Tag: writing

Monologue Monday — “They took my idea!”

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I recently found this amazing writing group on Facebook called–Ninja Writers. I wasn’t out looking for a group, to be honest, I gave up hope of finding a group of writers to work, learn, play, and grow with a long time ago . Not that they don’t exist, but I’ve never had much luck online or in the really real word setting down roots. (I do have some amazing people in my life, though, who encourage the hell out of me. For them, I am grateful.)

So, I find this group run by Shaunta Grimes accidentally while I’m looking up info on using a tri-fold to created a plot board. I sign up and immediately like what I see. People interacting, helping, encouraging, etc.–It’s fantastic!

I really do feel that it’s important to have a safe harbor when you’re writing because if you don’t–if you start to feeling alone. Suddenly when people ask what you’re working on, they’re spies waiting to steal your ideas–you’ll never succeed as a writer with this mindset. It will destroy you.

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Last week I was scanning the feed of the group and a spotted a post from a member stating that they felt their idea was lifted off a different website years ago. As they read a book they watched their ideas play out in this popular series, their heart sank–years of hard work down the drain.

That’s what the post said.

That is the wrong way of thinking about it, and here is why:

There are over 7 BILLION  people on this planet. I’m throwing that out there to dispel the belief we are some how alone in all our thoughts. Yes, if we don’t say them out loud they’ll remain hidden in the dark recesses of our brain–but 7 billion is a large number. Chances are someone has already had the same thought you’re having right now. And now. And now…

You say, “I’m ruined! They published my idea!!” and I say, “You’re on to something.”

If you see something that resembles the ideas you’re working on–guess what? Your idea has merit. It’s marketable. You just found a comp. Finish your story.

To quote Ben Yoskovits, “If no one else is already working on the idea you have, there’s a good chance it’s a  bad one.”

This isn’t a bad thing–it’s a little mark on the treasure map of traveling from Point “A” (concept) to Point “Z” (finding and agent and your idea published.)

Failure is part of the process. Set backs happen. If giving up is still an option, maybe you don’t want it bad enough. If you just read that sentence and replied “But I DO want it bad!!” Then get back to writing. You, my friend, found a good idea–and I can’t wait to read it when you’re done. But I can’t do that if you quit, now can I?

Never give up! Never surrender!

xxoo-A

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Wednesday Words–What comes next?

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I wanted to think outside the box today, to present a prompt in a different way. Back when I worked in an office I was bored a lot of the time. Not that job was boring, but I did have down time. When that happened I would email my friends. A couple of them and I would create fantastic stories that were much more amusing than we felt reality ever could be.

My favorite ‘made up lives’ still comes up to this day–well over a decade after it was created. We are cowboys. I am Whiskey–because I’m a feller who likes his drink, and my girl friend was Bone–because she had buried her far share. Including the beloved Carl who was accidentally shot one night, because Bones had a penchant for shooting first and asking questions later.

Each time we created a story it always started the same. One of us would write a sentence and it was up to the other person to say what came next.

For this Wednesday’s Words, I give you this sentence. Tell me, what comes next:

She stood out from the crowd, because…

This is what I think should happen:

“She stood out from the crowd, because she was the only person who didn’t have identical coats, and hair, and shoes, and leggings. She stood out because she didn’t belong. I knew she must belong somewhere–we all belong somewhere–but it wasn’t here, not with this group of homogenized conformist.

I glanced around to see who else noticed her sleek black hair, oval face, and nearly extra foot in height–but when I looked back, she was gone.” –A

But what do you think happens next? Share with me in the comments or blog about it and tag me!

 

happy writing!! xxoo-A

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What do you do for a living? (and other loaded questions)

I’ve been writing for a long time, but its only recently I’ve called myself a writer. When meeting new people, and they ask what I do, I tend to say, “I’m a stay-at-home mom.” This isn’t a lie. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for nearly five years now. (It will be five years next month. Let’s have a party. You can bring the chips.) As I was saying–I’m a stay-at-home mom, but I’m also a writer.

Why is it so hard for me to answer, “What do you do?” with, “Well, I’m a writer!”

It shouldn’t be hard, but it always is.

Somehow this last book I wrote–the one currently on submissions–helpped me bridge this gap in the personal assessment of myself. Now, I’m a, “stay-at-home mom, who writes when my child is in school.” So, I have yet to cross the entire bridge, but I’m a lot closer than before.

Now, instead of hearing about how much fun I must have ‘playing’ all the time, I get a new reply:

“Oh! That’s so interesting! What to do you write?”

“I wrote a novel. It’s science fiction.”

