Tag: little voice

Re-thinking this whole writing thing

…okay, not really re-thinking. Let’s just say I’m going to try something new (or, actually, old). Confused yet? Let me explain. Have you heard of Holly Lisle? If you haven’t, well, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Holly is a rarity: a mid-list author who actually makes a living with her writing. She’s smart, she’s a great writer, she knows what she’s doing, and, more importantly, she’s really big on paying it forward (she did start Forward Motion, after all). She spends a lot of her time helping her fellow writers out. To that end, she has created lots of helpful things, from the smaller workshops like How to Create a Language, How to Create a Character, How to Write Page-Turning Scenes…and she has also created huge, incredibly detailed classes Like How To Revise Your Novel and How To Think Sideways.

I was in the original HTTS class, as well as the original HTRYN class, and I can’t even begin to tell you how much difference these two classes made in my writing. The way Holly thinks, the way she breaks things down using plain language, worksheets, examples…well, it got me thinking in ways I’d never thought before (which was the point, right?). Since I don’t have much done on The Fall–in reality, I have only a handful of pages written, basically no pre-work, and haven’t touched it in weeks–I’ve decided that I’m going to take it through HTTS. I know the end result will be much closer to the story I have in my head, much more true to the vision I can see for the story. It will just be better. Yeah, it’ll be a lot of work and it will take me a while, but in the end, it’ll be worth it.

I’m a huge fan of Holly’s writing in general, and I know her courses can really get results–if you’re willing to do the work. I am. I haven’t been published, but I’ve gotten some partial manuscript requests because of her courses, and I want to give everything I can to The Fall. I’ve also decided to become one of Holly’s affiliates. I do believe whole-heartedly in her methods, her teaching, and her results, and if you have any interest in checking it out for yourself, go here. If you aren’t a writer, but you’d like to read a great book, you can check those out as well.

to someone I used to know….

(No, he doesn’t read this blog, he doesn’t even know of its existence.  This is just a form of personal therapy, a way to get these thoughts out of my head and find some sort of closure, even if it’s only in my own mind.)

Hey.  It’s me.  You know, the one you claimed to love.  The one you said you “could see yourself spending the rest of your life with.”  The one you made plans with to move to California, to get 3 dogs with (yes, I still think “Bear Jew” is a stupid name for a dog).  The one you asked “Can you just hang around for the next 50 years or so?”  Yep.  Me.

I wish I had known upfront that you were not the person you said you were.  I wish I had known that all those things you said, all those plans you described, all the promises you made, were lies.  When we first started dating, you told me so many things, things from your past, things that you weren’t proud of, and I never judged you for any of that.  I never thought less of you.  I still loved you unconditionally and accepted you , just as you were.

And I told you things I’d never told anyone else.  You knew exactly how badly I’d been hurt in the past, and promised me you wouldn’t do that to me.  But you did.  Twice.  You broke my heart, knowing exactly how badly it would hurt me, you did it anyway.  The first time, I accepted your reasoning as logical, even if I still thought it was stupid.  It made a sort of sense, and I knew you still loved me, we were still in each others’ lives.  The second time…sigh…

The second time it was just plain selfish, childish, cowardice.  Because you can’t deal with real life, with civilian life.  Because you think only of yourself.  Because growing up and having an adult relationship scares you.  Because you refuse to get  help, even when you know you need it.  Because you freak out and have panic attacks when you realize that people you’ve known for years are now grown-ups and don’t want to party and drink all the time.  Shocking, I know, how some people realize there are more important things in life than self-gratification.  Imagine that…

I still care about you, very much, but I have found peace in my life now.  I still think about you sometimes, memories still hit me out of nowhere sometimes and feel like a dagger to the heart, but I have peace.  I’m so much stronger than I was before.  But I’m harder as well, and you did that to me.  Even with my trust issues and what I knew of you, I trusted you, and now it will be harder than ever for me to trust anyone again.  I still don’t understand how you can claim to love someone and knowingly hurt them this badly.  You’d been hurt like that before, so how could you do that to me?

We had an amazing relationship.  We never fought.  We didn’t always agree, but we balanced each other out, and we enjoyed being together so much.  I never tried to change you.  I never stopped you from doing what you wanted, from going out with your friends, from spending time with your family.  The only things I ever asked of you were to be honest with me, and to be who you said you were.

Funny how those are the two things you just couldn’t do.

I heard through the grapevine that you thought about texting me, but didn’t, because you weren’t sure how I would respond.  I’ve made my peace.  I have forgiven you.  I haven’t completely let go of all of the negative emotions, all of the hurt, the regret, the pain, but I’m trying.  No, I haven’t made any effort to contact you, because you made it clear that you no longer wanted me in your life.  I simply gave you what you wanted, and took myself out of your life.  I don’t hate you.  I still care about you.  But I won’t put myself into someone’s life who doesn’t want me there.  If you want to contact me, that’s fine, but I’m not going to initiate it.

I wish only the best for you.  I hope that one day you realize who you are, that who you claim to be isn’t actually who you are.  I hope your son stays who he is, and doesn’t learn certain things from you, that he doesn’t turn into the bitter, cynical person you are.  Most of all, I hope that you find God, and that you realize that He is what you need to fill that hole inside of you, not drinking and partying and meaningless encounters.

I do still love you, but I need someone who is who they claim to be.  A real, honest, trustworthy man, someone who is worthy of my love.  Someone who won’t hurt me.  Someone who doesn’t think only of himself.  Someone like the person you claimed to be.

