Thought-Drive

It's the holiday break, and I'm three chapters into the eight chapter quota I set for myself. In the middle of the third, I happened upon a turn of phrase which made me rethink the naming conventions of the books involved with my little project. Which is not to say the name the books have were flippantly decided, nor is it to say that I haven't said the names over a hundred times to myself already, and even grown quite comfortable with them. What I'm saying is that the line that came out of me made so much sense, and tied things up so nicely, that I was happy I didn't get the first manuscript through, that I still have time to make it really, really good. A royalty report I got recently leads me to believe that there just might be a window for me to sneak through to make a market for myself. To that end, I'm pretty grateful, and am going to do my due diligence. But I'm thankful for small things, too, this season. I unexpectedly found some soda in the back o...

Work for the year is finally done. Well, the work I perform in an attempt to make a living, at least. I have eight chapters to write before I return on the 3rd and somehow, looking back over things, I thought I'd be farther along than I am. That includes progress on this blog, as well. In other news, I finally have some sort of concept for what I'm doing with my twitter account . I call it the 140 Characters Project, that is to say, 140 tweets of 140 different characters, each no more than 140 characters. An example: Going without made her go within:red walls,kinky carpet,locked doors.Looked fine to her.She wrote wish lists,put to music,asking why not her   I plan on celebrating my progress at each of the four quarters (at 35, 70, 105 and 140) , the first of which is a dozen or so tweets away. I realize even if I wrote one a week (which I'm not), it would still be a labor of some years. Somehow, though, I can't back off my initial statement. I think about conver...

I wonder if failure and success work in the same way that heat and cold do, the latter not being something in and of it self, but simply a lack of the former. For instance, failure can also create a place holder, make space for future success. I wasn't able to write the short story before December 1, but I did double up on the writing for the novel. Ultimately, I fell short of my goal, but I don't feel any worse off for it. An artist friend of mine spent the month creating many, many pieces, the goal being a number with three digits. When she was finished, she said, "I think in the future I need to set more unobtainable goals," a statement whose wisdom could only be observed through scrutiny. In any event, the writing this past weekend went well, and not so well. That is to say perfectly. A business meeting of mine got cancelled, the first of any of its kind. A person I was introduced to wanted to discuss with me the topic of ghost writing. It took me a days to even...

First off: thanks. To everyone who reads this, reliably, or just the once. Even on accident. You make the list of things I'm thankful for this year. Other notables on the are the warm, fuzzy feeling I have concerning next year and looking back on the decisions I made this past one (see, I'm doing it, too, winding the year forward faster than the calendar). So, I can talk about the writing that got done with a fresh mind for once because I wrote this very morning. Off work for Turkey Day, I felt that I owed it to myself to tend to an additional chapter this week. I think the secondary goal is to hit 20 before   the new year hits me. The chapter went well, even threw in a bit of extemporaneous plot that didn't seem too horrid (as I was writing it, that is; remember I said that for when I get around to editing it into the 3rd draft). Also, this past weekend I had the occasion to do some legitimate research for that short story. And by legitimate I mean leaving the house, l...

A couple years ago I wrecked my car, which sucked at the time. It turns out that without any transportation, that summer proved to be the most productive time in my writing life. I finished the draft of a 90,000 word novel in thirty days, my first completed book. Fast forwarding to now glosses over a lot of struggle with the manuscript, mostly over trying to convince publishers that it would, in fact, be an awesome story for readers to discover their way through. Clerical error stretched out its shelf life, in such time I became a much better and wiser author, and thankfully so, because I better see now what it's going to take to push that particular round peg through the square holes provided to me. And I think I'm mostly good with that. So I think I've turned a corner, and will be able to look back on this time as a decisive fork in the long and winding road, and will smile at my decision. I'm not going to stop working on the series, but after the book I'm curre...

The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Love that quote, almost enough to look up who said it, then really figure out who said it. I totally dropped the ball last week. In fact, it wasn't until Thursday that I realized that I hadn't blogged. I wouldn't describe the winter season as busy, either. It just slipped off my mind and didn't stick back on until much later. But I have been writing, both this past weekend and the one before it. I even squeezed in some academic scribbling as well. My students had some opinions about a Jack London story that were different from my own, and I thought it was an excellent time to show them how arguments go down among literary types. Initially, I intended to comb through the story for quotes that proved my point, but what started as some light reading during a lunch break ended up being a few pages of rhetoric. It was the first time that I had taken to something like that seriously since graduating college. I wasn...

