1,669 down! 65,331 to go!

I did it! I met my goal of 1,500 words for this week. I even went over by 169 words.

Not too shabby, although as in proper procrastinator tradition I finished two hours before my deadline.

I did the math. If I finish 1,500 every week I’ll reach my goal of 100,000 words for my novel in 11 months. That’s including the 33,000 in my final count I started with today. That gets me just within my goal of finishing by the end of the year.

Whether 100,000 words is enough for finish the story is another issue. I’m at roughly 35,000 words now and I’ve completed 6 of 28 plot points I need to run through. Lovely.

Either way, at least I got some writing done this week. Hopefully, by keeping this pace up and going a bit faster now and again I’ll get to my goal of finishing this darn first draft.

I’m just barreling through at this point. I just need the skeleton done. I’m not focusing on rhetoric or sentence structure or even typos. I’m just trying to get this down so that I can go back and make it good, hopefully better than good in the long run.

I think setting this goal here on my blog, for anyone to come and see has really helped get me into gear, so to all those who have actually read this, thank you.

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Writing! Why am I having so much trouble?

I promised myself that I would finish the draft of my novel.

I’ve managed 600 words in 14 days. Baby steps, I guess?

But seriously, why am I having so much trouble? It’s not like I have writer’s block. I have my notes and know exactly where my story needs to flow to unfold and what key points need hitting and how my characters need to interact etc, etc…

It might have something to do with the fact that I feel quite brain-drained after a day of staring at a computer screen that’s broken and nearly sezure worthy while trying to please everyone with a job done well and quickly. I’ve also developed laziness when it comes to my own writing.

I’m also having trouble thinking any sentence that comes out of me is anywhere near decent. I know my editing addiction is a factor, but I swear I’ve been doing so well fighting it!

I’m just currently a terrible writer, mostly because I’M NOT WRITING ENOUGH!

I need to get my brain into gear…

This weekend I need 1,500. I know this is not a big goal, I know this is barely a pebble on the mountain, but I need to get started. If by Monday I haven’t reached 1,500 (not including what I already have) you all have permission to pelt me with books! Preferably the virtual kind so that I don’t bruise too badly, they might ask questions at work. 

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Lost: 2015. Have you seen it?

Well, I lost a whole year!

What in all the versions of the afterlife happened?!?

Last you heard from me it was 2014 and I promised I’d updated you on my travels… what a fail.

So, I spent my days looking for work, finding work, working my ass off, being under appreciated, and finding new work. Doesn’t my life sound fun? Yeah, no wonder I didn’t write anything for a year, nothing happened!

Okay, not nothing. I fell head first into a life I never expected. I became a house wife, so to speak. I live with my fella, it’s been nearly a year now. We’ve dawned typical domestic gender rolls, except I still work. Yes, the feminist’s soul in me died after the third load of laundry. But we have the cutest kitty in the known universe, so I guess it’s okay. And no, I’m not biased.

But there’s been an itch in my brain I just couldn’t scratch. For some reason, I spent the last year feeling somewhat vacant. Something from this glamorous life was missing. I’ve been working harder than I’ve ever worked for less money than I’ve ever made, I’ve been keeping an almost clean house, and feeding the creatures I live with, but I haven’t felt fulfilled? How could these things not keep me ecstatic, you ask? I asked the same thing.

At first, I realized, “You shmuck, you haven’t read much in a while!” Well, no wonder I felt a shade of blue, I wasn’t reading! So, I went to the vast collection in my office and looked through the list of books that I have and haven’t yet read and started to catch up.

But something still nagged at me. It took me almost a year to realize I’d been missing the most vital thing that kept me from jumping off a cliff when I had three jobs and full time classes, I wasn’t writing ANYTHING. I hadn’t sat down to put a word on a page in so long, I almost forgot how to spell “I.”

So, dear readers who’ve probably forgotten the tone of my voice in your heads, I’m back!

We’re gonna return to old times. Yes, reviews and rants are back my friends.

I’m about to start Tom Robbin’s Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates. It feels like a game changer. I’m excited.

I’m also going to give up the unpaid overtime (I know, crazy talk) and focus on the novel I’ve been trying to write for ten years but still haven’t managed a first draft of.

In one year’s time, if I don’t have a first draft completed you all have permission to pelt me with olives, or the salty snack of your choice.

Let’s do this!

Lightbulbs Everywhere!

I was in my Dante lecture, listening to my professor recite the first Canto of the Inferno. Her voice has a gentle italian accent and if you let your mind drift even a little the soft melodic sounds of her words lose their meaning and become a thin stream of calming sounds.

