It's called the flooded forest, and I think it is one of the many miracles of nature that exist today. The unexplainable is all around us.
Inspiration...
The most inspiring and motivating thing anyone has ever said to me related to writing is this. "Just remember that a lot of stuff gets published that isn't very good." That quote keeps me going, and most of the time it reminds me not to put too much pressure on myself. There is very little that is perfect. There will always be someone who doesn't like your work. Sometimes I need to stop and ask myself. Is my goal to write the perfect novel, or is it to write a novel that sells? There we go, back to that money thing again.
But my goal was never to write a perfect novel. I simply wanted to write what I like to read. I had ideas, characters floating around in my head, that I wanted to get on paper, and see in print. Man, there is just something about seeing my name in print that puts me on cloud nine. I get such a rush. And it doesn't have to even be published. There is just a fulfillment and a sense of pride that comes with printing off a 400 page manuscript and saying there. It's done. And knowing that you did that. That you created that. And that someone out there is going to get it, going to love it, the way you love it.
I'm not asking for a million fans. Would it be nice...hmmm. I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. But a handful will do. Or a handful of fans and a lot of innocent succers who happen to purchase my book. Because on the flipside, if the book doesn't sell, more don't follow.
Anyway, I am trying this thing out...with another blog...and I am not sure how it is going to go. It seems like a good idea now, but I will have to play around with it a bit before I know if it is working and I really don't feel comfortable sharing the link yet...so you will just have to wait and see.
Well I am getting tired now. I have been reading for a while, and sitting at this computer is making me antsy, so I think I will search for something else to do.
Night!
But my goal was never to write a perfect novel. I simply wanted to write what I like to read. I had ideas, characters floating around in my head, that I wanted to get on paper, and see in print. Man, there is just something about seeing my name in print that puts me on cloud nine. I get such a rush. And it doesn't have to even be published. There is just a fulfillment and a sense of pride that comes with printing off a 400 page manuscript and saying there. It's done. And knowing that you did that. That you created that. And that someone out there is going to get it, going to love it, the way you love it.
I'm not asking for a million fans. Would it be nice...hmmm. I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. But a handful will do. Or a handful of fans and a lot of innocent succers who happen to purchase my book. Because on the flipside, if the book doesn't sell, more don't follow.
Anyway, I am trying this thing out...with another blog...and I am not sure how it is going to go. It seems like a good idea now, but I will have to play around with it a bit before I know if it is working and I really don't feel comfortable sharing the link yet...so you will just have to wait and see.
Well I am getting tired now. I have been reading for a while, and sitting at this computer is making me antsy, so I think I will search for something else to do.
Night!
Look at ME!!!
I know. You are all having de ja vu. Didn't we get our monthly post from Melissa already? But I just couldn't help myself. I've been writing like crazy this week. All kinds of writing. Writing articles, writing proposals, writing short stories, and cover letters, and chapters. Writing, writing writing. And why shouldn't I write. I have nothing better to do. (sorry that is the workaholic and perfectionist in me speaking).
So I just keep writing, regardless of whether or not someone is actually reading and I have been meaning to post a follow up to my last entry but this is the first free minute I have found. Typically what happens is I go to work. Where I write for 8 hours. Then I come home and write for two to three more hours. On top of checking my emails, doing research and journaling. By that point my eyes have become weary, my butt hurts and my fingers are tense. It is all I can do to crawl into bed and watch some mind numbing tv.
You'd think with all this writing, I would actually get something done. Not true. Don't believe it. Again, part of it is my perfectionism. I can't stop working with a piece until I feel it is just right, and I never know when I am going to get that feeling. Like today. today revised a short story for just under three hours. All I did was revise!!! And this was the third draft. But revising is about rereading something, trying to identify what it is that isn't working, trying to find words to replace what it is you have finally identified as not working and then retyping all the changes into the actual draft. I have to have that last step because I really can't revise on the computer. I need to see it on paper. To carry it with me. There is something about being able to cross paragraphs out that brings a rush. It's not the same on the monitor.
I used to work really well with my old supervisor, because he was a pretty decent writer as well and somewhere during the middle of my, it's almost there but not quite, he would take it and say, it's fine. Stop working on it. Sometimes I need people to tell me to stop working on it. Because the truth is that I'm never really going to be satisfied. I will always be able to find something that I think might be better if said differently. Even after it gets printed or published. I can still pick it up, look at it and say, man that first paragraph sucks. But the average person doesn't care, so maybe I should just relax.
I do want to apologize to all of my high school english teachers. I can't count the number of times we all whined and complained about being forced to analyze something to death, searching for clues and hints that the author probably hadn't intended us to find. I was wrong. The author knew what they were doing. It was done on purpose. I hate that I even for a moment thought that it was all just a big coincidence. The funny thing about it is that now I realize that it is in almost all books. Even the silly ones, you think are just beach reads can be pulled apart into many complex layers.
