A Writer's Nightmare

OMG Writers!
I had quite the nightmare that I'm sure most of you would cower in fear from!
So, it was a simple dream. It went fairly well and like most of my dreams lately, it seemed to be fairly coherent as to what was going on. Basically, my netbook, my flash drive of my current projects and a bag of my carry-on belongings were stolen! Not to mention, one of my roommates was furiously not allowing me into the house. So, I used my other roommate to distract him while I slipped inside and scrounged around for my belongings. I found Harry Potter: Deathly Hollows part 2 on DVD and quickly pocketed it. They had not pawned it from my bag yet. I could not find my netbook or flash drive anywhere. And as an author, that is one of the scariest feelings. My entire world is contained in that netbook. My life is living in that flash drive. You can't recreate your work because once you've lost it, it is hard to find the same words. Sure, it might make it better by restarting it, but it also, you lose that initial excitement of getting your first ideas out. I was heartbroken.
And then I realized that the two guys who stole my bag were now living in the other two rooms at our place. My roommate was a traitor! He had sided with them!
My sister could not distract the roommate long enough and he found me. He apologized for being so mean and not letting me into the house. I could feel myself starting to wake up. And at that moment, I saw the bag sitting off on the bookcase! My netbook, flash drive and Scream 4 were all there!
I woke up with relief...but a slight annoyance that I let my nightmare end so easily.
I pray I never lose my files again. I've only lost one story...and it is weak for it.
But I woke up and realized I back my shit up consistently. I have, like, a flash drive at work, a flash drive in my purse, my netbook is up to date and two external hard drives that have backups. Not to mention, the other flash drives and computers I own. I really hope I get the flash drive bracelet for Christmas.

Happy Writing, Writers.
And backup your files.

Starting Over After 100 Pages

I hit my deadline. 50k words in less than a month. I kept plugging along until I hit it.
And now, at 110+ words, I'm done.
I'm rewriting it all over again.

This novel I wrote in November is a shell of what I had hoped to write. It is more rushed and definitely not as dark as I had originally hoped. It was not the psychologically eating of my soul as I had anticipated. I did not mourn the situations or feel the hopeful but rabid butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Sure, it started out that way. The ideas always start out that way. But it was not the rough world that I had hoped to convey. And I was too nice. The vulgarity was limited because of my expected audience. The big "Fuck You" messages were watered down. And deep down, my characters were weak. They did not have the drive. They were too wishy-washy to commit. I love my characters. But it all somehow came unraveled.
This was not the novel I had committed to writing.

So, I start from scratch. I grab a handful of my characters, put them in fresh new clothes and give them life again. My focus needs to be more pin-pointed on them and not the outside world around me. They need to experience life, not merely live day-to-day. So, I'm starting it with a different spin. I'm snapping down more of my real life, casting out the maps and charts, plans and blogs. These characters are not me. But I have the experience. These situations are not mine. But what I have experienced can only heighten the reality of them. Enough ground work and symbolism. Enough trying to make everyone happy. This story is destined for greatness...I just lost that in the process of its previous incarnation. It's not Misfits but it revolves around similar situations. It will be dark. I will not hold back. You should never mess with an author.

Writing Because of a Restroom

It's funny how a lot of my inspiration comes to me when I'm walking into the women's bathroom at work. I am so not sure why that is the case, but it seems to be a time when my mind disconnects from work and just drifts. My heels click onto the tiled floor and I let the dim fluorescent lighting wash over me. My script a few months ago started out with a bathroom scene. "A familiar sound of urination" was a key phrase in the description. A phrase that gets quite a bit of attention. But it is so routine. And for my novel, I seem to pull a lot of my main MC's thoughts from my own when I walk into the bathroom. And no, my characters' lives do not revolve around the bathrooms. I rarely put them in the bathrooms--but it does happen more in this novel then in some. Only because bathrooms have recently pulled a lot of random thoughts. For instance, I walked into the bathroom one day to find that it was a group meeting room. Sure, women congregate in the bathroom in clusters to talk boys,  makeup and everything from tampons to lighting fixtures. I always find it intriguing when some of my friends talk on the phone while using the bathroom vs. the friends who are appalled to even have the phone near the bathroom. The head of our HR department at work frequently takes calls while she's in the stall--this I know only because she is a loud talker even a few stalls down. But the one thing that triggered it was when I made my MC have a similar viewpoint as me. She felt uncomfortable with the thought that so many women were gathered in the bathroom to talk at the counters while a few sat on the cushioned chairs and one even sat with her chair pulled outside someone else' stall.

