Author: AS Youngless

AS Youngless is a speculative and fantasy-based fiction writer who lives in sunny Los Angeles with her husband, son and dog named Missy.

Counting down = a fun way to add stress!!

I slept terribly last night. This is another trend in my life–and another reason for the yoga/writing/change–whatever I’m calling this. (I really need a better name…)

So, this is how this how my life is, almost daily these days. My child wakes early, so I try to go to bed early and to wake even earlier than him. This way I can suck down a couple cups of coffee, and write, before he wakes.

Some days it works, others, I’m not so lucky.

Last night, for example– I couldn’t sleep, or I should say, I couldn’t stay asleep. It’s always the same story. I’ve tried valerian root and melatonin and they help me fall asleep, but I’m twice as jittery when I wake up. So I stopped taking it.

On the good nights, who cares! Life is good on the good night–am I right?

On the bad nights, like last night, I’m a mess the next day. (depressed, crying, angry, unfocused… all the good stuff.)

I fall asleep and wake up several times. When I wake up, my brain ignites with the power of the sun, and my calm is constructed like Icarus’ wings. It melts away and I’m stuck with a ‘to-do’ list longer than the Mississippi, and if that isn’t what keeps me from drifting off again–it’s some random song (last night was, This is Halloween, from Nightmare Before Christmas) that plays on a continual loop in my brain.

Then the boy wakes up early, and here I am.

Getting on the mat was a wrestling match. I spent a lot of the morning telling myself how I wasn’t going to do it. Or, I should say, Doris spent a lot of time this morning telling me it was a waste of time.

I did it anyway.

Forty-minutes. It felt like ten. It was worth it. Oh, and I’m sore. Going from periodically practicing and mostly running, to practicing daily and concentrating on strengthening poses–well, it hurts.

That is how the anxiety crumbles! (Totally not a saying and should probably never be one.)

Three down and fifty-eight to go. (Not sure why I’m counting down… what happens at one, besides 2016? What I hope is that I keep going, but for now I need to make it that fifty-eight… baby steps.. baby-baby steps.)

…maybe counting isn’t such a good idea…

Anyway! Let’s see how this goes, shall we? In the mean time… I have thirty-five pages left to edit (in this edit) so I should be getting back to that.

Until I write again… 😉

by Categories: Life, Writing, yogaTags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

Honesty. Life. Yoga. Writing.

Honesty may be the best policy, but it’s also one of the hardest things we ever do as humans. From being honest to the people in our lives, to keeping the truth flowing with ourselves–sometimes honesty takes the back seat.

Writing a blog post is hard for me, because of honesty. There is the fear that if I’m honest, no one will read my posts, and then there’s the fear that if I’m honest, people will actually read my post–and comment on it.

If I’m honest, and put it all out there, its like dangling from the edge of a cliff…

waiting…

Obviously, this feeling passes. The fear of rejection and acceptance is over the second you know that you have been accepted or rejected. Then you can move on with life.

You can decided what to do next. Try again, or maybe give up this time–the choice is yours, no matter what other people want you to believe.

I’ve given up on a lot of things in my life. Given up on books I’m reading, books I’m writing, people I once called “friend,” and even myself. Giving up is comfortable. It’s that sweet spot where you don’t really have to be scared all the time. Because, simply put, when you’re not putting anything out there, you’ll never have to worry about that second of “will they or won’t they?”

Sometime over the past few months I’ve realized I’m tired of giving up. [insert shrug] I really don’t have a game plan, other than I need to stop it. Living like this–in this sweet spot–turns out it’s not so sweet after all.

The sweetness has morphed into something much more debilitating. It’s become a weird cocktail of depression, I could have been’s, and this has got to stop. Now, the logical side of my brain knows I’m being over dramatic.

Part of being a writer (or any sort of artist) will lead you to being over dramatic from time to time. You may not agree, but I’m fine with this. There is a lot of emotion and energy put into your work–a lot of your own soul–and that will tip the best of us over the edge from time to time.

Now, the not so logical side of my brain–my stupid ego that I’ve named Doris, so I can yell, “Shut up, Doris!” whenever I feel like this–is a complainer. She likes to tell me to stay in the sweet spot.

So, making the decision that I’m done with feeling like this is the first step at getting Doris to shut up on a more permanent bases. The second step is to actively change. Without actively working to change what I dislike–what’s the point?

