Why Am I Doing This?: A Twix Analogy

Just a few minutes ago, I ate a Twix bar. Sounds, yummy, right? And it was supposed to be. But the caramel was all...chewy and crunchy at the same time. I should have stopped with the first bite, but I kept eating, thinking, "It's going to get better." It didn't. I finished the first bar and contemplated the second one. I was like, "Ah, what the heck, it can't be any worse, right?" Wrong. It was worse. It was like chewing caramel flavored rubber. The sad thing: I still ate it. All. Of. It.

"Why?" I asked myself even I was still chewing. "It's not tasty. You certainly aren't deriving any satisfaction out of it, and you really don't need the empty calories." And still, I ate it.

In a way, me eating that Twix is a bit like me revising a novel. I don't enjoy it. It often gives me a headache and sometimes it feels like a huge waste of time. And yet, I still revise and revise again.

You know what I did today? I rewrote the first chapter of FURY.

I KNOW. It surprised the heck outta me, too. Even as I was writing it, I was asking myself, "Why am I doing this? I'm supposed to be finished with this. On the shelf. Done." And, still, I wrote.

You know what the most amazing part of it was? I was actually excited. It was as if something finally clicked, and I finally took one of my Writer's Digest forumite's suggestions. (Thanks, hematite!) And I was thrilled because FURY was finally beginning to shape up. FINALLY.

It's a strange thing to trudge through something knowing that you probably should just leave it alone, but unable to do so. I'm just glad that, in the end, FURY will be more satisfying than that Twix.

Dude, what's with the 'tude?

So, I think I'm sick, but I'm not really sure. My eye keeps doing this random twinging/stinging/watering thing and my head hurts. Not a good sign. But I'm still functioning and if I keep myself distracted I feel OK, so...here's me keeping myself distracted.

I've had an attitude lately. Which is weird for me. I'm usually a pretty passive person. If I can make someone else happy at my own expense, that's fine by me. And when people give me their opinion regarding anything, I take it to heart.

Not lately.

Lately I've been all like, "Get outta my face!" And, "Nah Nah Nah. Not listening."

And, to be honest, I kind of like it.

When I first started writing, I didn't show ANYONE. No one. Not even my best friend. And never ever my mom. The first time I ever submitted a piece of fiction was for my creative writing class in college. And if it hadn't been a part of the grade I don't think I would have ever submitted anything. I would have happily sat by and critiqued other people's works and left mine to gather dust. Which is why, of course, I wanted to be an editor. (I still kind of do, but I'd rather be a writer now.)

So, I submitted... whatever it was. (Sad that I can't even remember, eh?) And most people liked it. My professor said that I had a natural "voice" and, of course, I beamed and started scribbling more. I was addicted to sharing, addicted to feedback (OK, I still am), but I did it all wrong without even realizing it. I was in it for the adulation, of course, but when I received a negative critique all my confidence in my writing would go plummeting. I would mope and shove stories into their dark nests. Only after the hurt had passed would I pull it back out. (Yes, I KNOW I'm too sensitive.)

But then my skin got thicker. Critiques, even those that practically screamed, "YOU SUCK" on them, were taken into account and suggestions were noted. But I still had a bad habit of trying to make everybody happy. I would stress and strain over ONE LITTLE PARAGRAPH for hours trying to make it fit into everyone's mold.

And then...

Something changed.

I'm not sure what, even. But now, I have this attitude where if I don't like what the critter is suggesting, I ignore it. (Gasp!) Sometimes, I've ignored whole critiques because I realized that these people "just don't get it." And it's not my fault or their fault, it's just a lack of a meeting of the minds. My story wasn't written for these people, so of course they're not going to get it! And I can never make my story be what everyone wants. I've finally accepted that.

It only took me... six years.

Wow, sad.

But I'm glad that I've reached this point. Now, I can just go with my instinct and take or leave critiques. Take the ones that steer me in the right direction and ignore the ones that don't. It's so liberating.

Here's hoping that you develop  your own 'tude!

It's FRIDAY (and I've had a lot of caffeine)

Caffeine doesn't usually effect me. Not even those nasty, syrupy energy drinks can keep me from yawning. But now I have discovered espresso. Espresso is WONDERFUL! I have had three shots within the last 30 minutes (made into a cappuccino) and OMG I'm so wired. I now must have my own espresso machine. So, if any of you are feeling extremely generous (because, you know, my birthday is coming up) just send one my way.

:D (That's a big smile with lots of teeth and crazy eyes.)

And it's Friday! Yay for Friday! My almost favorite day of the week. My more favorite day is Saturday, because, well, it's Saturday.

