Let's Hope, Third Time is the Charm

I have sat down to write this blog so many times but... With the pressure of being judged or scrutinized it keeps me in fear of ever posting anything. That's pathetic. I have to realize that all I can be is myself and if no one likes what they see or read then... that is just their opinion. Someone will undoubtedly hate you regardless of your story or talent. Some people will dislike me for the simple fact that it's the thing to do. (Listen to me... talking about myself like I have an image or name. I'm adorable.)

Thinking back on my previous attempts to edit my novel, I realized that i had this want in me that I refused to believe. I just wanted to write. As I sat there pouring over line after line of sentences I just wanted to open up my heart and let the words pour out onto the page. That's what I craved but I ignored it. I didn't want to take all the work I had done and set it aside to redo it and possibly make it better. No. I was being lazy. I rather go through and nip and tuck the work I had until it looked somewhat distinguishable as a piece of work. Though like plastic surgery, there is such a thing as too much work.

Of all the articles I have read (and the sage advice of my blatant lover's girlfriend) the main theme has been "follow your instincts." That voice in my head has lead me down some interesting paths without even knowing it. Half the stuff I do when I write is because of listening to that voice, and the benefits were astronomical. But as of late I have ignored it. I set up a finish line for "success" (meaning becoming a famous author) in just a few months. I figured writing a rough draft of a novel in a month span that editing and revision would be just as simple. I am learning painfully slow that is not the case. All of this is a journey, and, like in my story, I don't want to rush it and have it be shit.

So to change my process (and hopefully jump start my energy) I am going to set aside each chapter and rewrite them 3 times each. Then I will sit down and decided which one was the best and go with that.

My nip-tuck process wasn't really panning out and I found myself more irritated and exhausted by the process. I love to write. So, it stands to reason that I should just write.

Time management

It's been some time since I've worked on my novel and that's terribly depressing. Granted I have been mulling it over continuously in my head whenever I'm listening to music or the playlist of songs I feel embody my book's message. So it hasn't fallen to the wayside. 

The thing is that my time has been spread over too many areas, none of which leave me time to edit. It is with this predicament that has made me really take a look at how I manage my time and analyze what is really important to me and my ultimate life goal. 

Since I was young I've also wanted to be an actor and have been doing theatre for some time.  I even did a student film once. The copy of which is laying somewhere in my house unwatched. And recently it has been theatre that has consumed a good chunk of my time.  It's my own fault I wanted to do it. I thought that theatre was something I still wanted to do.  It has been through my experience being stage manager for the show Trainspotting in LA that I have come to two very hard conclusions. The first is I will never be "discovered" while doing a show.  It will be hitting the pavement, sending out my headshots and resumes, going to auditions.  All the things I have no time for or the energy to do.  I have a normal 8-5 job two hours away from Hollywood. So that isn't particularly realistic, especially since I refuse to move down there. 

The second thing comes as a result of the other, I don't want to do theatre.  It has been a hard decision to come to grips with but it's the right one.  I want to be a writer.  In the moments of silence, left to my thoughts, that is the one thing that comes to mind. And that isn't going to happen while doing theatre. So I am done.

My boyfriend has tried to tell me that it's just the drive that has put me off of theatre but in reality it's not. Even when I did a show here I was miserable. It's just not what I want to be doing at this time. As much as I do want to act it does not even come close to my desire to be a published author. So, it's time to pick my pony... And I choose "geddyup published."

Fear and Dying Cats

Sometimes it's better not to rush. I am slowly, if not painfully so, discovering this. I have set many a goal to finally finish editing my novel but every time I come up short. Part of me thinks its fear, laziness, but another believes its my brain telling me something isn't quite finished. I know that sounds silly, like the people that wait for the muse to hit them. (Wait... This is exactly that... Whatever.) but through the process I have realized certain aspects I had been missing and thus have slowly begun to flesh out my story even more.

