Spring Update

It's finally spring in Kansas (which means there are some nice days and some days that feel like summer). Amazingly, this seems to have cured most of my ailments.

I've been suffering from one illness or ailment after another for the last five months, everything from colds to flu to bronchitis to sinus infections to dental and mouth surgeries. I've been to the doctor and the dentist and I've been on inhalers and steroids and antibiotics and my own array of herbal supplements. It figures what finally cured me was just time and a change in the weather.

The other ailment the weather seems to be slowly curing is writer's block. I'm starting to feel creative energies flowing again, and I actually have an idea or two percolating. I think it helps that my head isn't as full of snot or pain and that my seasonal depression is fading.

At any rate, I haven't started actually writing yet, but I have written a few wine blogs (you can check them out at Red Wine Reminiscence), and now I'm writing a blog here. I've poked around some short story markets on Duotrope. I finally read my NaNo novel from last year, and decided it wasn't the pile of trash I originally thought it was. It's a start. A small start, but it's something.

This weekend is ConQuest, and the boyfriend and I are going all three days. I will write a story for Story in a Bag - the contest I won last year (well, three way tied for first). I will listen to writers and publishers and editors and artists talk. I will write down a thousand book recommendations. And I will relax with my man on his birthday weekend. I've taken several days off work, so I am going to rest, relax, read, and hopefully write.

The third course in my editing certificate starts tomorrow. I earned a B+ in both the first and the second courses, have learned a ton, and am looking forward to the next class. Just two left until I am done with the sequence. I just finished copyediting a friend's manuscript (my first paid gig).

I am making slow and steady progress towards my goals again. The post-NaNo blues took me down hard this year, and I wandered aimlessly for a long time. But I'm taking it back now. I'm ready to reclaim my writer title. I know I never really lose it, but sometimes I put it away for awhile. During those times, I always worry I'll never get it back out, but as all of my writing friends remind me, it will always find me again, even if I can't find it.

And then life happens...

I love being a writer. There's nothing quite as exhilarating as spending hours pouring ideas from my head onto a blank page; watching a story unfold and characters running around doing things. I love to learn, and writing gives me ample excuse to research anything and everything for the sake of a believable story. Even sleep deprivation is worth it sometimes because as I drift off to sleep, plot holes will mend and plot points will fall into place. I love the "aha!" moment when a snag works itself out in my subconscious and bubbles to the surface. To quote one of my own characters: "The mind is an amazing thing."

The only trouble is...all of the aspects of writing - from the writing itself, to the research, to the obsessive-compulsive planning and plotting - are very time consuming. When you're not a professional writer, when it's a passion not a job, you have to sneak in time to write wherever you can cram it.

And life always seems to get in the way. I can only ignore housecleaning or errands or exercise classes or friends and family for so long before all of that violently reclaims my time and attention.

I was doing so well. I was on track to hit 50,000 words before August 31st for Camp Nanowrimo. But the past several days have been demanding my attention with a vengeance. I kept having to put off writing, and now I am about six thousand words behind.

To be honest, I could knock that out in maybe three or four hours. The trouble is, life not only kicked me in the ass, it then kicked me in the face while I was down. My head is filled with mucus and my nose/throat/eyes are burning, Wednesday is the dreaded year anniversary, my three days off this week where I was supposed to relax have somehow filled up with endless appointments and other commitments, I haven't slept more than 5 hours a night in over a week (and last night I slept maybe an hour), and there is a goddamn mouse living in my bedroom. He's not paying rent, so he's got to go. I just haven't figured out how yet.

I just can't seem to make myself care about writing with all of that going on. Even when I have the time to work.

All I can really do when this happens is hunker down and hope it passes quickly. My story has so much potential. I don't want it to go to the Nanowrimo graveyard like so many others.

Publishing Paralysis

I finished transcribing Riftworld (although after doing some research, I've discovered that I have to change the name since apparently Stan Lee had it first). It was a chore and an adventure at the same time. The world has a lot of potential, and it has a couple of interesting characters, but it needs serious rewriting to fix lame dialog and plot holes. I'm not quite ready to write the book yet, though. I need some space from it so I can start over without it being so fresh in my memory. I've taken copious notes for additional scenes and even made a detailed outline for what was already written, but I'm still not in high fantasy mode. It may not be a bad project for Nanowrimo in November.

