NaNoWriMo hangovers, anyone?

Blog Articles

I’ve been AWOL for a bit because I’ve been swamped with other writing and editing work, which is a good thing, and an insane undertaking at the same time.

When November started, I actually had this crazy idea in mind to take a break from novel writing for a while, because, well, I worked on my two fantasy novels an awful lot, and dammit if I didn’t want a break. So what did I end up doing?

If you guessed that I completely ignored the opportunity to take a rest from writing by writing at a more furious pace than ever, then… wow, you know me pretty well.

And for the record, get out of my head.

I decided on day 5 that I was going to take a crack at NaNoWriMo, because hey, I had a book idea, and two, “Why not?” It was only after the ridiculously grueling pace for myself cut in that I realized I had written my 50,000 word quota by the 23rd of November, thus making myself slightly more insane than usual, and even squirrely-er than ever.

(Do other people not hiss when daylight hits their eyes?)

After getting myself to 60,000 words by the end of November, I know that I am dying to take a break from it all. How did everyone else fare? Did you get your word count, or close to?

4042-168

I’m hoping to have this latest book, The Death of Narcissus finished within maybe two months, and then I’ll start trying to get that beastie pared down and beefed up, dependent on whatever it needs. This is a rush job, so I’m not going to kid myself… it’s GOING to need some work. 

(And of course I’ll have a sneak preview for you guys later on!)

In the meantime, I’ve also recently gotten the opportunity to apply to be an editor for a publishing house, which is very exciting stuff. The opportunity came just a day or so after I received my diploma in the mail, which seemed like a pretty life-choice affirming coincidence, if you ask me. Between my writing, editing, and the work I’m doing in the industry, I’m hoping that my big payoff is going to come any day now. I could use a vacation… maybe go to a tropical island paradise to… I don’t know. Read and write, probably.

That’s the only way we bookworms know how to enjoy ourselves, apparently.

Word Goal Update

Blog Articles

Don’t think I’ve forgotten to update you as to my status on my 20k word goal! I have simply been too busy to get anything up the past couple of days.

Now, in case you’re wondering, of my final goal, I reached… drumroll please…

Screen Shot 2013-11-03 at 6.52.48 AM

Eighty-six thousand out of ninety thousand!!! And we’re not going to talk about the other 1000+ words that irritated me enough to delete them in a caffeine-fueled rage. (Or the extra 2500 words I wrote into my first book.)

While it may not have been my total goal, I feel justified in saying that I don’t feel like I failed. I have been super busy with my job, my internship, handling my other book, and attending no less than three family get-togethers in the last month.

(Trust me, that’s more social interaction than I usually get.)

I also recently got the sequel to a book that I am absolutely in love with, which means that I spent a large amount of time just reading.  For those who don’t know about John Dies at the End, or it’s sequel, This Book is Full of Spiders; Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It by David Wong, you’re missing out on two amazing books which I would be totally more than happy to shove in your face and rub all around and hope that you could absorb words through osmosis. If you can’t, you should feel lucky that you got intimately assaulted by a crazy fan-girl with a fantastic book.

Screen Shot 2013-11-03 at 7.29.08 AM

It’s a win-win either way, really.

Given that November is the month for NaNoWriMo, I know that many of you are getting out your pens and word processors and getting ready to fire up the ole’ noggin for a 50,000 word count. That’s impressive, and I don’t envy you the task of pulling that one out of your arse. I will not be doing NaNoWriMo this year, although my writing goal for the month will be to finish my second book, so it will most likely be another 10k more words and some additions to back story.

After cleaning up the final copy of my first book, The Moon God’s Curse to send out to readers and agents, I have had a couple of epiphanies in situations to correct in the second book, and so I’m going to take the opportunity to do that while they’re still fresh. See? Not feeling the failure when I have so many ideas swirlin’ around.

I know that some of you are aware that this little gem came recently:

 1379812_642523069103620_584245110_n

Which I’m totally digging so far. There is a section in there that lists a HUGE amount of agents and publishers, and I spent HOURS digging through there and compiling a list of twenty-four agencies to contact for representation.

Today happens to be the day that I’m going to gather my materials for round one of my queries, so hopefully lady luck will be on my side, and perhaps my Maneki Neko will be able to catch something in that little good luck paw of his.

Happy writing!

You drive me wild…ly into insanity.

Blog Articles

Writing is one of those art forms that only looks easy. From the outside perspective, it’s me, sitting at my computer, typing onto a page.

People who do not write will never understand the daunting, niggling fear of the blank page. The emptiness that represents every unfilled opportunity that you had to fill that void and make something out of the nothing that stares at you, and you couldn’t do it.

(Even if that something is shit, which most writers also tend to think of their work at some point.)

Writing is not exactly a physical art. You’re not going to see my effort, you’re not going to see me break a sweat (unless there’s a deadline due!), and you’re probably not going to understand how much work and dedication is going into that baleful stare toward my computer screen. You’re certainly never going to know the nights that I’ve broken down and sworn to never write again, and the times that I’ve deleted whole manuscripts because I got pissy with a character or plot that wasn’t working out the way I had initially envisioned.

For those of you who don’t know, one of the hats I wear is that of an on-call nanny, which is different from the traditional one family nanny, which I have also done. This means that at any time I get a job, I am going into (most likely) a new situation, with new people, a new place, and new rules to abide by each time. Almost all of these people want to get more information about me, having just met me and realizing that they’re about to leave their child with a stranger, and one of the first things I’m typically asked is,

So what do you do in your spare time?

“I’m a writer,” I reply.