To a point it's finished. I've written it, there is a beginning, middle, and end but at the same time it's not submission ready. Technically that is up to my personal opinion. For all I know it is. It may have just needed some polishing and a great many cuts (I have the tendency of being wordy...) and have been ready for agents eyes. Sadly I am a perfectionist and won't settle for less. And yet my standards may be too high. I expect my manuscript to be at the caliber of the greats yet who ever said they were great when they were published? (Oh, publishing houses.) but setting such a high bar also sets me up for failure and the fear of failing. I have a nasty habit of letting that fear dictate my choices and actions. It keeps me from succeeding in the fear that it will be shit. ("We are our own worst critic."-everyone, ever)

There in lies my major problem: thinking it is worthless. In my mind I see my manuscript and having any self confidence in my writing, in the vein of the tone deaf people on American Idol. They swagger in and stand before the judges adamant that they are the next big thing. If only they could win on confidence alone. Then they open their mouths and the sounds of dying cats dragging their limp bodies across a chalk board emit from their chords. The judges cringe and America shifts nervously in their seats. When these people are told they don't have what it takes they are heart broken because obviously someone, or maybe themselves, have been told they have the voice of Mariah Carey. They believe it and when their "dream" comes crashing down around them it is devastation. That is my fear.

So I am left to decipher if it is the fear I have that weighs me down or that there is still more to discover within my story. Dear god, let it be the latter.

Tell me about yourself

It's amazing how sometimes a fictional character can take on a life of its own. For instance I have been busily editing my first novel and I have come to a point in the story where I seem to have shifted into a wrong gear. No matter where I begin this particular chapter or put on the page it sounds wrong. And I refuse to let myself get bothered by it so I tried another approach.

The iPhone is a handy little tool. Truly. I especially love the notepad app because there is no bells and whistles it is exactly what it says. It's a notepad. Now while I was waiting to be picked up outside Von's I began to have a conversation with one of my characters. I asked her what she had been up to. It was through this series of questioning that I discovered that my recount of her portion in my tale was completely wrong. She was in fact in some place entirely different at the time of the chapter I'm having difficulty recounting. So with a few tweaks in the previous chapters I am absolutely certain it will smooth out my ride and ill shift into the proper gear.

So now I am jazzed to start fresh tomorrow with the knowledge I have gathered. This line of questioning has also inspired me to do the same to my other characters but instead of trying to figure out "what happened" during the gap of time she was gone I instead will have them tell me about themselves.

I know this isn't that original of an idea. I was told to do this exercise in my acting classes and in various "how to" novel writing books. This will be the first time I've ever actually utilized this tool. Now I wish that I had in the past. It was because of this line of questioning that the character became more vivid in my thoughts. Granted she is based off of a real life person but in the context of the story and the events that transpire in it she has become her own self.

P.S.
I found this website to be amazingly helpful. It has a VERY thorough character questionnaire. I found myself pretending to be a journalist as I asked the questions.

Many Mini Revelations

So I've done it. I purchased the URL of my pen name and thus have begun a whole other journey. Sure, I'm putting the cart before the horse in some aspect but I wanted to have some blogs written by the time I start to query. The main idea being that if I have some examples of my writing online then they would be available if someone should google my name. I doubt it but you never know. The whole process has been interesting. I asked my partner/boyfriend/thing if it was odd that I made my own website and he thought I was rather ridiculous for doing it. I'm weird he told me. Which is true. I am a bit strange but there is a method to the madness. After many failed plans I have finally concluded that this must be my moment. I want to start out 2013 with a bang and focus on my writing. I have set a date of the 26th to be completed with my round of edits. Unlike in the past the process hasn't gotten me down. In an odd turn of events it's made me realize how capable I am of doing that which is expected of me. And even in some instances have walked away from my spout of editing feeling invigorated. Let's hope that continues this weekend.This weekend I intend to finish the main plot line of my novel. It has two that run parallel through the entire thing and tie everything up in a nice little bow. While reworking scenes and adding in/taking out characters I've developed a more coherent subplot that plays well into the main story. So, I figured it would be fair to dedicate time to each individual story instead of hopping back and forth as I have been. At two points in novel my characters had the same exact scene just hours later and in a different locations. The crux of my problem due to the fact that I had spent one week revising one chapter (to perfection, I may add) and the following on the following chapter which in fact has no real tie to the previous. (Who's on first?) The past couple weeks I have had this phrase recycling in my thoughts: You make sacrifices now to reap the benefits later. It's basically a reworded, reap what you sew or anything reaping adjacent. I never really understood that until recently. I guess some part of myself thought that the computer would just magically make the necessary revisions. Obviously that isn't going to happen so I'm rather glad that my brain has caught onto that fact. But i have to confess it is difficult when it feels like your inner critic and your partner/friend/thing seem to be best buds and grew up together. His words tend to feed this second sense of self and it keeps me down and wanting to hide away from my work.