::chases after brain, wrestles it to the ground, tries to tie it back into skull::

:D

Okay, so I'm a little scatter-brained, but it's so nice. I do have a purpose. I promise. I am actually on here today to share some of my current aspirations/projects with you.

So, I revised DQ (that Dragon Queen for you newbies ::waves::) and then decided that after submitting the first chapter to two different critique groups (one with the old version and one with the new) I'm probably going to keep the old version...just incorporate some of the things in the new version. What's strange is that I've only gone through one revision on DQ and...I think it's ready. I haven't been querying for it, however, because I'm not sure if it's really ready or I'm just pretending that it is because I'm lazy and don't want to work on it anymore. But the more I hang on to it, the more I'm convinced that I don't need to do anything more to it.

This probably has to do a little bit with what Lydia talked about regarding her "near-perfect first draft." DQ was a write-one-chapter-and-have-it-critiqued-and-then-go-from-there kind of novel. So, my ideas were pretty solid by the time the first draft was finished. A few things popped in at the end, but they were easily taken care of. My writing got a polish, of course, and there were some scenes that were totally rewritten, but the revision was nearly as quick as writing the first draft (actually, it was quicker...since it took about 6 months to write the first draft and only 1 month to revise).

:D

(This is sad really, because I took about 3 months to write FURY (or the rest of FURY, it had been sitting around half-completed for a while) and revised for, like, a year.)

I even have a pretty good query for DQ (which, sadly, I still cannot say for FURY even though I've rewritten it a bazillion times). Not a perfect query, but a pretty darn good one. And I'm, like, still reluctant to polish it and send it out because I really think that there is absolutely no way my novel could be ready after only one revision, but when I go back and try to polish it up some more, I think I just end up making it worse. Which is, like, so uncool.

(Have you noticed how I'm using like? Hehe. Bad habit of mine when I'm hyper.)

So, those are the two BIG projects, but they haven't really been my focus as of late. I actually took a break from all novel writing and wrote a short story. (Gasp! Say it isn't so!) (Oh, and if you're from the WD forum and wondering why you haven't seen it, it's because it's NOT PG-13. Sorry.) I had a lot of fun writing the story and am planning to submit it to a magazine this month.

:D

More recently, I've picked up LAST OF THE ELVES and ONE THOUSAND. LotE has held my attention more because I've fallen back in love with my characters. They're just so different from all my other characters. And, I'm sorry, but of all my male MCs, I love Lial the most. He's just so freaking hot and sweet and tormented all at once. SIGH. And Minalea is so funny without meaning to be. She's sort of your damsel-in-distress type. She talks a lot, has big dreams, and is a general nuisance to Lial. FUN.

ONE THOUSAND is being stubborn. I'm writing a chapter from Elpis's POV and he's not cooperating. I thought I had him there for a moment when he was thinking about going home (Hi, Mom. Happy to see me? Good. Sorry to say that your other son is dead. Oh, and by the way, here is his murderess.) But then he had to go all silent on me and will not let me into his head. I guess I need a big rock to bash it against to get at the good stuff. (Wow, gory image.)

I've also got my evil tree story, tentatively titled THE MORGUE TREE. But, I don't know, it's so gloomy and depressing at the moment that I've sort of stayed away from it because I don't want to be in that mindset right now.

:D

Whew. That's a lot of projects. I need to get crackin'. Have a great Friday, everyone!

Up in Flames

My senior year of high school, my house burned down. It started in my room (where, thankfully, I was not sleeping that night) and consumed everything. It left me and my family with little more than the clothes on our backs. But we had our lives and we'd saved all our pets. Even as we sobbed and cried as we watched our house reduced to cinders, we were grateful for the things we didn't lose.

But losing your home hurts. A lot. It breaks off a piece of your heart when you realize what all you did lose. Not the electronics, the furniture, the appliances, but the photos, the artwork from when my brother and I were children, the home videos. The few things that survived were even more precious to us.

And when you lose all the things that make you take life for granted, you're also humbled. It makes you realize how shallow and silly some things are, and though I would never want to go through the experience again, it made me a better person.

One of the first people my age to show up to help us was the girl I considered my arch-rival in high school. We competed against each other in everything: choir, drama, teacher's favorites, etc. She came in her cute clothes and started digging through the ashes trying to find things. I couldn't believe my eyes. And then she offered to take me clothes shopping. I lost it. I started bawling and the first words out of my mouth were, "I don't even have a bra!" (In fact, the only clothing I had was a pair of Tigger pajama pants and a overlarge shirt that I'd experimented on with fabric paint.) To which she said, "You can have mine!"

