reinforces the idea that today is a scary world. We have all sorts of people doing jacked up stuff that leaves me questioning about the direction the human race is taking. We seem to have more criminals than good guys sometimes....I stress the sometimes though folks because on most days I'm not feeling the strain of the day and can actually look at life with a bit of optimism....don't get me wrong, I'm more pragmatist than optimist, but there are days when I can fool myself into thinking more optimistically about general concepts.
--
You know, for a blog that's suppose to be about writing, I'm not talking about writing. Forgive me for it, but I'm not going to change the content. I really do think this is more about power writing than subject sometimes. For today it's about me pouring out inconsistent thoughts that plague my subconscious.
So I cheated....okay, not exactly what I would call cheat. My instructor, at the beginning of the class, told us that we could take a picture, lock it then trace it using Flash. So, that's what I did...technically. In reality I planned the whole layout of the project in Photoshop then moved it into Flash, traced it, redid it all in Flash and now I'm in the middle of animating it. So it's not cheating precisely, just improvising..... When it's turned in, all the pictures will be done in Flash and he doesn't have to know about me using the Photoshop program.
I don't feel dishonest and I don't feel like I should validate my decision because ultimately, if I want to get a good grade and pass with Honors again then I have to be creative...in more ways than one. So I'll work with what I do best then move it to practice what I don't do so well. It's the way of the Web Designer by the way.
While stressful, that wasn't the hardest part of today. The hardest part dealt with the kids. Currently my hubby is TDY (Temporary Duty) in another part of the US. He's been gone for 6 days and I have 9 days to go before he comes back. That means waking up early every morning, going to bed early (both of which I hate), feed the kids, dress the kids, bathe the kids, read to the kids, play with the kids, handle the kids, discipline the kids, listen to the kids scream, toss fits and oh yeah, break up the kids when they decide to fight. All the while trying to do my homework, work on the my Internet projects, write articles for the newsletter which is due in like a month anyway, work on my book, clean the house, take care of the cat and dog, go to the gym, get Raven started in school, try to find some way to have an eye appointment, empty out a few boxes, remember to feed myself, try to relax, finish a model that I started......
I'm exhausted just writing about it. For the last three days Isaiah hasn't been in the best of moods, which has made my daily routine somehow worse. He is insisting on being with me, either having me hold him or have him sit in my lap. Now this kid is getting heavy and lets be honest, washing dishes with one hand is just not a talent that I've developed. I'm good, but I'm not that good. It gets even harder when he refuses to let me do what is necessary.
For example, tonight we went and did some shopping. Food for the most part, but we also picked up new socks and underwear for Raven today, a new pair of pants because I think she just had another growth spurt, two belts because while she's tall, she's thin too (I'm trying not to be jealous of that fact by the way....succeeding for the most part but there are days....), plus I'm going to try and build my own organizer. Why? Because what I want to use it for, the ones that are available today wouldn't be able to do what I need. I tried using the computer calendar and that crashed and burned so bad that it hurt.
When we got home, I naturally have to bring the packages in. For one thing the dog food was in there and Chelsey (our dog) seems to enjoy eating, go figure. I also had some milk and other items that has to be refrigerated. Now, yes, it is a bit chilly these days, but I'm not going to let that stuff sit outside for an hour until the kids go to bed. So I started bringing it in. Isaiah was screaming and carrying on so badly that he headbutted the door. Amusing when you read it, but when you look at this big shiny red mark on his head, you don't feel like laughing. I'm at my wits end trying to get him to stop being so clingy to me.
I will be the first to admit that I wanted a boy because I liked the idea of a Mama's Boy....to a degree, but this is ridiculous folks. I grew up in a family that was about self reliance, I would like my kids to be the same way, but for some reason it's not working that way. Raven is bad, Isaiah gets really bad. Then again there are some days when both kids are really good about it. They don't cry at the drop of the hat, they don't have tantrums or anything like that every second. Then there are days like today when everything is wrong and Mommy's the reason for it.
What makes this all the worse, in my mind anyway, is that I don't want to do any of it. What I want to do is sit down with my manuscript and work on that...all day...every day. Obviously I can't, if anyone can when they have two children the same age as mine I feel two things for them. One is envy because I wish I could, and the other is pity because they don't choose to spend half or a majority of their time with their children. Now, perhaps, I'm a bit too enveloped in their lives, too deeply ingrained which would certainly explain why Isaiah is as needy as he tends to be at times. Then again, I like being able to share all their cheers and tears with them....
