Over the Hump and the Flu

This week I've been sick with some sort of evil monster flu that I contracted while I was in Grants Pass.  We have decided that an apt name might be: the Pants Shitter Flu.  The reason for this is that everyone we know who has had the flu has shit their pants.  It was quite traumatic.  Painful too, a lot of puking.  I seems to be over now, so that's all well and good.

Speaking of things that are over, I think I've finally climbed (or clambered?) over this mental block that was keeping me from writing on my novel.  Today I'll sit down and finish chapter six.  I've decided that I can't take it so seriously, which is honestly very hard for me.  I feel like, no matter how hard I try, I have all my hopes and dreams pinned to this project.  It is special to me, of course it is, but I can't let it take over and become this huge monster rampaging through my confidence and self-esteem.  The other thing that I need to remember is that writing is something I want to do.  Even if I don't win any awards or make a whole lot of money, it's just something that I want to do.  The best way to do it is to just do it.  I was thinking of the following quote before I sat down, so I looked it up.

“The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.” — Mary Heaton Vorse (1881-1966), American writer

Too Low-Energy to be Witty

I feel like my brain is running through thick molasses.  I'm trying to work on chapter six big it's not really going anywhere.  I know how this chapter goes well enough, I'm sure that I can finish this book, it's just hard.  Not even sure why.  I really wanted the chance to play my video game today, so that's what I did when I got home (probably a mistake on my part).  I worked overtime today, again.  So I had even less time after work, just thought I'd spend it on myself.

I feel like writing is a really demanding and thankless career.  It's honestly getting really tricky to stick with.  I do love to create and tell stories--it's really what keeps me going--but I feel like people don't really appreciate them.  I keep telling myself that the problem is that I haven't found my fans yet, which is a journey in itself.  I think I may go ahead and sign up for my free days of KDP select, get my novella promoted a bit.  Then hopefully I can find some more websites to promote at too.  I guess the fear is that I'll go to all this trouble and still, no one buys it.  It's really wearing me down to be honest.  I know I've raged about it before, but this isn't rage.  Or maybe a different kind of it.

Either way, the words aren't coming for chapter six right now.  I may throw in the proverbial towel today.  We'll see.

Confidence, confidence, bloody confidence.

I made the mistake of reading some of my oldest writing before working on my sixth chapter of Lost Lamb.  I consider this a mistake because the failed fantasy novel was truly bad.  Very discouraging to look that over.  Not sure what I was thinking.  I have been sort of evaluating my older writing at this point, looking over some things that I used to think sucked ass and going, "Hey, that's not so bad." This was not that experience.

Something I've always struggled with in my writing is feeling like I create these alien abstract concepts, images even, and then try to connect them with thin strands of logic.  Ultimately what usually breaks a piece that I'm working on is my head, I roll the idea over and over until those thin strands break and I realize it's another smoldering pile of hard-to-follow nonsense.  Which was why I'd stopped writing this medieval fantasy novel.  On some level, I just couldn't make it make sense.  It was actually embarrassing to look over this piece that, at one time, I thought was quite good.  I found so many pretentious little screw ups.  Filtering was everywhere.  The narrative was telly (trying to tell you exactly what they were thinking or feeling).  The dialogue was so wooden I could have used it to start a campfire.  I didn't use a single contraction in the space of like, five pages.  What the hell was I thinking?  Yes, I wrote the piece in 2009.  Yes, maybe I've learned something since then.  Maybe not.

I feel like I need a Yoda.  Some more experienced writing sensei who would show me the proverbial ropes and steer me clear of the pitfalls.  But I don't have a Yoda.  That's fine.  I can fix this myself.

Okay, here I go.  To fix my brain from seeing this shitty-ass dreck that I once called fiction, I need to accept that it was mine and that I made it.  Yes, I made that steaming pile of crap and no one has to see it.  It can remain in it's hidden pocket of cyberspace forever.  Did I learn something from it?  Sure, why not?  I learned some basic concepts about fiction, and yes, the more I wrote it, the better it got.  By the end, it still wasn't very good, but maybe it was better than before.  That's what counts.  The more I write, the better I'll get at writing.

