I don't know if I'm normal. I tend to doubt it. But my creativity comes and goes as it pleases. There are days when I'm so full of creative energy I cannot rest until I've written an entire chapter. Then there are weeks (or months) when I sit for hours in front of a white screen, writing and rewriting It was a dark and rainy night. Dark the night was. The night was dampish. The night was humid. Like a really humid humidity. Crap. Crap. Crap.
And then I get a bowl of Breyers and watch whatever design show I DVRed for such depressing occasions when reality tv is actually more paletable than the actual reality that I'm not the great writer I sometimes imagine I am.
But I rock The Office Trivial Pursuit. I promise you that.
I have to take what I can. My book is no closer to being finished than it was three months ago except that I am thisclose to killing off every character via radioactive spider. Which is, by the way, exactly what Stephanie Meyer should have done. I would have actually really enjoyed that.
"You cannot form a rational thought or walk without injuring yourself but your blood smells super AMAZING. Marry me Bella."
"No way! I'm too young to make that kind of commitment...turn me into a minion of the eternally damned."
"Seriously? If your smell wasn't so intoxicating to my vampiric senses I might think you were boarderline retarded."
"Oh Edward- you're so irresistably, so irrevocably pale and sparkly- AHHHH SPIDER KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!"
Too late. Death by Radioactive spider. The End.
Thursday
Monday
Description is NOT everything
You ever find yourself reading and think to yourself: Did I pick up this book to experience a story, or a landscape?" Note to authors: When I desire a book full of landscapes and scenes, I'll buy a picture book or a book of art, not a book of literature.
Oh sure, every book has landscapes and scenery, but that is all secondary. Even Hogwarts Castle had to be sketched by the Goddess J.K. Rowling for video gaming creators to envision the true picturesque vision that our imaginations never would have been able to comprehend without explicit imagery from the Creator. Let's be honest, we could envision courtyards, huts, moving staircases and portraits, a great hall, and the headmaster's personal chamber, but to put them together would be impossible to describe by the written word and hard to compile by the human mind.
So what is scenery for? Well that's easy: It's so the reader can learn enough about the scene so that his mind can concentrate on the characters, action, and dialogue without the distraction of being lost and confused about the whereabouts. So then why do some authors go through exhaustive effort to dull the senses with scenery??? Here's why: They are Narcissists! "Oh let me wow and overload you with shimmering dew on long stems of grass next to the soft bubbling brook as it rolls ever so effortlessly over moss covered, oblong stones of the softest sandstone, fallen from the towering luscious mountainside of greenery and all manner of animal life called to silence but the caw of a passing jet black crow as his poop falls from the heavens almost hitting the Sasquatch while he feasts on the 12 year and 3 month and 5 day old boy scout from Herriman, Ut on his very first camp out to the nethermost regions of the black foot forest...
WE GET IT!!! A killer Sasquatch is out to kill every last one of the boyscout troop. I can't wait to see how he does it or if the troop will over come the long odds and kill the Sasquatch and become famous for finally proving its existence. The rest is just fluff with a bunch of blah blah blah's of nonsense that sooner or later the reader grows tired of and starts skipping if the story is compelling enough to drive the reader forward.
So, as you guessed it, I'm not a detail oriented person. Which probably makes me a bad writer. But as a writer, I want my reader to do some of the work to make the story world what they want it to be. I'm just there to give the reader the foundation to build on and see what they want to see. For me to illustrate every breath and heart beat, I make a fool out of the reader and tell him what he must see for he must be too stupid to imagine even the slightest bit of detail himself.
Why should I, as the writer, assume that I am the only one with an imagination???
Oh sure, every book has landscapes and scenery, but that is all secondary. Even Hogwarts Castle had to be sketched by the Goddess J.K. Rowling for video gaming creators to envision the true picturesque vision that our imaginations never would have been able to comprehend without explicit imagery from the Creator. Let's be honest, we could envision courtyards, huts, moving staircases and portraits, a great hall, and the headmaster's personal chamber, but to put them together would be impossible to describe by the written word and hard to compile by the human mind.
