Sometimes, The Idea of a Thing is Worse

I weighed myself yesterday.  It had been 3 weeks since the last time I weighted myself and frankly, I was sure I'd be disappointed with the number.  After all, I've been baking and eating a lot.  And with the weather being craptastic, I haven't been active.  And with the stress I haven't wanted to do anything inside either.  

I gained two-tenths of a pound.  That puts me at 182.6 - a pound up for the year.  Better than the four or 5 pounds I was sure I'd gained.  Which goes to show you that sometimes the idea of a thing is worse than the thing itself.  

I was going to say 'fear' there instead of 'idea', but I'm not afraid of gaining weight.  It is what it is.  Gaining weight just means more work.  And while I am terminally lazy sometimes, I'm not afraid of work.

It's the same with writing/editing.  Although there is a bit of fear there, it's the idea of being done and sending my work out into the world only to see no sales that, more often than not, keeps me from working.  And this is even when I've had some good feedback on said work.  

It's not the work itself.  Right now, it's me staring down the barrel of a net income of a nickle for the month of February. That's with holding three sales this month.  And that's only if the per page price in KU holds.  It might only be four cents.

Imagine if I'd actually exercised and eaten less this month only to gain weight.  That's what it's like.  

But let's turn that around.  What if the idea was instead that I bust my buns on this book, send it out into the world, and see loads of sales.  If I look at it that way, the only thing holding me back is me.  

Don't let the idea of a negative outcome stop you from doing your thing.  Don't let it stop you from even trying.  'Cuz the only way to consistently fail at anything is to not do it.

It's like I tell myself sometimes in poker: "You lose every hand you fold."  

Okay, so what's something you're not doing because the idea of failing is stopping you?  What's something you've lost in the past because you folded rather than seen it through?  

Personally, I would've had a straight flush the other day if I'd followed the cards all the way to the river.  Pissed me off to no end.  Here's hoping Duke Noble is a straight flush kind of book, because I'm damn well gonna see this through to the end.

NaNo Brain vs Pregnancy Brain

This time of year certain writers are stricken with a malady known as NaNo Brain.  It comes from trying to write 50,000 words in the span of 30 days.

It's kinda like Pregnancy Brain.  If you've ever been pregnant or been around someone who's pregnant, then you're familiar with the signs: shoddy memory, craptastic attention span, fluctuating tempers. 


If it any wonder writers liken their books to babies?  You spend a set amount of time producing something you hope will turn out wonderful, and an unknown amount of time trying to make sure said product actually does turn out wonderful.  (Yeah, yeah, babies are products... work with me here.)  And sooner or later, you send it out into the world hoping it will be good and awesome and make a difference one way or another.

Of course, there are differences. 

At the end of nine months, Pregnancy Brain goes away and the afflicted have a bouncy bundle of joy to show for their efforts.

With NaNo Brain, you compress all that into 30 days and at the end you have... part of a book. 

During Pregnancy Brain, you're supposed to eat right, get lots of rest, exercise, and cut out your nasty habits.

During NaNo Brain, eating right is hit or miss, rest is laughable, exercise amounts to getting up to use the bathroom, caffeine flows, and - probably more my habit than yours - many ashtrays are filled to overflowing. 

And of course, shoving 50K words out your fingertips is way less physically painful than... Well, you know.  

With both, the end of your affliction isn't really the end.   (Even when you send the former off to college and the latter off to be published.)

But what do I know?  I have NaNo Brain.  And I will well into December*.

*My fault for committing to finishing this by 12/15.

Rebaiting the Hook

I don't know how many of you have been fishing, so bear with me here. 

You've got the perfect spot picked out right where the fish traditionally are.  Maybe it's like our old fishing hole - not far from the bridge, just around a bend, under a leaning tree.  You set out with your tackle box, your rods, and your bait.  It's a beautiful day for fishing.  So you set up your chair, bait your hook, attach your bobber and cast that sucker into just the right spot.  And you wait.

And you wait.