Once upon a time, I used to practice yoga and mediate daily. Over the past few years, between my new isolated life in L.A. to the boom of the industry, I’ve pulled away from it. (Not a fan of trendy. Won’t buy lululemon pants. I’m not sorry.) But recently I started getting back into it. (Yoga, not trying to be trendy.) So this morning, as I was balancing on my arm in a side plank, I started thinking. Maybe it’s all true, this idea that yoga = happiness?

I mean, I remember being happy when I practiced a lot. So could it be that my answer has always been there, but I’ve been avoiding it because I can’t be honest with myself?

There is really only one way to find out, and yesterday I started my “yoga till then end of 2015” challenge. (I’m not inviting you along, or maybe I am–you choose.) I’m also implementing my “write every day” policy again. That one won’t be hard, because I do write/edit nearly every day. The actual challenge will be to tackle the weekends. Weekends are hard when it comes to exercising and writing for me, because I feel an obligation to sit around with my husband and son, instead of working.

Now, hers is another moment of “honest.” The reason I’m coming on here and sharing is… I need to hold myself accountable. I could easily go journal about it. Keeping this journey to myself and not sharing it with anyone, which would be completely fine. But I feel that if I force myself to write about it on here, and to be as brutally honest about it as I can manage,  maybe I can actually make it to December 31st and practice every day.

Maybe then Doris will be so quiet I can concentrate on things that are more important?

Like I said, there is only one way to find out. So here I am.

Please prepare yourself from some swearing. Swearing is very stress revealing, and it won’t get me arrested like random punching will. Because that’s where I’m at in this life–wanting to randomly punch people because I find them frustrating. <- that’s me being honest.

 

by Categories: meditation, Writing, yogaTags: , , , , , 3 Comments

One can only care so much

This is the truth.

One can really only care so much

Because reality won’t let you care about stupid for too long

If you do

You’ll go mad

If you think too much

You’re brain will fry

Most of the shit I see on the internet

Is nothing more than fodder

It’s trash

Basic lies created to make you feel something you shouldn’t

Ashamed

Angry

Uncomfortable

Everyone with a blog is a fucking expert now a days.

Guess that makes me brilliant

But then again, I know it doesn’t

Because at the end of the day, I know my limitations

When we spend our time caring about things

Other people think we should find important

We only waste our time

Time is precious my friend

It’s like land

There is only so much, and they’re not making more

Using it to get angry about the errant stupidity of the world

Will only lessen the amount you have

So care less, my friends

Care little

Save your energy for things that are important

Realize you are allowed to have an opinion–yet not allowed to shove it up everyone else’s butts

Life it too short for bullshit

But it’s just right for a nap

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , 2 Comments

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

The_Guernsey_Literary_and_Potato_Peel_Pie_SocietyI have a strange affection towards the second world war. I blame it on growing up in a family obsessed with history, coupled with being born in the grandchild generation of those who fought in WWII.

My High School History teacher’s father piloted a B-29 Superfortres, and one of the teachers at a brother school (I went to private all girl school) dedicated entire semesters discussing the happenings in the “Second Great War.”

As an adult my interest comes and goes. I’ve read my share of history books. (I recommend And If I Perish, which centers on American nurses of WWII.) But I haven’t gone out of my way to find books in the Historical Fiction genre on the topic.

There is no definitive reason for this. I read all over the spectrum, but WWII just hasn’t really come up – until I was handed “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.” (written by: Annie Barrows, Mary Ann Shaffer)

Lately, every book I read is one someone has shoved into my hands. My reading partners range from age 10 – 60+, so anything from middle grade on up is fair game. As luck would have it, one of them handed me this gem.

Set in post-WWII UK – the book is a series of letters between Juliet Ashton, a writer who published a witty column that ran during the war, and myriad of other people. Some old friends, some new lovers, and then there is the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Opening with Juliet in London and later moving to the island of Guernsey–it is a lovely story about love, friendship, and the perils of war. If you are unaware, Guernsey, along with the other Channel Islands, were occupied by the Nazis during the war. This book–tGLaPPPS–introduces you to a world filled with colorful characters, and tackles life during the war from a different angle.

Basically, I’m doing a terrible job of selling this book to you, so I’ll put it another way. I, very much, didn’t want it to end, and when it did, I had a book hangover for two days. It was so wonderful, I hope it will never be made into a movie–that will ruin it for sure.

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

The hardest part are all the little voices…

rabbit face

Woke from a dream on Sunday. I should have been sleeping, but couldn’t. It was one of ‘those’ dreams.

