I Miss Brave

I finished crocheting a scarf that I am going to give my mom for Christmas. It only took two days to do, and so tonight, as I was watching Bag of Bones, I started a new one. I am not sure who I am going to give this one to yet, but hopefully they will like the light blues and greens and grays that make up the yarn. I also read a lot today, and I am almost through with the first Vampire Diaries book, the one that contains The Awakening and The Struggle. I am pretty sure that I read these books when I was younger, I was pretty sure that I had read everything that L.J. Smith ever wrote, but so far I am sorry to say that I like the show better than the books - that hardly ever happens. 

Why am I recounting all of these daily banal activities? Because I am still not writing. Today, I lay in bed with my laptop for hours, looking at (probably literally) hundreds of books on Amazon, trying to figure out how it is possible that so many people have already done what I want to do so badly, and to think furthermore that I could probably do it better than some, if not a lot of them. 

I guess, maybe, not finishing my NaNoWriMo story is hitting me harder than I had originally let on. I told so many people about it this year, I feel like I let so many people down, but really, I let myself down. Lately I've been all about doing and finishing things that I say I want to do, and this is one of the things that I totally bombed at, and it was one that was important to me. It's going to take some time, I think, for me to get my groove back. For me to get the confidence back to begin something new and not question myself too much about things.

I have to close my door. I have to close my door.

There's this author, Nova Ren Suma, who has a wonderful blog on writing, and last month she did a blog series on "What Inspires You" and a bunch of other writers share their thoughts on writing and inspiration, and on what keeps them going when they feel like giving up - all those things that "aspiring" writers like myself just eat the hell up. Veronica Roth, who wrote Divergent, one of the best books I've read this year HANDS DOWN, added her two cents, and she said something at the end of her post that I couldn't stop thinking about, so I just had to go and look it up again to share it here.

Writing isn’t everything—a life is much more than that. But for me it’s a little microcosm. It’s a safe place to try to make life better, to gather up my strength for the times when I step away from the computer. And sometimes, when I do, I’m a little braver than before.

She gets it. This is ME. I feel like people who are writers and bloggers live completely different lives than everyone else in the world. We make our own worlds, and additionally we are part of this other, bigger world of the blogosphere where people read our words and know our names and think of us as friends or aquaintances even though we've never met. People who don't have that - people who don't have Twitter followers that ask how we are and care about what we're doing - they don't get it, and it's hard explaining it. 

I feel like I have two lives, two completely separate lives - one of them I live in the world - I go to work, I have dinner with friends, I spend time with family.. And then, in the other life, I write, and I think, and I create, and I am constantly shocked and thrilled when I see that people actually give a shit about what I have to say. It's amazing, and it's something that is SO HARD to share with others, the way it makes me feel. 

But see, without writing, I am just this lost thing, that's how I feel right now. I'm just puttering about in my little virtual world without a ground to stand on, without characters to keep me company, without adventure to find. I need to start writing again, something big and significant and GOOD, to be able to be brave again, to be able to get out of bed in the morning with a smile on my face instead of weeping as my feet hit the floor.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

I am not going to finish NaNoWriMo this year. I knew it tonight before I even sat down to write, I think, because all I was doing as I popped my can of Monster at 11pm was dreading the task before me. I could barely bring myself to open the file that contains the second installment of The Eternals story that I began in April, the one that I thought might have the chance of someday seeing the light. And maybe it will, maybe. Maybe with a lot of close looks and fine tuning and all around hard work it might be able to be salvaged into something that someone might want to read someday. Maybe. But taking it on as my NaNo project after I had already abandoned my first (and completely laid out) idea, was just asinine. I guess I went into this with too much confidence and not enough determination to finish, to just write with no plot and no problem. Because, see, I have a plot, and a problem.

Months ago, I gave a stack of papers to Dan and asked him to read what I had been working on for almost two years. It was the story that I had started two NaNoWriMos ago, and technically I won that NaNo because the manuscript, though no where close to being finished, was over 50,000 words. Before giving it to Dan I had re-written a lot of it, fine tuned it and made it better, but the bare bones were there and it was something I was proud of.

Now, I don't know why I gave it to Dan. I guess because he is the first person in a long time who has ever seemed genuinely interested in reading something I have worked on, and not just because he wanted to read it, but because he could offer opinions and insight that went deeper than a casual reader. I had faith then, that in giving him the beginnings of that first draft, I would be given back a wealth of feedback that would do wonders for me. 

I don't know what I was thinking.

Dan understood that he wasn't, under any circumstances, allowed to talk to me about it until December. I didn't want to get distracted by thoughts of the story where my heart is and be led astray from NaNo, but that's just what happened anyway. When I was writing about the teenagers in the haunted house, and again when I was revisiting Leila and her band of Givers who'd escaped from the vampires that were exploiting them, my mind was with Nora on Spring Street the entire time. (I know this won't make sense to anyone now, but hopefully someday it will.) 

