I am not inspired

So, I’m done editing Whose Hearts are Mountains, and I’m still at Mozingo on my writing retreat. But I don’t feel like writing. What am I to do?

Here’s my problem — I don’t have any inspiration for a new book. I haven’t since I finished Whose Hearts are Mountains (writing, not editing). This is part of the reason I’ve been editing the back catalog for eventual developmental edits.

I have an outline for another novel, but my brain feels like a brick right now. I wrote a sentence, a first sentence, and it dropped like lead, inert and boring. I don’t feel that energy of attraction to anything I’ve writing.

I think a good amount of this is how hard I’ve been trying to get an agent and how utterly fruitless my efforts have been. I’m discouraged, and it’s hard getting motivated to write when there’s a backlog of unread novels.

Wish me inspiration. Wish me luck. Wish me good spirits. Wish me love.

Another round of killing my darlings

This morning, I’m editing a story for a short story contest. When I first wrote the story, I wrote it as an origin story for one of my characters and an exploration into cross-cultural relationships. For the contest, I knew I would have to edit out about 500 words to meet the word count.

But then, in the middle of editing words out, I realized several things. First, that the story could and should stand alone from its original purpose, so I edited out references to the magical realism world it came from. Next, embarrassingly, that there wasn’t enough tension in the story to make it memorable. I want to place the biggest part of the tension internally, not externally, even though there’s tension in the relationship between the two characters as well.

Writing is this process in which getting the ideas down on paper is only the first part. Refining the story into something that’s not just readable but skillful becomes the harder part. The hardest part is looking at what you’ve written with a critical eye, carving away parts of the story that do not serve their purpose, no matter how much one loved them when they were written. This is why the rule of editing is “Kill your darlings,” because in effect that is what the writer does in polishing.

I’m off now to kill my darlings.

Seeking direction again

(Note: I am experimenting with larger print for a reader of mine.)

Idea for my next book from the idea file:

Luke Dunstan, 6000-year-old Archetype, serves as a liaison between the immortal Archetypes and the humans whose cultural DNA the Archetypes hold. An edict from the Archetypes’ Maker bids the Archetypes prepare to return these memories in the trust of the humans. Facing their loss of identity, the Archetypes draw battle lines; countless human lives are at stake. It is up to Luke and one young woman, Leah Inhofer, to stop the battle of Archetype against Archetype.

*******

I really need to get back into writing. Or at least editing.

I’ve been editing a bit, but even then I often skip out on it because it’s tedious to go through a document to kill all the extra “have had has was were”. I haven’t written on a novel since finishing Whose Hearts are Mountains in December. I have some old ideas in my file (see above) but no new “a-ha” falling in love with the idea motivation.

Writing the blog every day, as I mentioned yesterday, is my lifeline to writing. As long as I write in my blog I’m still a writer. Right?

I’m afraid that if I keep getting rejections, my current lack of commitment puts me in an easy place to just walk away. This might be a good thing for me in the greater scheme of things, but it’s not good when I think about being a writer.

So I’m musing about what to do. Again.

Ready to Quit?

My tarot reading for today (Deck: The Good Tarot, a positive psychology/affirmations deck) says it’s time to decide whether I want to continue writing or not.

For all my threats of giving up, I’m not sure I’m ready. The problem is that when I want to quit, I’m running on feelings and moods, which in my case can run rather intense. What’s worse, I’m running on that primordial soup of past hurts that it’s easy to fixate on:

I thrive on recognition.Recognition is the positive attention that kept me going through a rather negative childhood.

I don’t deal well with rejection. (Who does?) As an overweight, highly intelligent, awkward child, I received a lot of rejection so I tend to overreact to it.

I don’t like being made a fool of, having been the butt of jokes much of my life. I’m afraid I’m being a fool by continuing to hope.

On the other hand:

I see myself as a hopeful person

I highly admire perseverance

I like the image of being a writer (although I wrestle with whether I need traditional publishing to feel like a writer)

I like writing. A lot. Editing, not so much. Querying — I love the optimism I feel when I send out a new query. I hate rejections.

I love to have people discover my writing.

The key, though, is that if I quit only to find that someone picks up Prodigies, I would un-quit in a second. If I had readers, especially ones I could communicate with, I would write with and for a community.

Quitting won’t get me what I need. So, how do I get what I need out of writing?

Writing Every Day

I have been writing this blog for 21 months on nearly a daily basis, and in a few cases, more than once a day. I’ve missed a week at a time during times I was fighting depression, but for the most part I’ve stuck to this blog. It’s become part of my being, part of my definition as a writer.

Writing this blog wasn’t always part of my definition of myself. Neither, for that matter, was writing in general. What it took was a discipline of writing every day.

Writing every day is not an easy thing. First of all, one has to commit to an action that may not feel natural. I write every morning, generally between 5:30 and 6:30 AM (today is an exception; I didn’t get up at my usual 5 am because it’s a snowy weekend). I can guarantee that, at first, writing a blog first thing in the morning was not something I felt moved to do. Now, because of the scheduled habit, I write my blog almost every morning.

Writing in general wasn’t a habit at first. But after a NaNoWriMo or two, I discovered that 2000 words a day (most days; I think my average per day is more like 1500) wasn’t difficult. So I ended up with somewhere around six novels to play around with, and I’ve been writing for seven years.