Okay, that settles it, I'm an oxymoron, a paradox that can't be happy or unhappy with the situation as it is. I'm just tired and there are days when I question my sanity then I look into their faces and realize that it's worth every hair pulling day.
----
Today I spoke to Raven about the 'monsters' that touch where they aren't suppose to. It took about twenty minutes to get her to understand it I think. The hang up was the word 'bad people' so it ended up being monsters. I thought that was good idea simply because I have to agree, if anyone molests a child are monsters. She knows that she's suppose to scream, run away and call out for either me or the cops. I tried to tell her she could scream out for her Daddy, but that seemed to confuse the issue so right now it's me and the cops if someone touches her in the bad place. I mention this because I had written last week about the oddity of my thoughts and my actions. Well, this actually is something that falls under that case.
You see I have all the paperwork for Raven to start school, it's filled out and practically ready to go. I plan on going in on Monday to get her started post haste. What I didn't realize until today, was the real reason why I had been putting off taking it in sooner. It came to me as soon as Raven and I stopped talking about the 'monsters'. It was a bit of fear. The idea that Raven is going to a school that I barely know, to be with kids and teachers I don't know very well scares me. I just have this worry gnawing at me unconsciously and I think it's because I was trying to put off the conversation with her.
I mean I wasn't sure if she was ready for it, if she could understand the concept. While I don't think she understands the why it's bad and that she must do what I told her to do, I think she does understand that it is bad and will do as I told her if it happens. I had tried earlier this week to talk to her about the password idea. I'm not sure if anyone is aware of the principle, but basically it works like this.
Let's say I can't pick Raven up at the bus stop for whatever reason...let's say I'm in the Hospital, so I send one of Ike's co-workers to pick her up for us. When he or she arrives there and Raven gets off the bus, the person will naturally say, "Your Mom and Dad asked me to pick you up." The way it's suppose to work is that immediately Raven should ask for the password. If the person knows it then she can go with them. If they don't, run to a police officer or someone of authority (teacher, bus driver...etc). I didn't get very far with that convo....I'm going to try again before Monday and hopefully I can think of a better way to explain it.
Doing this though reinforces the idea that today is a scary world. We have all sorts of people doing jacked up stuff that leaves me questioning about the direction the human race is taking. We seem to have more criminals than good guys sometimes....I stress the sometimes though folks because on most days I'm not feeling the strain of the day and can actually look at life with a bit of optimism....don't get me wrong, I'm more pragmatist than optimist, but there are days when I can fool myself into thinking more optimistically about general concepts.
--
You know, for a blog that's suppose to be about writing, I'm not talking about writing. Forgive me for it, but I'm not going to change the content. I really do think this is more about power writing than subject sometimes. For today it's about me pouring out inconsistent thoughts that plague my subconscious.
Wednesday 14 January 2009
Brainstorming
You know what I find interesting? How our mind works. I'll take myself for example. Right now I'm tired, extremely tired, despite going to bed early I'm still on the precipice of being asleep. If I slow down for too long, say to watch TV or something, I'll be asleep in under ten minutes. Which of course means I'll have to keep moving. But, what is interesting is that despite the strong urge to close my eyes and go to sleep, I'm still thinking about a possible story.
Here's the situation. I learned of a writing contest that, if I was to win, the grand prize is $3,000 dollars plus a trip to New York for me and one other to meet with Agents, Editors and a Publisher. The entry is due in May and honestly I would love to win the grand prize. I have until May 15th to submit a short story that is 4,000 words long. That is the hard part. I have several possible ideas that could work. A serial killer confessional, Siam, I could even do a short story about Alex or maybe even Genie.....actually that's a really good idea.....Okay, a really good idea. I'd have to chew on it for awhile.
The problem however is this: How do I make it only 4,000 words and be interesting? This may not seem like a problem to most people, but I'm a slow and gradual kind of writer. I like to bring things out in time, pace the story so a short story feels, well, short. Of the four ideas, only three of them are actually viable for a short story. My serial killer piece, I'll be honest, the main character killed 19 people and you can't really confess to all 19 people in just 4,000 words. It's just not possible so realistically, unless I have the character only confess to the first one and leave the judges wanting more, then maybe. In reality though the Judges probably aren't going to care. A story is suppose to have a beginning, a middle and an end. If you leave them wanting more, clearly you don't have an end.
