Coffee and Other Dark Rituals

Lately, I've been doing some research on the things that help one write fiction.  I've been researching them so that I can use them for myself, you see.  Most of the time, I sit down and get work done, but I can't help but think that I could get into that Writing Mode a little faster and more reliably.  My research has led me to a resounding conclusion that I'm sure I've put somewhere else on this blog already.  That is this: there is no perfect thing that works for everyone.

I've read about authors who actually wake up in the middle of the night and write for an hour before going back to bed.  Presumably, this is because the house is quiet and empty at these hours.  Not to mention dark, too.  Another author sits down in his study and works for twelve hours on as many different projects.  I've actually considered doing this.  Well, maybe not twelve books but two would be feasible.  I've definitely heard of authors who drown the surrounding noise with music.  Sometimes, they'll play the same song over and over because it captures a certain mood.

For me, it's coffee and comparable silence throughout the house and absolute solitude.  If I could figure out how to write inside of a black hole, I probably would.  It'd be the perfect place.  Of course, the black hole would draw my coffee in molecule by molecule until it was crushed to oblivion.  That would suck.

Live: From the Batcave

The fortress in the living room worked out really well yesterday.  I think it's going to be part of my daily routine, which, by the way, will be a little different this year because my shift at work is changing.  I'll get to stay at home for a full extra hour in the morning.  What's that mean?  Writing time.  I like it.

So far, my only goal for Broken Promises is to finish it sooner than my last novel.  However, I noticed that last year the more I set myself deadlines, the more I missed them.  So, this year, no deadlines.  Maybe forecasts or tentative finish lines but that's it.

I hate to admit this, but I really need to see something move on my last novel.  So far, no agents are interested.  I know this part of the plan takes time (a lot of time, probably a number of years) but I'm really the kind of person that needs to see some success.  That's not to say that I'd quit writing if it never made me any money, I'd probably just do it a lot less.  I see some of these other books that get published, and they're not bad but they're also not good, and I wonder how they get on the shelf.  I mean, seriously, it's a really competitive market.  Every agent is looking for a huge payday, the next Da Vinci Code (or whatever else has been popular) and I'm not convinced that this book is it.

Yup, just knocked my own stuff.  I like my book, mind you, that's why I wrote it, but I don't see legions of fans in my future.  Maybe just a few sweaty nerds in basements, and I get that it's going to be a tough sell.

Lately, I've been thinking about my writing career in the more abstract sense, what I want it to be rather than I want to do.  I considered crafting a non sci-fi book that was more intended for a mainstream audience, but I came to a realization.  That's just not what I want to make.  If it was solely about success and money, I'd probably be training to do tech support.  Doing what you want is way more important, even if it never takes you anywhere.  I want to write sci-fi/fantasy, and I don't care if it's never that popular.

Absolute Solitude

The time has finally come for me to begin serious work on my second novel.  Nope, the first one hasn't sold yet, but that's fine.  Books don't get published overnight.  This book is tentatively titled: Broken Promises and will (hopefully) see some new characters and some interesting developments on some old ones.  No spoilers here.

The only problem is this: whatever little hamster that runs the wheel in my head has been unresponsive the last few days.  I threw some coffee in there to wake the little guy up, but I think he may be trying to go on strike.  Something about unfair working conditions, I think.  Whatever the cause, when I sit down to put some cool stuff into my word processor, the whole machine stops and fingertips just hover over the keyboard.  It is for this reason that I've built a fort in the living room.

That's right.  My computer is out here, which is cool, but I have little to no privacy.  Particularly from my dog.  Every time I sit on the carpet and grab my keyboard, he thinks its an invite to play.  Puts his nose right in my face until I can't ignore him any longer.  So, with this in mind, I restructured my couch (which is sort of a tetrisy number) to block the little guy out for a while.  Only people with legs and opposable thumbs can enter the small space in front of my computer now.  It seems to be working.

Much like Superman in the Fortress of Solitude--no, wait.  Much like Batman in the Batcave, I will now get some bloody work done.