I'm in a productive place today. Sunday, I wrote after almost deliberately putting it off on Saturday, and coming up with a weak excuse on Friday. As the weekend progressed, the chapter in question occurred to me in the morning and in my still moments in the afternoon until I could almost recite it. Sitting down and putting it on paper was more therapeutic than it was strictly work-a-day. And I guess that makes me sound (more) crazy, but I stand firm on my position that this is a good thing. The drafted chapter marks my fifteen thousandth approximate word for this project, which isn't a quarter of a way through, but it still feels like something to celebrate. I discovered that at least for this particular series, I always start with several, disparate plots, and then wind them together like a stiff braid as the story goes on. I think when it's all said and done I'll refer to this technique as "something I just came up with," though I'm sure any number of...

A few weeks ago a co worker complimented me on the poetry I had up on my website . Suave and debonair as always, my reply was something mystifying like "Er... uh... yeah." Nothing like praise you don't anticipate, I guess. It made me want to put more stuff up on the site, or at least update it more regularly. Currently, I make changes a couple times a season, if that. Guess I'll have to get better at that, too, presenting myself I mean. The writing progresses, if still sluggishly. I feel like the edits to the fantasy book are doable, but will also be extensive. Something I didn't much anticipate was how the editor's comments affect the writing I'm doing now. Part of me thinks, "Oh, well, if I just write differently now then I'll have to do less editing on the back end" or worse, "Oh wait, you're about to use passive voice, tsk tsk." The words at those points don't come as easily. I find myself actually thinking about the w...

The desktop having definite issues is in its final stages, which is to say I haven't turned it on in weeks and I'm slowly weening myself off of using it. With that though, came the trappings of a very negative situation where I wouldn't be writing. I think like most people, I made plans to make myself feel better, but had little to no earnest commitment at following through: I'd stay after work and write, or go in early, reserve days just to hang about the library. Fate intervened though, and I ended up getting Word on my laptop so I could help a friend out with his academic work. At that point it was easy (easier). All I had to do was open the program and write. And then... So I'm pretty happy to say that the writing got done. It was strange to feel the difference in the key strokes, the placement of my hands, the sounds in my ears as I pecked along, but I made it through. I sigh a bit though to think that for the next few months (at least) this will be the new r...

My mentor told me a story once about an old transient author (redundant) writing poetry on napkins in a bar. The man would scribble his verses down and do nothing with his stories. He didn't talk to anyone while doing so, or socialize much at all. One day, an inquisitive type found one of his little balled up passages and praised the man, asking him how it was that he was able to write so clearly and with such truth. He was shocked to find out the old man had no family and no place, given his gift. The reply, my mentor told, was something to the effect of "I love the individual, but I hate people." As usual, my mentor didn't tell me much of what I was supposed to get out of the story; he was a good person to learn from, I think. So, Google has reached out and sunk its teeth into social networking (finally finished with its meal of Mapquest). Before they made their little engine public, a friend was nice enough to invite me to join. I only made a profile today though...

Monday was another fruitful meeting at the writer's guild. The group is expanding, and every event has a good energy to it. Because the venue changed recently, I got to see an old historic town not near at all to where I live, but I think in general I'm capable of staying on the bright side. We shared our writing with one another, and filled out little sheets with feedback and criticism. Most of what I got was useful, and everyone agreed that I read too fast. I come off as nervous, because I am, and it shows. So, step one to improve the public reading is to slow down. Before Monday I had a pretty good weekend. A good friend is opening a store, and I got to learn all about the behind the scenes features of that experience (went ahead and tucked that away for use later). There is no small amount of activity that precedes a lonely little space in some random suite transforming into the kind of joint that looks like it couldn't be anything but filled with merchandise and cust...

This morning I wrote, and it felt pretty great. Usually, I don't make such a judgment until after I've gone back and  looked over whatever it was a second time, but it felt good to be back into the swing of things. I don't really have an idea of how much I plan on writing per week; honestly, it felt a lot like I was just doing it because I was getting more and more afraid that it was getting away from me. Likely, I'll spend this week making plans about at what speed to execute the outline I'm scribbling and scratching through. I've also signed the next contract for the next book, which requires me to fill out an author information page. Or, to decide on excerpts, blurbs and begin brainstorming on what I'd like the cover to look like. I'm not sure if they changed the form since last time, or if I just didn't see it, but this time around there was even a space for professional blurbs, which are those really impressive-sounding quotes that are on the ...

