Tonight I think I finally nailed my query letter. I'm actually, gasp, happy with it. I just hope it works out. Now all I need to do is finish editing the fourth draft, cut out close to 25,000 words *sob*, get it proofread then actually send the blasted thing off to get rejected a dozen so times before I can celebrate the victory of an agent which will then lead to the victor of publishing and starting all over again. YAY!
Sweet Mother, it seems like a long, long, long, long road until I get there. Writing. I remember back when I was 14 and I was swept up into the enthusiasm Mrs. Farrell brought about with her encouragement. I was going to be the next Tolkien. I knew I would be. Now look at me, I'm 30 (no sympathy please because I honestly don't mind it at all) and I'm stilling whining about how much further I have to go.
Well, at least I finished the book...mostly. On Fan Story I've been getting good reviews with great pointers and help from the peanut gallery (and I do mean it in the nicest of ways, honest). And these are complete strangers who have no affiliation with me personally other than a love for the written word so that's something. It can't be all bad. And people tell me that they are writing my name down when I give them a brief synopsis of the book so that when it does get published they'll buy it. We'll see how many actually do so when it does happen.
I have decided to start thinking of it as when instead of if. I made that decision because I figured my semi-pessimistic attitude was getting in my way. That conclusion came about from AJJE Games surprisingly enough. How did it happen? Easy. I had to give a speech (actually it was a long post) and in it I talked about a gentleman who taught me that idealism can push projects through. That got me thinking about that particular lesson.
I'm the first to admit, I don't prescribe to idealism. Too many things in my life have shown me that being idealistic just disappoints you. I could give examples, but I'm feeling pretty darn good about my progress that I don't want to go down that avenue. Maybe later..naw, on second thought never mind.
Anyway, as I get older I am coming to the terms to the reality of how I look at life. I'm cynical, but not overly much. I'm not one to trust people either. I actually, to be perfectly honest, I expect people to disappoint me all the time. Why? Because it consistently happens. I've yet to find the exception. If I do I'll probably put it here. But I started thinking that maybe, just maybe, I have to let go of that attitude. Oh, I don't mean actually trusting everyone that I come across. That's too ingrained to just fade away on a gust of wind. No, sadly, I'm stuck in that principle belief pattern. However, I need to give myself and fate a try. I think, just once, I want something to be the ideal instead of the disappointment or reality...which is often both anyway.
So, today...or more aptly, this night, I make a vow. I will think positively. I will shoot not just for the moon but for my favorite planet (okay, they don't call it a planet any more but I'm going to keep doing it because it's special to me personally so pppppbbtttttttttt) Pluto. I want the cosmos and frankly my dear, I don't give a damn about anyone who says that I don't deserve it.
And that is how I nailed it in regard to my letter. I said that to myself and then I just wrote it up. I've been saying it all week with my writing and managed to crank through about 8 chapters so far. Tomorrow I'm aiming for 9. That, incidentally, is the other secret of my success. Every day I have to complete a task. Read over at least 5000 words and do my thing. If I don't get it done in the morning, I work on it through the day. Period, no if, and, or buts.
Showing posts with label Enlightened. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Enlightened. Show all posts
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
What inspires
When I was a kid, one of the first cartoons I adored was not Strawberry Shortcake or the Care Bears. Nor was I influenced by Tom and Jerry, Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck. No, my favorite of all favorite movies was The Last Unicorn. I don't remember being fascinated with Unicorns at the time. I also don't remember when I first saw it. But I do remember how much I loved it and when I saw it out on DVD for my kids a few years ago I picked it up without hesitation. I knew that I had to share it with them. Yet, despite the years and the amount of times I have watched this beloved classic of mine, not once did I fully comprehend how much I was inspired and influenced by it.
Until tonight.
As a treat, I told the kids that I would watch one of their movies with them. I do this frequently when I've finished all my work and they've behaved for the day. Today they went beyond good behavior because when I sat down to do some writing, they didn't stay downstairs and disturb me with their play or with their questions. Instead, without any prompting for me, decided to play upstairs. I was so proud and thankful for their thoughtfulness, I decided to watch a movie with them. My daughter chose The Last Unicorn as she is at the age of adoring those wonderful and magical animals.
And I watched every second, mesmerized by the beauty of it and the story, the magic that shows us not only that we can fight against what frightens us, but that change proves to help us. Still, I didn't fully clue in on the impact that this story had on me until it came to the scene where the Wizard Schmendrick changed the Unicorn into a human woman. There she stood, pale as snow, with hair as white as the clouds looking frail, beautiful, and lost. It wasn't this that had transfixed me. No, what had was the pink star on her forehead that symbolized the place where her horn once stood. In that second, when she lifted her bangs to show that star, I realized how much of an impact this movie had on me.
