Tag Archives: novel

Less Headache, Still Not Writing

I got 11 Likes on “In My Defense, It’s a Bad Headache.”  For me, that is HUGE!  I rarely get double digit Likes on my blog.  When I do, I am pumped, as well as apprehensive. Now I have set myself a standard to maintain.  Not to worry, though, I can only type what come out of my fingers and fevered (or feeble) brain, hit Publish, and hope for the best.

I thought today on Wuss-out Wednesday, I would share my current angst on my worst current wuss-out.  As regular readers may guess, I am dropping the ball on a lot of fronts.  A partial list includes fitness activities, dieting, house cleaning, general organization, yard work, and WRITING.  I put it in caps, because it is the one I feel worst about.   I used to write every day at work, during lunch and breaks.  Only occasionally would I work on puzzles and very rarely would I bring in something to read.  I’m still pretty good about not bring in stuff to read (largely because that is the hardest to tear myself away from and get back to work), but I am incessantly working on puzzles.  What is my problem?

To make matters worse, I have some days off coming up.  Days off!  Wonderful!  I can spend HOURS writing!  Well, any writer can tell you, and may non-writers can guess, that to not write, not write, not write, and then think you can WRITE is the height of folly.  The operative thing to do is to at least write a little on the days when you don’t have much time.  Take some notes, have a project well in hand, then and only then, can one hope to meet with success when one attempts to utilize an unprecedented length of free time.

So I have been trying to begin a new novel, make some notes and get an outline written before my expected days off, then I can hit the ground running.  Is that not a fantastic plan?  Why am I not doing it?  Oh, I am trying.  I have written some notes.  I think about it while I am working, sometimes dashing off a few notes while my machine cycles (no, it does not slow down my productivity, there is no reason to share this with my boss!).  Some breaks I have managed to write some things down.

However, as my free time approaches, I feel I am nowhere near where I thought I would be.  Come to think of it, I don’t know why I even thought I would be.  When have I ever had my act together?  When have I ever given the least appearance of having the various parts of my act in the basic vicinity of each other?  What the hell, me?

I think on my bad blog days (like this one), I may be better off sharing pictures of monsters than my writing woes.  After all, writing woes can get tiresome, but who doesn’t like monsters?  So I will end with a picture of one of my favorites, and get back to work on that novel.  Or maybe I should clean the living room…

Even the vampire thinks I should get back to work!

 

I’d Rather Share Monster Pictures

Can you bear one more post about NaNoWriMo?  If not, well, just look at the pictures.

“NOOOOOO! I’ve only written 25 words!!!!”

This is what I would probably look like if I attempted to write a 50,000 word novel during the 30 days of November : wild-eyed, running down the highway, and having a perfectly dreadful hair day.  I am taking it for granted (I try to never assume) that my readers all know that NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, and participants attempt to write an entire novel in that length of time.  One of my nieces did it once and finished, but I don’t know that she ever polished up her novel and tried to get it published.

As you may have guessed, I am opting NOT to participate.  I tried once, back in the late ’00’s, scribbling frantically in a spiral notebook while at work.  It was fun for a few days, but then we got busy and my boss and co-workers seemed to think I should be waiting on customers (I had a different job then, working with the public, YIKES! No wonder I am so obsessed with movie monsters; they are so much more relaxing than customers).

Where was I? Ah yes, writing about not writing.

Still, relaxing with a beer after writing frantically all day, that I could get into.

I do want to write more, and to finish a novel as well as several other projects.  In that case, why not give NaNoWriMo a try?  They have a website that offers encouragement and accountability.  That is what a lot of us writers need: accountability.  And a deadline.  Maybe that is why I finish so few novels:  no deadline.  That’s something to think about.  Also, what a feeling of accomplishment I would have!  Oh dear, am I talking myself into this?

“Who, me? Write a novel in November?”

I don’t know if you believe in Freudian slips, but almost every time I’ve gone to type “NaNoWriMo,”  I’ve typed “NoNoWriMo.”  I think my fingers are trying to tell me something.  In any case, I just don’t feel that I want to participate in this thing.  I do not want to register at their website, update my word count, and past my entire novel to them so I can be declared a winner.  It’s just not me.

