Category Archives: Writing

Lazy Day

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It’s a bit of a lazy snow day. I haven’t done much except had breakfast, finished reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and written a few simple book reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. I wrote my most scathing review to date. Want to see it? Okay, since you asked.

This is what I had to say about Home Depot: Profiles in Courage…

“Poorly written collection of stories that came across as a bitter ad hominem attack on people the author didn’t like. The book is neither clever nor humorous and was a complete waste of money. Do yourself a favor and steer clear.”

That’s the entirety of the review. It wasn’t eloquent of well written, but it is the truth. And I’m worried that my writing is bad!

What it did do is make me more determined to write a good story, write it well, and make it something people will want to read and share. That’s my goal. I know I repeat it a lot, but I have to pump myself up. In my head I hear Rob Schneider’s character from The Water Boy, “You can do it!”

Tap? What tap?

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I tried to write yesterday, I really did! I’m trying to get back in the habit of sitting down everyday, to write something, anything, just to get my thoughts down somewhere. It didn’t happen yesterday. Exhaustion forced me to bed early and I enjoyed it, at least until my eyes opened at four in the morning.

But I’m well rested for the first time in ages, though I’m afraid it won’t last. That’s okay, I’ll make the most of it today and I’ll try to finish writing the chapter I’m working on and start on the next. I just have to figure out what I’m supposed to write next. The last scene took me by surprise.

My surprise notwithstanding, I find writing difficult and tedious at times. It’s almost impossible to maintain the level of energy and excitement necessary to complete something as ambitious as a book. That’s where discipline comes into play. The act of abandoning pretenses of writing  literary gold can be freeing, and maybe by just writing you’ll be rewarded by having a flash of brilliance and the words will pour freely and easily. It just won’t happen until you shut up, sit down, and start opening that tap.

My tap is firmly shut at the moment, and it feels a little rusty. It’s resisting my attempts to open it. That’s okay. I’ll spray a little WD-40, wait for it to soak in, and try again, figuratively speaking. Literally speaking, I’ll pop open a bottle of beer, wait for my inhibitions to lower slightly, and then wait for inspiration to bless me with…, er…, writer’s stuff.

Speaking of writer’ stuff, I need a printer. That would be awesome. Also an office chair, with lumbar support. My birthday’s coming up in a few months, maybe I should start hinting that I would like something. Like a printer. Or a chair. Or maybe I’ll just buy it myself. And maybe I should shut up and sit down. I’ve got writing to do.

My new writing toy

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I’ve been hearing about Scrivener for years now, ever since I started pursuing this writing dream. Every year I win NaNo, every year I get the chance to buy the program at a discounted price, every year I let it go. Not this year. I bought it and now what? Seriously, what’s it do that’s so special?

I’ve spent the past hour going through the tutorial, and I’m having one of those Eureka! moments. It does all of that? I asked myself. Amazing! I wish I had got this sooner! I love buying new toys.

Let me explain what’s got me so excited. My first novel, I wrote each chapter as a different file, which didn’t present a problem until it came time to put it together. I didn’t know how to do so except by literally copying and pasting each chapter into a master file. Took some time to do it. I hated it.

With my new toy, I can write each chapter, and indeed each scene, into its own file, which is part of the whole. It makes it easier to go between scenes and chapters, and when it’s time to compile the document, there’s a nifty little button that will do that for you. Neat-o!

I’m still trying to figure this out. I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but that’s enough to get me excited about learning it. I’m sure it’ll change the way I write considerably, hopefully for the better. After only an hour, I’m regretting waiting this long to join the crowd. At least I’m part of it now. If only it could read my thoughts….

On second thought, maybe it’s best it can’t.

Whilst I wait…

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I’ve been twiddling my thumbs, my WIP in the hands of my friends, waiting for them to finish reading and listening to their critiques. I’m trying not to dwell on it, but I confess that I’m harassing on of them. “What do you think? Huh? Huh? Well, is it good!? TELL ME NOW!!!!!

To keep my insanity at bay, I’ve pulled out my 2014 NaNo and began to read it. Not too shabby, if I’m allowed to toot my own horn. I’d pat my back, but I’m writing this in bed, with my laptop balanced on my lap, if you can believe it, and I don’t want to get up. Then again, I don’t have a horn either. I’m belaboring this so I’ll move on.