Now that that's done, you'd think I'd be doing the happy dance, right? That I'd be excited to actually write some fresh material and not have to do any more mind-numbing typing.

In fact, the opposite is true. I'm miserable. I was able to hide behind transcription and could still say I was working on writing without having to think. Now I'm back to trying to decide what to work on next.

I am drawing a complete blank. Again.

After some soul searching, I think I figured out why.

I am suffering from what I've decided to call Publishing Paralysis. I've been putting the cart before the horse lately by doing research about publishing and agents and if it's possible to make money as a writer...and it's causing me a lot of anxiety.  A few of my writing group friends have had some publication success lately. It's all very exciting and cool and I wanna do it, too! But it seems that the pressure to come up with something publish-worthy is oppressing my creative drive. I suddenly have to be brilliant, and it's taking the fun out of it. I can't be brilliant on command. I usually fall into brilliance unintentionally. And really, it's more like quasi-brilliance. Miniature brilliance babies adrift in a sea of uninspiring crap.

So, as much as I am in awe of my successful writing friends, and wish I could be where they are at, I know I'm not ready. I need to work on creation for awhile. I'm thinking about putting a minimum two year restriction prohibiting myself to even think about publishing and just write as much as I can. I need to keep building that body of work (as a sidebar, does anyone else automatically think of Dexter when that phrase comes up?) without thinking that every sentence has to impress an agent or editor.

I haven't written a book (or even a short story) that I feel is publishable quality yet. I think I need to get out there and experience life a bit to enrich my ideas and find my own unique perspective. Not to mention, I need more practice. I do have a bit of natural talent when it comes to writing, but it is still unrefined, underdeveloped. I've learned a lot and my writing has matured over the last few years, but I have a long way to go yet.

Once I have a few more projects finished, I will be able to pick the best ones and maybe then, after much cleaning and polishing, I can start the querying process.

I'm counting on you all to hold me to this! If I start talking about publishing or queries or even editing, please yell at me. Feel free to throw things, or, in extreme cases, punch me in the face.

Tuesday disguised as Monday, complete with Writer's Block

Some mornings I wake up and I am completely appalled at myself for thinking that I can write worth a damn.

Of course, these are also the mornings where the sun is too bright and the birds are too loud, people are more annoying than usual, and I feel like I suck at life.

This is one of those days.

It's not even a Monday, although it's pretending to be since yesterday was a holiday. Days like this should only happen on Mondays. Real Mondays.

It'll pass. Always does. But in the meantime, it makes my creativity constipated. In a previous entry I talked about how I have more story ideas than I could finish in my lifetime, but on days like these, I don't like a single one of those stories. The Well may run Deep, but I feel dried up today. It was a dried up sort of weekend.

I'm in the process of typing up a story I started six or seven years ago. I read back over some of it while I was in Florida and was amazed at how well-written it was. Unfortunately, as I type, I am more and more amazed at how bad it is. Whose brilliant idea was it to waste time typing up a lame story idea?

Oh yeah, that'd be me.

It'll more than likely prove to be a worthwhile effort one of these days, so I will continue to transcribe. But I'm going to be pouty about it. I'm also going to hold it partially responsible for dampening my motivation to write.

I am reluctant to call it Writer's Block, although I suppose by definition that's what it is. I spent the long weekend cleaning and doing chores and finishing projects around the house that I've been putting off for months. A clear sign of avoidance. Anything I could do to not write. I even took apart my vacuum cleaner and washed all of the filters.

Yeah, I wish I was kidding.

The way I see things right now, I need one of two things. I either need to find a shiny new project that I am so excited about that I have no desire to clean dust-bunnies out of my vacuum...or I need a break from writing to recuperate after my significant output of two short stories.

Maybe it's too soon to jump into the next big project. Maybe I need some downtime. I'm afraid to go there, though, in case I lose momentum. I know I have ten years, but I am on a deadline.

What it really comes down to right now is that I am itching to write, but I just don't know what. If it wasn't so damn hot, I would take one of my long, creatively rejuvenating walks to get the juices flowing. Somehow the repetitive motion of walking and the changing of scenery loosens me up (to stick with the sort of disgusting constipation metaphor). Taking a walk outside always seems to jump start my inspiration.

What do you do to battle Writer's Block and get your ideas moving?