However, I’ll just put this out there:  I am going to write more.  I have been doing a little more each day, and I intend to increase my efforts and output.  I will let you know how I do.  I’ll write a blog post about it!  In the meantime, this is my Wuss-out Wednesday post.  Or perhaps we could call it a Mid-week Middle-aged Musings.  Either way, I think I’ll close with another monster picture.  Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Raise your hands, everybody who thinks Cindy ought to write more!

 

With a Laptop on my Knee

OK, I’m sitting here with the laptop on my lap (I know, where else would it be?  Well, it MIGHT be somewhere else; I’m not here to discuss the possible whereabouts of computers), and once again, I got nuthin’ (or is it “nuttin'”?  I like “nuthin'”) (which is not the same thing as not liking anything, but close).

Where was I?  Ah yes, Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  I tell you, I am down.  I’m not a writer.  I write a silly blog, and, as Truman Capote once said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”  Yes, yes, I must stop with the existential crisis, people will think I am merely fishing for encouragement.   I am only being honest, in this case.  Oh, sometimes I fish for encouragement or even compliments, never fear.  Hell, I’m not perfect.  I’m a factory worker who takes pen in hand or keyboard under fingers occasionally and words come out.  Good words?  Useful words?  Entertaining words?  One can only hope.

I have been trying to take another step towards reaching my writing goals, and I have had little to no success. I know, lift your feet a little higher, push them forward a little more, these things are under our own control if only we would accept responsibility.  Very well then, I shall accept responsibility.  Tomorrow, or possibly later tonight, I will work on the novel I found earlier today.  Ooh, that’s right, I did do one thing today:  I found the notebook I’ve been looking for where I had started a novel I thought I would like to finish. It’s a baby step, but it is a step.  I shall make further updates as events warrant.

In the meantime, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday, the day I try to enjoy myself with my husband and not think about returning to work tomorrow (I’ll work on curing the Monday to Friday Malaise another time, did I mention I’m not perfect?).  We were watching Halloween movies earlier.  I wonder if we could watch another one now. No, I can’t work on that novel now, time with husband, remember?  I may or may not ever become a successful novelist, but if I take care to spend time with my husband I WILL have a good marriage.  Priorities, people.

 

Typing on Tired Tuesday

I felt so tired yesterday, I was sure I would be less tired today, obviating the need for a Tired Tuesday post today.  I did write today.  I spent my breaks at work and some time after work composing my article for Mohawk Valley Living magazine.  It will be a good article.  I hope.  I’m letting it cool off before I re-read it.  At least, I guess it’s my brain that needs to cool off.  The actual article won’t change as it sits.

It is so interesting to me about my articles.  First I have to sit there thinking, “I can’t write this.  I am not able to write this.  Maybe I can write this later.  I can’t write this now.  Whatever will I do if I can’t write this?”  Then I put pen to paper and write it.  Sometimes I get to the second part fairly quickly.  This time I didn’t do too badly.

What I need to do now is apply the “put pen to paper and write” step to my other writing projects:  the banana play, my novel (which novel?  ANY novel!  Pick one I’ve started any time these last forty-odd years!) (um, yes, very odd years).  I keep thinking I am about to do just that, and something seems to stop me.  I’m afraid it is me.  That is rather an embarrassing admission, but it is empowering as well.  The problem is me?  Well, who controls me but ME?  Who can change me?  ME!

Only right now I’m too tired.

Ah, there is something to work on.  I feel sure I am able to write when I am tired.  It is just a matter of doing it.  Like, for example, right now. I am WRITING (actually typing) a foolish blog post (yes, as Truman Capote said, “that’s not writing, that’s typing;” insult me if you like, but acknowledge where you got the quote).  If I can write a foolish blog post when I am tired, no doubt I can write something else.  Maybe a non-foolish blog post?  Let’s not ask for miracles.  Especially on Tired Tuesday.

 

Whatever Happened to Finish That Novel May?

So I wrote part of a blog post at work today, not a Mohawk Valley adventure but a silly commentary, and I did not think it was contemptible.  Unfortunately I did not finish it.  I wrote till one break was over, then on the next break I found I could not continue.  I turned to another page and started to write another lament about my writing woes.  I got a sentence and a half before it started to bore me.  No other blog topics presenting themselves, I turned to a completely fresh page and started writing notes on yet another new novel.