I have no problem discussing bathroom issues only because it is so common. I remember when I was younger and girls would turn on all of the faucets and air dryers to mask the sounds. And, while I don't particularly feel comfortable hearing sounds coming from the stalls (regardless of which number you're doing), it is a natural thing. I also don't have a problem with friends using the bathroom while on the phone. I mean, sometimes, you're in the middle of a conversation that is too good to hold for and it risks peeing your pants. I get that.

But, I think it is odd that I pull a lot of ideas from that first second walking through the bathroom door. At least my novel is not taking place in the bathrooms. Instead, they take place in very specific spots. But the bathroom at work is always a thought-provoker and the bathroom at the bars is always a great segue/escape. I think that the main part is that when you walk into a bathroom, you're finally able to relax for a second. You stop thinking. And that, dear writers, is a blissful time for creation inspiration. ...I wonder if anyone's written a novel from their toilet...I might not want to know.

Novel's Midpoint Blues

Good morning, Sunshines!
It is that annoying midpoint time again and we all know what that can mean for a writer. If you're like me, you start off strong, going at your chapters and cutting them down in lightning speeds. I'm talking, a chapter a day almost! But, you start to lose steam. You lose your interest in the characters and their small-time problems, situations and thoughts. They bore you. And you're no longer playing in a fantasy world but now living someone else's life. A life that has consequences. You can't just walk into a bar and pickup a stranger because there are consequences. You can't spend a day at the beach because 1. there is no beach near this city and 2. your character would get fired from work. Work is boring and it's always the same people out at the bars. You don't want to bump up your character numbers and you have to finish one story arc before you hit the next one.

We dread the midpoint of writing novels. And so, here I sit, fellow writers and readers, stumped on what to do next. Pep Talks have been flying into my inbox--pushing, motivating and bragging. I don't find them encouraging at this point. I just want an answer! Where do I go from here? Or, more importantly, how do I push myself to the next step? I know my characters. I know what they want and what they are supposed to do next. But it's like I'm treading water.
I may just need to throw in a giant elephant into the story. Just throw it in there and cause a commotion. Make a big splash in the waves and shake up the story so it doesn't sound so boring and real life. Who wants to read about real life?!

I'm at 32k+ words. Working my way through chapter 6. Over 50 pages. And I've just added a piviotal character last chapter. And one of my main characters has had very little physical presence on my pages yet (because her big scenes are later in the book). Cue the aggrivated sigh of frustration.

I think I may work on something else. Can I do that? Can I step away for another day? I'm well ahead and while nothing is really inhibiting my muses, I feel compelled to dance in another world. I have been trying to find inspiration through other stories, other writers, music, TV and movies. But I think I need a breath of fresh air right now. Jump into it tonight or tomorrow.

Here's my progress so far:

Never Fuck With An Author

As you may or may not know, these past 12 months have been a rollercoaster of adventures and emotions. It has been insanely difficult for my writing process because I personally feel like I have been thrown into a blender at times. Nothing makes sense and my perception of reality has been skewed at some points. I believe that for this next novel, I will finally be ready to start using that to fuel my creative process. I feel that a warning needs to be announced prior to my start date. While I will not disclose my inspirations, I believe that a fair amount of vengeance will be resolved through this new novel. I believe that I have gone through this whole experience and after 12 months, I feel I am ready to use it. However, this may not be the case as I have tried this approach in the past. It may take more out of me than I can manage and a recoil could happen; this is always a possibility with dramatic writing. It all started nearly exactly a year ago and I believe that giving myself this much time to put the ideas into plans has been a success. The emotions have calmed down from last Halloween and I am stronger for it. My irrational thoughts have ceased from Thanksgiving and now I am wearing a parachute rather than jumping blindly off the cliff. I no longer have thoughts of what transpired over those thick months or what happened to start the rolling ball.

Instead, I wish to warn all those who have been in my life. What you have done has inspired me for better and worse. Loved me, hated me, wronged me, used me, abused me or gave me freedom…please note that you should never fuck with a writer. No one will get their own character because those muses are glued down. This novel will show off your true colors and prove to the world how empty your hearts have been. It will amplify your lame pickup lines, remind the world of your drunken attempts and reveal how shallow your friendship truly is to everyone. I will expose the truth while smiling in fiction. Nothing will be autobiographical or call you out directly. This world is a haven. Your lives are inconsequential. For every lover, former friend and confidant, I will keep your secrets safe but do not promise to keep your lies.
And while I explore all of the negative and positive energies in the past 12 months in terms of my social life, I will push my boundaries and explore my own emotions and turmoil. It might not run me as raw as some of you would like but I guarantee this will bare my soul in some small part. And as a writer, this is an exciting and stomach-turning time full of swinging emotions, physical discomfort and pure exciting energy.