What do I mean? My masterpiece, the Golden Crown, has in it a race of women who are strong, magical, and beautiful. They are powerful and important to the world I created. How can you tell when a woman is a Dancer? By the star on their forehead that looks (in my minds eye) much like the Lady Amalthea's star did on hers. I saw in that moment tonight not the Lady Amalthea, but instead the youngest Dancer in the frailty and the other two Dancers in appearance. A mix of my magical race who came to be to help save the world though they do not realize it.
When I saw that I was shell shocked. I never once thought that The Last Unicorn had made such an impact or had inspired one of the most beloved characters I have ever created. This shows me that all that I hear, see, think and experience eventually comes out in my writing. The world, in all its glory and divinity, is my muse and I hope I never, ever lose that. I hope that it will continue to inspire me as The Last Unicorn has for the rest of my life. I was so moved that I had to share it.
Until tonight.
As a treat, I told the kids that I would watch one of their movies with them. I do this frequently when I've finished all my work and they've behaved for the day. Today they went beyond good behavior because when I sat down to do some writing, they didn't stay downstairs and disturb me with their play or with their questions. Instead, without any prompting for me, decided to play upstairs. I was so proud and thankful for their thoughtfulness, I decided to watch a movie with them. My daughter chose The Last Unicorn as she is at the age of adoring those wonderful and magical animals.
And I watched every second, mesmerized by the beauty of it and the story, the magic that shows us not only that we can fight against what frightens us, but that change proves to help us. Still, I didn't fully clue in on the impact that this story had on me until it came to the scene where the Wizard Schmendrick changed the Unicorn into a human woman. There she stood, pale as snow, with hair as white as the clouds looking frail, beautiful, and lost. It wasn't this that had transfixed me. No, what had was the pink star on her forehead that symbolized the place where her horn once stood. In that second, when she lifted her bangs to show that star, I realized how much of an impact this movie had on me.
What do I mean? My masterpiece, the Golden Crown, has in it a race of women who are strong, magical, and beautiful. They are powerful and important to the world I created. How can you tell when a woman is a Dancer? By the star on their forehead that looks (in my minds eye) much like the Lady Amalthea's star did on hers. I saw in that moment tonight not the Lady Amalthea, but instead the youngest Dancer in the frailty and the other two Dancers in appearance. A mix of my magical race who came to be to help save the world though they do not realize it.
When I saw that I was shell shocked. I never once thought that The Last Unicorn had made such an impact or had inspired one of the most beloved characters I have ever created. This shows me that all that I hear, see, think and experience eventually comes out in my writing. The world, in all its glory and divinity, is my muse and I hope I never, ever lose that. I hope that it will continue to inspire me as The Last Unicorn has for the rest of my life. I was so moved that I had to share it.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
That's been done before
You know, one of the things that has always bugged me about writing has been in relation to the actual ideas that we get. Here, let me give you a prime example. I had this great idea of a story. It's about how each story that is written is actually a real universe (anyone that knows me knows my love of multiple universes so this is a play on it) and that there are groups of people, aka writers, who are able to glimpse into these worlds, watch a sequence in time then take it from there. Think Myst meets Sliders and you get the idea...for the most part.
So here I was revved up, excited about this fantastic idea and I tell this person whose opinion I respect the most and guess what he says, some other guy has done something similar. It wasn't until recently that I realized just how much that annoys the hell out of me because if you think about it, someone somewhere has already written a story with a similar idea. The thing is, it's never exact and I got to thinking. A writer isn't necessarily someone who comes up with completely original ideas...no, a writer is someone who takes an idea already done by someone else and goes at it from a different perspective. That's what makes it unique.
Want an example? Well, even if you don't I'm going to give it anyway because that is just who I am.
Vampires! Ha, the age old story device that everyone just seem to love. Don't believe it? I give you the newest series Twilight. Ever since Dracula (the original for those who start thinking up some hunky guy who portrays the man go watch it in the original black and white, now that was something else. Better yet, go pick up the original book by Bram Stoker to really get a treat. Trust me, worth every word) people have been writing about Vampires. You have the Dracula 2000 series (an eye for an eye brother...I so love Epps in that film btw), you have Buffy and Angel (Angel, anytime you want to drink my blood give me a ring would ya?), you have Twilight, you have my favorite author Laurell Hamilton who makes them citizens and go all nuts with that angle (love it btw), you have Lestat and Lewis, and you have Brian Lumley's take of Vampires are really parasites. You want an original Vamp story, read the Necroscope Series!