So what is scenery for? Well that's easy: It's so the reader can learn enough about the scene so that his mind can concentrate on the characters, action, and dialogue without the distraction of being lost and confused about the whereabouts. So then why do some authors go through exhaustive effort to dull the senses with scenery??? Here's why: They are Narcissists! "Oh let me wow and overload you with shimmering dew on long stems of grass next to the soft bubbling brook as it rolls ever so effortlessly over moss covered, oblong stones of the softest sandstone, fallen from the towering luscious mountainside of greenery and all manner of animal life called to silence but the caw of a passing jet black crow as his poop falls from the heavens almost hitting the Sasquatch while he feasts on the 12 year and 3 month and 5 day old boy scout from Herriman, Ut on his very first camp out to the nethermost regions of the black foot forest...
WE GET IT!!! A killer Sasquatch is out to kill every last one of the boyscout troop. I can't wait to see how he does it or if the troop will over come the long odds and kill the Sasquatch and become famous for finally proving its existence. The rest is just fluff with a bunch of blah blah blah's of nonsense that sooner or later the reader grows tired of and starts skipping if the story is compelling enough to drive the reader forward.
So, as you guessed it, I'm not a detail oriented person. Which probably makes me a bad writer. But as a writer, I want my reader to do some of the work to make the story world what they want it to be. I'm just there to give the reader the foundation to build on and see what they want to see. For me to illustrate every breath and heart beat, I make a fool out of the reader and tell him what he must see for he must be too stupid to imagine even the slightest bit of detail himself.
Why should I, as the writer, assume that I am the only one with an imagination???
Saturday
The Ending is Everything.
I recently watched "Secret Window", in which Johnny Depp plays a writer plagued by the dangerous presence of a character in one of his stories. "All that matters is the ending." Says Depp, as he gives a satisfied glance out his little square window overlooking a ready-to-harvest cornfield. If you haven't seen it, I won't ruin it for you. Its twisted, but I think Johnny has a point. All that matters is the ending. Without a great ending your readers will be disappointed. Without a great ending the rest of your book is just words and punctuation.
I cannot find the right ending to my story. I have written, rewritten, and almost perfected my beginning. I thoroughly enjoy my middle. But that ending. Oh that ending. So crucial, so changeable- like trying to catch a snowflake in my hand. Every time I think I've got it, it melts before my pleading eyes.
But I guess that's what I get for trying to mix funny with sad, monsters with mundane. I often consider leaving it and starting something new. But I don't want to. I want to finish it. I have to finish it. Even if never gets published. Even if I have to spend another few years obsessing over it. Even if one of my characters comes to life claiming that I stole his story and then proceeds to murder those who have wronged me...
I cannot find the right ending to my story. I have written, rewritten, and almost perfected my beginning. I thoroughly enjoy my middle. But that ending. Oh that ending. So crucial, so changeable- like trying to catch a snowflake in my hand. Every time I think I've got it, it melts before my pleading eyes.
But I guess that's what I get for trying to mix funny with sad, monsters with mundane. I often consider leaving it and starting something new. But I don't want to. I want to finish it. I have to finish it. Even if never gets published. Even if I have to spend another few years obsessing over it. Even if one of my characters comes to life claiming that I stole his story and then proceeds to murder those who have wronged me...
I. WILL. FINISH.
Have any of you written an ending? Have any of you struggled with your ending? I would love to know how other people go about deciding how to tackle the end of a book?
Friday
So how do you do it?
As I am almost through editing my book, once again; I find that every time I get through it, I am some place different from where I started. Is this normal? Is it okay? Should my book have a different feel as it goes along, but still retain the same theme? Heck if I know...
First supposed problem: I spent so much time creating the first half of the book and tinkering here and tinkering there, that I probably abused it too much. By the time I wrote the second half(in about a month's time as compared to at least a year on the first half) the book seems to be broken into halves. The real story and conflict is played out in the second half where in it is only referenced in the first half. So is this okay?
I remember reading Harry Potter and the SS, and thinking that finding the stone almost played second fiddle to hogwarts and the wizarding world that JKR had created. Because my book is out of this world, I found that I spent most of my time in the first half of the book creating rather than story telling. I've had mixed results from readers(to say the least).
Second supposed problem: when does editing stop, and changing stuff around without adding any value begin? I feel like there are times when I change elements of the story and don't gain whole lot. How do you enhance the story without wasting your time???
Anybody have advice on this stuff???
First supposed problem: I spent so much time creating the first half of the book and tinkering here and tinkering there, that I probably abused it too much. By the time I wrote the second half(in about a month's time as compared to at least a year on the first half) the book seems to be broken into halves. The real story and conflict is played out in the second half where in it is only referenced in the first half. So is this okay?
