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NaNo day 5

25 hours (25K words) on NaNo. I’m very lucky I have the time to do this (aided greatly by the fact that I don’t watch tv and I have an excellent attention span.) I wish I could find those excellent graphics that NaNo offered us!

The hard part comes ahead — so far the path to revision (including adding material) has been easy, with some of my best writing happening. Now I know things that are going to happen but not quite what to do there. Wish me luck!

Third Day NaNo

Yesterday I was at 20 hours, equivalent to 20k words. I also got schooled on how I really should proofread better, because a submission of mine had a wrong name at least once in the 1000 words.


I’m still getting more rejections and wondering if it’s me or the stories. And if it’s remediable. I’m getting inspired by editing since I’m seeing possibilities opening up with Gaia’s Hands.


😒 Wait. I have emojis! I just discovered this! 

It’s November First?!?

I’m sorry for not writing yesterday — I was pretty sick.

I’ve been fighting a cold or something over the past two weeks, but yesterday morning it went supernova — I ached so badly I couldn’t move, I coughed constantly, had a sore throat — so I stayed home and slept for 20 hours. 

Only to wake up on November 1st and realize — OMG, it’s NANO TIME!

So today, as promised, I have to spend at least two hours today editing*, something I have been avoiding up till now. Two hours. When am I going to do this? When?

Deep breath. I have time after 2 PM today, being that it’s a Friday and all and there won’t be any meetings today. And I have a place — the Board Game Cafe.

All I need now is the initiative.

Oh, by the way, I had a poem make Submittable’s Rejection Horror Stories 2019. (Mine is the poem).


***

* I’m a rebel this year, doing some much needed editing instead of writing something new. On NaNoWriMo, I’m lleachie.

Sorry for the Debbie Downer

I got a big rejection last night — CRAFT’s first chapter contest. It would have provided lots of opportunity and support toward publication of a book. It was a long shot submitting, because I think they favor literary fiction and I write genre/literary crossover. 

It was worth a try. I’m trying to analyze whether the effort I spend writing and improving is worth the results. Whether the money I invest (in dev editing, in reader’s fees for short fiction, for writers conferences) is yielding enough return on investment. Whether staying in writing because I’ve invested so much is just the sunk cost fallacy in action. 

I keep going back to writing, fancying that it will be my retirement career. But for it to be a career, I have to go someplace with it. I need to be published; otherwise it’s just a hobby.

I really have to figure this out.

Snow. In October.

Snow. In October.

We had flurries last night here in northwest Missouri, just enough to notice, not enough to coat the ground. I wouldn’t complain about that, but we are getting a freezing rain/snow of up to three inches precipitation tomorrow, just in time for Halloween. 

Between the unseasonably warm weather and the snow, we have had about two weeks of autumn. I demand an explanation.

There’s an old adage that cautions against complaining about the weather, but snow. In October. I think this is an extenuating circumstance.

The snow will melt, leaving our lawns drab, sodden leaves and dun grasses. Because this is Missouri, home of the four seasons in one day, we may even see temperatures in the sixties — or, who knows, the seventies — before December. But the damage has been done. November will be a child of winter, not autumn, and we will be tired of snow before the year is out. 

Halloween is Thursday, right smack in the middle of the snow. Maybe I should go as a snowman.

Feeling the need for inspiration.

I’m wrestling with the whole writing thing again, which I understand is part of writing.

In my mind, the struggle manifests itself as a lack of inspiration, a general blah. I’ve written five novels (and need to edit two but have lost my dev editor), which is a big accomplishment. 

I think what bothers me most about not getting published — when I accomplish something (a novel), I want a stretch goal, and getting it published is a stretch goal. Otherwise, once one has written one (or five) novels, what else is there?  I’d like to be published so that I feel that the goal isn’t totally unattainable.

Lately I’ve written some short fiction, which gives me something to enter on Submittable for a feeling of accomplishment, and hopefully publication. I have nine items in review, another nine waiting (I think I’ve said this before). I still wish I felt motivated toward editing/writing the longer stuff.

 Oh, yes, my flash fiction, Becky Home-ecky, now can be found in the A3 Review Volume 11, found in finer bookstores somewhere in the UK. 

I just hope I get out of this slump soon.

On Second-Guessing My Ability

This picture has nothing to do with today’s topic.



I second-guess my writing talent all the time. I live with a constant critic who has no trouble getting into my head (as it is already in my head) to tell me that my writing isn’t enough — not interesting enough, not good enough, not publishable enough. The voice insists that I am writing the same stuff I wrote back in sixth grade.

Despite this, I’m not adverse to critiques. In fact, I relish getting better. But I’m still afraid I’m not good enough.

I hear this is not uncommon to writers, that most writers feel a constant sense of doubt, and that we wouldn’t want to meet one who doesn’t. But I need to shake this sense of self-censure (and self-censorship) for my long-overdue re-editing of Gaia’s Hands. I have to believe in the book to make it better.  

So, how to believe? Cognitive journaling might help — counteract all the mind-reading (“the critics hate it”) and fortune-telling (“I’ll never get published”) and name-calling (“I’m so talentless!”) and awfulizing (“my stuff sucks”). 

I joke about a magic spell, because I feel like my writing career is cursed. Of all the things I pooh-pooh in my life, curses are not one of them. I half-way believe in curses, even as I suspect they’re an externalization of one’s failure scripts. I’m looking at how to break the curse.

I suspect, though, I will have to live with it and create despite it. And someday, when/if I get published, I will celebrate all the harder.