Right now I’m not writing because I discovered editing time is as important as writing. So I have the goal of editing at least an hour a day, and so far I’ve been pretty successful (but I have about 5000 more words to add to Voyageurs, and this will be a bit tough. Whee.

Habits aren’t very sexy. It’s much more compelling to be that writer who does nothing but write for days, forsaking everything but coffee (or in the case of Coleridge, some prime hash), who shuns responsibility while feverishly writing. In reality, most writers are not that person, nor can they be. So writers need habits to take the slow, sure course of writing.

Although writing binges, within reason, are a good thing, because it’s fun to feel like the crazed stereotype at times.

We’ll drink a cup of kindness yet …

I don’t make resolutions, because they’re more wish than goal without the supports that will make it happen. However, it is my custom over New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day to do all the important things I want to incorporate in my life. In other words, I prefer my superstitious tradition to the superstitious tradition of making resolutions. Go figure.

Therefore, in the next two days, I need to:

Write. Yes, I haven’t given that up yet. I am writing this (because I want to maintain the blog) and I will hit my head against the dev edit of Voyageurs which somehow needs 24,000 words without extraneous information. Or maybe I should write the first page of a future novel.
Eat well. I’ve actually been doing that for the most part for almost three years. I’ve lost 65 lbs from my heaviest. I’d like to lose 20 more pounds, but my body doesn’t seem to want to, I don’t want to fall back into old habits.
Walk. This is something I need to incorporate in my life. I need to find more supports to walking because it’s not something I love to do.
Work. By this I mean start to organize my new semester. I will probably set up my new semester calendar today or tomorrow.
Self-care. Good smelling bath and a facial mask for fun. Rose perfume (which I got cheaply — it’s a sample size).
Reach out to others. This has been very difficult for me lately. My fears of rejection have multiplied with all the writing rejections I’ve gotten.
Laugh. Oh, hell, I don’t need to try to do that. I laugh all the time.

Love and best wishes for your New Year (if you celebrate this version of New Year)!

Thoughts and Prayers

I know that most of you in the United States are people I already know. My overseas readers, for the most part, seem to be regulars, but I don’t know you (or don’t think I know you). I am addressing all of you.

I need your thoughts and prayers.

Not in the sense of “I need to say something of comfort so I can go back to what I was doing,” as is too often the case when handling preventable tragedies in the US.

But I believe in thoughts and prayers if they occur in the sense of “I hope the best for this person.” I believe this has an effect — not necessarily to bring out a desired outcome, but to provide hope, clarity, courage, patience in the person who needs these things.

I need these things, because I’m struggling with writing. You might have noticed that I haven’t been able to write daily, and that’s because I don’t know if I’m going to continue writing. I have no idea if I’m ever going to be published, and I’m not sure it’s worth the time and money it takes to improve and make a story reading-ready.

But I don’t know if I’m not going to continue writing, either.

So, if you have a spare moment and the intent to help, send thoughts and prayers my way. You don’t even have to tell me you did. But I need to find clarity to move forward in whatever direction opens to me. .

An embarrassment of riches

I don’t know what to write next.

This, as you may guess, is unusual for me. I have eight novels (with two needing serious work to redo), and these were written in a five-year period. (And should have been edited more ruthlessly much sooner, but I didn’t know better).

I want to hold off a bit on editing the two that need serious work (why? Because I feel like I haven’t done anything but edit lately.)

I have a couple ideas of what to write:

Gods’ Seeds. This would be another book in the Archetype universe, taking place after Reclaiming the Balance (which needs much work) and before Whose Hearts are Mountains. and which features a brewing war among Archetypes
A sequel to Voyageurs, which would require a lot of history research, which I detest
A sequel to Prodigies, a New Adult novel, with no idea who I’d be following.
Something new and I have no idea.

None of them are grabbing me yet. Probably because I feel guilty for having books out there that need editing.

I suppose this is an embarrassment of riches and I shouldn’t complain.

Time for me to see what ideas grab me …

Four Sex Scenes

I’ve finished the latest edit on Voyageurs, and it’s ready to go into dev edit as soon as I do one more thing.

Write four sex scenes.

After all, it’s a romance novel, or at least a soft SF novel with romantic elements. There are four places in the novel where they’re having sex, but I don’t go into detail. I suspect that romance publishers will need sex scenes.

I’m terrified.

I have nothing against sex — in fact, you can think of me as sex-positive. But I have seen so many bad sex scenes in my writing time that I fear that sex can’t be written well. There’s over-the-top tentacle sex . There’s overwrought adjective sex, where the men and the orgasms are bigger than life. There’s contractual obligation sex scenes and there’s tab A- slot B clinically detailed sex scenes.

I don’t want to write any of these. I want to write something emotionally fulfilling, heavy on relation and light on mechanics. I don’t know if I know how to do that.

If you hear me screaming today, know it’s because I have to write four sex scenes.

Day 6 NaNo — still chugging

I can’t wait to write again today.

This is what NaNo does to people, I hear — somehow writing without self-censoring (which is necessary to get 1,667 words a day in) — makes your connection to your words and your characters and your plots flow.

By the end of this, I should have Whose Hearts are Mountains’ rough draft finished, and probably 30,000 words on Becoming Kringle, which I will finish in December as the bells jingle along.

Off to write. Sorry this is so short, but maybe I’ll drop an excerpt of Whose Hearts are Mountains tomorrow.

Oh, yes — up to 12,000 words as of this morning.