I have a very bad habit of continually starting new novels but never finishing them.  On the other hand, my rule for myself is to Just Write.  Do you suppose I ought to make up some more rules for myself?  If my new rule is Finish What You Start, I am going to be writing for a LONG time.  If I can even find all the novels I have started.  Now I am reminding myself that I also have to finish the banana play.  As well as another play that I had written almost all of (and I think the plot is pretty damn good on that one) (but perhaps I flatter myself).

It is not the least bit surprising that I am so good at writing interactive murder mysteries.  They play to all my strengths.  And they are short.

Ah, I can just hear somebody taking a breath to say, “Write short stories!”  Well, I won’t, because I don’t like short stories. Oh, I know, many people adore them and they are a highly respected art form.  I just don’t like them.   I could write a whole blog post on why, but what does it matter?  There is no accounting for tastes.

So this is my Non-Sequitur Thursday post.  If only I could think of a punchy headline, I would be reasonably content.  And if I can’t think of a good headline, at least I made a blog post.  I’ll work on that silly commentary more tomorrow.

 

Wrong Writing on Wuss-out Wednesday

Sometimes you don’t have a reason to feel the way you feel.  Sometimes you just feel a certain way and you just have to keep feeling that way until you don’t feel that way any more.

Yes, it is Wuss-out Wednesday, and this is Yet Another Post About How I Can’t Write A Post.  On the brighter side, I  do not intend to go on an on about how it makes me FEEL.  Don’t you just hate it when people go on and on about their feelings?  Oh yeah, like YOU never do it!

Where was I?

I spent all day trying to think about something to write for a blog post.  Sometimes, for a change of pace, I thought about that novel I started to write a couple of years ago that I VOWED I would finish.  Remember that novel?  Remember Finish That Novel May?  That was, of course, last May.  The novel still isn’t finished.  However, I remembered a trick I read about re-energizing a stalled novel.  You write a brief summary about the story as a whole, perhaps in the form of a rave review or a book flap blurb.  I tried it.  I’m not sure it worked, but I wrote a page anyways.

As I have stated on this blog before, any writing counts.  My problem now is to get to the RIGHT writing.  My novel.  The murder mystery script.  A better blog post.  We’ll see what I can come up with on Non-Sequitur Thursday.

 

I Plan to Make a Plan

I have been letting myself off the hook a lot lately, and not just with making silly as opposed to “real” blog posts.   The problem stems from my rule of Any Writing Counts.  On the one hand, it does.  Putting words on paper works your writing muscles.  I don’t mean just the muscles in your fingers and wrist, either.  I mean your brain, if you have one, and they found out when they did a CAT scan on me that I do.

However, writing blog posts and letters or postcards to friends and clever Facebook posts and comments on other people’s blogs and entries in my TV Journal… however fun they may be, however useful they may be to my writing muscles, will not get my novel written.   Only working on the novel will get the novel done.

I have been thinking about this in a vague sort of way for a while now, even as lately I write less and less of all that other writing which I insist counts as writing.  The fact is, I do less and less of everything lately, but that is not what I’m talking about right now.  I have been thinking Work On That Novel.

Today I got a bit of inspiration from another blogger I read sometimes, Dawne Webber.  She recently hit a major milestone, a happy dance worthy event.  She got an agent.  You can click on her name, where I have linked to the post, but I’ll tell you, she wrote a novel, queried it everywhere with no result, wrote another novel, queried it almost everywhere and FINALLY got a good result.

THIS is what it’s all about!  She worked!  She wrote!  She worked some more!  She wrote some more! I have to get to work like her!

But first I have rehearsal for the play I am stage-managing.  And I have to write postcards to some folks (yes, I KNOW, postcards are not novels, but some of the people who receive my postcards really like them and there is no reason they should do without just because I want to write a novel).  And I have to work ten hours tomorrow, go to another rehearsal, and it would be a good idea if I also went running.  And I have to clean my basement, because a co-worker is going to sell him his washer and drier and I need a place to put them.

You see why I need a plan.  Somewhere amidst all the crap I have to do, I must find time to work on my novel.  When I have figured it out, I’ll let you know.  If any of you have any time management tips you’d like to share, feel free to comment.  Thanks.

 

I Want My Pork Chop

The weather in the Mohawk Valley has taken a turn towards perfect.  As I type this into our little Acer, I am sitting on our deck, enjoying a lovely breeze.  The two trees in our backyard give enough shade to keep me cool and to keep the sun from really bothering my eyes.  The sunshine is bright enough to make everything in your yard look pretty, and that’s a pretty good trick, since I have not done much yardwork or gardening this season.