With Alex and Genie, well they are easy simply because I can do something from their life earlier than the story that I'm writing for them. Genie is CIA, I'm positive I could come up with some kind of mission gone wrong that can finish in 4,000 words.......okay, probably 8,000 words, but I'm flexible. I'm sure I can figure something out. If I do Alex then at least I can give her a try with readers that aren't friends or related to me. There is a sort of bias when it comes to friends and family after all that just can't be ignored....no matter how much you wish you could.
Siam is designed to be several short stories combined with one long story. Think of it like this: Chapter 1 is of course an introduction to Siam and the other people along for the ride. You find out what she looks like, how she acts...her strange sense of humor and that something isn't exactly right about her. Normal just doesn't apply. The second Chapter is in her point of view, she basically is talking to the reader while telling about this one job that she did. The hard part for Siam is that I have to step in and out of her skull throughout the whole story. For a short...which I might have one already accomplished now I think about it.....it would be of course from Siam's perspective, talking about a client. The problem is that I don't think it's 4,000 words, I think it's more.
I suppose I could do Nyx. If anyone is the easiest to write for it's Nyx, but she has a nasty habit of picking me up and running me where she wants to go which will take as long as it takes thank you very much.
There's one other possibility I suppose, an idea that has teased me off and on for the last few years. It's about my favorite theoretical subject, multiple realities. Here's the picture: A woman is walking into her kitchen to get some food for her children. She takes one step, two steps then bam, pain and she's out like a light. When she wakes up she's in the body of one of her duplicates within another reality. I know all the answers about how, why, what, when, where and who of course, but again, my problem with it being too long. I seem to be missing three separate genes in my body. The first one is the knack of drawing on paper, I just don't have it. The second seems to be the morning person gene. I am not happy with waking up early, I have a hard day the whole day if I do. Bad enough my daughter wakes me at 8:00 AM every morning, but when I have to wake up at about 6:30 just to get ready to go to the gym....I get cranky. The third gene is the kicker, it's the one that allows me to think up short stories instead of longer ones.
Anyway, who wants to read a 4,000 word story? What can you do with that? Not very much, unfortunately, you have time for one twist and that's it. Sadly I think that's a little boring, so what do I do? The answer is simple, I have until the middle of February to come up with an idea I like that could work then I have until May to write and edit the bloody thing. Plus I have school on top of that.............
I think I should have named this entry as Brainstorming and Whining. It seems half of this is just that, one or the other. The reason I'm brainstorming here instead of with my husband is because this week he's in Florida and next week he'll be in Arkansas, leaving me without a partner in the fiasco. The problem is that Ike and I think about things very differently, which is why it's easier to bounce ideas off of him since he looks at it in a completely different way than I may. This tells me one thing for certain.....I need to find more people that think like he does so that when he's away I'll have someone else to bounce my ideas off of.
Incidentally, if anyone thinks one of my ideas would be better than another, please let me know. The more input the better.
Here's the situation. I learned of a writing contest that, if I was to win, the grand prize is $3,000 dollars plus a trip to New York for me and one other to meet with Agents, Editors and a Publisher. The entry is due in May and honestly I would love to win the grand prize. I have until May 15th to submit a short story that is 4,000 words long. That is the hard part. I have several possible ideas that could work. A serial killer confessional, Siam, I could even do a short story about Alex or maybe even Genie.....actually that's a really good idea.....Okay, a really good idea. I'd have to chew on it for awhile.
The problem however is this: How do I make it only 4,000 words and be interesting? This may not seem like a problem to most people, but I'm a slow and gradual kind of writer. I like to bring things out in time, pace the story so a short story feels, well, short. Of the four ideas, only three of them are actually viable for a short story. My serial killer piece, I'll be honest, the main character killed 19 people and you can't really confess to all 19 people in just 4,000 words. It's just not possible so realistically, unless I have the character only confess to the first one and leave the judges wanting more, then maybe. In reality though the Judges probably aren't going to care. A story is suppose to have a beginning, a middle and an end. If you leave them wanting more, clearly you don't have an end.
