3.13. Here We Are Again

It’s that time of year again…NaNoWriMo. I am excited to start working on book 3 of my series (something I hope I actually follow through with). I was stoked to be using Scrivener until the IMAC I was using completely went to shit while I was prepping. Not exactly happy about that. So, I’m starting from scratch in terms of my prep. Everything happens for a reason so we shall see how this changes things.

Hopefully, I can stay on track and get this book done in the next 30 days amidst all of my own life drama. Here’s hoping.

Advertisements

3.1. I Write…

Because the ink is my air

And the words are my breaths.

Because it hurts to stifle the gypsies that dance in the catacombs of this mind.

Because the thirst is vampiric

Primal and raw.

Because nothing is so delicate as the clacking of keys

Stroking of pens

Slide of paper

Visions of a visionary

The bird that soars within me

Free to speak and preach and be

Free

To give and tell and share and project

Images onto the wall

Because they are real

Each character and place

The plot has happened within me

The souls linger

Begging to be recognized

Acknowledged .

Forget the rest. This is not about poetics but the dream within the dream that runs from a brutal reality of living nightmares.

This is my ladder out of the dark hole. This is my rope of redemption. Pulling myself from the grave I was shoved into from the womb.

Because of a family tree that has rotted and withered in the darkness of secrets.

Because I want to be more than a dealer, a player, a con, a liar, a manipulator, a thief, a criminal, a user, an abuser.

Because these words are the seeds to plant new trees.

Of shade and fruit

That will bare the souls of stories and stories of souls.

Because my son will NEVER go to sleep hungry.

Because my son will NEVER know the shame of monopoly money.

Because my son will NEVER hide in a school bathroom, stifling his own cries within a stall as the remnants of their words bloom into scars upon the fleshy self-esteem they devour.

Because my son will NEVER will never be asked to be a part of the con so tomorrow can be easier. And I still wonder if those debilitating migraines stem from her wicked demands of bashing a broken piece of wall against my adolescent skull because “you’ve got to make it believable so we can sue.”

Because my son will NEVER curl his toes to fit into a shoe two sizes too small while I live lavishly.

Because it is my job to use what I know, those voices, those stories, that pain, and the creative juices that flow through my veins like the blood that trickles from their lips to make something beautiful.

To keep a promise that his tomorrow will be the rainbow to all of my yesterdays.

Because the pain of my past is worth the glory of his future.

Because I will make this life count.

Because I will build the foundation of his greatness.

Because he will NEVER know those types of tears.

My hands slam against the keys with purpose.

With conviction.

Because my hands will do for him what no hands have ever done for me.

I write…

Because I have to.

2.45. 38 Days (Camp NaNoWriMo Journey)

2 and a half hours in and I am at a road block.

I came up with the idea for my current piece on August 29, 2011. 38 days after my father passed away.

Now, here I am, 21 days from the two year anniversary of my fathers death and I am incorporating the father figure into the project. There is a phone call. A voicemail. A dropping of a phone. Panic. Screaming and a collapse in a hallway. Crying. So much crying.

I chose to use my memories of those moments to describe the call the main character gets concerning her father…

And this where I am stuck. Because, although I’d like to think I’m healing, thinking about those moments makes me relive them. And it makes me want to cry. And I want to scream and claw at my assistant manager and beg her to bring my father back all over again. I want to ask a guy I would normally ignore (my old DM) to please tell me it was a lie.

I am there. Avoiding their eyes…those looks of pity. I am there. Calling home, desperately. Hearing my sisters voice break. Hearing her say those words. I am there. Calling my fathers cell in hopes he will answer one last time. That he will call me “babe.”

I am there. Unmounting my tv so I could pawn it to fly home. Feeling hopeless and stranded. I am there…flooded with support of distant friends who flocked to me to help me fly. Looking at my son and feeling like he lost out. He will never have a memory of my father. His grandfather. He will never call him by some cute nickname. He will never hear an I love you from him.

I am there. Drowning in wine because I wanted to be numb so fucking badly. And yet, the alcohol did nothing. I am there, getting a tattoo for my papa bear. Grasping at anything that would bring me back. Bring what we had back.