Now I get chills when someone asks me if I am still working on my novel. Um, yeah. Do you know how many thousands of words go into a novel. Do you know that you have to make them all up. it isn't like writing a report or a paper, where you reasearch everything and draw your own conclussions, reporting back to others. It isn't like academic writing or technical writing where everything has its place and it's just a matter of getting the write information there.
In fiction writing you are creating an entire world. You are giving life to not one, or two but dozens of people, each with their own wants, and fears and complexes. I could go on and on and on about all the things it takes to put together a novel that works... but most people won't get it until they've tried. And if any author ever tells you that writing their books is easy, they are lying. It might be easier, than when they first started, but it was never easy. Being an artist is never easy. That's why so many of them have died tragic deaths.
A friend of mine commented on my personality when we were having a philisophical discussion of some sort, and she said, "well maybe you just see the world differently. Through the eyes of an artist. You see things others don't. You are more perceptive, and intuitive, and because of that more sensitive."
Maybe that was her polite way of saying that I am just another overdramatic and moody/needy artist who is trying to boost their self-ego by seeking praise for their work. I don't know. I do know that this is my favorite kind of writing. Because I don't have to think. I just go. Letting whatever hits the page stick. Too bad life can't be that way.
So I just keep writing, regardless of whether or not someone is actually reading and I have been meaning to post a follow up to my last entry but this is the first free minute I have found. Typically what happens is I go to work. Where I write for 8 hours. Then I come home and write for two to three more hours. On top of checking my emails, doing research and journaling. By that point my eyes have become weary, my butt hurts and my fingers are tense. It is all I can do to crawl into bed and watch some mind numbing tv.
You'd think with all this writing, I would actually get something done. Not true. Don't believe it. Again, part of it is my perfectionism. I can't stop working with a piece until I feel it is just right, and I never know when I am going to get that feeling. Like today. today revised a short story for just under three hours. All I did was revise!!! And this was the third draft. But revising is about rereading something, trying to identify what it is that isn't working, trying to find words to replace what it is you have finally identified as not working and then retyping all the changes into the actual draft. I have to have that last step because I really can't revise on the computer. I need to see it on paper. To carry it with me. There is something about being able to cross paragraphs out that brings a rush. It's not the same on the monitor.
I used to work really well with my old supervisor, because he was a pretty decent writer as well and somewhere during the middle of my, it's almost there but not quite, he would take it and say, it's fine. Stop working on it. Sometimes I need people to tell me to stop working on it. Because the truth is that I'm never really going to be satisfied. I will always be able to find something that I think might be better if said differently. Even after it gets printed or published. I can still pick it up, look at it and say, man that first paragraph sucks. But the average person doesn't care, so maybe I should just relax.
I do want to apologize to all of my high school english teachers. I can't count the number of times we all whined and complained about being forced to analyze something to death, searching for clues and hints that the author probably hadn't intended us to find. I was wrong. The author knew what they were doing. It was done on purpose. I hate that I even for a moment thought that it was all just a big coincidence. The funny thing about it is that now I realize that it is in almost all books. Even the silly ones, you think are just beach reads can be pulled apart into many complex layers.
Now I get chills when someone asks me if I am still working on my novel. Um, yeah. Do you know how many thousands of words go into a novel. Do you know that you have to make them all up. it isn't like writing a report or a paper, where you reasearch everything and draw your own conclussions, reporting back to others. It isn't like academic writing or technical writing where everything has its place and it's just a matter of getting the write information there.
In fiction writing you are creating an entire world. You are giving life to not one, or two but dozens of people, each with their own wants, and fears and complexes. I could go on and on and on about all the things it takes to put together a novel that works... but most people won't get it until they've tried. And if any author ever tells you that writing their books is easy, they are lying. It might be easier, than when they first started, but it was never easy. Being an artist is never easy. That's why so many of them have died tragic deaths.
A friend of mine commented on my personality when we were having a philisophical discussion of some sort, and she said, "well maybe you just see the world differently. Through the eyes of an artist. You see things others don't. You are more perceptive, and intuitive, and because of that more sensitive."
Maybe that was her polite way of saying that I am just another overdramatic and moody/needy artist who is trying to boost their self-ego by seeking praise for their work. I don't know. I do know that this is my favorite kind of writing. Because I don't have to think. I just go. Letting whatever hits the page stick. Too bad life can't be that way.
Selling out
So it seems like I write one of these a month. I am sorry about that. But I try not to write meaningless stuff. Things that I wouldn't be interested in reading. So I guess that means I just have less to talk about.
