Signed, Sealed, Delivered. You’re dead.

I’m having a rough writing day.

Even though I know I don’t write linear I struggle to acknowledge that fact when writing. Stubborn as I am I start at chapter one, moving on to chapter two and almost always into what I call “ stuckness”.

This ugly non-existing word means I’m stuck in the story, whilst I know I have to write something further down the line to figure out how the story works, but can’t make myself do it, because I want to follow THE RULES, and go from A to Z in a straight line.

Why do I do this? I’m scared I won’t finish the story. I’m scared it will suck no matter how many rewrites I throw at it. Mostly I’m afraid I can’t do it. I’m also scared the story is too big for my brain to handle, and yet too simple to ever appeal to a reader. I’m scared I’m wasting time. The fear of writing also includes the following fears:

  • Not being original enough
  • Not knowing enough words
  • I write too much Dialogue
  • I’m terrible at Dialogue
  • I don’t write enough Dialogue (you see what I’m doing here right?)
  • My settings/descriptions suck
  • Big time
  • Every word I write is boring
  • I am so slooooooow, by the time I reach “the End” a century will have passed and all words are irrelevant

Conclusion: Writing is scary sometimes

My remedy for this looming feeling of dread near a keyboard is not writing on the story.

I tinker on a blurb, twitter pitch lines or the query letter instead. The fear will shrink and slowly I will add words to paper. (some days I just end up with a handful of blurb lines or sixteen different queries). The plus side is it helps me understand the story better.

My favorite pitch of today so far:

YA THE BLACKLIST with magic. 17 year old Jenya Olivier is the Messenger of Crime. Signed, sealed, delivered. You’re dead. (needs to be said Stevie Wonder Style of course).

Tweeting that one.

A Way In Versus A Way Out

Day two of campnano

I’ve plunged back into a YA story for a complete rewrite. There’s distance between the world on the page and myself. So much distance that I’ve no trouble cutting and slicing through it. Unfortunately it didn’t take long for the HOORAY FOR REWRITING-Bubble to burst. Rewriting this story is going to be hard work, it’s going to take more than 30 hours to fix/recreate it into something else. And by something else I mean a far better story. But I’m going to take it one hour at the time and remind myself that small steps can lead to great change.

When driving to work today I realized I’ve changed too. When I was a kid, I wrote to escape. Not only from my not so easy childhood into my imagination, but I also already felt that WRITER could be a job and if it would make me famous and rich I could get away form my circumstances.

As a teenager I wrote partly for the same reasons, but also to handle all the things I was feeling and thinking. But honestly I still had dreams of MAKING it BIG. When I was a famous and rich writer everything would be better.

Now I know it doesn’t work like that.  I no longer write for a way out. My life is exactly where it needs to be at this point in time, and that’s okay. I write because it’s fun and it’s as close to magic as I can get. I can magically turn old and new feelings into a world on a page.

Of course I would like to be published and reward myself with a Henry.

Of course I sometimes worry if it’s a waste of time.

Of course I worry if my writing is any good.

But I also don’t care.

I write because it’s a way inside.

 

 

 

 

 

The Month of Story

Inspired by the Happier podcast hosted by Gretchen Rubin and Liz Craft I decided to design my Summer. My Summer consists of July, August and September, and I’m going to pick a theme and design a do-able project or some goals for each of those months.

July will be the month of STORY. August the month of FAMILY and September the month of HOME.

For The Month of Story I’m doing Campnanowrimo. This time I’ve picked the random cabin assignments- option and let myself be surprised 🙂

Goals for July:

1-1,5 hours of editing or writing every day.

4 blog posts

8 photos (posted on Instagram)

4 twitter posts

Woop Woop!

 

 

Cue Insecurity

I’m in the midst of rewriting a YA contemporary fantasy, and my inner editor is sabotaging the flow. I’ve got a rough outline to guide me through the structure of the story I’ve in mind, I have a Beginning, at least one major Turning Point and an End, so a few of the big building blocks are there. But still I’m creatively stuck. I’ve read/rewritten/read/rewritten some chapters so many times, that I’m bored with my own writing. Cue insecurity.

I should abandon this project.

I am never going to finish.

If I finish it is going to be Boring (yes capital B) and no one is going to read it.

 

Maybe this is the point where I should try to find some Beta readers. Cue insecurity.

 

I won’t find any.

I can’t possibly let anyone read this boring story.

If someone reads this, you are never going to finish.

 

Guess this writing thing means: continue writing. Even when your brain is in the way/ you are bored/ you feel insecure/ you want to abandon the Thing.

 

Send help.

Wallow. Yell. Exit.

One thing I love about writing stories is choosing TITLES, especially chapter titles, but today I’m very much annoyed.

Part of that has to do with a HUGE bill that arrived before the weekend, lack of sleep, and not being in the mood for the Day Job, but most of it is the result of title writer’s block. Not for the chapters but for the story.

The problem?

THEY ARE ALL TAKEN.

EVERY SINGLE ONE I CAME UP WITH ALREADY EXIST!

Wallows in self-pity. Yells at Internet Void. Exits blog.

Sitting, waiting, wishing (also known as: not writing)

I’m sitting here, at the dining room table, waiting for inspiration to strike me. Wishing I could muster up the willpower to plunge ahead in the world of words. Every writer has his own process, mine has much to do with this title.

Sit behind computer/notebook/phone, wait for inner editor to shut up (because she is yelling that this story is too complicated for me to put on paper), wishing writing felt more easy.

The thing is, I love to write. To lose myself in a story, surprise myself with strange twists and cunning characters, but I also find it the hardest thing to do. Maybe because I’m a perfectionist. Maybe because I’m lazy. Maybe because I’m scared the story won’t come out the way it’s intended. Maybe because all of the above. For me writing never gets easier, not really.

But since I’ve already typed over a hundred words, I might as well go ahead and write a new scene. My character is going to set something on fire and while she’s gathering highly flammable materials to set alight, she’s going to describe her favorite moment of all moments.

The second after striking a match.

writers in the mist

Sometimes I feel a story buzzing in my mind, chasing thoughts, filling dreams. The story clouded in mist, unwilling to settle form and reveal itself. And I, the writer, find myself grasping the unknown, hoping to find solid ground to stand on. Eyes wide open, ready to snap the idea between my hands.

In the meantime I just write about the swirling colors of the mist, the smell that reminds me of a long forgotten dinner, the sense of hope and doom. I write my way around the mist, into it, underneath it. I write to find the story hidden in it’s core.

I write because that’s what writers do.