I am there…in that driveway. When the floodgates opened and I couldn’t walk into my sisters house. Sitting on the back patio. Making my way inside and down that hall. And getting stuck. Not able to face it. The empty room that smelled of my father. Locking myself in that room and breaking down completely like I never have before. Dying.

I am there. Every second replays and I am cold.

I am here. considering re-outlining this part of the story and omitting the father. The father I molded from my own. Because I wanted to immortalize him. Because I wanted people to love this character just half as much as I loved my father. So the world could know his spirit through these words.

I am stuck. Because I NEED to write this. Because I always said I wanted to be a writer but my father never got to see me start. Because I waited too long. Because I have to heal. As much as here is painful in these moments…there…there is something that kills me.

I need my father.

2.44. A Night With The Muse

Have to be up at 6am to get ready for work. Reading in bed (How To Talk To A Widower by Jonathan Tropper) and I decided sleep just wasn’t for me tonight. Coffee brewing…here goes…

12:27am – Started this post. Smoking a cigarette and listening to Placebo – Running Up That Hill (GREAT SONG!!!!)

1:04am – Have to butcher, massacre, annihilate, slaughter, vaporize 68 pages of raw material, paragraphs, dialogue, ideas I have stored for almost 3 years in order to be ready for Camp NaNoWriMo in 8 days. Replaying Placebos Running Up That Hill because the song fits the mood of the piece so well thus far. Even quoted a few of the lyrics. Don’t know how that works but I think if the character is relating to them in a tense moment…I should include them. Sometimes music is the strongest dialogue for a situation. It will just have to work for right now. Back to it.

1:43am – Listening to Toxic by Cheesa. Just deleted (still saved in another file in case I regret that choice) 1,111 words. Recorded 458 new words to be used.  Don’t know how I feel about the new piece but would rather record it now than wait til the 1st (some rules must be bent if I’m going to get this thing done). Not feeling awesome about where Earth came from but it will just have to work for the moment until I can think of something better. Refuse to get stuck on a tiny detail. Have a bad habit of doing that and not finishing pieces so I’m just going to continue and worry about that during editing. Hope that’s the right decision. Radioactive by Imagine Dragons

1:52am – Oh shit…I need more coffee!!! Open Heart Surgery (Epic Love Song!!!)

2:12am – Did I mention I work a 10 hour shift today…this may not have been a smart decision but it does feel great to be writing right now. Johnny Cash – God Is Gonna Cut You Down 

2:14am – Angel Massive Attack

2:27am – Listening to Antichrist Superstar – Marilyn Manson. STILL love this entire Album. Dried Up, Tied and Dead To The World So far I have gotten past 97% of my road blocks pertaining to this piece. I am pretty sickly excited about it. On my second huge cup of coffee and sipping water between. I should probably eat at some point but don’t feel like moving from the computer. I know that I should leave all of the new material for the 1st but the whole point of me participating in Camp this year is to make this novel happen. If I say, “nope gotta wait” I’m standing in my own way again and I really refuse to do that. So screw it, I’m going to write and keep pushing myself and if the muse comes to me every damn day before Camp starts and every day after…I’m gonna write. Guilt free.

2:32am – Word Count of Deleted Material – 2,297 Words. Word Count of Kept/New Material – 2,851

2:55am – Eating Corn Chips…feeling a little tired but still going. Work in 4 hours – CAN’T SLEEP NOW! Mind as well make the most of my time.

3:07am – I am not an accomplished writer. I work 40 hours a week at a job. It is not my passion. It pays my bills. A huge part of my soul fights the day to day grind I live. My soul refuses to believe I was born to do this. To have a job and go through each day just living to work. Working to live. No passion behind it all. And I ask myself…what is the difference between me and someone accomplished. The thriving artist and the artist who touches the dream? My opinion…the time we spend on the craft. If I can spend 40 hours a week doing something I don’t love to pay my bills…why am I not spending 40 hours a week doing something I DO LOVE to make my dreams come true?

3:40am – Just got complicated and I don’t know if I fixed the jumble/overlap/contradiction/too many damn characters involved/whatever the hell just happened for things to make sense. In my outline, I wanted two characters to be responsible for something but in my original notes, I wanted two others to be responsible so I had to adjust and…like I said…don’t know if I did it successfully or if I just made a confusing hot mess but it’s almost 4am and I don’t feel like making my brain hurt or to discourage myself so I’m just going to say tis good for now and keep going…think I need more coffee…damn I should probably have slept…did I mention I have to work a 10 hour shift today. This day may just suck hardcore.