I remember reading Harry Potter and the SS, and thinking that finding the stone almost played second fiddle to hogwarts and the wizarding world that JKR had created. Because my book is out of this world, I found that I spent most of my time in the first half of the book creating rather than story telling. I've had mixed results from readers(to say the least).
Second supposed problem: when does editing stop, and changing stuff around without adding any value begin? I feel like there are times when I change elements of the story and don't gain whole lot. How do you enhance the story without wasting your time???
Anybody have advice on this stuff???
Thursday
Motivation and Writing Goals.
"...with no reason to hide these words I feel. And no reason to talk about the books I read but still I do."-Morrissey
I'm not a great writer. But I know what great writing is. I've read great writing with tears falling down my face. I've read it with laughter. I've read it with my heart pounding against my chest. I've lived other lives. I've thought other's thoughts. I've experienced the world outside myself through great writing. I've read many amazing books and as many mediocre ones. But I never bothered to analyze the difference between the two until I started writing my own.
One of my favorite books is Jane Eyre. One of my least favorite books is Twilight. But what is it about Jane Eyre that makes it so superior to Twilight? They're both Romantic novels with obsessive love and monsters. But one is literature, one is not. Granted, Twilight is mildly entertaining and sometimes that's all a reader's looking for- an escape. I certainly don't watch Will Ferrell movies looking for a real connection or deeper meaning. Entertainment has merit. But without substance it isn't lasting- it isn't great.
Twilight = Pixie Stick
Jane Eyre = Chicken Madeira
Jane Eyre = Chicken Madeira
Great writing, regardless of genre, has intrinsic truths holding it together. Jane Eyre has inner strength- a light inside her no one can put out. Integrity. Courage. Faith. Bella is a self-centered damsel-in-distress who, after what seems like a thousand pages of whining, finally manages to emotionally-blackmail her way into sparkly-vampirehood. OK, I'll stop before I alienate half the female population. Extreme example? Maybe I'm comparing apples to oranges here, but my point is: not all published books are created equal. Analyzing why has helped me determine my writing goals.
DI'S GOAL #1: ALL WHINY CHARACTERS MUST GROW UP OR DIE.
Equally important has been discovering my reasons. Because Morrissey knows as well as I do, although he couldn't work it into his lyrics (song writing is different than story telling), there is always a reason for everything whether simple or complex. Am I writing for fun? Am I writing because I have something to say? Am I writing to make money? Leave a legacy? Feel good about myself? Look more sophisticated and intelligent than I am?
Absolutely. But ultimately those reasons won't get me to the end of my book.
I've given this a lot of thought. I write because I need a creative outlet. I write because I love words and the way they make me feel when they're put together properly. I'm not a great writer. But someday I hope to write something I can be proud of. And that is what keeps me focused and motivated.
Tuesday
Writing is a Curse!
If I ever get published- and even if I don't- the first thing I would recommend to someone who wants to be a writer is this: DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!!! Run away while you still can. Writing is like have an itch that you can't ever fully scratch to find relief. It varies from full on chicken pox to a nagging mosquito bite.
There are times when you will find yourself fully overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas and passion for your story, while other times you will wish you could forget what ever it was that made you think you could put pen to paper or fingers to laptop. The second guessing yourself will consume you. Is this really worth it? Am I wasting my time? Should I care that nobody wants to read my book no matter how much I beg and plead? Is it because they are stupid and I so genius? Or is the real truth of it all what I have been suspecting since I first started... I have no business even thinking about writing a book, let alone actually doing so.
So then why do I write? I don't know. That is the wrong question. Why don't I stop? Now that is more like it. It's because I can't... When the premise for my story came to me and ideas began flowing so freely that I questioned if they were truly my own; was when it all started. Now I feel that if I don't tell the story that it will somehow eat me up from the inside out! I feel like Mr. Anderson. Neo had freed him, and yet he was compelled to fight Neo. He couldn't help himself. It seemed to be the only reason for him to exist was to stop the chosen one. Beyond all reason and sense, I feel tortured. I have quit more times than a habitual chain smoker. And yet for all my resolve to walk away, it isn't long before I start craving new ideas/characters/plots/subplots/scenery/strife/conflict/bravery/suspense/angst and soon I've found that I have lit back up with renewed conviction to never ever quit no matter how much my pack of cigs gets taxed to pay for the education budget shortfall.