My container garden is still in bloom.  Of course some plants have done better than others, but I am seeing bright purple and yellow blooms as well as a enough basil for at least one more good batch of pesto.

In short, life is good.

If only I could write, life would be perfect.  I spent a good portion of the day thinking about my novel (I reiterate that I have the sort of job where one can think about other things and still be productive).  I tried to frame things into “Because THIS then THIS,” with no notable success.  What terrible news.  Fiction MUST have a progression, cause and effect, one thing leads to another.  Otherwise, why would the reader turn the page?

But one must persevere.  I vowed I would finish this novel.  I must either come up with an outline that fits what I have written thus far, and continue to write, or I must start all over again.  This is a daunting proposition, but one which I am prepared to face.

In the meantime, I am greatly enjoying my time sitting out on the deck while my beloved husband cooks supper.

Full disclosure:  Steven finished cooking when I has halfway through the second sentence of the first paragraph.  I stopped composing to eat then continued on,  leaving the headline I had written first, in order to make this Non-Sequitur Thursday.  I hope this blog post meets with your approval.

 

Aunt Cindy Killed Somebody?

Don’t you think that’s a catchy title for Non-Sequitur Thursday? I do so love an eye-catching headline.  However, I am going to go on to explain that one and talk about killing somebody else, so it is not exactly a non-sequitur.  I ask you to bear with me.

I was on the phone with my sister, Diane, who also writes novels. I had written her a long letter lamenting my novel woes.  I had talked about character and plot, which I rarely do.  For one reason, once you’ve talked about it, you often feel you don’t have to write it.  Must maintain that oomph, after all.  For another reason, the person you’re telling it to might roll their eyes and say, “That’s been done.”  I hate that.  However, desperate times call for desperate measures, so I wrote the letter.

Diane, alas, did not have any specific advice for me.   It had been a couple of weeks since I had written the letter, so I updated her on a couple of  scenes I had written.

“I killed off another character,” I said. “But not one of the ones I was talking about in the letter.”

I heard my niece in the background say, “Aunt Cindy killed somebody?”

I don’t know why she sounded surprised.

The reason I’m using this admittedly thin story for a post is that I must post and run today.  Steven and I have a read-through for a play we are in.  Perhaps you read a previous post where I spoke of how we had auditioned for Roxy, which is being presented by the Herkimer County Historical Society and Ilion Little Theatre Club.  We are very excited to be part of this original production, which is written by a local author and concerns a local, historical case.

The play is about Roxalana Druse, who killed her husband in the Town of  Warren.  She was tried in the  Herkimer County Courthouse, imprisoned and later hanged in the 1843 Jail, which is right across the street.   I believe much of the dialogue is taken from actual court testimony.

Guess what part I got. I’ll give you a hint:  see the headline of this post.

Only Tuesday?

I wrote a post while at work today (yes, Boss, while on a break) (oh yeah, like my boss reads my blog; I don’t think he even knows I write one).  And I just can’t post it.  It may be all right as stands, it may need editing, I may not use it.  I just can’t work with these things right now.  Yes, my dears, it is Tired Tuesday.

How is it only Tuesday, anyways?  When I look at all the things I have to and want to get done this week, it seems such a ridiculously short period of time.  Then I see how far away Friday and my fun weekend seem and I say, damn.  Of course one must fight the prevailing attitude to despise the week and only enjoy the weekend.  What’s that all about anyways?  We have seven days a week.  Why would anybody choose to be happy for two of them and miserable for five?

Oh dear, now we are getting into some half-baked philosophy, which I usually reserve for Lame Post Friday.  The subject of “choosing” happiness is a sore  spot for me anyways.  We can’t always choose how we feel.  Sometimes, I say, you just have to feel that way until you don’t feel that way any more.  For example, right now I feel tired.

However, I would like to write something other than “I’m tired” in this blog post.  I can give you a brief update on the novel.  It is not going well.  I’ve written a couple of scenes and partial scenes.  They are all very well, but they do not seem to lead anywhere.  I think I need a little more “because of this, then that,” if you see what I mean.

There, how’s that?  Three paragraphs about how tired I am, then four sentences about my novel, which tell you absolutely nothing about it.  I really gotta love writing a blog. Hope to see you all on Wuss-out Wednesday.