I’ve begun revising some old work that will fit into the Rose’s Hostage sequel. It’s painful to see how labored and idiotic it was. The actual scenes themselves aren’t bad, and what I already did will save me a ton of research. It’s the writing itself that makes me cringe.
Right now, I’m mostly changing names and tweaking references. I’ll go back and excise all the purple prose when I fit it in.
I’m also starting to think about the other novel–in fact, I think more about it than I do about this one, sometimes. I like to make playlists for writing sessions that are specific to each work. With this one, I went to my dusty record collection and found an old orchestral thing I used to use as background music when I played restaurant as a child. It’s perfect. AND IT WAS ON AMAZON.
Man, my parents had so many crazy old records. We grew up listening to stuff from the 1950s and 1960s, everything from “La Bamba” to Mancini. I credit them for sparking my obsession with soundtrack music. When you’re sitting there coloring listening to Bernstein’s The Ten Commandments and Morricone’s Once Upon a Time in the West, how can you not love it?
Speaking of the ‘rents, they celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary on Saturday, July 19 (which was also Benedict Cumberbatch’s birthday. Happy birthday!).
Congratulations, Mom and Dad! I’d post an awesome picture, but I want to stay alive a little longer.
While I go attempt to organize myself for the evening, I’d like you to take a look at this Business Insider article. It distills some great advice from Stephen King from his memoir/advice tome, On Writing. Every author should have this book on his/her shelf.
If you follow me on Twitter, you might have seen this exchange:
When people say things like this, I feel great. For a while. The monumental effort involved in this endeavor, especially when contemplating the vast desert expanse before reaching publication, is enough to crush even the most positive mindset. It’s fragile, and the slightest jar can be enough to shatter it.
Writing (or any creative profession, really) carries a lot of feelings with it. Some people have great difficulty dealing with them. If you’re inclined toward addiction, you might cope by self-medicating. I don’t do that, but I’m quite sure the stress will cut years off my life.
In no particular order, here are some of the feelings writing has been poking me with lately.
Impatience
Publishing takes a long time. I’m not the most patient person on earth, and I’ll never be any more so than I am right now. I find myself saying, Enough already, Universe. Let’s get going. It would probably help if I had something in my personal life, but alas, the Big U has implied that the books will come first. This vague revelation leads to hurt, because I’ve waited long enough, thank you.
Panic
Did I cross all my I’s and dot all my T’s? Is that query letter as good as it can be? Answer:
It can always be better, but the time to realize that is not after you’ve hit Send.
Elation
This strikes at odd moments and may be unrelated to writing, since I’m going on vacation soon. I booked my train tickets this weekend. For two days, I walked around with a heightened sense of anticipation that sent energy surging through my body, almost like an adrenaline rush but without the shakiness and rapid heartbeat. Elation makes me hyper-aware of things—if I listen to music, I hear every note, every chord. The sky looks bluer, the future brighter, and at those moments, anything seems possible.
Stress
Elation also leaped up after Brian posted that tweet (seriously, a horror Grand Master said he likes my book!), but then I stared, unseeing, at the screen and it all turned to pressure and stress. What to say next? How to say it? Why can’t I put what is in my head down on the page? I know what’s going to happen. Why am I so goddamn tired?
Jealousy
Creative people do get jealous of each other. Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha made me so jealous I could hardly see straight. It helped that I thoroughly enjoyed the story. The best way to deal with professional jealousy is to examine the work and observe successful elements you can translate to your own work, to make it better.
I have little to say about personal jealousy, except that if it leads to obsession, you better get rid of it fast because you won’t be able to concentrate long enough to write a coherent sentence.
I’ll never be good enough; I’ll never be published, and no agent / publisher / reader will ever give a shit about me. Here’s where the dearth of personal involvement cuts deepest. It hurts when no one you’re not related to is there to say “Hey, I love you no matter what, and I think you’re brilliant.” The evil little voice inside my head says that since no other person wants me, clearly no agent ever will either.
Hope
This is the cruelest one of all. It makes you delusional. You feel that possibilities are endless. Writing by its very nature forces you to imagine them, and this hones your ability to hope. It becomes a tool that can turn on you in an instant and cut deeper than a surgeon’s scalpel into the most tender and vulnerable part of your psyche. Reality is hope’s most dangerous predator.