The honest truth is that this will be a work of entire fiction. The situations heightened or decreased, the characters amplified. I will not disclose what is real and what was inspired. The trouble will be making sure to blend the good and bad. In truth, I emphasize your flaws, harness the emotions that swirl and heightened the good I wished you had been.
I love Duncan with all of my heart. Your muse has guided me through. And I feel like I’m falling in love again.
And in the next four weeks, look forward to the first bold chapters of my new novel: “Like Seeking Revenge on an Ex”
You have been warned.

Cafe-au-Lait

I don't normally drink coffee anymore. Look it up. The Mystery of the Caffeinated Me is quite a fun true story. But now that November is quickly approaching (not fast enough because my creative fingers are dancing over the keyboard in anticipation), I feel that coffee inspiration is like a kick to jumpstart my creativity. Even with a splash of caffeine in my decaf coffee, I'm inspired.

I rearranged my desk this weekend--twice. Originally, it sits in my bedroom, facing the wall under the vast window. I feel boxed in some days. I have to twist and turn to look behind me and see any form of life. Completely turning it around with my back to the window proved to make me feel trapped and constricted nevermind the fact that anyone walking into my room acts as if they are stepping into an office and they ask me for a raise. Next step? Sit beside the window and stare at the closet door. It works. I was able to pound out 5 pages this weekend. It is a very small start but I'll take it!

Now, I must sit on my hands before November. Let's hope the coffee keeps me from scribbling out "ideas" which turn into chapters. Ha!

Psychology of Creative Writing

I use to write about the chase and the thrill of the excitement.
Now, I write about the psychology of the struggles of regret and tormenting secrets.
I love writing the psychology of it all. And I find it very difficult to go back to mainstream or pop art.
My stories are darker, full of secrets and have much more heart. They scare, excite and make me sick. I love it.
Maybe that was why I chose psychology and creative writing at college.

I can't write without inspiration...

A muse. It's someone that dances in my head until I give them a character to play, a life to live. Without them, I don't have a strong character.

An idea. This is the tricky one. More often then not, I have stories started without an idea. Let the lives play out.

An emotion. Sometimes, it's the swell of love in your heart. Sometimes it's a deep dark root of lust in your groin. Maybe the butterflies are in your stomach or that sugar rush in your veins. Whatever it is, you have to have something that inspires you to grab a muse, an idea and go with gusto to write.

Stupid but true, I have to have my book. A character has to have a name. And I have baby books that are worn thin. I've gone over and over and OVER my baby name books. Some times have stuck with me throughout years before they get characters. Sometimes, I've looked over a name so often that suddenly a character snaps my attention to it. "That's my name!" Favorite letters, favorite sounds, unique characteristics, definitions, gender-bending, creative, curious...there's something that pulls me to that name. I can't write without my baby name books.

Stock photos, artistic photography, music, an image on TV, they all pull at a creative part of my mind that make me turn. Just a two-second kiss in a movie without any sort of romantic theme can inspire novels of ideas. Makes you claw your way through the raw emotions, digging for something pearl, tiny and seemingly insignificant but it could create mountains. A flicker of a smile, a break of character...it spawns something deep.

This is how stories are brought to life. Or how they could start to form. Not all of them materialize for very long or even some do not master artwork. But they do create a spark.

I write what I want to read. I discover, develop and expand upon emotions that I feel and want to explore. The book's not written--not with the emotion and relationships that I want to witness. So I write it.
And I write for those who don't get a voice. Those little characters who play the off-beat sidekick or the best friend. They deserve their life too. While everyone's watching the stars, I focus every ounce of energy on breathing life into those who are cast aside. The author for the overlooked.

• Location:Office of Creative Possibilities
• Mood: optimistic
• Music:*lawn mower outside*

Blah Blah Blah Bad Romance

Because I'm dancing erratically from stone to stone, trying to stretch the ideas so they're formed enough to mesh together, I'm losing sight of a few things. And I'm halfway through the month with 70% left of my script to finish but feeling little excitement for their dilemmas. Instead, I'm going to write some random. Why not? I want to play with this muse before he escapes me!