I've been such a damn perfectionist.  If I can't do something perfect, I won't do it.  I will try over and over on the same video game until I get it perfect.  I have to accept that writing is something that grows and changes and can be revised. My novella was a good example of that.  It got a lot better after I revised it.  That's what'll help me here too.  The more I put it down, the better it gets.  Back to work.

This Post Got Away from Me

It seems like every time I sit down to write this Urban Fantasy novel, I wonder, is this the time when I'm going to run out of gas?  Is it now that I will exhaust every idea I ever have and collapse in a lump failed dreams and forgotten hopes?

That came off a little more dramatic than I meant it.  Let me dial it back a little.  Hi there, hey, what's up?  You're cool?  I'm cool too.  I fucking hate how stressful writing can be.  Why did I choose this hobby?  I could have gone with any number of safer/easier hobbies, but no.  I had to choose fiction writing.  Bacon damn it to hell.

Should I explain that joke?  You look lost.  Okay, my brother and I created a new inside joke.  The idea is that you take a Word document of the bible and you find and replace every instance of God, the Holy Spirit and Jesus with Bacon, Bacon, and Bacon.  This gave a whole new line of expletives.  Bacon damn it.  Bacon Christ.  Holy mother of Bacon.  You get the idea.

Obviously I'm feeling some apprehension over Lost Lamb.  On one hand, I feel like it's going really well and that the story is developing nicely.  But then there's this lurking fear that when it's finished, someone other than me and my trusted writing group has to see it.  Or worse, no one will see it at all.  Which has been the case with my novella.  No one is reading it.  Maybe it's the wrong season.  Maybe it's the phases of the fucking moon--I don't know.  But everyone says, "Oh Steve, I bought your book.  Oh no, I haven't read it yet.  Why?  Oh I don't know, probably the phases of the fucking moon.  I can't take two Bacon damn hours out of my Bacon damn day to do this thing for you because I want to know what stupid shit is happening on American Fucking Idol or Bacon damn Survivor or whatever stupid shit people watch these days."

This post went in a direction that I didn't want it to go, just so you don't think I'm crazy.  Hopefully I'm not.

Just Checkig In

The chapters of Lost Lamb seem to be going quite smoothly.  It seems like the more I write, the easier writing becomes.  I got about 1000 words yesterday and it was like no big thing.  It just happened, which was cool.  Anyway, this novel is on its way through chapter four and I'm really quite pleased with the progress.  I feel like all I really do is create a world and some characters and let them do what they want.  It's interesting because sometimes I don't want them to do something, but they do it anyway.  It really feels like the words come to life.

To no one's lament, I've decided to seek traditional (paper) publishing for my next book.  Just talking to so many people that don't like the ebooks and the fact that paper books still outsell digital formats by a factor of 3:1.  That's a big-ass factor to me.  The other thing that's appealing is the opportunity to someday expand to larger media.  No one will ever make Bad For Business into a movie--it's an Indie novel and they're a dime-a-dozen.  Sure, I think it's good, but it can't reach as many people as it could.

It's unfortunate that I've made this decision, although I will hopefully still be publishing to the internet, my focus is now my paper books.  Oh yeah, actually sold my first book to someone I didn't know yesterday.  Someone in UK bought my book!  Anyway, I thought it was great.

Fire Under The Ass

I find that the more I write fiction, the less I have to punch into this journal  Hopefully that's because I'm reaching some kind of rhythm with my writing.  Hopefully, forming a good habit of it is paying off.  What has really motivated me the most to keep writing is how people have been reacting to my novella.  Everyone is so damn excited--it's great.  Someone even said they couldn't wait for my urban fantasy piece to come out, that's a pretty damn cool thing.  I'm so glad I did this.

I'm going to get back to working on chapter 3 of Lost Lamb while the keyboard is still smoking.

Bad For Business is out!

My first novella is now available in digital print.  The link to the Smashwords page follows, it'll still be a few days before it appears on Amazon Kindle (it needs an ISBN number) and other retailers.  If anyone would like a copy, the list price is modest, but what I need more than sales are reviews.  I need honest reviews, I can't stress this enough.  Anyway, happy reading.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/436459