And then there’s this. Although I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t feel the same, you never can tell. Dreams up close can be rather frightening.
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Feelings aren’t always rational, and neither are the thoughts that go with them. They aren’t good or bad, either; they just are. What you do with them is what matters.
Writers can use healthy mental exercises to curb thoughts like “I’m not good enough.” If they are actively practicing their craft, they will get better at it. I guarantee you Brian would not have said he liked a manuscript of mine two books ago. The fact that he’s saying it now lets me know that I’ve grown as a writer. By doing what? Wishing? No, by writing.
You know that thing the Universe has apparently sent to someone else (grr)? Well, wishing might help here, and praying might also, but so will preparing myself to receive the opportunity if the Universe should reconsider. And that’s what I have to do for writing too.
When it’s your turn to cycle through these emotions, don’t try to push them away. Let them come. Clamping a lid down on feelings only ensures their eventual explosive release. And don’t let them talk you into giving up. The only book that is never published is the one never written.
Hope everyone in the US had a safe and fun Fourth of July. Mine was safe, though dull. As I had nothing to do, I sat on the couch all day sipping tea and pretending I was British and didn’t care. I didn’t even get in the shower until three in the afternoon. It was kind of nice, actually.
Except I have been going INSANE.
I’ve gone through all my materials for the Rose’s Hostage sequel–working title An Unsettling Calm (meh)–and the really diabolical plot I wanted to use is falling by the wayside. I had abandoned the original plot as too sensational, but I reread the beginning and it was GOOD.
I’m going back to it. It’s like returning to an old lover, one you didn’t date long but who thrilled you for a while anyway, and who still makes your pulse race when you think of him.
Reunions are sweet. Unless he stole your purse the last time.
I’ll save the diabolical thing for Book Three of the Detective Pierce Chronicles. I couldn’t tie the villain in with the subplot, no matter how I tried, but Original Plot and I still have some connecting we can do.
The mini-NaNoWriMo may not be a thing, since I wanted to start it on the first of the month and I didn’t get to it (my fault entirely—I’ve been taken up with stupid mental crap). But I decided I would attempt to write two things at once. Horrors!
The other book I can’t tell you about at all right now. But I will be sporadically working on it, with the bulk of the effort going toward Pierce Book Two. I should be able to get a lot done in the next two-and-a-half months.
Here are some bona fide ways to drive yourself insane and guarantee that you can’t get a project started.
Ambitiously plan to write two books at once when you usually only do one
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Put research ahead of the actual writing
This is a bad one. I’m guilty of this. I can get so caught up in research that I actually do nothing toward whatever I’m working on. Example: I have yet to complete one single dollhouse or room box, but I now have an extensive knowledge of Victorian household gadgetry.
Watch too much TV
Or Netflix. My shows aren’t on right now (The Walking Dead, Once Upon a Time, Doctor Who), but that doesn’t stop me from consuming every British comedy series my little red online friend has to offer (Little Britain!). It’s so tempting to schlep home tired from my day job, do a workout, and then go straight to the My List page. Bad writer. Bad.
I laughed so hard at this show I almost coughed up a lung.
Oh, Buzzfeed. You are such a frenemy. I love your quizzes, your silly GIF posts, your hacks, and how your UK edition constantly shoves more cool London stuff that I will not possibly have time to do right in my face.
I know there are apps or plugins that block you from the internet so that you can work, but I’m afraid if I try one that I’ll tear a hole in my computer trying to get past it.
Plan a vacation
My UK holiday is almost completely set up, except for train tickets to Cardiff (too early to book yet) and a possible quick jaunt up to Loch Ness in the beautiful West Highlands of Scotland via sleeper train (a bucket list item). Once that is squared away, I can just STOP PLANNING AND GET TO WORK ALREADY.
Or, I could just trust the thetrainline.com email reminders and STOP PLANNING AND GET TO WORK ALREADY.
Think way too much about things that in real life will probably not happen but are not impossible because the world is a magical place and the Universe really needs to reconsider and fork it over anyway
The less said about that, the better.
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In the coming weeks, I will blog to you as I write, so you can vicariously experience the madness that is me trying to do more than one thing at a time. In the words of the immortal Bette Davis:
Graphomaniac - A. Elizabeth West 