My point is that Vampires have been done to death..no pun.....actually slight pun intended and yet we still gobble them up chew them up and wish they were real so that we can become one...once we become good looking and hot again that is. Wouldn't do to be a fat Vampire with wrinkles would it?
So it's been done before, so what? That's what I"m going to say when told that, yeah, and so have Vampires. Don't see anyone complaining about that do you????
So here I was revved up, excited about this fantastic idea and I tell this person whose opinion I respect the most and guess what he says, some other guy has done something similar. It wasn't until recently that I realized just how much that annoys the hell out of me because if you think about it, someone somewhere has already written a story with a similar idea. The thing is, it's never exact and I got to thinking. A writer isn't necessarily someone who comes up with completely original ideas...no, a writer is someone who takes an idea already done by someone else and goes at it from a different perspective. That's what makes it unique.
Want an example? Well, even if you don't I'm going to give it anyway because that is just who I am.
Vampires! Ha, the age old story device that everyone just seem to love. Don't believe it? I give you the newest series Twilight. Ever since Dracula (the original for those who start thinking up some hunky guy who portrays the man go watch it in the original black and white, now that was something else. Better yet, go pick up the original book by Bram Stoker to really get a treat. Trust me, worth every word) people have been writing about Vampires. You have the Dracula 2000 series (an eye for an eye brother...I so love Epps in that film btw), you have Buffy and Angel (Angel, anytime you want to drink my blood give me a ring would ya?), you have Twilight, you have my favorite author Laurell Hamilton who makes them citizens and go all nuts with that angle (love it btw), you have Lestat and Lewis, and you have Brian Lumley's take of Vampires are really parasites. You want an original Vamp story, read the Necroscope Series!
My point is that Vampires have been done to death..no pun.....actually slight pun intended and yet we still gobble them up chew them up and wish they were real so that we can become one...once we become good looking and hot again that is. Wouldn't do to be a fat Vampire with wrinkles would it?
So it's been done before, so what? That's what I"m going to say when told that, yeah, and so have Vampires. Don't see anyone complaining about that do you????
Saturday, 1 May 2010
Merry Beltane
It's coming to the end of May 1st, also known as May Day to others, but Beltane to me. Sadly I wasn't exactly able to do the ceremony like I wanted to due to it just being me and the kids. But I honored Beltane through decorations and some meditation. Plus the last couple nights I've had inspirations left in a nifty notebook by my bed.
With the coming of Summer, the passing of Spring, it is time to look at new ideas, new concepts. For me that means a full on workout system that should start showing results in a month, plus a new brand of spring cleaning. *Gasp* I'm attempting to be rid of clutter. My mother would faint since I'm one of those kids that was always told "Clean up this mess!" Why the change, because in the drive to be one with the Divine I've looked at my life and realized YIKES, I'm great at the study, but application through my own life. You know, walking the walk and talking the talk. I got the talk, don't have the walk. Walk into my house and you'll see proof.
So I'm putting the books to the side....sort of to the side. I Can't seem to avoid looking and reading snippets, taking notes and thinking (I never stop thinking by the way). But I'm going to try and change how I go about living before I expand the mind at a faster pace. For once I'm working on the physical first and the mind second. To do this my lovely husband said Yes, buy a treadmill. I found a cheap one the only problem is that the belt is moving to the left and won't let me fix it...yet.
Sigh, I hate it when things don't work out exactly as I want it when I want it.
One other note, my darling Raven is always encouraging. She came running up to me and said, "Mom, will you get on the treadmill to loose weight right now?" Little darling that she is. How can I fail with my kids looking at me with those brown eyes of their father that say "You can do anything Mom. Even lift the world."? I can't and I thank the Lord and Lady for giving them to me. Oh and I thank Ike too btw :)
With the coming of Summer, the passing of Spring, it is time to look at new ideas, new concepts. For me that means a full on workout system that should start showing results in a month, plus a new brand of spring cleaning. *Gasp* I'm attempting to be rid of clutter. My mother would faint since I'm one of those kids that was always told "Clean up this mess!" Why the change, because in the drive to be one with the Divine I've looked at my life and realized YIKES, I'm great at the study, but application through my own life. You know, walking the walk and talking the talk. I got the talk, don't have the walk. Walk into my house and you'll see proof.
