I've been feeling uninspired the last few days to write about writing, or to write at all. It may be the heat. It may be because I put too many irons on the fire, so to speak, and I'm starting to feel overwhelmed w/ all my projects. It may be that I just need time to pause and think about all of this stuff. It may be that I've been neglecting to clean my apartment, and certainly a messy home is not condusive to writing.
And yet, I've been up for a half hour and I want to write something... I just don't know what.
I've just sat here for a good three minutes, staring outside my window.
I'm trying to think of something specific to the craft to discuss. Or revision. But I got nuthin' right now. I'm not in the mood to discuss any of my projects in particular. Good grief, what happened to all that wonderful energy in May? I should've known that it doesn't last.
So let me say this, then. A writer's life is paradoxically very routine as it is ever-changing. At least mine is. The momentum ebbs and flows. I get up, I do my things, Iwrite, I go to bed. But sometimes I pace around the house, distract myself, procrastinate. I go places to be an observer or even a participant so that I can write about them in some form at another time. I think.
That's about all I've got in me for today. I think I'll go clean my house now.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
first edition, first printing, first copy
I just got the first copy of my first novel, Faking It (yes, you finally have a title by which to refer!), in the mail.
Wow.
It's a mixed feelings kind of moment. And that goes with the whole self-publishing thing. On one hand, it really is something to hold your own book in your hands. I've re-written and re-read this thing a hundred gazillion times, and yet I want to open my book and read it page by page, cover to cover, because I can. On the other hand, tt doesn't look professional enough.
Take the cover, for one thing. It came out pretty in front, but it doesn't look like a chick lit book. It looks like a sexy thriller. Here's where impatience may have gotten the best of me. Maybe I should pay someone to do a better cover design. Ditto on the formatting. Also problems in terms of professional grade. Methinks I need professional help there, too.
Bottom line? I don't wanna put this puppy in the window for sale until she's fully groomed and ready. Not even for friends and family. Heck, why not do it right? Or do it as well as I can, at the very least? Because now that I'm holding this book in my hands, I want others to be holding it as well. And I want them to be proud.
It's worthy. So am I. And so are you.
Wow.
It's a mixed feelings kind of moment. And that goes with the whole self-publishing thing. On one hand, it really is something to hold your own book in your hands. I've re-written and re-read this thing a hundred gazillion times, and yet I want to open my book and read it page by page, cover to cover, because I can. On the other hand, tt doesn't look professional enough.
Take the cover, for one thing. It came out pretty in front, but it doesn't look like a chick lit book. It looks like a sexy thriller. Here's where impatience may have gotten the best of me. Maybe I should pay someone to do a better cover design. Ditto on the formatting. Also problems in terms of professional grade. Methinks I need professional help there, too.
Bottom line? I don't wanna put this puppy in the window for sale until she's fully groomed and ready. Not even for friends and family. Heck, why not do it right? Or do it as well as I can, at the very least? Because now that I'm holding this book in my hands, I want others to be holding it as well. And I want them to be proud.
It's worthy. So am I. And so are you.
Friday, June 6, 2008
well, I did it
Bought my own web domain, that is.
I've been toying with the idea for a few months now, and had been dismissing it because I didn't think I had much to offer by way of information and/or services. But since my Get Aggressive campaign, that seems to be changing quickly. I'm guessing that by next month my first novel, newly self-published, will be ready for purchase, that I'll be offering a class and/or workshop (if I can find someone to host it), and from there, we'll see. Now that I'm paying for this site, it certainly lights a fire under me to have something to put on it.
Am I being impulsive? Am I moving too fast, too soon? God, I hope not. Who knows, maybe I'm behind schedule. Anyhoo, the site is under construction, thus won't be google-able for a few weeks. I've got to get content, photos, info, etc. set up. It's a lot of work. Hopefully I'll be able to pull it off. I have no other choice now, do I.
Agh, it's hitting me: what have I done!!!!
It can only be a good thing. That's what I'll keep telling myself...
I've been toying with the idea for a few months now, and had been dismissing it because I didn't think I had much to offer by way of information and/or services. But since my Get Aggressive campaign, that seems to be changing quickly. I'm guessing that by next month my first novel, newly self-published, will be ready for purchase, that I'll be offering a class and/or workshop (if I can find someone to host it), and from there, we'll see. Now that I'm paying for this site, it certainly lights a fire under me to have something to put on it.
Am I being impulsive? Am I moving too fast, too soon? God, I hope not. Who knows, maybe I'm behind schedule. Anyhoo, the site is under construction, thus won't be google-able for a few weeks. I've got to get content, photos, info, etc. set up. It's a lot of work. Hopefully I'll be able to pull it off. I have no other choice now, do I.
Agh, it's hitting me: what have I done!!!!
It can only be a good thing. That's what I'll keep telling myself...
Thursday, June 5, 2008
tipping the scales
I've met a bunch of writers this past year who mull over the issue of balance. In other words, how do we balance our writing life with the other parts of our lives?