“Oh…” Quick subject change. (You know…because science fiction has a bad rap of being boring. It’s not. Read better books.)

But back to the issue at hand. The conundrum of “am I a writer” falls in the same vein as “if a tree falls in the forest and no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?”

Yes, it makes a sound, and yes, I’m a writer. No, I’m not on the New York Times Bestseller list–but neither have been many other writers. Maybe I will be one day. I’m not sure of that, but I am sure I’ll be published.

No, I’m not being egotistical. It’s just what needs to be done. But until that day is cemented in stone, I here by announced that I’m a writer. So if you meet me at a party (or more likely on a play ground) to answer your, “What do you do?” question is, I write.

And soon I hope to be sharing some of that writing on here for your pleasure! Do you write? Do you post it online? Leave me a link in the comments section so I can check you out!

Happy writing!! xxoo-A

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On this day… Happy Birthday, Hank.

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One of the hardest parts of growing up for me was realizing that I didn’t have anyone to look up to. As a child I brought my gaze to Amelia Earhart, and I wish I could sit here and hand you a list of famous (or infamous) people who have brought change into my life simply by existing–but that’s not the case.

As a child, Earhart was this glowing icon that out shined everyone else. My fan worship of her lasted all of elementary and part of middle school. By high school I donned the moniker of “realist” and stopped looking at other’s success to inspire me. There was no point. I could never find one.

Now, as an adult, it’s even harder to wrap my mind around the fantasy of an idol. I see people doing things people do. This lasted until I met Charles Bukowski on the pages of PULP. I could lie to you and say the first Bukowski novel I read was HAM ON RYE, but it wasn’t. It was PULP. His last book. It’s even from Black Sparrow Press. My one and only book (of his) from them.

On his grave stone it says, “Don’t Try.” I’ve seen it in person. Buried in San Pedro. Visiting his grave was one of the first things I did when I moved to LA. There was a 40 oz and lots of other crap sitting on his black polished surface.

Henry Charles Bukowski Jr. “Hank” 1920-1994 with two other little words–“Don’t Try.”

I read it and laughed as I thought, “Screw You, Hank. Screw. You.”

Today Charles Bukowski would have been 96 years old. He is one of the few people I wish I could have met before they died. No, I don’t want to drink with him. No, I don’t want to sleep with him. I just want to talk to him. To see the beauty he sees in so many things.

Maybe you don’t like him. Maybe you think Miller was the “better writer.” Or maybe you’re attached to all the beat writers and wish you were on the road with Kerouac. I wish I was walking through Pershing Square talking to  Charles Bukowski about how cruel the world is–knowing it’s okay.

So, Happy Birthday, Charles Bukowski. I still plan on trying, regardless of what your epitaph tells me to do–because we both know you don’t mean it.

xxoo–Aryn

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Perishing Square–Downtown Los Angeles 8/9/16 (c)
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Are you there, God? Oh, wait…

…I forgot. I haven’t done the whole ‘god’ thing in circa twenty years. So maybe I should say ‘universe’ or something less religion specific.

I sit here, as my dinner slowly burns on the range, with my fingers hovering over this neon blue keyboard attempting to articulate the myriad of thoughts devouring my brain. I am consumed with to many it’s become hard to sift through them all–searching for the right train of thought.

Frustrating building, I’m now calling to the heavens for guidance.

My writing inspiration seems to be an situation of ‘all or nothing.’ Either I have so many ideas I’m lost (like right now,) or it’s a blank desert–endless miles of dust mote dunes suffocating my brain. If only I could find a trigger… Oh, wait!! (again!) I entered a contest. I did! I entered #PitchWars, and now I have a list longer than the Mississippi to choose from.

Here is my question for you, my lovely readers. How do you choose your projects? What is your process? Normally, mine is I wait until an idea keeps me up at night–but I have a bit quandary, for I have a WIP that needs tending, another MS plotting on a promise–and then there’s the one that’s keeping me up.

Do you see what the problem is? What should I do?!

So, now you are god (this could go poorly quickly, but lets do it any way.) All of the help you provide (aka–advice) is greatly appreciated!

Now–if you’re also entered Pitch Wars, I wish you luck! And to everyone else. Happy Writing!!

xx-

-A

 

 

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The continuous road of writing…

I’ve now been sending queries for 25 days. I know this because one agent I emailed sent an auto-reply telling me after 30 days–it wasn’t me, it’s him or her.

Why is sending queries like getting dumped? Besides the obvious rejection. But seriously, that is what all auto-rejections feel like. And here I am–in my teens again, getting the, ‘It’s not you. It’s me,’ speech from some catholic school boy whose name I can’t remember.