When I told you I was letting go, what I really meant was “good-bye.”

Doing Too Much

In case you’re wondering where I’ve been (you know, all three of you that are reading this), I need to make a confession: I tend to over-commit myself. Basically, I need about 5 extra hours in every day to get everything done I need and/or want to do. Here’s a list of things I need to be doing on a weekly basis (some of which I’m failing miserably at):

1) Work (2 15-hour days, 1 13-hour day). On my feet….
2) School: 17 hours this semester (5 class, one lab, WTF was I thinking?)
3) 3 blogs (my writing blog, my personal blog, my environmental blog)
4) Write the first draft of The Fall (My Muse thinks I’ve gone on strike.)
5) Revise the zombie story
6) Revise the werewolf story
7) Write book reviews for Examiner.com (assuming I have actual time to read)
8) Keep up with my writing crit circle (I’m trying.)
9) Church (This has become a necessity in my life. Period.)
10) Keep up with all my home projects (the green-friendly ones that are now my priority)
11) Hang out with family and The Diva (so she doesn’t have a complete breakdown. I love you, sister-wife!).
12) Work out. (Ha. Hahahaha. Yeah. With what free time? I’m pretty sure the 5-7 miles I walk at work 3 times a week count for something.)
13) I’m taking a 6-week Nutrition class on Coursera (halfway through), with a Philosophy class starting in 2 weeks…
14) I’m pretty sure I’m missing something, but I can’t remember what just now…

You’ll notice this list does not include things like, oh, sleep, relax, hang out with friends. All of which are things I do try to do, too. I’ve had some stuff going on with the Sierra Club and Environment Texas. This past weekend, I had a membership class at church. I have another one next weekend.

Watching TV…sigh. It’s a good thing I have a DVR. That’s all I’m saying. Actually, I did watch two shows I had recorded on Sunday, while I was doing other things. A friend of mine called while I was watching. He asked what I was doing. When I said “Watching TV,” there was dead silence on the line for a good ten seconds, then “REALLY?!” Yeah. Before that, it had been…oh, probably a month, since I had my TV on. Money well spent on the cable bill, huh?

In short, I’d show you my daily planner, but I’m too embarrassed. It’s probably confusing to everyone but me. Plus, I’m severely OCD when it comes to my planner and it might be color coded…

So, every day, I feel like this:

"Lalalala...I've got this!"
“Lalalala…I’ve got this!”

But in reality, I look like this:

...or not...
…or not…

Playing with the Muse

Despite the stresses of this week–my aunt was just diagnosed with breast cancer, one of my best friends had brain surgery today–I managed to finish the revision outline for the werewolf story.  It’s not very in-depth, only six pages long, but I think it will help me get organized to actually finish the revision (FINALLY).  I’m hoping so, anyway.

I wrote for 20 minutes or so yesterday on The Fall.  Only got a few hundred words or so, but that’s better than nothing.  Even better, I have an idea for part of the plot.  Well.  Kind of.  I think maybe it’s going to be super-important to the plot…but I could be wrong.  It has to do with an up-’til-now-unseen character that disappeared six months before.  I think I know WHY he disappeared…where he went…and even more importantly, how it ties into the larger story arc.  And here I thought he was just the used-to-be best friend.  Who knew?  My Muse, apparently….

I love the mystery and the surprises in writing.  It’s what makes the whole thing truly worthwhile and beautiful.  I love when the little things all come together and something clicks inside my head and it all makes sense.  (I just wish real life could make sense like that.)  I love when a tiny detail you thought wasn’t important turns out to be the key to everything.  I love writing.  I love creating.

I Think I Might Have Found the Solution…

…to my complete inability to get anything done writing-wise.  Something that eliminates a lot of my tendency to procrastinate, and allows me to focus on a project for a short period of time.  What is this magical solution?  Setting the timer on my phone for 30 minutes.

Yes, this is something super-simple that I probably should have thought of before, but I didn’t.  I was trying to bribe my Muse into coming to work today, and said “Okay, if I can just write for 30 minutes, I’ll be happy.”  So, I set my timer for half an hour, pulled up my manuscript of The Fall, and started writing.  I managed 3-4 pages before the timer beeped.  It was a short enough time period that I didn’t get distracted, but long enough for me to actually get something accomplished, which made me feel about a thousand times better than my usual “You lazy bum, you didn’t get any writing done at all today!” vibe.

It worked so well that I tried it twice more.  I managed to revise an entire chapter in the zombie story from 3rd-person to 1st-person POV.  And I also did 14 chapters in the revision outline for the Werewolf story (less than ten to go).  It may not work for everyone, but it’s worth a shot.

If anyone has any other ideas, ways to get over the lack of inertia and start working again, I’d LOVE to hear them!

time

 

 

the demons of self-doubt

I made a bit more progress on the new story, a little more than 1,000 words or so. I love the story idea, of course (or I wouldn’t be writing about it), but sometimes I do get a little discouraged. Sometimes, my inner editor/critic/peanut gallery starts talking louder than normal, and that voice drowns out my Muse and my love for the story. That little voice says “What’s the point? You’re NEVER going to get published. Ever. You’re a terrible writer, and you write crap, and no one will EVER want to read it. Why do you bother?”

Sometimes it’s hard to silence that voice. Sometimes that’s all I can hear when I sit down at the computer. Sometimes I think that voice is right.

It’s a struggle right now, but I won’t let the demons win.