4:47am – Wish I didn’t have to go to work today. Not because I’m tired. Because I’d love to spend the next 10 hours writing.

4:59am – 3,216 deleted thus far in edits. Damn that’s major.

5:02am – Just got a text from one of my favorite people. Slacking and talking on the phone.

5:36am – Still on the phone…looks like the writing is over for the night.

6:14am – Getting ready for work. What a great night.

1.186 – Dream Catcher Page 1

You’re probably not going to believe anything I’m about to tell you. Reflecting on it all, I realize it is quite the story; a story that is almost impossible to believe. Evidence sets the validity of any tale; documentation that makes everything appears crystal clear. On this occasion, there is no concrete evidence. If you stick around, I’ll explain why that is, later on. Personal accounts can also be helpful, although no one is left to tell this story. No one except me. So, it’s really up to you whether you want to believe this story as truth. But, I will warn you now; no matter what you believe, there is a war happening and I am your only soldier.

*

While the masses argue over the hypothetical existence of heaven and hell, my kind is stuck in the ongoing battle to protect the tangible, the reality of the mind. In every cerebral computer, there is a functioning gateway, which allots so many visits to and from a place solely known as The Dreamscape.

More on this place later.

In the same way, the darkness of nightmares has its own portal, somewhere left of wonder and right of empty thought. However, in order for you to understand what’s at stake, you have to open your mind to everything you thought was fiction; revealing itself in the very beginning, to the moments, though few in number, before the war began.

And so, this story does not begin on the battlefields of earth amongst the untouchables in their times of triumph and defeat but on a young girls opening day into the journey of a lifetime. 

1.170 – #WordMongering Or Camp NaNoWriMo Day 2

Time to hit the page.

7:54pm – Haven’t done any writing today. About to do some wordmongering (some term I just learned about via Twitter) on the hour. Watching the end of Beauty and The Beast with my son, on a full belly of home made tacos. Got a desk today from a friend so my computer is no longer sitting on the floor. Yay for that. So…apparently, for the #wordmongering thing – you write from the hour to the half and then record your word count. Anything to help the creativity flow. I’ll update at the half and let you know what I think of the process.

8:37pm – Okay, #wordmongering is epic! Got 1409 words in 30 minutes. Great to hear people cheer you on after a rush. This might just be my way to go. I’m definitely supporting this.

8:58pm – Ready for the next round of wordmongering.

9:31pm – Holy Crap! 1608 words in that #wordmongering session. I’m a believer for sure. If you are doing any sort of writing challenge, do it in this fashion. It’s totally giving me room to just get these ideas out and develop them as I slam the words. Loving it.

9:58pm – I think this might be my last round for the night. Starting to get a headache.

10:32pm – 1272 on my last run. I think I’m done for the night.

Shout out to @JaseR75, @MonicaMarieV, @DanniM86, @GirlWriter, and  @Kymele for being supportive fellow writers, great tweeps and kickass cheerleaders!

1.169 – NaNo Day 1 Continued

Technically, still on day one of CampNaNoWriMo. Yes, I’m going to actually fill this blog with a whole useless series of my NaNo journey. At some point, if I have the courage, I will share some excerpts and research that I’ve come across through the process. But for right now – I’ve come to a few conclusions.

  1. Staying up all night before an expected ten hour shift is a BAD idea.
  2. I should learn to read slower.
  3. Never tell another writer your candid idea – what they will do is give their two cents on what you should do despite the fact that they themselves admit that they can’t handle writing 1700 words a day. They will also walk around and tell anyone and everyone who will listen about your idea and how their suggestion is fucking awesome.
  4. Never expect your friends to act like they care at all about your work. The fake smiles and half-hearted questions don’t show interest when they come off as obligation.
  5. Don’t assume everyone you talk to is your friend, even if they swear up and down that they want to be.
  6. Ordering pizza is awesome.
  7. Pepsi doesn’t taste as good as it used to.
  8. I’m scared that I’m spending my “prime” trying to get out of a shitty ordeal and by the time I get away from all of this baggage…no one will like anything about me. Not that anyone does now.
  9. I have really low self esteem.
  10. I’m tired of hoping.
  11. MY MAIN CHARACTER STILL DOESN’T HAVE A NAME!
  12. People will agree to anything you say on a topic they know nothing about because they would rather have your opinion than their own.
  13. People don’t care about art anymore. I am beginning to think they never did. 
  14. God hates me and the feeling is still mutual. I just happen to be writing a book about him.