Some have family commitments. Some have full-time jobs. Some have full-time school. Some have all three. Most just need to pay the bills. So sometimes I lament, why can't writing be my full-time job? Why can't it pay the bills?
Thus begins the Catch 22. We need to devote more time to writing because we want writing to be our breadwinner. But in order to do that, we have to go without bread. But we need bread to live. Bread means work. Work means time. Time equals money. And so on. If only it could be easier. If only writing could pay the bills as easily as being a computer engineer, or a retail manager, or a writing teacher (and being a writing teacher ain't gonna get me on Cribs anytime soon, let me tell you... perhaps "easily" is a misleading word).
My writing partner and I are facing our first bump in the road of our otherwise smooth collaboration: time. This morning, she told me about all the things that are distracting her from our novel (those "distractions," btw, are the daily goings-on of life -- the normalities, really). And I told her about my sense of urgency to complete this novel because I have no distractions at the moment -- no school, no classes, no kids, etc.
Here's how we resolved it for today: We talked. We shared, we kavetched, commiserated, laughed, and talked about our novel ("I'm still not sure about the ending." "What if...?" "So here's what I'm thinking...") She even quoted our character: "So in the words of Kenny, where does that leave us?" And I think it relieved the pressure, even just a little bit. I decided not to work on the novel today. I read the last thing I wrote. I went back and read over my partner's and my chat. I worked on a short story I'm submitting to a writing contest -- I needed to cut 350 words in order for it to qualify. "Why don't you send it to me," offered my PIC, "I'll take a crack at it." Sometimes distraction works.
Perhaps I was too romantic in my last post. I write because I can't not do it. But sometimes, I really can't do it. When I'm sitting here in my apartment with central air, having just gotten back from a swim, and the dishwasher is running, when I sleep at night knowing I have health insurance just in case... my romantic notion of writing because I can't not do it gives in to the comforts that took me years to acquire. When I remember how it took me two years to pay off one night in the ER, when I remember how on a 98-degree-day exactly like today in Massachusetts, I needed to fill my bathtub with cold water and sit in it every thirty minutes, and sleep with cold compresses on me at night just to keep from overheating...my job looks pretty damn good.
So what do we do?
Rather than seeking balance, we set out to tip the scales in the opposite direction instead. We get aggressive.
We say we can, and don't give in to the preconceived notion that we can't. We remember that Stephen King was working in a laundromat, that JK Rowling was a single mother, that a record company passed on signing The Beatles, and der Kellar was a seedy dive in Hamburg where they played.
We also know that we don't have to be as big as the Beatles, or Stephen King, or JK Rowling.
We remain patient, allowing ourselves a meltdown every now and then, as well as a swim.
We tend to our daily goings-on. We do what life calls us to do. But we also ask life to use us, use our gifts, for good.
We tip the scales.
Some have family commitments. Some have full-time jobs. Some have full-time school. Some have all three. Most just need to pay the bills. So sometimes I lament, why can't writing be my full-time job? Why can't it pay the bills?
Thus begins the Catch 22. We need to devote more time to writing because we want writing to be our breadwinner. But in order to do that, we have to go without bread. But we need bread to live. Bread means work. Work means time. Time equals money. And so on. If only it could be easier. If only writing could pay the bills as easily as being a computer engineer, or a retail manager, or a writing teacher (and being a writing teacher ain't gonna get me on Cribs anytime soon, let me tell you... perhaps "easily" is a misleading word).
My writing partner and I are facing our first bump in the road of our otherwise smooth collaboration: time. This morning, she told me about all the things that are distracting her from our novel (those "distractions," btw, are the daily goings-on of life -- the normalities, really). And I told her about my sense of urgency to complete this novel because I have no distractions at the moment -- no school, no classes, no kids, etc.
Here's how we resolved it for today: We talked. We shared, we kavetched, commiserated, laughed, and talked about our novel ("I'm still not sure about the ending." "What if...?" "So here's what I'm thinking...") She even quoted our character: "So in the words of Kenny, where does that leave us?" And I think it relieved the pressure, even just a little bit. I decided not to work on the novel today. I read the last thing I wrote. I went back and read over my partner's and my chat. I worked on a short story I'm submitting to a writing contest -- I needed to cut 350 words in order for it to qualify. "Why don't you send it to me," offered my PIC, "I'll take a crack at it." Sometimes distraction works.
Perhaps I was too romantic in my last post. I write because I can't not do it. But sometimes, I really can't do it. When I'm sitting here in my apartment with central air, having just gotten back from a swim, and the dishwasher is running, when I sleep at night knowing I have health insurance just in case... my romantic notion of writing because I can't not do it gives in to the comforts that took me years to acquire. When I remember how it took me two years to pay off one night in the ER, when I remember how on a 98-degree-day exactly like today in Massachusetts, I needed to fill my bathtub with cold water and sit in it every thirty minutes, and sleep with cold compresses on me at night just to keep from overheating...my job looks pretty damn good.
So what do we do?
Rather than seeking balance, we set out to tip the scales in the opposite direction instead. We get aggressive.