The only difference is I’m not sixteen any more and I’ve matured enough to believe that the sender is correct. You can’t please everyone now can you? And why would you want to for that matter?

As the query wheels roll I’ve taken the time to look at what else I have in my writing armory. There is full history fiction novel, a half novel that still has potential not to suck a ton, and then the long queue of new ideas burning holes in my brain.

[They keep me up at night. Does this happen to you?]

Most ideas I let sit for a while. If they vanish I know I was right to wait. How great of a concept could it have been I can’t even remember it existed? Then there are the others… Over a dozen random characters in my head poking my frontal lobe just to see if I’m paying attention.

My brain needs a receptionist.

On top of that I have one other problem: two of these stories are promises–one is a first draft (a very, extremely, oh god help me! first draft,) that was a promise to a friend and the other is for my son.

I came here to write about it because seeing the problem on the computer screen helps me make decisions. I suppose that is another cure of being a writer–the transition from brain to page. My hazel green eyes need to rest firmly on the blackness of the text in order for my brain to calm down and make a decision. It also allows me to distract myself–because while I’m busying myself filling out beat sheets, typing up character breakdowns, and deciding where to put a big chunk of my energy for the next four weeks, I’m able to hold onto the notion that I won’t be sad on June 16th when I don’t hear from that agent…

Querying is such a roller coaster! (which is an amazing place to pick up emotional traits for the characters I write about. Damn it. Writing is like the song that never ends. It just keeps going and going and going and going…)

 

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Writing, querying, PitMad, & words

What is in a name? Shakespeare. He had Romeo ask  that very question as he looked over a thorny rose–trying to convince himself what he was doing was right.

A few nights ago I asked a writer friend of mine what inspired him. What made him want to write? For me it’s everything. Maybe I’ve heard a name that interests me in a way that I’m compelled to attache a fictitious body to it. Then, I collect these imaginary people in my head. I leave them there to stew. Some survive. Some are forgotten.

But maybe it’s not a name, but a situation. An overheard comment. A dream.

Writing is a salve that cools and heals the life around me. My WIPs are made up of all those words I didn’t say at the right moment.

I don’t know how long I’ve been working on my latest project, THE TRIALS OF IMOGEN GRACE. I wrote the first draft two years ago. I’ve change the POV three times, and done countless edits and rewrites. And now…now I’ve entered the Query pit. The endless bit of sending off letters, chapters, pages, fulls, halfs, synopsis, pitched–all ties to hopes and prayers.

If you write, you know what I’m talking about.

The last time I did this–sent queries–was much harder. This time I feel different. Not as hopeless. Yes, I’ve received more rejections than not–but still–I’m not sure why I’m so calm. It’s refreshing. haha…

If you’re out there writing–don’t give up. I wish you luck! The same goes to those sending endless queries and everything else writing related. Follow your dreams, my friends. Life is to short for, ‘I wish I had.’

For Shakespeare also said, ‘To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.’

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Multi

I haven’t written a poem in over a year. I think it’s been a year…I haven’t checked.

It’s weird. I won’t pretend it’s not. Poetry crept up on me, like other parts of my life, but I supposed it also slipped away.

It slipped away because I begged it to. There are only so many hours in the day, week, month–decade. Choosing wisely can make or break everything (me). Before I lumped it all together.

“They” did it like. Those. Them, the people who were’t me. Those who will never be.

I can’t be like that–like them.

It’s one malfunction after the other, until I found my footing. The “my” and “me” that fit my life. Less is more. Flexibility and patience. Slow and steady–all the good ones.

The prescription for me is:

  • read
  • write
  • journal
  • again

Multitasking works with dinner prep and homework, but not with words.

Is that how it is for you?

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Happy 2016!!

By god, it’s a new year. If I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t really do “New Years Resolutions.” I’m just not that kind of girl. Recently I heard that only 8% of all resolutions are ever completed. That number almost makes me want to play the lottery, because I think the odds may be better. (Not really)

All those life changing ideas that pop into my head do so at birthday time, and I’m never quick to share them with the world. Why? Simple. I don’t see how you knowing my plans will help me reach my goals.

Yes. I did start writing on here about my new yoga regiment, but as you can see–I stopped. A little realization that the only person I should be working to impress is myself. That thought is liberating.

In 2016 I have lots of plans, most of them have been in the works since early last year–and nearly all of them have to do with books. Writing. Reading. Editing. Helping others with their work.

Some of those things I’m willing to share. Like books I’m reading. So, to start off 2016, I shall recommend, “The Girl with all the Gifts.”