Being that I’m a recent graduate, I no longer have the option to tell people that I go to school for writing, so now I just have to wear that badge proudly. The entire time I was at school, I got to tell people that I was “studying to become a writer”. It seems like a cop out, because hey, writing makes you a writer, and countless lost hours of my life were spent on research, papers and scripts. Now that I’m out, I simply have to say it: I’m a writer, and I write. Prolifically.

Some people are slightly interested. Some ask me what I write, and then launch into tirades of someone that they know who knows someone who’s a writer. Exactly zero of these people have ever asked me if I have work published. I suppose that could be considered polite, since we both know they have no intention of reading it, and don’t want to waste my time or get my hopes up.

Usually, however, at this point the conversation can go one of two ways. The first one is usually something unenthusiastic or nonplussed along the lines of:

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Or, my least, most puke-worthy, awful response, which is down and out condescending:

“A writer and a nanny? It must be nice to not have to work in a real job.”

To which I wish I could reply to you, but it’s all illiterate, nonsensical screaming sounds and random curse words while I simultaneously imagine your face having an intimate meeting with my fist while I sob uncontrollably.

Screen Shot 2013-10-26 at 5.56.18 AM

This is actually pretty accurate.

People often don’t understand that writing is an INSANE practice that requires years of work to hone and perfect, and even then, we all stand a 50/50 chance of wanting to burn our manuscripts at some point because we still think they’re shit. To some, a fiction writer is nothing more than a dreamer who sits in front of their computer drinking lattes and madly typing words onto a screen before proudly announcing to anyone within hearing range, “IT’S A TOLKIEN-ESQUE MASTERPIECE!” and immediately sending it away to be published.

People who don’t write (and I’m also looking at you, people who don’t read, although you’ll never know it because you won’t read this) will never understand that I’m not just writing… I’m juggling the lives of people that I’ve created, in a world that I dreamed up that I’m freaking making up as I go along and I’m pulling it out of thin air and vague associations like a g.d. magician pulling rabbits outta the hat. Meanwhile, the whole while I’m trying to convince myself that it’s as good as other people assure me it is, because I’m a constant negative force acting on my own self-esteem like a freight train going 70 towards a crumbly brick wall.

Ahem.

I don’t know if it’s out of blatant ignorance, or perhaps just spite that people associate writing with laziness. The truth is, on any given day, my brain is in eighteen different modes. In the past year, I have managed to graduate from college, write a book, nearly complete a second book, get my work published numerous times, work as a freelance editor, write video game scripts, perform as an editing intern, and still somehow manage to send my fiancé off to work everyday with lunch and a kiss—all while taking care of your children at my ‘not a real job’ while you’ve been punching corporate numbers.

You may not understand the toil of a writer; the constant mental anguish that we put ourselves through, and the quiet efforts that go into creating our work, but that doesn’t mean you should demean it. What I do isn’t “quaint”. It’s not “cute”, and no, it may not be a traditional job, but it’s what I chose to do, and it’s a hell of a lot better than being a desk jockey for a soulless corporation any day of the week. I would also like to remind you that women used to be institutionalized for reading novels—imagine how dangerous my writing ‘not a job’ is now.

A real job?

Fella, you don’t know what a real job is.

 

 

Writin’…

Blog Articles

Haven’t been on my own blog in a while, and I decided it was time to change that, at least a little!

For those of you who don’t know, I recently attended my graduation ceremony in Orlando, and instead of being less busy, I’ve been more busy. I’m still around, and still writing!

I was originally planning on having my second book completed by December of this year, but having been suddenly struck with a bout of inspiration, I’m going to bump it up and set a new, tighter goal for myself.

I’m going to write TWENTY THOUSAND WORDS by the end of the month.

ImageJust a reminder of something else that is 20,000 and AWESOME.

Wish me luck!

What Could it Brie? This Stuff is Gouda.

Animation, Scripts

FatBoysDinerInterior

Ever wonder about life in a futuristic moon colony?

No? Why not? Get a fantastic example of writing for animation here.

Benalax needs to find the secret to human tastebuds to make the perfect cheese, and forced vegetarian chef Nu’Kard dreams of making a veggie dish that tastes like meat. Can they work together to solve their problems?

Alas

Poetry

Ocean-of-Fire-with-Moon-Wallpaper

a funeral pyre was set for me,

amidst the dark and briny sea

against the stormy background’s woes,
and listless wind’s enchanting throes-

I lost the bet and lost a life,
(sacrificed the stitch for strife)

it’s not if any death will do,
you must be thorough, through and through!

called a name amid the crowd,

but lost the spindle to the shroud,

smashed their smiles and ran along
the battlements adorned in song-

in every truth there lies a lie,
and hopelessness that ambles by,

when twinkles fail to glisten soft,

the flesh that bleeds in time forgot,

if ever there was love in sin,
(and ravagement to wander in)

it’s in the telling, not the tome,
if death should choose to come back home-

Pendulum

Poetry

Image

Because they wouldn’t call the doctor 
For the 730 flight

And they said that she’d be fine if she just
made it through the night

the white pills make you sleepy 
            but the blues will help you wake
when you’re dreaming of a future
without the need for an escape

it’s a curious concussion, ingest the baby,
make it grow
  superlative or not, will tell you
all you need to know

its not the dying, or the living, 

                its just the waiting in the line
its in knowing that tonight
the alcohol will make it fine

and they take and eat and shit
              until they’ve bitten off your hands
and at the stroke of midnight
  you get the list of their demands

porcelain or poison-mix the cup and 
drink it down
because this scream is faintly dreaming
                belladonna in the crown

and your teeth will all be useless,
                    and your skin will go away
and your eyelids will be heavy
              when you’re dressed in your decay

but the curtain never closes,

it just lifts its head and sighs
    because the tide of the illusion
is just a waking lullaby