I was flabbergasted. Here was this girl whom I had resented and, in fact, had been jealous of and she was offering me, literally, the bra off her back. I cried and laughed and viewed her in a completely different light after that.

Another thing you find out when you lose everything, is how much people really love you. I was never close to my step-dad, but when I came back from shopping he was digging through what was left of my room trying to find a piece of jewelry because he knew it had been important to me. He'd even enlisted his friends. My mom had always told me that he loved me in his own way, but it wasn't until that moment that I realized how much.

Those are the things that you gain even when you lose everything: understanding, love, compassion, and humility. Those things make the disaster easier to get through, as well as the support of the community. We were helped so much by our neighbors, friends and schoolmates. Because of them, we were able to get back on our feet.

Thus, the point of this post. Janet Reid's friends lost their house (and, sadly, their pets) in a fire. Though they might be strangers, I ask that all of you please give them your support and prayers. Everything helps, even if it is just someone reaching out through cyberspace and saying, If you need anything...

Please give them a virtual hug or donate.

Thank you and God bless!

Darkness Becomes Her

I've noticed a theme in my writing. No matter what topic, what characters...no matter how lighthearted the story begins, there is always a touch of darkness in my writing. Even in DRAGON QUEEN, a story told from the POV of a girl who has a wry sense of humor and a pretty positive outlook on life, dark things happen. Bad things happen. And before the story ends, there is more than a struggle between the MC and the villain...there's that struggle with darkness.

Strange. I guess I'm a bit obsessed with darkness. And yet...I'm reluctant to embrace it. Maybe it's because the things I enjoy reading are not all that dark. I like to read things that amuse me and make me laugh. But then I write these dark, twisted stories where the characters are tormented and struggling. It happens unintentionally and that's given me a bit to muse upon.

Huh.

Even my short stories have a touch of darkness...and apparently I'm good at the darkness. More than being funny or clever, I can paint a bleak and black canvas. I was going through some of my stories that had been collecting dust and ALL of them contain that dark element. Even the ones that are meant to be funny have a sort of dark humor to them.

But, anyways, I thought I would share some of my darkness with my devoted readers. ;) This is a scene I wrote for fun involving the villain in my novel FURY. It is where Yalei becomes the Devourer. Yes, it's very dark and since I don't plan to use it in the novel, it is for your pleasure alone. Enjoy!

I never loved you.

The words peeled Yalei apart, baring her soul to the encroaching darkness of the mountains. Jagged peaks scraped at the sky, and an ominous mist seethed from the crevices like the breath of a beast. The evil taint in the air no longer had the power to frighten her away. She invited it in, turning her back on a world of light. There was nothing for her there. Not anymore.

She had come here to die.

The Dark Mountains did not promise a gentle death, but peace was not what she wanted. Peace was not what the dreamscape had whispered. The susurrus had promised something far more appealing:

Revenge.

She knelt on the rocky ground. It bit into her skin, already eager for her blood. But it would have to wait for the Devourer. That demon was the only one she would allow to spill her blood tonight.

As if her thoughts summoned it, she felt its presence. A formless shadow, it unfolded from the mountains and glided toward her. Its former host lay abandoned by a boulder, already crumbling to a heap of colorless ash. Flakes of it swept by Yalei’s upturned face, caught in her long black hair. She didn’t cringe away from the foul flecks, but waited.

The misty darkness surrounded her. Its damp touch hearkened a grave. She fought not to shudder, to recoil from the tainted caress.

This was what she wanted.

You came.

That same seductive whisper that had haunted the dreamscapes, calling her, coaxing her into nightmarish planes and, finally, to this place. Sibilant, like a thousand snakes hissing.

“Yes.”

I can feel your pain. So deep. So engrained in your soul.

She closed her eyes, but a tear slipped free.

Do you want it to stop?

The mist pressed her cheek, taking away the moisture and replacing it with a venomous film that pried into her soul. She opened her eyes.

“No, I want them to hurt, too.”

Good. The mist enveloped her. It crawled over her exposed skin, beneath her clothing, into her eye sockets.

Give yourself to me. Together, we will give them everything they deserve.

“And more,” she rasped.

It filled her throat, choking her words of acceptance. It didn’t need her vocal permission. It knew what was in her soul. She cried out. The Devourer drowned the sound, pouring itself into her like filth into an exposed wound. It spread through her veins, thrummed in her shuddering heart, pulsed in her brain. A part of her soul shrank from the onslaught. The Devourer chewed at it.

Yalei screamed.

Her eyes widened. Her throat constricted.

Don’t fight it, the Devourer hissed.

She gritted her teeth, forcing her body to relax, to accept death. Agony ripped through her. She arched. A scream strangled in her throat, and she died.