With Alex and Genie, well they are easy simply because I can do something from their life earlier than the story that I'm writing for them. Genie is CIA, I'm positive I could come up with some kind of mission gone wrong that can finish in 4,000 words.......okay, probably 8,000 words, but I'm flexible. I'm sure I can figure something out. If I do Alex then at least I can give her a try with readers that aren't friends or related to me. There is a sort of bias when it comes to friends and family after all that just can't be ignored....no matter how much you wish you could.
Siam is designed to be several short stories combined with one long story. Think of it like this: Chapter 1 is of course an introduction to Siam and the other people along for the ride. You find out what she looks like, how she acts...her strange sense of humor and that something isn't exactly right about her. Normal just doesn't apply. The second Chapter is in her point of view, she basically is talking to the reader while telling about this one job that she did. The hard part for Siam is that I have to step in and out of her skull throughout the whole story. For a short...which I might have one already accomplished now I think about it.....it would be of course from Siam's perspective, talking about a client. The problem is that I don't think it's 4,000 words, I think it's more.
I suppose I could do Nyx. If anyone is the easiest to write for it's Nyx, but she has a nasty habit of picking me up and running me where she wants to go which will take as long as it takes thank you very much.
There's one other possibility I suppose, an idea that has teased me off and on for the last few years. It's about my favorite theoretical subject, multiple realities. Here's the picture: A woman is walking into her kitchen to get some food for her children. She takes one step, two steps then bam, pain and she's out like a light. When she wakes up she's in the body of one of her duplicates within another reality. I know all the answers about how, why, what, when, where and who of course, but again, my problem with it being too long. I seem to be missing three separate genes in my body. The first one is the knack of drawing on paper, I just don't have it. The second seems to be the morning person gene. I am not happy with waking up early, I have a hard day the whole day if I do. Bad enough my daughter wakes me at 8:00 AM every morning, but when I have to wake up at about 6:30 just to get ready to go to the gym....I get cranky. The third gene is the kicker, it's the one that allows me to think up short stories instead of longer ones.
Anyway, who wants to read a 4,000 word story? What can you do with that? Not very much, unfortunately, you have time for one twist and that's it. Sadly I think that's a little boring, so what do I do? The answer is simple, I have until the middle of February to come up with an idea I like that could work then I have until May to write and edit the bloody thing. Plus I have school on top of that.............
I think I should have named this entry as Brainstorming and Whining. It seems half of this is just that, one or the other. The reason I'm brainstorming here instead of with my husband is because this week he's in Florida and next week he'll be in Arkansas, leaving me without a partner in the fiasco. The problem is that Ike and I think about things very differently, which is why it's easier to bounce ideas off of him since he looks at it in a completely different way than I may. This tells me one thing for certain.....I need to find more people that think like he does so that when he's away I'll have someone else to bounce my ideas off of.
Incidentally, if anyone thinks one of my ideas would be better than another, please let me know. The more input the better.
Monday 12 January 2009
School, glorious school!
So, my first week started with Flash. It's a nifty graphic animation program that just looks, well, awesome. Yet, when I stare at it I find myself in a bind. I have to do my homework, but what I really want to do is sit down with my manuscript and work on that instead. It's easier to do that, which is saying something considering how many times I've already talked about how hard it is to edit my own stuff. Is this karma you think? Maybe someone is trying to tell me something, a little hint, a drop of a feather...something.
Throughout the last five years I have been given a thousand and one signs from the Gods and Goddesses (Yes, folks, you've read that correctly. I am Wiccan and I am proud of it. I've gone through a lot in regards to my choice of religion and in all honesty, I'm a little tired of trying to be sensitive to everyone's opinion on the matter. If you have a concern about my choice of Faith, my apologies if I seem insensitive. However, I've been having a conversation with a very good friend of mine that is devoutly Christian and in our conversation he has shown me that being afraid to admit the truth to those who love me is a disservice not just to myself but to my Faith. I am Wiccan, I believe in duality and I am proud....okay, that's out of my system, let me get back to the point) that my writing should take priority. From feathers to omens to readings to even a not so gentle nudge from my Spiritual Guides....and that was an experience I'll never forget.