I'm afraid that by the time I get the monstrosity that I call "my book" published, I will be so disgusted from spending so much time on it that I would rather die than convince anyone that they should waste precious inflated dollars on the paper and cheap hardback cover to experience what I have wasted a handful of lifetimes writing and rewriting and rerewriting and writing it all over again.
Thanks to Di for giving me this place where I can vomit my frustrations. The latest news of my book is my editor (who i love to hate and pretend in my mind that she sucks and doesn't really know what she is talking about when she slashes my manuscript like Kung Fu Panda with a samurai sword) just announced that her manuscript has been picked up by a publisher and is due to be released next spring! What a crock! Now I have no other choice but to let her cut up the corpse that I once considered my newborn baby, and turn it into something that she says will make it better and more presentable to publishers. Who knows???
What choice do I have? I turn 30 this june and while I have tried sushi and have no desire to read les miserables, I have a marriage, a mortgage and 4 kids, I have yet to take a real risk in my life. And while a marriage, a mortgage, and 4 kids sounds like a risk to most people; for me it was all according to plan. But now with 30 staring me down like a puma in the dark of night in a forest of pines, I find myself looking for something inspiring and life fulfilling. While my curse of a book is causing me more pain than pleasure, it is one of the few things that gives me purpose. It may be the risk that will offer no reward. But I'll be damned if I don't finish it!!! I might fail as a writer, but perhaps if I can complete the story driving me mad and set it free on the slick screen of a laptop monitor, it will one day let me rest in peace.
-Dusty
There are times when you will find yourself fully overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas and passion for your story, while other times you will wish you could forget what ever it was that made you think you could put pen to paper or fingers to laptop. The second guessing yourself will consume you. Is this really worth it? Am I wasting my time? Should I care that nobody wants to read my book no matter how much I beg and plead? Is it because they are stupid and I so genius? Or is the real truth of it all what I have been suspecting since I first started... I have no business even thinking about writing a book, let alone actually doing so.
So then why do I write? I don't know. That is the wrong question. Why don't I stop? Now that is more like it. It's because I can't... When the premise for my story came to me and ideas began flowing so freely that I questioned if they were truly my own; was when it all started. Now I feel that if I don't tell the story that it will somehow eat me up from the inside out! I feel like Mr. Anderson. Neo had freed him, and yet he was compelled to fight Neo. He couldn't help himself. It seemed to be the only reason for him to exist was to stop the chosen one. Beyond all reason and sense, I feel tortured. I have quit more times than a habitual chain smoker. And yet for all my resolve to walk away, it isn't long before I start craving new ideas/characters/plots/subplots/scenery/strife/conflict/bravery/suspense/angst and soon I've found that I have lit back up with renewed conviction to never ever quit no matter how much my pack of cigs gets taxed to pay for the education budget shortfall.
I'm afraid that by the time I get the monstrosity that I call "my book" published, I will be so disgusted from spending so much time on it that I would rather die than convince anyone that they should waste precious inflated dollars on the paper and cheap hardback cover to experience what I have wasted a handful of lifetimes writing and rewriting and rerewriting and writing it all over again.
Thanks to Di for giving me this place where I can vomit my frustrations. The latest news of my book is my editor (who i love to hate and pretend in my mind that she sucks and doesn't really know what she is talking about when she slashes my manuscript like Kung Fu Panda with a samurai sword) just announced that her manuscript has been picked up by a publisher and is due to be released next spring! What a crock! Now I have no other choice but to let her cut up the corpse that I once considered my newborn baby, and turn it into something that she says will make it better and more presentable to publishers. Who knows???
What choice do I have? I turn 30 this june and while I have tried sushi and have no desire to read les miserables, I have a marriage, a mortgage and 4 kids, I have yet to take a real risk in my life. And while a marriage, a mortgage, and 4 kids sounds like a risk to most people; for me it was all according to plan. But now with 30 staring me down like a puma in the dark of night in a forest of pines, I find myself looking for something inspiring and life fulfilling. While my curse of a book is causing me more pain than pleasure, it is one of the few things that gives me purpose. It may be the risk that will offer no reward. But I'll be damned if I don't finish it!!! I might fail as a writer, but perhaps if I can complete the story driving me mad and set it free on the slick screen of a laptop monitor, it will one day let me rest in peace.
-Dusty
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