It was at this point that an explosion of ideas burst forth in my head! I felt like all the ideas that had been stranded at the edges of my mind for the past few years just came rushing into my consciousness and started screaming, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” I sat there, staring at my professor and my mind was reeling with mountains of ideas. I started scribbling these ideas down in the margins of my notebook. I even flipped to the back and wrote a few lines of dialogue.

The writer’s block that had sparked my massive re-write/revision suddenly melted away to reveal all these wonderful things. By the end of class I was itching to get home and start the clickity-clack of my keyboard until I had blisters on my fingers. But I had an appointment after class, which I had just enough time to change for when I got home, so the typing had to wait.

While I still need to write the main plot progression for Dawning of the Sun down, I made a lot of progress idea-wise. I discovered a world of new Gods and Goddesses and their origin myths. I found my Underworld, its purpose, and unearthed a few mysteries about the afterlife. I discovered some things about my characters that they had been hiding from me, including their shameful pasts. But, best of all, I figured out that I’m writing a trilogy. It was always my intention to find a way to keep Sol’s story going. I had originally intended for her to discovered her heritage and meet her family in the imaginary second book. I was so very wrong. That’s part of Dawning of the Sun. Sol will have far greater challenges to deal with in the second book, because they wont be her own.

I’m overwhelmed with all the ideas that are flooding my insides. It’s like I’m going to burst! I haven’t had anything like this happen in a very long time. But what I’m most grateful for is my ability to make connections. Everything I’ve already written or thought I might write play into the new ideas, they make them richer. Everything is connected.

I’ve been really down on myself the last few weeks, as some of my friends and family have pointed out. I was losing faith in my abilities, not just in writing but school and my future. This day couldn’t have come at a better time. While, to do all this I have once again neglected my studies, I now have a renewed passion for finishing my degree. When I do, I can put that diploma to good use: funding my writing. I’ve decided that I don’t care what day job is going to be anymore. As long as when I’m done for the day I still have energy to write, I’ll be happy. I had this romantic notion that I would love my day job and write in my off hours. Silly me. I want to make up stories. I want to write them down. I want to share them with others. That’s my big dream now. It’s no longer second to a fancy career.

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A Little Something

Here’s a little something I wrote in class yesterday. Just something that came to me so I wrote it down.

There’s a woman who sits across from me that’s dressed all in purple. Not a regal purple or a deep purple, but a light purple, a mauve-type purple. It’s timid, shy, and calm but obvious.

Why would one dress all in purple? The same shade of purple?

Her face reflects the mauve attitude of her outfit. It’s clam. There are no harsh edges to her face or markings there. She’s all together quite unnoticeable, except that she’s all dressed in purple, even her shoes are that same sedate mauve.

This colour both calmly and politely says, “Please, if you wouldn’t mind, could you notice me today?” While also saying, “I’m ordinary, please glance over me.” Why would anyone choose to have these things be said about them? Why is she so sedate in her calm oxymoron of a colour?

Now, I can’t help but think what the woman in purple thinks when she looks over at me.


So, I’ve decided to completely re-tool my novel, Dawning of the Sun, of which I have posted the first chapter in one of my tabs.

I sat down to work on it today and it was like trying to ride a bike through wet concrete, painful, tiresome and all together fruitless. I have this problem with editing, when I sit down to write all I do is edit and I don’t actually write anything. So, I told myself I wasn’t allowed to edit and only write, I could go back and edit later. Well, this will not work. I have too many ideas to re-vamp the story that writing now is just ridiculous because nothing seems to play out right. I have too many ideas swirling around. I even went so far as to writing random events in that were irrelevant to my current place and just moving ahead, but then how am I going to get there?

In order to move forward I need to re-write the past, literally. I started writing this book when I was sixteen. That’s over seven years ago and I haven’t even hit the middle of my story. My ideas and views are different, everything has changed and I have a greater understanding of stories and writing. I need to change it all, rip it down to the bare skeleton, re-arrange some bones and add new meat and skin.

I know that this is far from my last edit and I know it’s far from my last re-write. But I think if I can get this story on the right track, incorporate things I forgot, missed or recently thought of I’ll be able to make it a good story and I’ll be able to progress it the way it should progress. Right now it feels wrong, it’s terribly lacking and childish. As harshly as I can judge other writers, I judge myself to quite a greater degree.

Basically, my story is shit and I need to do better. If at first you don’t succeed change your tactics and start a new. This is the plan.

Re-write here I come, I’m going to hate you by the end but I’ll be thankful you happened.