So I'm putting the books to the side....sort of to the side. I Can't seem to avoid looking and reading snippets, taking notes and thinking (I never stop thinking by the way). But I'm going to try and change how I go about living before I expand the mind at a faster pace. For once I'm working on the physical first and the mind second. To do this my lovely husband said Yes, buy a treadmill. I found a cheap one the only problem is that the belt is moving to the left and won't let me fix it...yet.
Sigh, I hate it when things don't work out exactly as I want it when I want it.
One other note, my darling Raven is always encouraging. She came running up to me and said, "Mom, will you get on the treadmill to loose weight right now?" Little darling that she is. How can I fail with my kids looking at me with those brown eyes of their father that say "You can do anything Mom. Even lift the world."? I can't and I thank the Lord and Lady for giving them to me. Oh and I thank Ike too btw :)
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?
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.
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.
Sunday, 30 November 2008
It begins....sort of
Well, this isn't the first time I've tried to do this, but we'll see how I do this time. I just happen to be one of those people that have to keep picking at something until it takes. So here I go again, take five I think...I'd have to check to be sure.
So, what is the point of the blog this time?
Well, it's simple, I wrote my book. I put the fated words, The End. I have the Epilogue, I have a plan for another book after it...actually for two books after it. Of course, the first step is to actually really, really finish this book. Incidentally, it's called Memory Lane and I hope you'll all forgive me if I keep particulars of it to myself. You know how it is, paranoia running rampant as it is, it is never wrong to be too careful.
The thing is this, when I first decided and started to aspire toward being a published writer (honestly, if you write, you're a writer. It doesn't matter if you're published or not, if you put a pen to paper, or sit in front of the computer for several hours at a time directing characters and scenes as they need to go, guess what? You're a writer. It's only once you get someone to say, "Yeah, this is good, let's put it on the shelves" or in the magazine...whichever, then you're a published writer. I emphasize this difference for a reason, because I don't know how many times people ask me once I tell them that I'm not published yet, "Oh, so you're trying to be a writer!" Grrr), I had always thought, believed, perhaps even been told that the hard part is writing the book.
Well, folks, let me tell you something.....
IT'S A LIE!!!!!!
Oh no, that's not that hard part. Now please, don't get me wrong, it's hard to write the bloody thing. Yes, it's actually quite difficult simply because you have to create it from scratch, put it together...etc. Frankly, it's amazing that all the writers out there aren't either crazy or bald....or both. The part that's even harder though, is editing your own writing and let me explain why.
When you get that heady feeling after writing The End, you can't help but think that it's perfect. That's it's finished, I mean finally finished. You close it, you celebrate. Perhaps you go out to dinner, get a little drunk. Heck, maybe you eat a whole pint of ice cream or treat yourself to a new gadget. Whatever you do, you can't help but walk around with this glow. This feeling of complete accomplishment. There's nothing wrong with the manuscript, you're positive of it.
Then you take all the advice that has been giving to you about it. You know which I'm talking about. The wonderful piece that says, ignore the manuscript for awhile.
If you're a writer you know what I'm talking about. If you're not, well the principle is simple. Essentially because of that heady feeling you get upon completion tends to blind all of us (yes, even the writers that have been doing this for forty years will still tell you that they get that rush. It's like what race car drivers feel when they get behind the wheel once more). I mean, really blind you.
So you forget about it, you're driving yourself nuts by saying over and over in your noggin' "I'm forgetting about it. I won't touch the manuscript. I know, I'll do something else. I'll read. Or I'll work on another story. Or I'll watch a movie. PERFECT! A movie won't let me think about my book." Then, because our brains must torture us, you unfortunately pick a movie that is about a very similar subject as your manuscript. In fact, you keep picking movies and/or activities that their only consequences is that it keeps reminding you that the manuscript is there, beckoning you.
Two weeks pass, and more than likely insanity has begun to sink in. Some muttering under the breath, giving the computer the cold shoulder. Maybe even banishment of all movies/books/activities that are designed to remind you of the bloody thing. Then it gets worse.
That night, of all the miserable things our mind can do to us, instead of dreaming of Brad Pitt (or Angelina Joline if that's more your flavor), you dream of your MANUSCRIPT!
Oh yes, that's when the straw breaks the camels back. You wake up with a jerk, sitting up and disturbing your loved ones with a feral yell, growling and crying at the same moment. In a vain attempt to chase away the driving need to run to the computer, you jump in the shower. You make it cold, if it works for other things then surely it will work in this instance. Bad luck though, it doesn't because you happen to remember a scene in the manuscript where the main character jumped into a cold shower to avoid sleeping with his best buds wife....