Sometimes you see the bobber jiggle a little, but no strikes.  Just more waiting.  After a time, you reel in to see if you can figure out the problem.  Often, you're reeling in an empty hook because all the little fishies have nibbled your bait off.  Occasionally, you see your bait looking just like it had when you threw it in the first time, only wetter.  So, you rebait your hook or not, and cast again. 

After a few hours of this with still no fish on your stringer, you reel in again and maybe try a different bait.  Maybe the bass aren't biting on nightcrawlers today.  Maybe they want a different kind of worm.  Maybe they're looking for a fat frog or a chunky bug - which you can provide in the form of a lure.  You ditch the bobber, add some sinkers, and try the cast and reel method. 

Sounds a lot like where I'm at in the querying.  Well, actually, right now I'm at the rebait your hook method.  Not quite sure what the analogy would be for using a lure.  It's possible I just don't have any lures in my tacklebox (i.e. tasty reasons why an agent would want me over Author X).  All I have is my hook and my bait.  I have to hope that will be enough. 

To that end, I'm swapping out that drowned nightcrawler I've been using for a lively little redworm, and casting again.  We'll see if anyone bites. 

Working on It

Previously on The Writing Spectacle, you watched while our intrepid writer moved a third of the way across the country.  More recently, you got to see the spectacle of moving in and living sans appliances and hot water.

Over the past couple days, though, we've gotten the appliances and the majority of the furniture.  Everything isn't exactly what we want it to be yet, but we're working on it.  (And if the place wasn't such a disaster area, I'd post pics.)  Last night we got to take hot showers for the first time in two weeks.  Right now, the Hubs is doing laundry in our brand new agitator-less washer.  I've got a load of dishes going in our super-quiet dishwasher.  Today, I'm hoping we'll be able to get groceries so the fridge will be full and I can cook dinner on the new stove.

It ain't perfect, but it's beginning to feel like home.

Kinda like writing a book, I guess.  This would be like the 3rd draft stage - where you're loving it, but it still needs work.  ;o)

What are you working on lately?

And just so you don't walk away with nothing today, here's a pic...

I think they're apple blossoms... or maybe cherry.  Not on our property, but just down the road.  Ah, Spring.

The Specific Gravity of Manuscripts

Yeah, I'm probably not using the term 'specific gravity' anywhere close to right, but I'm a writer, not a scientist, Jim*.

This morning as I was surfing through the blogosphere a friend mentioned that she dropped her 30K WIP to start something new and sparkly.  She also wondered whether it was the right thing to do and whether this happens to any of the rest of us.  In my comment to her, I said something about how you have to go with what's pulling at you the hardest, which of course led me to think about how, in our world, each manuscript seems to have its own gravitational pull.  And since you can't defy gravity, you have to go with whichever story is pulling at you the hardest.

Think about it.  Here we all are, swirling around in our own little universes - drifting this way and that until some story pulls at us hard enough to make us want to sit down and write it out.  If it's an awesome idea, it eclipses every other idea.  We have no choice but to stick with that manuscript until we either finish it, in which case it loses it's gravity.  Or for some reason the story's pull weakens enough to let something else's gravity pull us away.

Now I could go totally geeky and come up with some kind of formula to show how this manuscript has more gravity than that manuscript.  (X cubed time Y squared minus I is greater than Z).  But I always sucked at math.  

You can fight the pull, of course.  It takes a lot of work.  It takes more than a fair bit of belief that no matter how much another story is pulling, the one you're currently in orbit around is worth finishing.  And then also tenacity and sheer stubbornness help.  Basically, in this business, your engines have to be strong enough to hold you in place when you need them to, or to let you break free when the situation calls for it. 

Still, sometimes you're stuck screaming "I'm givin' her all she's got, Cap'n!**" and still get sucked into the black hole that is a new, but scary and unknown, idea.

And that's okay, too.  Who knows what wonders you might find in there.  ;o)

One thing I have learned, though.  The longer I do this, the easier it is for me to note the new and sparkly ideas on my star chart and promise myself to explore them later so I can finish what I'm already working on.  Even then, though, the stars call to me and sometimes they whisk me away.

How about you? 