It’s odd to read something that I’ve written, especially after I’ve let it sat awhile without touching it. I get wrapped up, wondering what’s coming next. I was at that point when it abruptly ended. No more story. What happens next you stupid writer!?

Oh, wait, that’s me. I need to sit down and figure that out. I wanted this to be a one book story, but I think it may require a sequel to get to where I want to go. And this is just the back story to another novel that I’ve already written but needs to be rewritten and edited. So much work just to tell a story. I swear!

But it’s keeping me busy, and that’s good. Now I need to get back to it. I need to know what coming next. I have no idea, and it’ll drive me crazy if I don’t figure it out, and I’m crazy enough as it is.

 

Practice and discipline

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It’s hard as an aspiring writer to sit back and read a book and not compare myself to the author of said book. Am I alone in this? I know I’m not. I remember feeling that when I became a music major twenty years ago, and I would listen to another student perform. I couldn’t help but feel that my own talent was lacking. So I quit.

It took me a few years, but I learned enough to know that I didn’t have what it takes to be a musician. For someone on the outside looking in, it looks like it could be fun, and it is, but it’s called a discipline for a reason. To achieve any measurable success, either as a performer or a teacher, requires hours of grueling practice and studying, and I lacked the discipline to work at it. The only honest thing I could do was to walk away, and for years I was lost.

A few years later, I dropped out entirely, and my life has taken a circuitous route  though life, adrift on the seas of time, having neither purpose nor direction, and when you have no destination in mind, it’s amazing how long it takes to get nowhere!

But eventually you will collide with something, which I did in 2011 and going into 2012. My life fell apart, and everything I had, everything I had worked, I lost piece by piece, until I had nothing left. Even my pride was reduced to a pile of ash, blown away by the wind.

Keeping up with the nautical metaphor, writing became my lifesaver, keeping my head above water as I tried to find my bearings. Being adrift for so long, with no mind on my direction, it took another year for me to begin to rebuild. I went back to school, taking a Grammar and Writing class to end my academic career. Writing, it seemed, became my new goal.

But when I read the professional practitioners of the art form, I’m struck by how eloquent they sound in my mind. I read my own, and I feel lacking again in talent. Perhaps you’re not cut out for this, my inner doubt tells me, feeding my insecurities. You’ll never be a real writer. Why not give up?

Why not? Because this time, I won’t walk away. I have something to say, so I’m going to say it. I may not use the most flowery language, but that’s not my style. I’m rather prosaic in style, direct and to the point. If something is blue, it’s blue and not azure. If someone is in love, they are in love and not enamored. I’m not adept at creating imagery with words, but I don’t believe that’s necessary to the tales I’ve decided to tell.

I trade in reality instead of fantasy, though I am a fan of the latter. I hope that doesn’t mean that the reader will be unable to create the scenes in their minds as they read my simple words. I have stories to tell, simple and hopefully with some underlying truth. I try not to be allegorical in my storytelling. I don’t want to preach or teach a lesson. What I write is personal to me in some way, and my characters are a reflection of me, of my suffering and joys, of what I am and what I wish I could be.

I believe my writing has matured as I’ve become more practiced with the written word. Next month will be my four-year anniversary of my blog, and I just completed my fourth NaNoWriMo this past November. I’ve written and rewritten many of my books, and I’ve read and I’ve reviewed almost two dozen novels. I’m just getting started.

I’m still a musician, if you want to know, though now I play solely for my benefit. I hope to buy an electric guitar in the near future and learn to play some of my favorite rock tunes. But my music is to soothe my own inner demons even if I still dream of being a rock star.

But I don’t have the discipline to be a musician, but I hope I’ve proven to myself that I do have it for becoming a writer. I’ve toiled in obscurity, known only because I’ve chosen to share a bit of my madness unseen via this simple blog. I dream of more, of having my reach extended, as do other writers, to include a larger audience. I want to be read, and my books enjoyed, by as many people as possible.

Until then, I’ll continue to hone my skills in private, sharing snippets to gauge if I’m ready to risk failure and success. I may not be as good a writer as the authors I read, but in my style, they will never be as good as I am. I will never have their successes, but why should that mean I can’t have my own? I just have to keep practicing.