We say we can, and don't give in to the preconceived notion that we can't. We remember that Stephen King was working in a laundromat, that JK Rowling was a single mother, that a record company passed on signing The Beatles, and der Kellar was a seedy dive in Hamburg where they played.
We also know that we don't have to be as big as the Beatles, or Stephen King, or JK Rowling.
We remain patient, allowing ourselves a meltdown every now and then, as well as a swim.
We tend to our daily goings-on. We do what life calls us to do. But we also ask life to use us, use our gifts, for good.
We tip the scales.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
why I write
I read a blog last night (thanks, Mit!) in which a writer shared her (I think it's a her) experiences with being a longtime unpublished writer ("I wrote seven novels over twelve years before I found an agent. It was nearly fourteen years before I eventually sold a book"), and forgetting why she wrote in the first place. It was a very honest, telling post. And it's just what I need for those times when I get impatient, when my friends and others ask me whether I've been published, why it's taking so long, etc. It put things in perspective.
Why I write? Because I can't not do it.
My writing partner felt the same way today. After acing her two exams (you go, girl!), she sat in the frigid library, her fingers like popcicles, and she added her words and insights to yesterday's 50 pages because she couldn't not do it. She needed to get it on the page.
That's what it's all about.
Of course, that's simplifying it, but still. It's one reason. I'm sure I will write about others. Over and over again. It's an eternal love.
And that's good.
Why I write? Because I can't not do it.
My writing partner felt the same way today. After acing her two exams (you go, girl!), she sat in the frigid library, her fingers like popcicles, and she added her words and insights to yesterday's 50 pages because she couldn't not do it. She needed to get it on the page.
That's what it's all about.
Of course, that's simplifying it, but still. It's one reason. I'm sure I will write about others. Over and over again. It's an eternal love.
And that's good.
Monday, June 2, 2008
zero to fifty
It's amazing how one little piece of dialogue can recharge my battery.
As I've mentioned, my writing partner and I have been in a little bit of a writing funk as of late. We've been talking about upcoming scenes, but when it came to actually doing anything about it, well...
Anyhoo, last night she sent me a piece of dialogue. It's for a key scene, a turning point in the novel. It was roughly drafted, to say the least. But it was enough to give me direction, to take the ball and run with it. And run with it I did. In addition to combining about 30-something pages of previously written scenes that now had a place, I added her approximately 5 pages, plus about 20-ish new pages. A record, I think.
I don't know how good it all is in terms of writing. But it's good enough. It's first draft good. And the key scene, the scene we'd talked about, the scene we dialogued, brought tears to my eyes while I wrote it. So yeah, it's good enough.
Lord knows whether I'll get anymore done tomorrow, but it just astounds me what we've accomplished in one month. We've pretty much written the majority of the first draft of a novel. And I predict we'll finish it by the end of this week, next week the latest. If all goes well, I'll be querying this baby by the end of the summer.
Not bad, eh?
As I've mentioned, my writing partner and I have been in a little bit of a writing funk as of late. We've been talking about upcoming scenes, but when it came to actually doing anything about it, well...
Anyhoo, last night she sent me a piece of dialogue. It's for a key scene, a turning point in the novel. It was roughly drafted, to say the least. But it was enough to give me direction, to take the ball and run with it. And run with it I did. In addition to combining about 30-something pages of previously written scenes that now had a place, I added her approximately 5 pages, plus about 20-ish new pages. A record, I think.
I don't know how good it all is in terms of writing. But it's good enough. It's first draft good. And the key scene, the scene we'd talked about, the scene we dialogued, brought tears to my eyes while I wrote it. So yeah, it's good enough.
Lord knows whether I'll get anymore done tomorrow, but it just astounds me what we've accomplished in one month. We've pretty much written the majority of the first draft of a novel. And I predict we'll finish it by the end of this week, next week the latest. If all goes well, I'll be querying this baby by the end of the summer.
Not bad, eh?
Sunday, June 1, 2008
nada
Some days ya just got nuthin'.
It may be the weather. The summer heat just showed up at our doorsteps this past weekend, in the upper 80s and low 90s. I'm already sluggish (don't even wanna think about the upper 90s!).
Or maybe I miss my PIC. Her classes are in full gear now, including all day on the weekends (what the hell kind of school is this?). At any rate, we've not had much chance to talk, even on the page.
Or maybe I'm suffering from a bit of writers block. I don't know. I'm doin' a lot of thinking about it. But when it comes to getting it on the page, it all goes out the window.
Or maybe it's D: All of the above.
Yeah. I'm shootin' for D.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
It may be the weather. The summer heat just showed up at our doorsteps this past weekend, in the upper 80s and low 90s. I'm already sluggish (don't even wanna think about the upper 90s!).
Or maybe I miss my PIC. Her classes are in full gear now, including all day on the weekends (what the hell kind of school is this?). At any rate, we've not had much chance to talk, even on the page.
Or maybe I'm suffering from a bit of writers block. I don't know. I'm doin' a lot of thinking about it. But when it comes to getting it on the page, it all goes out the window.
Or maybe it's D: All of the above.
Yeah. I'm shootin' for D.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
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