*Gratuitous Star Trek reference since I'm going all scientific on your asses.
** Yeah, there's another one.  If you didn't know I was a geek before, you do now.  Geeks of the World UNITE!

Turkey Pot Pie

Yeah.  I know it's not Thanksgiving yet.  The real turkey isn't due to make it's appearance in my belly for another couple days.  So what did I go out and buy last week?  Rotisserie turkey breast.  And what did I do yesterday?  I used the leftovers to make my first ever turkey pot pie.

It was awesome, btw.

I hadn't even really planned on making it.  Instead I was sitting around the house when the thought occurred to me that Hostess is gone and I may never get a chance to buy Raspberry Zingers ever again.  I snatched up my purse, drove to the store to find... totally empty shelves on the Hostess rack.  Someone had beat me to my idea of hoarding whatever Hostess goodies were left.  :sniffle:

I could've walked away.  But then I got chatting with a friend of mine who works in the produce section.  And after keeping her distracted for ten minutes, I felt honor bound to at least buy something.  As I pushed the cart past the pre-made pie crusts, the idea blossomed.  I threw the crusts into my cart, snagged a bag of frozen veggies, and a jar of turkey gravy.  The rest is history.

What does any of this have to do with writing?

Well, part of it has to do with yesterday's post on procrastination.  But digging a little deeper, I see that I can turn this into a lesson.

- I went into my excursion expecting one thing but when disappointment hit, I turned it into a positive.
- I tried something totally new and it worked out great.

Oh, and not everyone thought my pot pie was awesome.  The Kid turned her nose up at the mere thought of what I'd made for dinner.  I even made her try some.  She hated it.  (Of course she did.  She hates pot pie.)  And even though it hurt my feelings a little, I survived.  Which leads to another lesson for writing...

- Sometimes you can work really hard creating something you're sure everyone will love - even those who don't love the concept - but no matter how hard you work, different people have different tastes.  And that's okay. 

Eating, like reading, is a subjective business.

So, how's your turkey pot pie coming along? 

Letting the Voice Win

We've all had moments like I had yesterday, where we're chock full of self-doubt.  Sometimes the voice in our heads is just - as Janet put it - upping its game.  Sometimes its just being a buttwart and needs to be pushed past - like Silver suggested.

I spent yesterday on the couch - watching football and thinking (and not-thinking while everything just simmered in my subconscious).  Here's what I came up with.

This book is a bitch.  And other than the glorious period of first drafting - when I'm too close to see the flaws - it's always been a bitch.  Every time I sit down to try and edit the damn thing, I end up feeling like I've just tried to bathe ten Max the cat clones at the same time.  (For those of you who missed it, Max hates baths and by the end of each, my arms are shredded and punctured.)  But I keep going back to this manuscript.  Good ol' masochist me.  I just knew if I kept at it, I could win the fight.

But what if I can't?

I know several of you are about to throttle me.  That's okay.  I probably deserve to be throttled.  But not necessarily for the reasons you might think.

Ever know one of those people who gets into a bad relationship and they can't really see how bad it is?  The ones who may at some point manage to wriggle their way out only to wind up back with the same totally unsuitable significant other time and again?  They want to make it work.  They know if only they try hard enough, they can get the other person to be what they want to be.  They insist they love this person who's totally bad for them.  "I can change them, I know I can."  Or, heaven forbid, they end up changing themselves so whatever problems they had no longer matter - which is worse.

Not this time, Sweets.  Sometimes things like this are meant to die.  Sometimes the little voice in the back of your head telling you this won't work is right. 

Don't get me wrong.  The little voice of self-doubt rears up at some point during every book.  Most times, I let it have its way for a little while and then kick its lily-white ass.  This time, though, while preparing to throttle the crap out of the annoying liar, I realized the reason I can't make this one shut the hell up this time is - regardless of how wrong it is in some aspects - it's totally right.  This is not a book I can finish - not now and maybe not ever. 

And that's fine.  Sometimes you have to know when to stop fighting.

Don't worry, though.  I'm not sad.  I'm not even all that hurt.  Like dating, there are other fish in the sea.  There are other books in my head and on my hard drive - each one waiting for its shot to become a real book.  I'll take all of the minutiae from this, stuff it into a box and cram it into a closet.  Get it out of here before I'm tempted to try another go of it.