Forward: this his NOTHING to do with any of my stories or any movies/books/songs/media of any kind. Do I have a plan for this to be a story? No. I have ideas but this is just a blurp. So, take it what you will. BTW, I say this is complete crap but I want to at least get the basis of my scene out. Sorry for the lame description.

OMG Did That Just Inspire Me?

So, I decided to call it quits on the script. My first official participation year and I decide to label it DOA or at least put it on pause while I get up for a glass of water. It's not because I'm blocked. Okay, part of me is. I've hit a wall. The script should be a short story. Like, 30 pages short story. Not 100 minutes of screen time. Oh well. The main reason I wanted to hold off on the script is that, well, I have very active muses who dance up and down in front of me saying "please look at me! I want to be written! Please! Pretty-pretty please!" Well, Kirby wasn't. He's been my busy little muse (I think he's taken Grant's place?! --BTW, yes, I name my muse after their most memorable role in my world. This one has had several names--Kirby, Pit, Pep, Pip...but he's always known as Pipe in my heart). Kirby was a quiet, always constant, peeking around the corners at me so I knew he was there all along.
He just wouldn't fit into my script. He wouldn't and neither would any of the other muses who have skipped circles around me (they're pretty jolly, aren't they, those muses). So, my script was kind of halted because 1. I couldn't figure out what to do with the characters and 2. I was meeting a lot of other characters that needed their own stories. So, I moved to another story. Actually, the novel I was working on before April. Which came first? The script story. But regardless, the characters are still solid, they can hold off. But, after a new muse finally decided to calm down and settle in that story (after trying to give it it's own story that was mostly a series of moments) and not deciding to jump into my script, I decided to novel instead of script.
Well, that's not happening. Now, I'm kind of giddy again. Just the thrill of writing, the excitement. It's like playing house, honestly. Or like playing with dolls. I swear, that's how I got into writing. I grew up from playing house (or "soap opera" as we got older) and Barbies. Daydreaming needed to be documented and stories just happened.

But here is the email I received this afternoon that really jump-started my script mojo.
Kind of exciting.
I am SO GLAD to have these people in my life!

It's Starting Again...

I can't get him out of my mind...it starts out tinier than a minuscule grain of sand. That muse that just tickles and bubbles. But I can't figure out if I want to run with this one or not. There is so much work that needs to be done this month. Deadlines and projects. Can I put off this inspiration for a whole month? What if I play with these ideas for just a small amount of time...let them swim and wiggle...but what if I completely abandon my two major projects at the moment? What if I drop my deadlines? I can't fail but the excitement is almost starting to take affect. Now, I'm left wondering what I want to do.

Hmm...I think I'm going to play for a little while.
What can I say, I'm addicted to him right now.

Panda, as in Panda Bear

This new story is a struggle. I mean, I've had writer's block before and I've had stories that rip up my emotions but this one has it's own mess of internal issues. It came to me first by way of emotions. You can't write a book based on emotions. When all you get is that feeling coursing through your veins and the descriptions of such strong emotions, you just have to sit back and wait for the story to come to you or you have to make the conscious effort to push it in your direction. Either way, I was focused on my nano-inspired story and tried to focus my attention on one muse at a time. But in the back dark corners, this new muse kept peeking around the corner every once in a while. I'd get a glimpse of his yellow blond hair before he darted away. Until finally, he was starting to grow on me and emerge himself. There, now my story had been given a muse to play with. But what to do with him? The ideas had been swimming around my brain for months (and I do mean months) before I finally settled on a few. I found a great underlining story, a character conflict, to fuel some turmoil. Great! But none of this can actually pull together a whole novel--unless I want to amp up the conflict (which I didn't. It's character-driven, not story-driven) or make this into something small (which again, I didn't). So, I pushed through it. And lately it seems like my life would make the perfect story! But why lose that fun? I want to learn the story rather than already live it. So, I decided to play around with the ideas.
And finally it hit me. I had a perfect place for all of this to take place! It fit everything! It encompassed everything I wanted to say! But now I was stuck. I had emotions, a muse, underlining character conflicts and a place to play with them. Again, it was a bit of a waiting game. And thanks to an amazing author of mine, I found a new genre to play in. I already knew her struggles with it but decided to take it on. So now, here it goes. The characters are starting to really define themselves and I am in complete love with them.
This is exciting. This is why I write.