I normally write this blog at 6 AM, before I start my day. On days when I’m doing Moulage (casualty simulation) at an exercise, I’m elbow-deep in nose and scar wax at that point. So I have to wait to blog until after I’ve finished and scrubbed my hands of all the fake blood.
One intense day done, and I’m in the middle of intense day #2. I am so tired. I’m getting 5 hours of sleep a night, and I can tell. I’m dreaming of sleeping in tomorrow.
No pictures from the event, because all mine are gory.
Writing late today. I have already done morning moulage, making up several people to look like victims. I’m dragging a bit even though I got enough sleep last night. It’s a long couple of days. Wish me luck.
Yesterday, I thought I was blocked writing. Then I wrote 1800 words, which is the most I’ve written in a good while. I don’t know how I did this, except I kept writing what I had on my mind.
I still don’t know if I like the book. I feel like there’s a lot of talking and not a lot of action. The action is coming up, but is it enough? This book may take a lot of rewriting once I get it down. We shall see. It also might not make it to daylight.
Sometimes I think I am toward the end of my writing career. It has been — what? 10 years? It’s been a good ten years, but I think I’ve gotten as far as I am going to. It’s hard for me to maintain and not go forward. I haven’t had a Big Audacious Goal toward writing for a while. We shall see.
I am 15 days from my latest not-so-big audacious goal, writing in this blog for 365 straight days. Yet I keep forgetting to write! Luckily, I catch myself before the day is over, but all it would take is one day of forgetting entirely, and I would be back at zero.
I don’t really like all or nothing goals like this. They’re less about performance than persistence. ButI’ve been doing this blogging for 350 days, so…
I wrote two or three chapters that are all wrong. The main male character seems perfect, the main female character is too ambivalent (although ambivalence is not a bad thing here), and it’s too talky. What does one do when the characters are all wrong?
Revise, revise, revise. I know writers say not to edit your work until you’re done, but this section can’t stand as is. It’s wrong. It’s going to lead the reader to the wrong place. It’s already leading the writer to the wrong place. So, there’s at least 5000 words down the drain (two of the chapters were only partially written) and time to write them over again.
I’m writing a book right now, where the female protagonist is (among other things) a folksinger, and her significant other is an immortal who wants to be human because he thinks it will cure his loneliness. One song she performs at open mic night is Child 39a, an old ballad called Tam Lin.
The ballad is about Tam Lin, a captive of the fairy realm who holds a plot of land, and any unaccompanied woman who passes there has to give up something of herself, including her virginity. One woman, who gets pregnant, returns to demand he support his child. He agrees to marry her if she takes him from captivity. He warns her he will turn into all sorts of vicious forms, and if she continues to hold on, he is hers. This goes according to plan and they live happily ever after.
I realized in the middle of writing this section that their story is basically Tam Lin, with a few changes. He is held captive by his loneliness. She rescues him and holds onto him as several layers of his existence are shed — immortal, being made in the image of humans, and then his final layer — inevitably other. No vicious forms, but the alienness of his being stands in. In the end, their story is bittersweet as I suspect Tam Lin’s is — how do you live in the ordinary world when you have been touched by the fey? How do you have a relationship with someone that alien to you?
I’m using the song as a framing device. I would tell you it all fell together accidentally, but I know the subconscious of a writer is a powerful thing.
I am finally back to writing. The current book, which has the same name as the previous book I was having trouble writing (Hiding in Plain Sight), is flowing nicely so far and is enjoyable to write. No feeling like I’m drifting along killing time. So far.
I am using the usual “plantsing” method for writing this book. I have a rough plot outline in Scrivener that I follow — it tells me what to expect in the chapter. Then I fill in the action from there. I feel more secure in this outline so far. I might get to the point where I wish I was writing a novella, or I beat my head against the wall looking for plot, but it hasn’t happened yet.
I like Alice Johnson as a protagonist. An anthropology grad student, a little absorbed in her folk tales, perhaps a little naive, she seems the perfect protagonist to contrast with the centuries-old yet new to relationships William. I think there’s enough to keep going.
Words Like Me 