If you’re a writer you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Sitting in a poorly lit living room–as not to wake up the rest of the house–I wrote it out. One run-on sentence into the next, into the one after that, and then I wrote it all again. Flesh.

(…and then I accidentally ‘save-as’ over an older story outline…which isn’t so bad, because the book was finished over a month ago, but in another month, when I can’t find the new outline…please remind me it’s saved under a weird name…)

But there it is–the why.

“Why do you write?”

“Because I have these dreams. These vivid cool ass dreams. They wake me up at 4am, and I have to get them out. The voices. I have to get the voices out of my head.”

The voices are the hardest part, because they are distracting.

[editing two MS. One chillin’ in the ice box, the other currently being dissected.]

…and then I have a dream.

All I want to do is become consumed with this new world, these new people, all the craziness that is happening around them–but I can’t.

How cruel is this world that we live in? Why can’t my imagination calm the f— down?! Oh, all you voices… in the end we both know I’m a slave to you.

by Categories: Uncategorized Leave a comment

edit/machine

There are so many catch phrases or one liners out there. The same words regurgitated repeatedly until they lose their meaning.

I find I use all of them. All.

Metaphor after metaphor. Line after line. Soliloquy on a page trapped in a vacuum known as the internet; a living thing called a blog.

We all need to have our own live action digital magazines.

Editing lost out the moment we claimed ourselves writers, artists, photographers, and independently published genius. The rooms are so crowded no one can get through–we all suffocated together.

I lost my breath years ago.

…somewhere shy of midnight…

I sit, leaning back in a worn and damaged swivel chair, palms resting on the equally frayed desk. Fingers cramped–because I know better, but still don’t care.

I sit, knees pressed together pulled up into my chest–because I’m sure that’s how Dickens’ did it, too.

I sit. I sit. I sit and I write. I write. I write, because that’s was the advice I received. My feedback. My life line.

And when I’m not sitting I pray my words capture more than the one-liners and worn out metaphors. That they are like, “a light in a sea of darkness.” (see, there’s one now.) And I hope I don’t shrivel up, but secretly I know I won’t.

I haven’t before.

I won’t now.

So I close my ears, squeeze my eyes shut, and tell myself tomorrow will be better. Because it has to be. Because I said so.

And then I write some more.

Delete is the greatest key designed. Backspace is a close sentence. And cntrl X has it’s moments, too. But never around worn out metaphors, and some times when a soliloquy when it runs to long. (and you forgot why you started in the first place.)

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , 2 Comments

W.I.P.

My ode to writing and publishing…

W.I.P

nonsense

the words

the actions

the time it takes to get out of bed

yet here I am

unraveling a ball of twine

the chaos model of my life

the beginning

frayed

unraveling

the end

hidden

somewhere in the middle

suffocated by layers

its supposed to be something

when isn’t it?

I wrestle

submissive

my machete is to dull

for the war playing in front of me

what will I cut through the vines with?

sarcastic interludes

satirical fodder

“air quotes”

those aren’t a weapon

they’re the fuel

this is why I never look up

better to look down

blinders on

eyes on the keys

on the page

on the indelible black ink

that is my life source

better than coffee

some days

by Categories: UncategorizedTags: , , 1 Comment

Writing Platforms

googledocstutoI have spent most of my writing life hashing it out in notebooks and in MS Word. A lot of the time I mix the two mediums, using had written notes to help me plot and arrange ideas for “actual” writing, but I always end up in Word when it’s time to get the words out. Until recently, it never entered my mind to try something new.

Yes, I’ve looked at Scrivener– but wasn’t sold. It felt like spending a lot of money on a program that doesn’t really fit my writing process.

I even checked out a free program called yWriter– but couldn’t find one that would work on my Mac. My Mac is old.

Once, I had MS Office for Mac on my computer, but as I’ve stated, my Mac is old and the software was old and it was causing more problems than helping me follow my train of thought. (aka listen to the voices in my head) Like a small child, the voices wanted to be kept some place secure, and not live in fear of accidentally being deleted because I changed formats.

Most days, I write on an old laptop unencumbered with an internet connection. This keeps me focused and on point. I don’t go to Facebook or check my Twitter page, because I would have to physically move to another computer our get my phone. This seems idea, but technology upgrades more rapidly than germs during flu season.

So, now I’m trying something new. I am writing a story in Google Docs. The jury is still out on how I feel about this, but with GD being online, it will update for FREE (my favorite price) and it won’t bog down my old (ancient) computer.