It took me some time to realize that last week's post had no mention of what I was writing, or preparing to. I had the same revelation that I did last night to hear of another author's experience at Dragon Con, the meeting, the greeting, and the et cetera. And things aren't getting much better. As I mentioned months back, the structure of my urban fantasy series is somewhat odd. The first book has three main characters, and the sequels, which occur at the same time, take place in different places. You could say the first book has three sequels (and each of those has its own sequel as well, preceding the grand finale where everyone is back together again, comprising a crystal structure to the series). I was finally able to explain this to someone at the publisher that put out the first novel, and they were very open about letting me publish the first sequels in rapid succession. I was a bit glad. That is, until I went to last night's meeting. "Three books in one...

Last night I had vivid dreams about missing all manner of important appointments. It didn't matter how quickly I dressed or how much I fretted, the rendezvous location was always too far away, or suddenly obscured. This morning I breath only a little easy as I reflect on Saturday, squinting at names I knew but now cannot fully recall. Saturday, before I went on stage, there was a meeting of the minds. People I knew from four different circles convened at a popular pub in downtown Decatur and met each other for the first time. I only had a few things jotted down on a note card, but I leaped to introduce everyone to everyone else. In the end I did a poor job of that and also of outlining what I would say. With every speaker that got up and sat down, my time crept closer and closer. I cannot remember a time when I was more terrified, and I educate teenagers these days. And my fear did not abate when the man called my name, and I did not run and hide. I stepped up behind the micropho...

Two days late. A new record, I think. I don't have excuses, only reasons, and I'm trying to get into the habit of not even using those to sanction my actions. Monday morning I woke up a bit refreshed. Sifting through my own book 2 in preparation for book 3 went well, but I decided to wait, because I had finally made up my mind to go and try to audit that creative writing class offered on campus. I went to the class, spaced off a lot, stared at the clock a bunch, and remembered why I hated school. I came away a little contemplative, too, in regards to what was said, and what I took away from the introductory lecture. So much that I was stunned a bit into not writing yesterday. And that's not to say that I'm done mulling things over, but I committed myself to write in this space once a week, and that, more than anything, is why I'm sitting here, doing this right now. Frankenstein. For some people, this conjures up a variety of modern interpretations of what was, o...

I slacked off yesterday and did not blog, nor did I have a good reason. In fact, I went to work without even needing to; I got the dates mixed around. Fortunately, I got to see some people and even do some work that needed doing. That wasn't the only thing that worked out strangely in my favor, either. A writer friend of mine, whom the Fates have smiled on recently, was sharing with me his progress on one of his latest projects and I, being me, asked a question. In reply, he joked that asking the unexpected question wasn't like me at all. I was shocked out of a day dream in wonder over what he had said, and what it had meant. After further investigation, it seems everyone else that knows me is in agreement. Up until that point, I had assumed that the questions I asked were simply ones people were too lazy or disengaged to voice. It turns out that at least in some cases that I don't share the thoughts of many others. I wasn't really sure how to feel about that, however...

It occurs to me that if anyone ever thinks they don't have anything to be doing, they're forgetting something. Yesterday started the second week of my vacation, and after some meditating (read: sitting around going over my mental lists) I realized I'm rather behind. The first round of the ebook judging has started and I still have three more books to read before the 7th. I have my own book to be looking into also so I can start writing its sequel. There's also notes needing to be prepared for the Decatur Book Festival , where I will hopefully not embarrass myself. And last night, I found myself joining a critique group, which means even more reading. Sometimes I wonder how I can be so careful and so surprised all the time. But the bright side is that I'm working. Last night at the guild meeting, the group discussed impediments to writing, and what success is to each of us in regards to the process. I heard from people with families, businesses, and other distracti...

The vacation officially started this week, but it feels like I haven't done anything in days. Or maybe it's that I haven't done anything I had planned on doing. In my mind, once the drafts of the novels were done, I'd have a pocket of time to take it easy, work on the short story, the play, get some submissions out to agents, and start moving towards the fall/winter project. And I did draft the short story; I even got around to pestering my friends about reading it, but aside from that I've been up to a whole bunch of nothing. However that doesn't mean that things haven't been happening. The Decatur Book Festival got back to me and told me where the event would be (that I'll be participating in) and about how much time I'd have. It was interesting to hear specifics about what things to talk about, what audiences don't want to hear, and how much time to leave open for questions. I was pretty nervous at first, but the event being over a month awa...

Sitting in front of me is the second draft of a story I wrote on Saturday. Within me there is a somewhat comfortable certainty in regards to the stack of white paper, printed on one side, with one inch margins and standard font, but such was not the case this past weekend. This weekend I found myself looking around, pondering the great volume of free time I found myself gifted with as a result of having completed the drafts of the novels. There was no duress, or even a lukewarm need. I didn't have to do anything, at least anything that resulted from a rigorous regimen. I was free, finally free, to do whatever I pleased. It was more than a little terrifying. I knew that I wanted to start on the story, and had even driven somewhere and scribbled down presaging notes in a spiral notebook in preparation. I also decided that I would work on making the third book of the Where Shadows Lie series presentable enough for submission and send that off. But it was all so much like it was back...

