Writing Dark

I don’t consider myself a very dark person. If you meet me in person, even when I’m depressed, I come off as perky, if somewhat squirrelly. (Some of this is a pose to keep my students from feeling threatened). If you know me well, I’m pretty straightforward.

But sometimes, I write dark themes. In The Enforcer, the Archetype Boss Aingeal, serving in his role as enforcer of a Chinese gang, murders his rival and sends a bloody message to the leader of the gang. In Hands, a young man discovers his freakish talent to heal — and kill. The very short story I’m writing now, The Message, involves an act of revenge for a mother’s death.

I suppose Apocalypse, with its end of the world scenario, is dark. I never thought of it that way. I guess I write dark themes more often than not.

I think I should challenge myself to write something completely funny for a change. The ideas that come to my head, though, aren’t funny.

Maybe funny is a new goal to work toward.

I was born for autumn

I’m feeling in the mood for autumn. Meterological fall started August 31, but it hasn’t felt like fall lately given the 85+ degree weather, and astronomical fall won’t be for a couple more days.

Today, it’s raining outside, which puts me more in mind of fall. I like fall best because it is a season of introspection, of putting away the revelry of summer and taking stock of how many leaves I’ve seen fall in my life. The crisp mornings with scarlet and orange maple against the clear blue sky recall perfect moments, while the dark, icy rain reminds me of past travails.

I was born in autumn, born for autumn. It suits my dramatic side, the part of me who wants a black cape to walk through the whispering leaves. It suits the writer in me who wants to write of the dark corners of the psyche.

I will welcome autumn with a cup of cider or a glass of brandy, toasting the harvest and the darkening nights.

Experiment results:

About a month ago, I made the vow that I would go about writing as if I’d already been published. Here’s the result:

I will get back into novel writing for NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) in November. I’ve already committed to a novel — I’m going to tackle the book I’ve been postponing for the longest time, Gods’ Seeds. So if I don’t start noveling (is that a verb?) before then, I will go back to writing novels in November.

Yes, I was considering quitting, but my developmental editor is suggesting I keep writing, and I respect her judgment. I think it’s good to have external voices to help counter the dreary self-doubt that writers have a tendency toward.

My dev editor also suggested trying out for Pitch Wars, which is a competitive process by which one can get an intense pitch workout. I will be trying for this, because I have the desire to improve.

And I’m still submitting, mostly short stories and flash fiction, but also queries on Apocalypse. I may send out to one or two novel publishers this weekend because I expect a rainy time.

In writing as if I’ve already been published, all I’ve lost is the negative self-talk. I think I could like this.

Keep Writing

Keep writing.

That’s my advice through the times of rejections, the times spent wondering whether we will ever get published.

Keep taking those ideas and putting them into words, and then hone those words so that they spin the scene, the emotions, the characters, the plot.

Keep writing, keep editing, keep improving. Realize that we shouldn’t write for the glory of being recognized; most of us, even traditionally published, will not see a huge number of readers. Give those words life, and they may change the world even if nobody else ever reads them, because they have changed us.

This Too

Every now and then I get to a point where I’m convinced I’ve reached the end of my writing career, that I’m ready to put the whole thing down.

This is one of those times.

I just don’t feel as much like a writer when I’m writing short stories. I’m not as focused (obsessed?), I have to come up with many, many more ideas rapidly (which I don’t know if I’m good at), and I don’t have the attachment to my characters.

Years ago, you wouldn’t have caught me writing a novel, and I never imagined I’d prefer novels to short stories.

Yet now is the time for short stories and sending them off to magazines and waiting. I’ve gotten a lot of rejections, but I keep trying.

I feel like quitting sometimes. I’ve felt like quitting many times before.

This too shall pass.

Taking stock of the blog

These are the things that I’ve learned in writing this blog.

My blog gets an average of 20 hits a day. I would like to up that, but that might not change till I have a product (a published book). Let me know if I’m wrong.

The national origins of my readers will always surprise me. The other day, a reader from Vietnam showed up. I’ve had visitors from Singapore and Egypt lately. Among my regulars are Germany, Poland, Portugal, India, Ukraine, and Russia.