End of day 1 word count – 4429

Follow me on twitter for more useless updates – @CerebralOMG

1.168 – The All-Nighter

This post will follow me through my first all-night writing-fest for CampNaNoWriMo. Obviously, it will take me all night to write it but I thought it would be fun to share my thoughts as they happen. So here goes.

10:09pm – I know I will regret this choice in about 5 hours. I have to work at my new job from 7-noon and my old job from 12:30 to 5:30. I cannot even fathom how many cups of coffee I will consume in the next 24 hours. Why am I doing this? Well, besides the fact that CampNaNoWriMo starts in less than two hours…my son and I took a really late nap today. It’s not like I can just go to sleep and leave my son unattended. So as long as he’s up, I have to be up. By the time I get him down for the night, it may be after midnight and by then…sleep is just a lost cause. I’m also one of those people that hits snooze in my deepest of sleep until I have surpassed the time I was supposed to get up, which I cannot risk since I have to do five hours of computer training starting at the crack of fucking dawn. I’m already grumpy about this. But here’s hoping that my mind will be distracted as of midnight. Time to save draft. I’ll be checking in soon, kbye.

11:08pm – Went on a coffee run, yay for Starbucks double-shots in a can. Less than an hour until CampNaNoWriMo starts. Wondering how many words I can get in before my eyes go cross. Save Draft.

12:03am – AND GO! Save draft.

12:21am – Just realized my main character (MC) has no fucking name! Seriously. In outlining, I apparently left that thought out. Dumbass. Save Draft.

12:41am – 681 words down…a lot to go. Smoke Break! Save draft.

1:26am – Moving right along. Surprised my Twitter has very little discussion of CampNaNoWrimo on it. I really need to connect with more writers. Using strikethrough instead of deleting the nonsense on the page. I find that there are always hidden gems in the crap. Yes, my shit has gold in it. HAH. Listening to KRS-One. About 4 hours until I have to start getting ready for work. Need to refill my coffee. May consider another smoke break. Save Draft.

2:06am – My son refuses to sleep so I am bribing him with an episode of Blues Clues so he will sit still. That’s what I get for taking a really late nap. My cabin mates, a group of people you are assigned to for CampNaNoWriMo (kinda like a forum) don’t talk and one has already left. Beautiful. Think I might just drop the whole cabin participation because I hate being disappointed that I am the only person who bothered to say hello. Damn kids. Stumbled upon people tweeting about JuNoWriMo, which is apparently not the same as CampNaNoWriMo. I’m not about to start looking into that now since I can barely keep track of where I’m at right now. Someone better read this shit since I’m sharing, by the way, lol. A little shocked to not find as many people willing to talk about their journey and ideas. Damn you tweeters, stop writing and say something. HAH. Okay, back to the grind. Save Draft.

2:26am – Sleep just slapped me in the face and I came back with coffee and booty-shaking music. Yeah sleep, screw your face.

2:36am – These poptarts taste like shit! WTF!

2:50am – BITCHFEST ALERT: Feel free to deem me a miserable person based on this one part of this post: I am in the middle of my writing sprint and I get a random IM on Facebook from someone I really don’t even talk to who continuously plugs his sorry ass attempts at tattooing. At 2:50 in the fucking morning, you want to IM me and ask me if I need ink…WTF makes you think I would let you remotely touch my body and put something permanent on me? I get it, you’re learning. NOT ON ME, you’re not. Keep that shit moving, I don’t care how cheap it is. In tattooing, you get what you pay for and I’m willing to pay up for good ink. Period.

4:28am – The sprint rages on.

4:56am – I’ve hit a wall and somehow got preoccupied with So You Think You Can Dance videos on Youtube. Happy I’m at 2234 words. Wish I didn’t have to start getting ready for work in thirty minutes.