Late. With only a moment's notice, attending the first meeting of a local writer's guild, that was the best word I could think of as my response to "What's your favorite word?" It was on my mind, that topic, because I was over half an hour tardy. I had so much time to dwell on my slinking into the meeting well after it had started and even developed its own rhythm, I thought about all the platitudes about lateness that I had ever heard. Like the one from my alma mater: to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is unacceptable. But I guess it just goes to show what nice people were there at the meeting. I was welcomed despite not having a name tag, nothing to write with or on, and with my Rambling Sickness enjoying a delightful flare up. Despite Monday's rocky start to the week, however, this past weekend had a wonderful end to seven consecutive months of writing. At many points during the process, I chided myself for attemptin...

They say you never get a second chance at a first impression, but that's something I knew already. That premeditating how I will introduce myself isn't overly helpful is something I was not aware of. Good news is that I will likely get the chance to even screw it up, I guess. Locally, there's a yearly book fair with a "local prose stage," which I applied to be involved with, months back. I had to pen a crisp synopsis of 175 words, which proved difficult. I appreciated the challenge, though, and just the other day was accepted. At this point I have no idea what I'll be doing, and for how long, but a yes crowded in with all the no's feels pretty good. Also, it seems like the book signing is a real possibility. I 'followed up' with the gentleman, which is an adult life skill I'm still trying to master, and it worked out. It was days after he said he would contact me, and he had already booked some of the dates in the month in question. I have th...

I guess it would be difficult to say that I'm back on track with a late blog. But in my country, yesterday was a holiday? Yeah... that seems like a weak excuse to me, too, especially since I didn't really do anything yesterday afternoon. Although, I did edit the three chapters written during the weekend and felt really good about them. Saturday and Sunday had the same kind of rhythm as yesterday and I deliberately took my time because I had it to take. I think strong finishes to novels are just as important as strong starts (not for getting published, but for the sake of the story being thoroughly good). So, while I can look forward to just two more weeks of writing, I'm going to press myself to take it slow, and make these first drafts read like seconds, or even thirds. I had other reasons to feel good, too. A friend from years back whom I studied at a writing conference with got in touch with me (she was actually the only person whose contact information I went away wit...

Well, I guess it had to end some time. And no, I'm not referring to whatever important event that's going on in the extroverted world. I'm talking about my weekly writing streak. Yesterday, I wrote, and it was the only time I worked at that all weekend and I only completed two chapters of the three. I didn't even make up for it this morning; I didn't even try. On the one hand, it feels appropriate to list all the different things that led to the breaking of the streak of six months, the friends in hospitals, the power outages, the quasi family crises, but on the other hand, I wonder at the difference between an excuse and a reason. That's the line from the movie: it's not an excuse, it's a reason. And I can't say whether I have either or both, and ultimately those sorts of things are tools to get a given person to forgive us our mistake. And the only person I need to placate on this matter is me. Simply complicated. Despite being late, and presse...

On Friday I was humbled. I was working in a friend's scene shop at his theater and saw something I was hard pressed to put into words. It was right then that I realized that I'm doing that all the time, every day: looking at things, thinking about things, and how I would describe them, in words to someone who hadn't been there to witness it. I guess to a certain extent that's what writing is, conveying something through words that only the writer can see, though, even that sounds wrong. 'Wood birthing steel' is what I came up with for the description of a spinning saw blade whirring up through a waiting block of wood, the stimulus only audible at first, and then, like a thin, steel head cresting out of its wooden mother, the experience became visual as I watched the biting metal create a burrowed slit. It was pretty cool, I must also add. I told my friend about the experience of looking at something I had no words, at the time, to give to someone else so they ...

A few minutes ago, a sports story I wrote on Bleacher Report got 1000 reads. I know this because the site sent me an email saying so. The number even earned me a bronze medal. I don't know if it indicates anything about my writing skill as much as it apparently pays to write about polarizing figures and provocative subjects. It isn't my first story on the B/R, but it's the first one that garnered that much attention (which means I've never come close to even third place with my stories up to this point). I segue from that thought to hearing recently about rumors about a new trend in 'rebooting' with movies. Stick with what works, is the central premise, beyond the basic idea that unless whatever idea continues to be used, rights revert back to the original owner of whatever intellectual property (translation: studios will lose the ability to print money). Combining that situation with the financial gamble making movies nowadays is creates a likelihood wherein...