Maybe instead of this book, it's finally time to finish Rue's story.  She's waited long enough for her shot at greatness.  And, you know what?  So have I.

Writing: An Analogy in Pictures

Earlier today I stepped outside for a smoke and saw a hawk drifting lazily through the sky above.  I ran in the house for my camera, because you never can tell when you're going to get a chance to catch a hawk on the wing.  I managed to snap two before his flight took him behind the trees.  They weren't even very good.  C'est la vie.  As I was turning to go, though, I thought I saw a glimpse of orange in the tree limbs below where the hawk had been drifting.  Sure enough, a squirrel was crouched at the end of a cut branch.  I walked around a little bit to get a shot where the twigs weren't in front of his face, but for the most part, the shot, the lighting, the composition - that was luck.

I've been waiting years for this Christmas cactus to bloom.  Every time it gets a bud, something happens and the bud falls off before it blooms.  Recently, I noticed a single bud forming at the top of my plant and I've been babying this thing ever since.  Now it's covered with buds and one by one they're blooming.  The shots I took of that first bud were more like the candid snaps I used to take with my old 110 camera as a child - pretty, but not amazing.  This time, I waited until the light was just right.  I crawled on the floor trying to get just the right angle.  I moved things out of the way to get just the right look. 

I think both pics are amazing.  One was total happenstance.  The other was carefully planned and took weeks of coaxing to get this ornery cactus to make with the blooming already.  Both are professional quality, imnsho, and I'd be happy to offer them for sale.  (Okay, maybe I could still tweak a bit, but like writing, I'm never 100% happy with my pics.)

What's the point?  It doesn't matter whether your work turns out awesome by hard work or by happenstance. Sometimes getting the words on paper is easy and it all comes together without a whole lot of effort on our parts.  Other times, it takes everything we have just to get that one turn of phrase we can be proud of.  In the end, how we get to the awesome doesn't matter - the only thing that matters is that we reach the awesome eventually.

And by the way, to get those two awesome shots above, I took a whole lot of pics that weren't so awesome.  Some were close.  Hell, a few are nearly as great as those two.  But those were the two I chose as the best and offered up for public consumption.  Sound familiar??  ;o)

Writing The End - A Crass Analogy

I spent some time this morning thinking of an analogy for writing the end of this damn book.

First I thought it might be like that super-annoying Barney ditty - The Song That Never Ends.  Or maybe it's like the snake eating it's own tail... Nah, that's not it.  This isn't circular.  Which means it's also not like the Barney song - that's circular, too.  Still, this is like the book that never ends. 

Then I tried to relate it to climbing.  I've read that sometimes when you're climbing, you think you've reached the top only to find you ended up on some kind of faux-summit and you still have some major climbing to do.  It's kinda like that.

But really I came to the conclusion that it's more like totally unsatisfying sex. 

You know, the kind where you're building toward a climax but never reach it.  You thought you might be close once, but then it all fell apart and you missed it, but he's still up there grunting away...  Nothing is quite getting you where you need to be, but something (or someone as the case may be) is getting in the way of reaching a really explosive climax.

Yeah, that's it exactly.  Finishing this book reminds me of sex with this guy I knew about fifteen years ago.  A really long time spent sweating and grunting, trying new things to get where you need to be and just when you think you've almost got the big payoff, you realize in the end, there really wasn't an end. 

Crass analogy, I know, but it works.  Sad, but true.  Maybe he was trying too hard.  Maybe I was.  Unfortunately what it all boiled down to was a whole lot of work and nothing to show for it but a new appreciation for what gymnasts have to endure.

Lucky for me, I can still get to the climax of this book, and if I'm not satisfied, I can do the whole thing over again.    One thing I know for sure is I can't be like that guy and leave my readers with an unsatisfying end to show for all their hard work.  Because they sure as hell aren't willing to fake it just to save my feelings.

Okay, time to write this.  If I'm lucky, I'll reach the real climax sometime today.  And then all there is to write is the afterglow.