One day, I'll make it

You've heard that phrase, "you're your own worst critic?" Well, that is especially true with me. I'm not sure if it's because I struggle with clinical depression or am just a moody Cancer, but I would say that a solid 85% of the time, I feel like I'm not good enough.

And that's my greatest fear--not being good enough. So I'm one of those people who goes out of her way to prove others (but mostly myself) wrong. Just to say, "See? And you thought you couldn't do it!"

I've done so many amazing things with my life already and yet they slip my mind. I forget that I am someone who is worthy of my dreams. I've worked and I've struggled. I've suffered and I've conquered. And more times than not, I've come out on top.

I guess I'm too sensitive. I came into the world of professional writing knowing that it was going to be hard. It was going to cut me, deeply. And there would probably be more failures than successes. I KNEW this. I thought I was able to accept it. And I did...for a while. When the first rejection rolled in, I was actually a little bit relieved. (Whew, glad that's over with.) The second one didn't hurt either. But the more rejections that came in, no matter how nice or professional, cut just a little bit more. And before I could grasp what was happening, I had bled out. All my hopes, my confidence, my dreams drained from me. And, once again, that dreaded not-good-enough monster loomed over me gnashing its teeth.

It's been on my back for a while now. Burrowing deeper and deeper. I tried to hide it. I tried to smile and shrug and say, "Better luck next time." But it wasn't until last night that I finally acknowledged it. Getting rid of it involved a huge amount of optimism and honesty. And it involved crying--not the woe-is-me crying, but the healing crying that breaks open a festered wound and lets it finally heal. I came out of it with swollen eyes but feeling so much lighter. The monster had gone back to its lair, and I was once again to see my dreams--battered, but not broken--in front of me.

And I thought, "I CAN do this. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now, but I will make it one day. I know that I will. And, no matter how many more times the not-good-enough monster returns, I'll remember that I AM good enough and forge ahead. And, once more, I'll achieve my dreams, even if it shocks the heck out of me when it happens."

One day, I WILL make it.

It's Fantastical!

Ah ha! A writerly topic at last!

I've been browsing and researching agents and I've come across certain things that have befuddled me as a novice in the industry.

Subgenres. Particularly in fantasy.

Some agents like paranormal romance, but aren't interested in high fantasy. Others seek epic fantasy. Some want urban fantasy.

It's enough to make your head spin. I thought I was on the right track with just labeling a work "fantasy," but I've really just skimmed the surface. Here is the list provided by Wikipedia, JUST ON FANTASY SUBGENRES!

• Fantasy

• by Theme

• Comic fantasy
• Dark fantasy
• Fantasy of manners
• Gawęda
• Epic Fantasy / High fantasy
• Low fantasy
• Magic realism
• Mythic
• Paranormal Fantasy
• Quest
• Superhero fantasy
• Sword and sorcery
• Surrealist novel
• Traditional fantasy

• by Place

• Urban fantasy
• Suburban fantasy
• Country Fantasy

• by Time

• Historical fantasy

• Celtic fantasy
• Medieval fantasy
• Prehistoric fantasy
• Wuxia

• Alternative history fantasy
• Bangsian fantasy
• Contemporary fantasy
• Futuristic fantasy

• Fantasy Cross Genres

• Heroic fantasy

• Speculative Cross Genre fiction

• Science fantasy

• Dying Earth subgenre
• Planetary romance
• Sword and planet

• Steampunk
• Cyberpunk
• Paranormal fantasy

• Weird fiction

Are you befuddled? I'm befuddled. It's even more befuddling trying to pin your story down to one subgenre. For instance, Ms. Agent does not like Dark Fantasy, which you could label your novel as, but there are also elements of Paranormal Fantasy, which Ms. Agent adores. Do you scratch Ms. Agent off your list or submit it as a Paranormal Fantasy in the hopes that she'll like it despite its dark elements?

A conundrum, for sure.

My advice? Take the chance, but make sure you have a good reason. And let that reason be known to the agent, that way Ms. Agent won't be all "RAWR, this is clearly Dark Fantasy and I DON'T REPRESENT DARK FANTASY. WHY DO PEOPLE NEVER READ MY SUBMISSION GUIDELINES???" 

If you feel like you must choose and stick with one subgenre, go with what you consider your novel MORE of. What books do you see it next to on the shelf? What author's works would you compare it to? Those are good starting places.

Or, if you're like me and feel like a novel is equal parts one subgenre and the other, but feel compelled to submit it as one or the other, close your eyes and point. So, FURY would be a High Fantasy with dark elements. Right? We'll see.