"That's it!" you say and hurry to dry yourself, completely unaware of the patchy spots where the towel missed. You bound down the stairs, combing your fingers through your hair as best as possibly as you run to the accursed computer and glare at it. A light mantra goes through the brain, something along the lines of "all the advice says ignore it. That's what you're going to do, it's not time to look at it yet, if you do you'll just torture yourself!"
You puff for breath, hoping to calm yourself down, but it doesn't work. You rush to eat breakfast, hoping and knowing it's the last thread of salvation. If that doesn't work, screw the life boat, send in a diver because baby, you're going to jump into the middle of the storm and bedamn the consequences!
*huffs for breath*.............
...............
.................
Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, a fun one, but one nonetheless though only slightly so. Let's call it an occupational hazard and call it good.
My point is this, for the first book, if anyone manages to go three weeks before pulling out the completed thing to look at it and do the second edition of it, I'll pay up a hundred bucks. I can't promise you can spend the money anywhere except in Monopoly the Game, but I'll pay.
I think, if memory serves, I lasted about a week and a half. I do remember that I kept trying to trick myself, to lie to myself. The one lie I remember the most is "I'm only printing it up for when I'm ready to do my editing."
That lie was echoed in my brain for about 36 hours before I realized that I was lying to myself.
Another piece of advice that all writers hear or read deals with the actual editing process. The first thing you do when you're about to do your first edit is to read the thing from start to finish. This is vital, simply because then it allows you to see the whole picture instead of scene 1 through scene 45 or whatever the last scene is. Of course, this is the second piece of advice that we all ignore for the first book....I'm not sure if we'll ignore it for the second book, but since I'm not there yet you'll have to wait to find out....
Because we've lasted at most, being generous of course, two weeks and one day, we are under the mistaken belief that since we wrote the thing, we know it. We know it word for word, we can quote it, we can tell you what happens on page 23. We tell ourselves this and even dare people to test us. Of course no one does because they don't want to make us feel stupid when we really can't do it. I tell people all the time though, "Let me keep my delusion, if you don't mind. I like to think that I know my book inside and out."
This is, of course, a lie, but I'll get to that in a minute. Due to the fact that we believe this lie, we decide to forgo the reading. I mean, come on, it's only been two weeks and one day since we last looked at it, what possibly could we have forgotten????
In light of this delusion we simply go through the manuscript and start adding scenes in a flurry of typing that causes our carpal tunnel to leave us in agony. We end up adding about twenty to forty more pages to the overall book and in our defense we do read the area before and after where we added more material. Just to make sure it flows, you understand.
Feeling pleased with ourselves we finally find the itch decreased and we're feeling proud of ourselves. We now know that we can let it lie, let it sit and stew in it's own juices. Yet, we can't help but think about it. I personally spent about two years writing Memory Lane and after that much time it's ingrained into my DNA. Just one of those sad facts I'm afraid.
However, now that we've gotten over the rush, that spark of adrenaline that came from the creation of the second edition, we get clever. We start to use our ability to lie to ourselves to our advantage. How? That's simple, we ask our loved ones to read our manuscript.
We do this for two simple reasons. One, because they love us (we hope) they'll tell us approximately what we want to hear no matter how many times we ask them to rip it to shreds. Occasionally a family member will do as you ask, but let's be honest shall we, everyone wants to encourage, not discourage. Two, because then we can use this clever lie, "I'll do my third edition once everyone I sent it to reads it and gives me their opinion."
This lie is perfect for us, because some of the people we send it to can't do it immediately. It's one of the reasons we picked them, because we knew without a shadow of a doubt, that it'll take them at least six months to read it. Fooling ourselves with this ploy allows us to finally take the first piece of advice and ignore the material. We can finally get on with our life.
*sigh*
The carpal tunnel finally calms down, the main characters name is but a memory that crops up only once every two weeks depending on how busy we are. The kids start getting antsy because now you're spending your writing time with them instead of locked to your computer keyboard trying to ignore the carpal tunnel. Sure, you still do some writing, but usually it's the brainstorming for the next masterpiece that we'll work on after we're done with the first book...oh, but we're not thinking of that book....of course we're not.
Finally, six months pass and in reality only two of the four people you sent it to have finally gotten back to you, both with glowing reviews tailed along with a few "but"s. We don't mind though, we listen with a bemused smile and sometimes we'll even take that into account. Bolstered by these reviews we print out the manuscript, all neat and tidy. We get a notebook to put it all in. Why do this instead of just read it on the computer? Because it gives us that tactile feeling and let's have another bit of honesty, that rush comes back when you see this:
So, what is the point of the blog this time?