So with all these hints and pushes toward this path, why oh why am I also working on being an artist? Would you believe I actually have an answer to that? It's simple really...I'm a glutton for punishment. I've given this a lot of thought in regards to creativity and the source of it. We all have a bit of it in ourselves and we express it in different ways. It doesn't make sense for one person to be more creative than another even though we hail artists and writers with an over abundance of it. On the contrary, I think that the mathematician or the physicist has just as much, if not more creativity than I or any of my more artistic friends and family. The difference is in the expression. In fact I have more admiration for the mathematician, historian or physicist than I do for other artists and writers (actually I envy the artists and writers for a totally different reason though) simply because not only are they creative, they have the technical know how.
Again though I seem to be stumbling off the subject. My point is that I have this well of creativity and apparently it's not satisfied with just one outlet...though why not I can't understand simply because just to write a book takes so much out of me that it's frightening. I guess because it's a different medium that is the main point. Writing the words gives an avenue for the internal conflict within myself. Think about it for a moment if you will. A book is filled with characters, plots, craziness and romance. We have to twist the life of a person(s) in this story to make it interesting. I don't think I've read a single book that has the story premise that everything was fine when it started, fine in the middle of it and fine at the end of it. Our lives are, and pardon me for saying this, a bit mundane when you compare it to the world of movies and books. We dip into those mediums for the hope of an adventure that's safe and exciting to us. We want to be oohhed and aahhed. Why? Where else are we going to get it?
So the writers of these books need to have some kind of desire, deep down or at the surface, for the adventure they write about. Now, I'm not sure about other writers and if you are one, please feel free to let me know, but as for me when I start writing a story I find myself in the story. It's in my day dreams, my dreams at night, even in my thoughts. It's almost as if I'm living it in a way....but that just may be wishful thinking on my part.
Art and web designing though is a whole different kettle of fish. It requires a different set of creative muscles and perhaps the reason why I'm flexing both sets at once is because I like exhausting myself mentally. I suppose it would explain all my attempts to draw people into theoretical discussions about multiple realities and whether or not aliens really do exist and if they do would they really be a bipedal?
So why exhaust myself mentally? For fun? Or is there some deeper need that I'm attempt to satisfy or replace? That's the real question I suppose, the one I have no answer for. Yet I can't help but try to search for it. If anyone has any thoughts about it, please feel free to share them. The more the merrier I suppose.
Throughout the last five years I have been given a thousand and one signs from the Gods and Goddesses (Yes, folks, you've read that correctly. I am Wiccan and I am proud of it. I've gone through a lot in regards to my choice of religion and in all honesty, I'm a little tired of trying to be sensitive to everyone's opinion on the matter. If you have a concern about my choice of Faith, my apologies if I seem insensitive. However, I've been having a conversation with a very good friend of mine that is devoutly Christian and in our conversation he has shown me that being afraid to admit the truth to those who love me is a disservice not just to myself but to my Faith. I am Wiccan, I believe in duality and I am proud....okay, that's out of my system, let me get back to the point) that my writing should take priority. From feathers to omens to readings to even a not so gentle nudge from my Spiritual Guides....and that was an experience I'll never forget.
So with all these hints and pushes toward this path, why oh why am I also working on being an artist? Would you believe I actually have an answer to that? It's simple really...I'm a glutton for punishment. I've given this a lot of thought in regards to creativity and the source of it. We all have a bit of it in ourselves and we express it in different ways. It doesn't make sense for one person to be more creative than another even though we hail artists and writers with an over abundance of it. On the contrary, I think that the mathematician or the physicist has just as much, if not more creativity than I or any of my more artistic friends and family. The difference is in the expression. In fact I have more admiration for the mathematician, historian or physicist than I do for other artists and writers (actually I envy the artists and writers for a totally different reason though) simply because not only are they creative, they have the technical know how.
Again though I seem to be stumbling off the subject. My point is that I have this well of creativity and apparently it's not satisfied with just one outlet...though why not I can't understand simply because just to write a book takes so much out of me that it's frightening. I guess because it's a different medium that is the main point. Writing the words gives an avenue for the internal conflict within myself. Think about it for a moment if you will. A book is filled with characters, plots, craziness and romance. We have to twist the life of a person(s) in this story to make it interesting. I don't think I've read a single book that has the story premise that everything was fine when it started, fine in the middle of it and fine at the end of it. Our lives are, and pardon me for saying this, a bit mundane when you compare it to the world of movies and books. We dip into those mediums for the hope of an adventure that's safe and exciting to us. We want to be oohhed and aahhed. Why? Where else are we going to get it?