Yesterday, while on a date no less, a friend of mine noticed something that was both pretty cool and related to me. He even went so far as to send the picture mail to my phone. The image was of my book sitting on a shelf in a bookstore. I smiled, and replied, thanking him for carrying my book around and having the creativity audacity to sit his copy on the shelf and take a picture of it. He called me not five minutes later, still on the date, to clarify that the image was not of his book. The picture was of a stack of yet to be purchased volumes, legitimately for sale. I stick my foot in my mouth a lot; I've even used my own foot to wipe egg from my face. That conversation will stand out as one of the more positive occasions. But perhaps I should also digress and explain. Firstly, I don't self-condemn that much anymore. The reason I jumped to my initial conclusion is because I had seen a picture of another author doing the same thing. I was almost inspired enough to do it mys...

Well, the blog is two days late, but the drafting I spent my brief vacation committing to worked out right on time. I'll take that trade. Two weeks, twelve chapters. And aside from the seasonal heat, I'm fairly ecstatic to be back to work. It was surprisingly stressful to be worried about failing to make the deadlines I set for myself, but on Memorial Day at 12:02 I finished the last edits on the last chapters I wrote, and didn't even pass out. I did exhale heavily, though. Also, I learned some things, possibly invaluable things. I call the concept virtual distance. When a writer writes something, it's not perfect. Usually, it isn't even close to as good as it can be, hence the need for editors. And it's a fair question to wonder about why a writer, who supposedly puts words together so well, cannot edit their own work. A popular answer, and one that further expands on the concept, is that "the writer is too close to it." To a certain degree, all of ...

Monday is back again, and so is the summer heat. Last week this time it was pleasantly cool, albeit strangely. Personally, I wasn't complaining.Likewise, I was happy for the time off from work as well, though it hit me equally oddly.Two years ago in the month of June, following totaling my car in mid-May, I wrote a whole book in a month. I am not sure from where the energy came. All I know is that it is no longer with me. I called for writing doubling the pace for these two weeks. Normally I do three chapters a week, so roughly six to seven thousand words, leaving the rest for mental recuperation and work, so doubling that would be mean six chapters, and roughly thirteen thousand words. I realized later that this was basically the same pace I had going when my mind was in better shape. Before that though, I realized that I would be more than happy to have the excuse to slow down when I returned to the job for the summer semester. Just recently I finished edits on the three chap...

Yesterday, I had day one of my vacation and took a break... from blogging. Sunday was a bit hectic; I attended the second to last wedding on the horizon and spent the rest of the day seeing other friends before I sped home and commenced to the Sunday night editing I still haven't completely meshed with my weekly routine. Yesterday morning, with fresher eyes, I finished that up, along with more careful drafting of the chapters I squeezed into this past weekend. A bit sleepy and somewhat worn down, I put doing this off until today. It seems hardly the time or place to congratulate someone publicly (I also only have seven readers I'm aware of), but it was a very nice ceremony at a local park, followed by excellent barbecue and a prayer circle to ward off rain.So congrats to Daniel and Kandis. Today has been much more relaxing. I committed to doubling the writing pace, using this week to do three chapters, and this weekend to do the three that I'd be doing anyway, and applyin...

It was a long weekend, but also a good one. Writing got done, friends got seen, and I even had time to visit an antique store and blow through a dresser full of old postcards to gift something unique for the holiday. I also possibly had my last outsourcing experience at the theater where one of my friends works. It's something I do from time to time, initially as a volunteer and later earning actual compensation. I sort of fell into it, really, wanting to learn how it all worked. But it became very rewarding. I work so much with abstract things that I found the flip side of the coin a nice, occasional, change of pace. I even got a cool picture of myself grinding a steel balcony set piece to make it smooth and actor friendly. But before I had my last day there, I edited the chapters affected in tight spots between seeing old friends and working. Objectively speaking, I think the chapters came out fairly well. Sometimes a chapter is enjoyable to write; it has interesting plot point...

Another good weekend is wrapping up. Despite working on a Saturday, which was a strangely disorienting phenomenon, my planning early in the semester paid off and I still managed to get two chapters done on Friday, and the third yesterday. That marks twelve consecutive weeks of writing, sticking to a pace I set for myself. I feel like it's very important or at least is habit forming, because once getting things done is a routine most everything because a shade easier. I think a lot of people sit around at the end of the way wondering where all the time went mostly because they're used to thinking about doing things rather than doing them. Then again, I was proved wrong in a really huge way this weekend also, so I might not know what I'm talking about after all. And it didn't concern directions or the year something happened or even the price of a food item. It was writing-related. From looking at my posts here and there, listening to the comments I make and how I make ...