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I’ve spent the last month reading books to use as comps for the book that I’m currently editing. I read all the time, but when it comes time to play the comparison game I tend to lock up. Who wants to compare or be compared? Maybe you do–but it’s a hard thing for me. The good part is that along this journey I’ve managed to read a lot of new books I haven’t before.

Like this one.

Maybe it was on the Publisher’s Weekly site, or another list I found in my hours of scouring the internet for science fiction titles–but ‘The Girls with all the Gifts’ appeared AND it was available to download from the library. (I’m on a lot of waiting lists…)

It’s an unsuspecting title and original at that. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Suddenly I’m reading a zombie book, but not the same story that I’ve read a million times before. So to start of 2016, I recommend ‘The Girl with all the Gifts’ (if you like zombie lit.) It’s not your typical zombie story, which you’ll recognize straight away. Read it and let me know what you think!

Does this help me in my quest to find a comp for my book? No, but hey! You only live once and it may as well be filled with good stories.

Cheers to a happy 2016 and time to get back to it!

Happy writing/editing!!

 

 

 

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Day 5 – I’m alive!! (maybe)

I’m on day five. (It’s day five! I’m alive!!) Ha! Bad humor is mucha diversion!

So, moving on… This week–the week I decided to make this jump into life preservation, self discovery, truth, honesty, yoga, and writing–has been a royal pain in the ass.

I’m not kidding. Not even a little.

From insomnia, to sickness, to soreness, to the fact I bit my tongue SO HARD talking isn’t an option–it’s been a roller coaster ride. And by roller coaster ride, I mean I feel like I’ve been rolled up in a pile of snow and pushed down the side of a hill.

Have I mentioned it’s down right chilly in L.A.?! It’s hard for me to remember the days when I thought forty-degrees was warm. Evidently, back in the day, I was dealing with the side-effects of hypothermia. (Kidding. I lived in Cleveland. All you do in Cleveland when it’s cold is drink. I never would have noticed I had hypothermia.)

SO! Back to coming alive on day five.

I have no lessons for you, right now I’m still trying to hold on and not let myself quit. Maybe there’s a lesson in there… the whole, “quitters never win, winners never quit,” spiel. But… there has been an excellent battle of faith happening.

Not that I’m a religious person, because I’m not.  And I don’t care if you are–I’m not a fan of judging. I am, however, a fan of people following their heart and gut. For me, that has led me to a non-secular path.

Maybe you’re thinking, how can one question their faith, if they don’t worship in the traditional sense? Let me tell you, it’s simple. I just wake up and do it.

Lately I’ve been having this, “What if I’m wrong?!” argument dancing in my head. What if all this time and energy I’ve put into my personal (and maybe a little warped) belief system is a waste of time because it’s just a pile of nothingness?

Thoughts pop into my head that, two years ago, I wouldn’t have questions, but now… I can’t stop questioning them.

I question everything. Why this? Why that?

Then the doubt creeps in… what if I’m wrong?

Okay, here’s and example: What if I’m putting all this time and energy into writing, when–at the end of the day–I’m just not that good.

I don’t want to believe this, because I love writing so much–but how do you know?? [insert Whitney Houston song here]

And the most ridiculous part of this internal struggle/constant argument? The one thing I use as an example is one of the few things I won’t quit. I just can’t. Maybe I should have chosen my new desire to distance myself (physically) from humankind? That may have been a better example, but that ship sailed… and I’m left with my previous example.

As I’m sitting here writing this, now I’m thinking, “Is this a mid-life crisis? am I old enough to have a mid-life crisis? Don’t have to be in my 50s and 60s to have a mid-life crisis? WHEN IS MID-LIFE?!!”

It must be what it is, right? Because I don’t know where it’s all coming from. No, I may not always be the most over confident person, but I can hold my own when need be. And right now I can’t find the root of all this squabbling in my brain, and I fear that until I do it’s going to be months and months of me changing the lyrics of “Who Will I Know,” to fit my life…

BLURG!

I guess I’ll just keep “being alive” and also a little “confused” all the time.

This is what happens when you take time for yourself… you start to analyze things in order to make decisions to better yourself.

I just hope that, when I’m done, I am a better person, and not just the crazy woman on the internet who wishes there was a “jazz hands” icon on wordpress, so she can convey sarcasm with hand gestures other than the middle finger…

What will day six hold?!! What rhymes with six? (besides dicks.)

Now I have to go… ten pages left on this edit, so I’ll be back tomorrow!!! Hopefully with a better song to get stuck in your head…

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