Well, it's simple, I wrote my book. I put the fated words, The End. I have the Epilogue, I have a plan for another book after it...actually for two books after it. Of course, the first step is to actually really, really finish this book. Incidentally, it's called Memory Lane and I hope you'll all forgive me if I keep particulars of it to myself. You know how it is, paranoia running rampant as it is, it is never wrong to be too careful.
The thing is this, when I first decided and started to aspire toward being a published writer (honestly, if you write, you're a writer. It doesn't matter if you're published or not, if you put a pen to paper, or sit in front of the computer for several hours at a time directing characters and scenes as they need to go, guess what? You're a writer. It's only once you get someone to say, "Yeah, this is good, let's put it on the shelves" or in the magazine...whichever, then you're a published writer. I emphasize this difference for a reason, because I don't know how many times people ask me once I tell them that I'm not published yet, "Oh, so you're trying to be a writer!" Grrr), I had always thought, believed, perhaps even been told that the hard part is writing the book.
Well, folks, let me tell you something.....
IT'S A LIE!!!!!!
Oh no, that's not that hard part. Now please, don't get me wrong, it's hard to write the bloody thing. Yes, it's actually quite difficult simply because you have to create it from scratch, put it together...etc. Frankly, it's amazing that all the writers out there aren't either crazy or bald....or both. The part that's even harder though, is editing your own writing and let me explain why.
When you get that heady feeling after writing The End, you can't help but think that it's perfect. That's it's finished, I mean finally finished. You close it, you celebrate. Perhaps you go out to dinner, get a little drunk. Heck, maybe you eat a whole pint of ice cream or treat yourself to a new gadget. Whatever you do, you can't help but walk around with this glow. This feeling of complete accomplishment. There's nothing wrong with the manuscript, you're positive of it.
Then you take all the advice that has been giving to you about it. You know which I'm talking about. The wonderful piece that says, ignore the manuscript for awhile.
If you're a writer you know what I'm talking about. If you're not, well the principle is simple. Essentially because of that heady feeling you get upon completion tends to blind all of us (yes, even the writers that have been doing this for forty years will still tell you that they get that rush. It's like what race car drivers feel when they get behind the wheel once more). I mean, really blind you.
So you forget about it, you're driving yourself nuts by saying over and over in your noggin' "I'm forgetting about it. I won't touch the manuscript. I know, I'll do something else. I'll read. Or I'll work on another story. Or I'll watch a movie. PERFECT! A movie won't let me think about my book." Then, because our brains must torture us, you unfortunately pick a movie that is about a very similar subject as your manuscript. In fact, you keep picking movies and/or activities that their only consequences is that it keeps reminding you that the manuscript is there, beckoning you.
Two weeks pass, and more than likely insanity has begun to sink in. Some muttering under the breath, giving the computer the cold shoulder. Maybe even banishment of all movies/books/activities that are designed to remind you of the bloody thing. Then it gets worse.
That night, of all the miserable things our mind can do to us, instead of dreaming of Brad Pitt (or Angelina Joline if that's more your flavor), you dream of your MANUSCRIPT!
Oh yes, that's when the straw breaks the camels back. You wake up with a jerk, sitting up and disturbing your loved ones with a feral yell, growling and crying at the same moment. In a vain attempt to chase away the driving need to run to the computer, you jump in the shower. You make it cold, if it works for other things then surely it will work in this instance. Bad luck though, it doesn't because you happen to remember a scene in the manuscript where the main character jumped into a cold shower to avoid sleeping with his best buds wife....
"That's it!" you say and hurry to dry yourself, completely unaware of the patchy spots where the towel missed. You bound down the stairs, combing your fingers through your hair as best as possibly as you run to the accursed computer and glare at it. A light mantra goes through the brain, something along the lines of "all the advice says ignore it. That's what you're going to do, it's not time to look at it yet, if you do you'll just torture yourself!"
You puff for breath, hoping to calm yourself down, but it doesn't work. You rush to eat breakfast, hoping and knowing it's the last thread of salvation. If that doesn't work, screw the life boat, send in a diver because baby, you're going to jump into the middle of the storm and bedamn the consequences!
*huffs for breath*.............
...............
.................
Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, a fun one, but one nonetheless though only slightly so. Let's call it an occupational hazard and call it good.
My point is this, for the first book, if anyone manages to go three weeks before pulling out the completed thing to look at it and do the second edition of it, I'll pay up a hundred bucks. I can't promise you can spend the money anywhere except in Monopoly the Game, but I'll pay.