So the writers of these books need to have some kind of desire, deep down or at the surface, for the adventure they write about. Now, I'm not sure about other writers and if you are one, please feel free to let me know, but as for me when I start writing a story I find myself in the story. It's in my day dreams, my dreams at night, even in my thoughts. It's almost as if I'm living it in a way....but that just may be wishful thinking on my part.
Art and web designing though is a whole different kettle of fish. It requires a different set of creative muscles and perhaps the reason why I'm flexing both sets at once is because I like exhausting myself mentally. I suppose it would explain all my attempts to draw people into theoretical discussions about multiple realities and whether or not aliens really do exist and if they do would they really be a bipedal?
So why exhaust myself mentally? For fun? Or is there some deeper need that I'm attempt to satisfy or replace? That's the real question I suppose, the one I have no answer for. Yet I can't help but try to search for it. If anyone has any thoughts about it, please feel free to share them. The more the merrier I suppose.
Wednesday 7 January 2009
It's the New Year
Well, as you all know, we're in 2009. Whoo hoo! It's starting out wonderfully for me so far.....I'm working out to get thinner and healthier, I'm trying to eat more regularly which leads to another irritation of mine, which I may or may not get into later. And on the 9th I'm going to be starting school again. Yipee!.......okay, I'm not as excited about it as I usually am. I liked being on vacation so to speak from learning and doing anything that required strenuous thinking beyond what I wanted to think about. Oh well, hopefully my enthusiasm for it will come after I start.
Then, my biggest resolution, finish the blasted book! We all have resolutions that we make every single year, or at least a list of of them. It's fairly simple, the first five.
1. Loose weight
2. Spend more time with my family
3. Clean the house more regularly
4. Get out of the house more often...aka, make more friends
5. FINISH THE BOOK
At least this year I'm a bit closer after what, 14 1/2 years of saying that resolution? You know, in thinking about it if I was asked what my biggest accomplishment was I'd have to say that I've never given up being a writer. I've given up so many things in my life, usually when they were half completed, but writing a book...writing several books....never gave that up. It's my dream, my quest. I suppose in the scheme of things we all need that one obsessive project. Mine is SGU and the book. I just need to be a bit more dedicated. Write on one story every day, not change which story I'm writing each day. Hey, at least I do write every day though.
I'm at page 80 of my manuscript, working on editing it more regularly than I have been. It's been ebbing from frequent to only one page a day, which is hard enough because I sometimes feel like I'm a slacker in regards to it. Though, in retrospect the fact that I only started last August and I'm at page 80 after already adding over 100,000 more words to it isn't that bad, but if I hope to have it finished by my birthday, I need to really start cracking.
There are just days when it's easier to not worry about it than to actually sit down with it.....
So here's my resolution for my book. I will work on it every day, even if it's just a few sentences. Yeah, that sounds good......
Here's hoping.
Then, my biggest resolution, finish the blasted book! We all have resolutions that we make every single year, or at least a list of of them. It's fairly simple, the first five.
1. Loose weight
2. Spend more time with my family
3. Clean the house more regularly
4. Get out of the house more often...aka, make more friends
5. FINISH THE BOOK
At least this year I'm a bit closer after what, 14 1/2 years of saying that resolution? You know, in thinking about it if I was asked what my biggest accomplishment was I'd have to say that I've never given up being a writer. I've given up so many things in my life, usually when they were half completed, but writing a book...writing several books....never gave that up. It's my dream, my quest. I suppose in the scheme of things we all need that one obsessive project. Mine is SGU and the book. I just need to be a bit more dedicated. Write on one story every day, not change which story I'm writing each day. Hey, at least I do write every day though.
I'm at page 80 of my manuscript, working on editing it more regularly than I have been. It's been ebbing from frequent to only one page a day, which is hard enough because I sometimes feel like I'm a slacker in regards to it. Though, in retrospect the fact that I only started last August and I'm at page 80 after already adding over 100,000 more words to it isn't that bad, but if I hope to have it finished by my birthday, I need to really start cracking.
There are just days when it's easier to not worry about it than to actually sit down with it.....
So here's my resolution for my book. I will work on it every day, even if it's just a few sentences. Yeah, that sounds good......
Here's hoping.
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