I know virtually nothing about my visitors. I know what time of day they visit, how often, what they’ve read. I do not know who they are or why they’ve decided to visit. As far as I know, I know nobody from Portugal, Ukraine, and Russia. I don’t assume that my Polish, German, or Indian readers are the people I know there. I know that either Russia or Ukraine houses that annoying SEO bot that occasionally drops me URLs to webcam girls. (I don’t go there).

I will keep writing this blog. It may change direction as my needs as a writer change, but it will probably always be a combination of creative writing, musing about writing and being a writer, and the occasional “this is what my life looks like right now.”

Are you trying to be funny?

I consider myself a pretty funny person, with stories, puns, dark humor — a pretty good complement of funny.

However, I tend to write pretty dark, picking topics that might be too close to home at times (climate change) or contemporary with fantastical elements (immortals, people with preternatural talents).

What are some ideas for a funny (maybe dark funny) short story?

A vampire at an NA (Narcotics Anonymous) meeting
A man who time travels to the future to find it’s being run by sentient cats
A man who tumbles an autocratic government by introducing them to cat memes
An “elixir of life” that ends up inducing extreme altruism

I’m actually having fun here! Let’s see if one of these becomes a short story.

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I’m almost to the point where I might take up Gaia’s Hands again for editing. I’m not convinced it has good bones, but I’m willing to wrestle with it. I might have Whose Hearts are Mountains on dev edit soon.

I have to come up with a novel idea (see what I did there?) for NaNoWriMo in November. Wish me luck.

Bits and Pieces

Having a relaxing weekend in Kansas City celebrating my birthday, just as I needed. Now in a coffeehouse on the south Plaza, typing this and drinking coffee and trying to come up with good ideas for writing.

The computer issue was a ID-10-T error (look at what that spells carefully); it was my dongle for the mouse rather than the USB port itself. But what the heck, it got me down here for a birthday celebration.

I’m feeling really frustrated with ideas of what to write, however. I just finished a short story called “God’s Broken Promise” which was based on an experience I had. Richard keeps suggesting characters — a guitar-shredding Buddhist monk, a woman with a pack of cats — but I can’t find the stories there. I guess I don’t start with characters like I thought I did. I start with plot, run with theme, and then the characters make themselves known.

So what do I want to write about? I want to write short stories with twist endings — shocking or satisfying or dramatic or silly. (I haven’t written enough silly stuff lately). I want to write novels again (although I’m about to embark in another dev edit).

I need ideas that grab me.

Disgruntled with my computer.

I have no words of wisdom today; just a grumble.

Remember the new computer I got a few weeks ago? It’s on the fritz; same problem as the previous one. The USB port failed again, and it keeps making that “boop boo buh boop!” noise Windows machines make when you plug something in to the USB port.

I am beginning to think the surface book has a problem with its USB ports, in which case anything they replace this with will have the booping/failed USB port problem. Which makes me upset — I didn’t get a computer for it not to work.

I hope they can fix this to my satisfaction.

melancholy

Things haven’t been going well lately.

I think I’m feeling the emotional toll of losing two cats (the long-time cat Snowy and baby kitten Belvedere) in a week. Strangely enough, Belvedere is the hardest to get over, even though he was only five days old; he had a purity about him with his little milk mustache and his snuffling my hand.

There’s not much good to balance that unless you count the fact that I’m still writing. I don’t want to go to work today; I just want to sleep.

Of course I’m going to go to work. That’s top priority; in Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs (a psychological construct), physiological needs (food, clothing, and shelter) are the foundation that needs to be satisfied before we fulfill any other needs:

And physiological needs cost money, which one gets by working.

In a deep depression (which I am not in), I have to remind myself of this basic fact because the inertia and hopelessness weigh me down into immobility. In a hypomanic state (which I am also not in), I have trouble concentrating on the need to go into work. In either case, the larger than life emotions of bipolar overwhelm the logic of everyday life. So constructs like Maslow’s Hierarchy keep me focused on the facts of life.

So right now I’m sleepy and sad. It’s an easy day at work today, as I get to watch other people run a poverty simulation. Then there’s the weekend, and time to recharge.