I think, if memory serves, I lasted about a week and a half. I do remember that I kept trying to trick myself, to lie to myself. The one lie I remember the most is "I'm only printing it up for when I'm ready to do my editing."
That lie was echoed in my brain for about 36 hours before I realized that I was lying to myself.
Another piece of advice that all writers hear or read deals with the actual editing process. The first thing you do when you're about to do your first edit is to read the thing from start to finish. This is vital, simply because then it allows you to see the whole picture instead of scene 1 through scene 45 or whatever the last scene is. Of course, this is the second piece of advice that we all ignore for the first book....I'm not sure if we'll ignore it for the second book, but since I'm not there yet you'll have to wait to find out....
Because we've lasted at most, being generous of course, two weeks and one day, we are under the mistaken belief that since we wrote the thing, we know it. We know it word for word, we can quote it, we can tell you what happens on page 23. We tell ourselves this and even dare people to test us. Of course no one does because they don't want to make us feel stupid when we really can't do it. I tell people all the time though, "Let me keep my delusion, if you don't mind. I like to think that I know my book inside and out."
This is, of course, a lie, but I'll get to that in a minute. Due to the fact that we believe this lie, we decide to forgo the reading. I mean, come on, it's only been two weeks and one day since we last looked at it, what possibly could we have forgotten????
In light of this delusion we simply go through the manuscript and start adding scenes in a flurry of typing that causes our carpal tunnel to leave us in agony. We end up adding about twenty to forty more pages to the overall book and in our defense we do read the area before and after where we added more material. Just to make sure it flows, you understand.
Feeling pleased with ourselves we finally find the itch decreased and we're feeling proud of ourselves. We now know that we can let it lie, let it sit and stew in it's own juices. Yet, we can't help but think about it. I personally spent about two years writing Memory Lane and after that much time it's ingrained into my DNA. Just one of those sad facts I'm afraid.
However, now that we've gotten over the rush, that spark of adrenaline that came from the creation of the second edition, we get clever. We start to use our ability to lie to ourselves to our advantage. How? That's simple, we ask our loved ones to read our manuscript.
We do this for two simple reasons. One, because they love us (we hope) they'll tell us approximately what we want to hear no matter how many times we ask them to rip it to shreds. Occasionally a family member will do as you ask, but let's be honest shall we, everyone wants to encourage, not discourage. Two, because then we can use this clever lie, "I'll do my third edition once everyone I sent it to reads it and gives me their opinion."
This lie is perfect for us, because some of the people we send it to can't do it immediately. It's one of the reasons we picked them, because we knew without a shadow of a doubt, that it'll take them at least six months to read it. Fooling ourselves with this ploy allows us to finally take the first piece of advice and ignore the material. We can finally get on with our life.
*sigh*
The carpal tunnel finally calms down, the main characters name is but a memory that crops up only once every two weeks depending on how busy we are. The kids start getting antsy because now you're spending your writing time with them instead of locked to your computer keyboard trying to ignore the carpal tunnel. Sure, you still do some writing, but usually it's the brainstorming for the next masterpiece that we'll work on after we're done with the first book...oh, but we're not thinking of that book....of course we're not.
Finally, six months pass and in reality only two of the four people you sent it to have finally gotten back to you, both with glowing reviews tailed along with a few "but"s. We don't mind though, we listen with a bemused smile and sometimes we'll even take that into account. Bolstered by these reviews we print out the manuscript, all neat and tidy. We get a notebook to put it all in. Why do this instead of just read it on the computer? Because it gives us that tactile feeling and let's have another bit of honesty, that rush comes back when you see this:
Memory Lane
by Jessica McClary
by Jessica McClary
I mean, come on, of course that looks cool. If you were me, you'd think the same thing.
Right, so, after grinning like an idiot for thirty minutes, we prepare to read our book, start to finish, no stopping. Our hearts are racing, we're expecting it to be just as wonderful as we remember it. We even had chased out everyone from the house so we can have it to ourselves. A drink on the right, munchies on the left and we're set.
Forty minutes later you're depressed. Crash and burn baby!
Why? Because you just realized that scene two, which you remember so gloriously, had the last fourteen sentences start with the word "She". You left out half of the description you see in your head and, oh yeah, you're character is having mood swings she's not suppose to be having. As you get further in, you're depression gets worse...and worse.....and worse until you're crying into your manuscript by the time your family comes home. Your loved ones ask what's wrong and you wail:
"I suck!"
At which point your husband (or wife) spends the next hour trying to assure you that you don't suck while reminding you that it is the first book that you actually finished and that no one gets it right the first time they write it. Not even established writers that everyone knows is that good.