Wake Me Up When September Starts

A new month is quickly approaching and is the end of the year and the end of my coincidental age/year correlation. I have been 26 for the vast majority of 2012. If you didn't gather 2 x 6 = 12. Anyway... I have this weird superstition with numbers. I tend to play these little games where I see if I can divide or mulitply something to equal 12. Most of the time it works, oddly enough. But I always see 12 as a sign of good fortune. For example when I was 13 I thought I had appendicitus. I went to the hospital and even spent a night there. But... the number I was handed in the ER was 12. I told my mom then and there that I was fine. Yet that didn't stop her worrying and spending a fortune for me to stay overnight and have nothing happen except the fact that I was poked and prodded for hours by amateurs that were insistent that I have an IV. Ugh... but I digress. My Birthday is november 4th. On that day I promised myself that i would have an agent. I intend to keep that or else I shall parish. This is the year that I make my career and life happen. I must. So with the approach of a new month, and my birthday drawing closer, I have decided to spend every day in the month of September working on one chapter of my book. I will devote the evening, after I get off work, to pouring over it and make certain that it is up to par. I know I can do it. I have found in the past, since the book I intend to finish-finish was done as such, that I work better under 30 day deadlines. I finished this novel during NaNoWrimo. I suppose it only seems fitting that I would finish it in a similar fashion. Instead of meeting a certain number of words per day I will instead work on chapters. Luckily my novel is only 33 chapters and tend to be rather short. So it isn't going to be overwhelming. I think that has been the crux of my problem. I just find the overall task of editing a novel length work of fiction daunting. I become frightened and scurry into the shadows avoiding it at all cost. I think it also doesn't help that I am turning a critical eye on to my art. But if I intend to make a career out of what i love to do (which is making up stories) then I must forge on.I have faith in myself. I know I can do this. I must do this. I will do this.

It's been awhile...

... how have you been, you blog of mine? Yeah, we had a moment awhile ago. It was brief but exciting. I had such high hopes but... they were childrens fantasies. But I am back. I have had a xanga site for going on eleven years. That's pretty fricken amazing. Most people get bored with that site after maybe a year but I have been putting away on it for some time. So it basically gets all of my attention. This blog here... well it was a fling. But I feel my xanga and I have gotten... distant. We don't seem to mesh as well as we once had. I'm beginning to search outside of the relationship. So thus I return to you. I made a promise to myself that once I finished with the third Sookie Stackhouse book I would return to working on my novel The Love Immortal. It has been some time since I have worked on it. I had, again, such high hopes and even marked a day on my calendar of when I would get an agent. Sadly that day has drawn dangerously close and I have refused to even look at my manuscript for fear of returning to the wicked headspace of my inner critic. My self esteem is shot to hell. There isn't anything I really like about myself to begin with so anything I might produce doesn't reach to my expectations of what is standard. So thus my novel was one of the corpses left behind because I'm afraid of failing. And by living in that fear I am in fact failing... It's this wonderful ironic cycle I put myself in. It is almost as if I can never say I failed if I never try in the first place. But if my dream is to be a published writer then... well I have failed, haven't I? My want to return to my novel began with a camping trip. It was my friends birthday gift from her boyfriend. He had planned this elaboorate weekend. Well it wasn't as exciting as I had imagined but at some moment in the weekend we were all sitting aorund the camp fire and my friend asked about my novel. All i need is a tiny tug and the rocks that hold back the damn of my creativity gives way and everythign comes pouring out. I told her, her boyfriend, and my own about my novel. The two gents stayed silent but her enthusiasm for it ignited that desire to be published. But it was a tiny flame and barely got my pot of creativity boiling. It wasn't until I returned to the sookie stackhouse books that the process began to boil. I was reading through the rest of the first novel and was astounded that it had ever been printed. It is a mess in terms of thought and how it was written. Don't get me wrong, I adored it. The story is fantastic. But so much of it feels undone. It feels as if Charlaine Harris sits down and slams out a story without any real regard for plot or an overall story arch. It was while I was reading, thinking these very thoughts, that it occured to me that I am good at what I do. I'm not amazing and could use quite a bit of polishing but I know that I can at least do better than her. (I'm not saying she is terrible.) Well, I finished the third book and partially true to my word I pulled out the bankers box with all of my notes on my novel. I will begin to peruse them and put them into a binder so that everything makes sense and I have a full grasp of what all is taking place externally and internally in the story. I will be publishd, I promise you.