Is this brilliant or plain crazy? I’m not sure… but I will find out.

How do you write? What is your process? Are you 100% digital, or do you still use pen and paper? And, if you do use specialized writers software, which is your favorite? Do tell!

Best,

Aryn

by Categories: WritingTags: , , , , , , , 2 Comments

Blank Screen

I would like to take this moment to sit here and stare at a blank white screen. There. Now I feel better.

I shall sprinkle some lovely words:

  • Juxtapose
  • Cacophony
  • Polymathy
  • Belie
  • Viridescent

And mix!Voila! Masterpiece (theater, because let’s be honest… I haven’t seen last nights Downton Abbey yet, and that’s where I’d rather be. But, alas, my son has commandeered the television, so I must wait. I hate waiting. Waiting is annoying.)

Back to staring at the screen.

In case you’ve ever wondered what my “writing process” is, see above. I don’t run to facebook as much as I run to PBS. Does this make me a better writer? No, but it makes me a happier person and THAT makes me a better writer. (I tell myself to ease the guilt.)

I HAVE NO WRITING NEWS TO REPORT!

That said, I will be helping with a few blog tours. So if you, my lovely, looking for a place to stop- give me a shout.

Hope you’re well.

Off to stare at the screen again.

Cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink.

by Categories: UncategorizedTags: , , , , Leave a comment

Write Right

To my right is an old warped cork board covered in index cards with places and characters written on them. They belong to a story I began last summer with my son, but abandoned once he was in school.

It’s hard to plot out a story you’re writing with a child who isn’t home…

But there they are – staring at me with weird made up words on them, penned out in a variety of obnoxious colors like neon green and magenta.

My computer and this cork board are in my bedroom, so each night as I sit in bed, I stare at them. About a week ago it occurred to me I should take them down, seal them in an envelope and save them for next summer when my son and I can pick up where we left off. (We have a rather extraordinary world, but not much premise or story as of yet.) But then as I looked them over – our sea monster, flying men, dragons, etc., – I decided to let them stay.

This decision brought up other questions: How long is too long to write a story? How many stories should I be working on at once? When is it the “official” time to throw in the towel?

Staring at his board had become my late night meditation. At first I would think about this world we created, and now I think of answers to those questions.

When I ventured out on this writing path (many moons ago) it was all very linear. You wrote a story, you had people read the story, you adjusted the story, you sent it to agents who either ignored you completely or sent robo response rejection letters. But now (many moons later) the answers to those questions have changed dramatically and I know the path is more chaotic than ever.

#Q1 – How long is too long to write a story? A1 – There is no time line. When you set a time line is when you mess up the story. You begin to rush, you miss details, your characters are thinner than the paper you want your story published on.

#Q2 – How many stories should I be working on at once? Q2 – I used to think the only way to write was to write one story at a time. Now, I can’t speak for you, but on a good day I have 5+ stories in my head rattling around like marbles in a jar. Currently I’m working on a new novel I’m calling “Triangle”, I’m also reworking an old novel in a new format that I feel will work better for its multi-character storyline, I have another novel waiting in my writing queue ready for a good edit (because my last edit was impetuous and damaging), and then there is the one on the wall and another one that keeps invading my dreams. Oh, and then there is the novella that I want to self publish – so make that 6+. (…then there are the others made up of only characters or vague premise that aren’t worth mentioning yet…)

Once upon a time, working on one thing suited for me, but only because I convinced myself that was how “real authors” wrote. Now I write in a way that keeps me wanting to write.

#Q3 – When is it the “official” time to throw in the towel? A3 – Back then, I used to get tired so I would give up on manuscripts – these days its more like we “take a break” from each other. I’ll have Beta Readers email me and ask about old titles, “What happened to that book? I loved that one!” And I’ll tell them I’m working on something new. They fret I’ve given up, but in truth I have not. If you believe in your story, your characters, your world – you will never officially throw in the towel. Because when you love something so much, giving up on it isn’t an option.

These are the things I remind myself on the days I do want to give up. Lately, I have more of those than I’d like to admit, but at the same time this is the most consistent my writing has ever been. I write DAILY. I edit DAILY. I challenge myself DAILY. And I permit myself to take a step back when I know I need one, because some days the words flow, and others its like trying to pulled tar out of the bottom of a nail polish jar. But I do it anyway.

Why?

Because even though it feels like I’m not going anywhere, I know as long as I try I’m making better strides than giving up.

by Categories: UncategorizedTags: , , , , , , , Leave a comment