And then, a couple of days ago, I was literally struck dumb with fear. I was afraid that December would come, and Dan would start talking to me about Nora and Spring Street, and that his words would influence me in ways I couldn't control. I know for a fact that that is exactly what will happen. I know for a fact now that giving him that stack of papers was like giving him my heart and asking him to rip it to shreds, and now all I want to do is turn back time and snatch it away from him and take back my words. 

But I can't take it back. I can't make him un-read what he's already read and made notes on. The only thing I can do is tell him not to talk to me about it - and keep writing.

So that's what I did tonight, once I'd diagnosed the thing that had been keeping me from JUST WRITING for NaNoWriMo. I went back to Spring Street, and I had a fucking blast.

It's been probably two months since I've written about Nora, and picking up where I left off, at the edge of the cliff where I had left my heroine, felt literally like coming home to a warm house after being locked out in the cold. I don't think I have any choice now but to see this story through to its bitter end, writing challenges be damned. 

I'm not going to lie. I'm disappointed in myself, much more disappointed in myself than anyone else will be with me for not finishing NaNo this year when I was so psyched up and confident that I could do it again - that makes it two wins and two losses in a row. But really, is this a loss? I got almost 13,000 words into a brand new story that totally has potential, and over 10,000 words into a sequel that might not make it past Google Docs, but is certainly an indication that the Eternals have some life in them yet. That is not a total loss, not at all. But what have I gained? Well, let's see what I've learned so far this month:

• I am a pantser, not a plotter. Plotting the Brigham House story, though it seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, killed it before it was out of the gate. I was bored writing it, because I already knew what was going to happen - or rather, I wasn't letting myself find out what could happen when my fingers take over for my brain.
• There's a time and a place for everything. Eventually I WILL finish the Eternals series. Although the first book was utter crap, I was passionate about it while I was writing it, I had an absolute blast writing it, and I know that underneath all the crap there is the skeleton of a great story and even greater characters that just need a little more tender loving care to make mommy proud of them. But this wasn't the time to revisit them, not under pressure. I couldn't do Leila and the Givers justice during NaNo, and I'm pretty sorry that I tried.
• Write with the door closed. It's Stephen King's advice. I should know, I'm finishing up his memoir, On Writing, just tonight between writing breaks. Write with the door closed and edit with the door open, that's what he says, and it's what I DIDN'T do when I gave Dan the beginning of my manuscript. I was opening my door to him, when I know now I should have checked my ego on the right side of the closed door and kept the damn thing to myself until it was finished. Pride does me no good when things are left open ended. 
• You have to trust yourself, and then forgive yourself. I went into this November with way too much confidence. I 'trusted myself' to the point of being cocky, I see that now, but I had good intentions. Regardless of the message boards, the forums, the Facebook groups and the precious few friends who act as cheerleaders, writing is a lonely fucking business, and if you can't trust yourself and have faith in yourself that you aren't doing it all for nothing, well, I can't imagine where I would be. But then, you fail. You fail and you fail and keep failing, and then there is no choice but to forgive yourself, or else you might not go on. You might not pick up that pen again, or open up that document again. You might open the door and walk out and never look back. But I'm not that girl. 

NaNo '11 was a total bust for me, but I can't say I'm all THAT surprised or disappointed. You win some, you lose some, and then, with time's unflagging forward stride, November comes again. But look at this, where are we? Day 19??? I have eleven days left, and then I will have done something I've NEVER done before and always wanted to - I'll have blogged every day for a month. I never quite understood how I could write a novel in a month THREE TIMES and never manage to post once a day, but this.. not only do I think I can finish NaBloPoMo, I don't think I want to stop there. On my Mighty Life List, blogging every day for a year is #68. I'm already nineteen days in, it's the longest stretch I've ever had, so why stop now? 

The Mighty Life List

This non-entry is brought to you today by:

My Mighty Life List - up to seventy things to see/do/learn/accomplish/be before I go.

And now, I have some writing to do.

The Half

We are half of the way through November, the most celebrated and dreaded month for writers. I can't say that NaNoWriMo is going as well for me as I thought it would - I am struggling every day, and I hate to admit that I am starting to have serious doubts about being able to finish in time, but I am not giving up yet. I just didn't think this month would be as full as it is turning out to be. Also, there are distractions.

This is random, but I watch a lot of TV on Netflix Instant. I know, I know, I should swear off television forever, what good does it do a writer? But listen. The Vampire Diaries. I can't even..

Damon has the smolder. You know, the smolder. It's so funny, because Ian Somerhalder played Boone in LOST, and I couldn't stand him in LOST. I always thought he was such an icky girly boy in that show, but as a vampire? Smokin. HOT.