5:39am – Regretfully, I have to stop writing for now. Time to get ready for Job 1 for the day. Need to pick up a cup of coffee on my way in. Then job #2 at 12:30pm. Should be home around 6pm and then it’s a chill weekend with my son. Will probably spend tonight in a coma. Word Count thus far is 2910 so I technically don’t have to write again until tomorrow. We shall see.

If anyone reads this and chooses to comment, is the timeline of the process interesting or too chaotic/boring? I’ve enjoyed writing it, feels like I have a friend to talk to through the process but not sure if it’s worth reading. Hit me up, honesty counts for something.

Much Love, Sky.

1.167 – A Career vs. A Dream

Camp NaNoWrimo starts in a little over a day.

I’ll be the first to say that I’m taking on a pretty ambitious project. Not only is the topic and style outside of my realm of comfort but the timing really couldn’t be worse. Between transitioning jobs, taking care of my two year old, and actively working to nullify my marital status…yeah, my schedule and brain capacity are beyond occupied.

BUT

I feel like I need this. To focus my energy toward something positive. To focus on my passion and allow myself time in my day to hone my craft. To do something, this one thing, for myself without guilt.

I’m sure I will be ripping my hair out in less than a week. But I refuse to quit. Just as I finished NaNoWriMo in November 2011, I am confident that I have the ability to complete this challenge. The bigger question is whether or not I have the passion to do it. Knowing you can do something is a far cry from wanting to go the extra mile.

I am starting this journey with a different viewpoint from the last challenge. I actually sat down the other day and asked myself if I should continue writing or put away the pen and focus on something tangible. Now, I know I just said I wasn’t going to quit and I want to work on my craft. A sentence later, I’m saying I have considered throwing in the towel.

I’m a double sided coin with two feelings about this challenge. I feel like a contestant on some cooking show. I’m doing this because I feel like I need to test if this is for me anymore. If this is what fills me with passion. The only way to know is to jump into the pool and decide whether I have the natural instinct to swim or sink with no struggle.

So here’s hoping at the end of June…I will reach one of two conclusions and stick with it.

  1. Accept defeat, let go of the dream and start a career.
  2. Take the ignited fire and run with the dream until I reach paradise.

Here’s to figuring things out.

1.163 – Unfair Game

This week is a busy one. Between my son getting hospitalized, deciding to do Camp NaNoWriMo, and leaving my job in four days…I’m tired. But, life goes on and so shall I. My son is doing a million times better. I’ve made my choice for my June novel and I think I’m starting my new job on Sunday. On that last one…I’m actually not sure when my first day is, which can be a little bit scary. Here’s hoping I’m working this time next week.

Now that my son is better, my main focus is on this upcoming project. It’s really all I can think about. This is definitely what I needed. I was excited about Novembers NaNoWriMo but this one feels different. Do I think this is my big break? No. But I feel a sense of pride in knowing that I am not second guessing whether or not I should do this. I am excited to create more new material to work with rather than staying in the safe zone of hovering over a piece I don’t even have the courage to edit. I’m thrilled to be trying something new.

On a side note: I had an interaction with a guy today in which I was in my safe zone because he was being a pretty big smart ass. (This was not a prospect in any way: I’m in no position to be dating and though I don’t enjoy the thought of being alone, I know dating some random is not going to fill the voids I have). Yes, he was attractive in a bad-boy sort of way. I could handle the smart ass, it makes me feel at home. But then he did something I didn’t see coming. He acted nice.

I know. I’m an asshole. I get freaked out when a guy is nice to me. It does one of two things to me, actually. A) I think he’s mocking me somehow so I feel stupid and I shut down or B) I turn up the notch on the bitch factor so that I don’t enjoy anything I am convinced I will eventually lose.

I went with B. I was a royal bitch/smart ass to the max. He hung well with it for the time we carried conversation but when he said bye, the tone changed. Like he was disappointed or something. Like, he didn’t want it to end like that. But it did. And now we will never see each other again. And I feel terribly guilty. Not because I think something could have blah blah blah. But because I intentionally came off like a untouchable to someone who was trying to get to know me, even for a moment. I didn’t do it because he wasn’t my type. I didn’t do it because his humor annoyed me. I did it because…I’m so fucking scared…I don’t want anyone to get close.

I totally went through the predator/prey complex today. I was the predator. I won. But I think I lost.