By the time you recover enough to continue reading it's well into the night. Yet, you keep plugging at it while keeping that mantra going at full force "no one does it right the first edition," then your remember, this is your second edition and you are trying not to cry again.
It takes you two or three days to finally read it all from start to finish, fighting off the temptation to make a few corrections right then. You put it to the side and then, because you're so ashamed of your so called talent, you ignore it for three more weeks. Oh, sure, you make up a worthy excuse for not doing anything about it, but again, honesty should prevail. In reality what we're doing is trying to avoid staring at the truth....you have to do more than shine it up, you have to make repairs because if you don't, forget about getting published.
When you finally get the nerve up to pull it out along with the pen, the highlighter and whatever tools you want to do the deed with, you're nervous. Despite that, you push through, choosing your ideal position to start, get comfortable then stare at the cover trying to talk yourself the rest of the way.
It works and sure enough, there's the first page with the fated words "Chapter 1". Taking several deep breaths you start and that's when you realize that all the times you had thought that the hard part was to write the thing was...A LIE!
This is where I am now by the way. I'm working on my third edition and I've only gotten to 67/244 pages. I've been working on this edition since August 2008 so you can see why I feel the way I do. In the last three and half months I've added over 9 thousand words and about 20 more pages while trying to keep the depression from wrapping around me. As I read more and more, subtracting and adding what is needed, I keep telling myself "next time will be better" and "don't you worry Jess, you're making it better, you're making it awesome. After this one, maybe you'll be ready to find an agent and/or a publisher. Keep your chin up!"
And that is my reality. That is what I'm finding out it takes to be a writer. Not only do you have to write it, you have to play mind games on yourself so that you can do it right. I am learning and now I will be sharing so that hopefully, fewer people will make the same mistakes as I am and get a few laughs while they are at it.
Right, so, after grinning like an idiot for thirty minutes, we prepare to read our book, start to finish, no stopping. Our hearts are racing, we're expecting it to be just as wonderful as we remember it. We even had chased out everyone from the house so we can have it to ourselves. A drink on the right, munchies on the left and we're set.
Forty minutes later you're depressed. Crash and burn baby!
Why? Because you just realized that scene two, which you remember so gloriously, had the last fourteen sentences start with the word "She". You left out half of the description you see in your head and, oh yeah, you're character is having mood swings she's not suppose to be having. As you get further in, you're depression gets worse...and worse.....and worse until you're crying into your manuscript by the time your family comes home. Your loved ones ask what's wrong and you wail:
"I suck!"
At which point your husband (or wife) spends the next hour trying to assure you that you don't suck while reminding you that it is the first book that you actually finished and that no one gets it right the first time they write it. Not even established writers that everyone knows is that good.
By the time you recover enough to continue reading it's well into the night. Yet, you keep plugging at it while keeping that mantra going at full force "no one does it right the first edition," then your remember, this is your second edition and you are trying not to cry again.
It takes you two or three days to finally read it all from start to finish, fighting off the temptation to make a few corrections right then. You put it to the side and then, because you're so ashamed of your so called talent, you ignore it for three more weeks. Oh, sure, you make up a worthy excuse for not doing anything about it, but again, honesty should prevail. In reality what we're doing is trying to avoid staring at the truth....you have to do more than shine it up, you have to make repairs because if you don't, forget about getting published.
When you finally get the nerve up to pull it out along with the pen, the highlighter and whatever tools you want to do the deed with, you're nervous. Despite that, you push through, choosing your ideal position to start, get comfortable then stare at the cover trying to talk yourself the rest of the way.
It works and sure enough, there's the first page with the fated words "Chapter 1". Taking several deep breaths you start and that's when you realize that all the times you had thought that the hard part was to write the thing was...A LIE!
This is where I am now by the way. I'm working on my third edition and I've only gotten to 67/244 pages. I've been working on this edition since August 2008 so you can see why I feel the way I do. In the last three and half months I've added over 9 thousand words and about 20 more pages while trying to keep the depression from wrapping around me. As I read more and more, subtracting and adding what is needed, I keep telling myself "next time will be better" and "don't you worry Jess, you're making it better, you're making it awesome. After this one, maybe you'll be ready to find an agent and/or a publisher. Keep your chin up!"
And that is my reality. That is what I'm finding out it takes to be a writer. Not only do you have to write it, you have to play mind games on yourself so that you can do it right. I am learning and now I will be sharing so that hopefully, fewer people will make the same mistakes as I am and get a few laughs while they are at it.
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