I find myself in an odd predicament. I need to do some articles for a bimonthly magazine...and I want to do them, I was incredibly excited about the opportunity to do them when it came to me in December. But then i started writing and nothing I could do was right. Now I am not about to say that I am the perfect writer. I write quick and dirty and fast, which means a lot of editing. I write about what I know; I practically have to be immersed in the subject before I can even begin writing...which is time consuming. And because I am a good writer, and I take my writing seriously, I understand and recognize the importance of revisions, critiques and outside feedback. But I need feedback. I'm not God here. I can't miraculously conjure a story or article that someone is envisioning in their head.
In this situation the articles that I have written aren't good enough. I know they are good. Not perfect, but good. Just as good as the other articles going into the magazine at least. But those articles don't get approved by the same person. So now I am stuck. Because I know that I need to write these articles, and some sick twisted part of me keeps coming back at it, stupid enough to believe that I will actually get it right.... so I keep trying. And Writing.
Today I was told it wasn't folksy enough. It needed to be more engaging, a call to action. Which is really a difference of philosophy. I am called to action by learning something new and intriguing about a program. Some behind the scenes look, some inspirational success story. Something that makes me go, "Wow look at what they did? Look at what they're doing. I want to support them because I get what they are doing. They do good things" Or something like that. Not some sales pitch, which is really what I am being asked to do. It jsut seems logical to me that if someone is doubting the effectiveness of these articles, (articles that have been written for more than 3 years and are not driving increased revenue or giving...) instead of doing away with it completely, wouldn't you want to change the approach first. It's like that anti bush commercial for the social security, where the plummer comes in to look at the kitchen sink, and in order to fix it they tear down the entire house. What sense is that?
Ok now I am just ranting and raving. The whole point was that I feel like I am selling out, because I know it isn't good writing, but I have to do it anyway. I almost don't want my name on it because I don't want to be associated with it. I don't want people to look at it and go, wow she's a pretty lame writer. Because it isn't really a true judge of what I can do. On the other hand it is nice to see my name in print. It's nice to see the article on glossy full color pages.
So I guess that is the eternal question, ever artist must ask. What is more important, the art, the craft, or the money. Am I selling out? Should I fight harder to get my way... Or will fighting only delay me in reaching my goal of getting a novel published.
Of course that assumes that I finish the novel, and instead of working on the chapter right now I am writing in this blog. Guess I know what I need to do tonight.
I find myself in an odd predicament. I need to do some articles for a bimonthly magazine...and I want to do them, I was incredibly excited about the opportunity to do them when it came to me in December. But then i started writing and nothing I could do was right. Now I am not about to say that I am the perfect writer. I write quick and dirty and fast, which means a lot of editing. I write about what I know; I practically have to be immersed in the subject before I can even begin writing...which is time consuming. And because I am a good writer, and I take my writing seriously, I understand and recognize the importance of revisions, critiques and outside feedback. But I need feedback. I'm not God here. I can't miraculously conjure a story or article that someone is envisioning in their head.
In this situation the articles that I have written aren't good enough. I know they are good. Not perfect, but good. Just as good as the other articles going into the magazine at least. But those articles don't get approved by the same person. So now I am stuck. Because I know that I need to write these articles, and some sick twisted part of me keeps coming back at it, stupid enough to believe that I will actually get it right.... so I keep trying. And Writing.
Today I was told it wasn't folksy enough. It needed to be more engaging, a call to action. Which is really a difference of philosophy. I am called to action by learning something new and intriguing about a program. Some behind the scenes look, some inspirational success story. Something that makes me go, "Wow look at what they did? Look at what they're doing. I want to support them because I get what they are doing. They do good things" Or something like that. Not some sales pitch, which is really what I am being asked to do. It jsut seems logical to me that if someone is doubting the effectiveness of these articles, (articles that have been written for more than 3 years and are not driving increased revenue or giving...) instead of doing away with it completely, wouldn't you want to change the approach first. It's like that anti bush commercial for the social security, where the plummer comes in to look at the kitchen sink, and in order to fix it they tear down the entire house. What sense is that?
Ok now I am just ranting and raving. The whole point was that I feel like I am selling out, because I know it isn't good writing, but I have to do it anyway. I almost don't want my name on it because I don't want to be associated with it. I don't want people to look at it and go, wow she's a pretty lame writer. Because it isn't really a true judge of what I can do. On the other hand it is nice to see my name in print. It's nice to see the article on glossy full color pages.
So I guess that is the eternal question, ever artist must ask. What is more important, the art, the craft, or the money. Am I selling out? Should I fight harder to get my way... Or will fighting only delay me in reaching my goal of getting a novel published.
Of course that assumes that I finish the novel, and instead of working on the chapter right now I am writing in this blog. Guess I know what I need to do tonight.
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