You'll notice I've changed the word meter over there. I just couldn't stand the way the little thing snickered at me with its unchanging word count. And not because the word count isn't changing... that's the problem! Over the past month or so, I've managed to almost completely fill a 1 1/2 inch binder with solid writing. I nailed more than 3,000 words last night, alone. But is it a novel?
Oh hell no, it's not.
As I told one of my faithful readers the other day (I heart you, faithful reader): "Truly, this writing stuff is driving me nuts. No sooner do I have a single formidable plot pouring out my brain, when another completely unrelated one follows it out, shrieking "Me! Me! Me!" *sigh* It's like having Multiple Personality Disorder or something, I think. Not that I'd know... Really."
The other day, while I was mumbling about plot and characters and evil government shadow organizations (just how Do you research that, by the way? How? How?), Mr. Clean quirked an eyebrow at me and said, "You're like an MPD and Schizophrenic all rolled up in one little twitching body of freakishness this week." The sad part - It's true.
All I wanted was to dip my little bucket into the well and pull up a little creativity. What I got, instead, was one of those Skittles explosions full of different plots and characters - All. At. Once. Heh... I have to giggle. See all the pretty colors?
And really? It's better than crying. Not a chance for that, anyhow. I've written thirteen pages of synopsis over the past two days! Who cares that it's not in the least bit related to the plot I've been struggling with for the past few months? I'm not going to go looking that gift-muse in the mouth. She might zap me into the netherworld of Writer's Block. -- I can't decide if that'd be like roasting in hell while plots fly out of me, turning to ash before I can capture them, or more like being locked in one of those so-dark-you-can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face submersion tanks that shut off all your senses completely. I have a feeling the tank would be almost peaceful... Either way, I'm not up for angering the writing gods.
Still, one has to wonder if I'm a) overly distracted, b) horrifically undisciplined, c) flirting with all the wrong plots for ME, or d) simply insane. (The 'ly' words are running rampant today, aren't they? Fun!)
When pressed to provide conjecture regarding my own brain cells, I'd have to take a wild guess at the answer being C. And it's not that they're bad plots or plots that will never work. They just seem to be plots that aren't right for me Now, at this moment.
It occurs to me to consider just many writers go through plots like this? It seems brutally wasteful. Then again, perhaps they do... but they do it much more quickly than I. I seem to worry on them like a dog with a particularly yummy bone... gotta get to that last little speck of marrow... gotta do it... gotta do it. Except then, I'm all, "Got it! But it doesn't taste good now. Blech!"
Perhaps the lesson here is to learn how to recognize a bad plot and trash it before I've invested So. Much. Stinking. Time. *sigh*
Right now, I really wish I had some sort of critique partner with whom I could throw around ideas. I have middle writer syndrome, for sure. I have great openings (wonderful, fabulous openings!) and pretty darn good endings (some of them out-of-this-world) but I keep shutting down when trying to wrangle with the middles. The middles are so blah-noughat-ty... they turn everything into a sinful dark chocolate truffle with some noxious substance inside, rendering the entire candy trash-worthy. And hello... I'm tired of throwing my chocolate away!
So, I'm writing. Oh yes, indeedy I am. I have no clue if it's "anything" yet or just another flirtation with words. I do hope this one will crawl in bed with me, though, before I start suffering from a crushing case of putrid novelitis.
In other news...
I'll be baking up a test batch of Lemon Poppy Seed Cupcakes with Lemon Cream Cheese Icing very, very soon. Maybe pictures (if I remember the camera).
Until then, I'm doing my absolute level best to keep my brain from erupting out of my skull. I have a feeling it wouldn't be quite as pretty as that Skittles explosion. Then again.... no telling what's up there.
Oh hell no, it's not.
As I told one of my faithful readers the other day (I heart you, faithful reader): "Truly, this writing stuff is driving me nuts. No sooner do I have a single formidable plot pouring out my brain, when another completely unrelated one follows it out, shrieking "Me! Me! Me!" *sigh* It's like having Multiple Personality Disorder or something, I think. Not that I'd know... Really."
The other day, while I was mumbling about plot and characters and evil government shadow organizations (just how Do you research that, by the way? How? How?), Mr. Clean quirked an eyebrow at me and said, "You're like an MPD and Schizophrenic all rolled up in one little twitching body of freakishness this week." The sad part - It's true.
All I wanted was to dip my little bucket into the well and pull up a little creativity. What I got, instead, was one of those Skittles explosions full of different plots and characters - All. At. Once. Heh... I have to giggle. See all the pretty colors?
And really? It's better than crying. Not a chance for that, anyhow. I've written thirteen pages of synopsis over the past two days! Who cares that it's not in the least bit related to the plot I've been struggling with for the past few months? I'm not going to go looking that gift-muse in the mouth. She might zap me into the netherworld of Writer's Block. -- I can't decide if that'd be like roasting in hell while plots fly out of me, turning to ash before I can capture them, or more like being locked in one of those so-dark-you-can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face submersion tanks that shut off all your senses completely. I have a feeling the tank would be almost peaceful... Either way, I'm not up for angering the writing gods.
Still, one has to wonder if I'm a) overly distracted, b) horrifically undisciplined, c) flirting with all the wrong plots for ME, or d) simply insane. (The 'ly' words are running rampant today, aren't they? Fun!)
When pressed to provide conjecture regarding my own brain cells, I'd have to take a wild guess at the answer being C. And it's not that they're bad plots or plots that will never work. They just seem to be plots that aren't right for me Now, at this moment.
It occurs to me to consider just many writers go through plots like this? It seems brutally wasteful. Then again, perhaps they do... but they do it much more quickly than I. I seem to worry on them like a dog with a particularly yummy bone... gotta get to that last little speck of marrow... gotta do it... gotta do it. Except then, I'm all, "Got it! But it doesn't taste good now. Blech!"
Perhaps the lesson here is to learn how to recognize a bad plot and trash it before I've invested So. Much. Stinking. Time. *sigh*
Right now, I really wish I had some sort of critique partner with whom I could throw around ideas. I have middle writer syndrome, for sure. I have great openings (wonderful, fabulous openings!) and pretty darn good endings (some of them out-of-this-world) but I keep shutting down when trying to wrangle with the middles. The middles are so blah-noughat-ty... they turn everything into a sinful dark chocolate truffle with some noxious substance inside, rendering the entire candy trash-worthy. And hello... I'm tired of throwing my chocolate away!
So, I'm writing. Oh yes, indeedy I am. I have no clue if it's "anything" yet or just another flirtation with words. I do hope this one will crawl in bed with me, though, before I start suffering from a crushing case of putrid novelitis.
In other news...
I'll be baking up a test batch of Lemon Poppy Seed Cupcakes with Lemon Cream Cheese Icing very, very soon. Maybe pictures (if I remember the camera).
Until then, I'm doing my absolute level best to keep my brain from erupting out of my skull. I have a feeling it wouldn't be quite as pretty as that Skittles explosion. Then again.... no telling what's up there.
Well at least you are writing something. Any ideas I seem to have a like wisps that hover at the back of my brain and the minute that I try and grab hold to pull them out they disperse into the ether.
Faithful reader xxx
Just to say - cupcakes good, very good! I now have lots more friends at work!
Thanks for the recipe :o)
Fairy - yes, I am thankful for having *something* firing off in my brain... even if it's not always logical. Heh.
Cupcakes = YUM! Glad they worked out well for you.