In other news, Gary made it through his quadruple bypass surgery, and if there are no complications such as infection, he should recover just fine. Really, he'll have a better heart now than he did a day ago when it exploded in his chest. I am not sure how other moms out there deal with these things (and I don't care enough to ask, thankyouverymuch) but we are just telling Elise that her Pop-Pop is sick and has a booboo on his chest. To explain to a five year old that he was just on the brink of death doesn't seem right to me at this point, and thankfully Mike agrees with me on that. 

Phew. Fifteen down and fifteen to go. Fifteen down and fifteen to go.

Meh.

I always get sick in November. It's something I can actually count on, just like death or taxes. November comes, and then comes the head and chest congestion, the sleepless nights, the hacking cough and sore muscles. It sucks. Usually it happens later in the month, and I'd say at least one out of every three Thanksgivings sees me laid up on the couch at my parents house, not even able to eat the amazing turkey dinner.

I got really far in the new rendition of NaNo yesterday, but today I am just not feeling it. The pressure that I will be under in the next few weeks to get it done will be extreme, but totally worth it if I can actually finish this time. I've been talking up my confidence to friends, family, and Facebook, so I am in it for the long haul now. I have to finish. I can't let myself down by having to tell people that I didn't do it, that I couldn't do it. 

But tonight? 

Tonight I am going to have some vodka on ice with lime and hopefully drown some of the sick aches in drunkenness - I'm going to watch The Walking Dead and Hell on Wheels with Dan and just keep drinking until I forget what I've watched and it's suddenly morning. 

Also, I got Stephen King's new book yesterday, 11/22/63, and it is already great. I'm going to read that until I can't see the words any more, I am going to cover my mouth, and in the morning, hopefully, I will be better.

What a Little Passion Will Do

Passion.. crazy.. is it all the same? 

Eleven days into NaNoWrimo 2011, and I started over yesterday night. I just couldn't hack it with the haunted house story anymore. It wasn't the story itself. I mean, it was sort of boring in the way that it was about two siblings who move into an old farmhouse with their family and it's haunted. I suppose my heart just wasn't in it to begin with, but as I wrote I realized I hated my characters, and it had always been more about the house than the people living in it to me, anyway.

So I started over, and not for nothing, this has taught me a lesson about myself that I will not be soon to forget:

I am a pantser, all the way.

It was outlining that killed my story, I know it was. It was plotting it out and having the entire story mapped out ahead of me - every turn and twist and surprise and conclusion, lined up like little proverbial ducks in a row. I thought to myself, my god, this is going to be so easy. All I have to do is fill in all the blanks and the details, and this story will be done. It will be a total breeze. But instead, it was a total bore. The only excitement I felt was passing my daily word goals. There was no excitement for the story itself, there was no passion. What it came down to was knowing that at the end of November I would have stuck this haunted house story into a folder on Google Docs and forgotten about it, but I don't want to spend all of my time writing things just to know that I am going to be throwing them away.

I understand that I have to write a lot of crap. I understand, and I have heard it said before that you have to write 10,000 pages of crap before you might finally hit your stride. 

I'm getting there. But I'm going to get there with a little heart involved.

Yesterday afternoon I pulled out the Eternals manuscript that's been hiding in a folder under my bedside table for the last five months. I ignored the fluff in the beginning, the awkward start that still doesn't make sense or work in the scheme of things, but that's okay. I read the last three chapters to myself and although I couldn't see the forest through the trees last spring, I suddenly saw exactly where the story needed to go and where my characters were going to take me - so I went with them.

Day two of NaNoWrimo 2011 Part DEUX! And I am at 7,936. So technically, I'm ahead of my new daily word goal by almost two days. I can do this. And when I DO do this? I'm not just going to have another novel, I'm going to be well on my way into a series that I swear to god will eventually, eventually, see the light of day.

11/11/11

I set my alarm for 11:11am so that I could make my wish today, on 11/11/11. I suppose there is nothing really special about this date, besides it's palindromic quality, and the fact that we are supposed to make wishes at a certain time. I did it. I won't tell you what it is, but I sure do hope it comes true.

What with the election this week, I've skipped two entire days of NaNoWriMo writing. If I don't get any done today, I will be over 4,000 words behind the suggested pace, and that doesn't frighten me, but what does frighten me is that last night as I was laying in bed with the intention to write my NaNo story, I didn't want to. Because I hate the story. I hate it. 

I planned out a horror story - outlined the whole story of two siblings who move into a haunted house with their family and then, well, hauntings ensue. But unfortunately, my heart is far from in it, and I loathe to keep writing it because I know that when it is finished, I am not ever going to want to look at it again or edit it or try to salvage it in any way. 

I am going to take a leap of faith, I believe. I am going to give myself the next two hours to think about it, and if I can come up with a great "what if" (or even a marginally better 'what if' in that short span of time) I'm going to start over, and I'm going to write a novel in twenty days instead of thirty. My calendar is clear, my confidence is still high.. I will let you know how that goes.

In other news, I redesigned this blog again, and I think it looks HOT. So I want to make myself a promise and hope that I stick to it: No more blog tinkering until the new year. Because this one is a good one.