Today is Friday, on this day every week I edit and work on my manuscript. Let me tell you if you aren't a writer one of the hardest things to do is edit your own work. It's a daunting task of reading, rereading and just for good measure reading another 5 times. Each reading you add commas, make paragraphs for emphasis and descriptions, drop some descriptions and over all thicken the plot of evil you drop on your characters.
None of this is terribly fun. Half the time I wonder if I was awake when I wrote that thing, the other half of the time I think it is magnificent and as good if not better then Faulkner's work. Then I have a critique group peruse my creative juices to say, "that doesn't make sense", "You use to much hyperbole", "Is this a fashion show your writing?", and my favorite "that's cliche." All of these things I appreciate and think later they were so right. Damn, I guess more editing.
Then before I start my latest blog, I reread some of my posts and think, wow I should spend more time editing. Anyone who is reading this probably thinks that girls has no business writing, she can't even use proper grammar. My response: I'm saving it for my manuscript.
Ok time to get back to work. Yeah, editing!
The ups and downs of getting published. Starting with story ideas, critiques and rejection and ultimately ending in my first published novel.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Writing Contests- What's the point again
So, "They" as in the proverbial they, whoever they be say to build a platform and gather experience before sending out query letters and soliciting for agents. If I am serious about being a writer I guess I have to put myself out there and try. In March I entered a contest that I was hopeful that I would do well in. At the very least I would get some great feedback from published authors and agents in the romance genre.
So for weeks, I have been going about my life, working , writing and having fun. While in the back of my over active imagination I envisioned being a finalist. Getting a fabulous phone call requesting the rest of my manuscript. Imaginary me jumped up and down, cheeks were glowed rosy red and I was so happy. The start of my writing career was all played out in my vivid dreams.
Today I got the email. Yes, folks hold your breath in eager anticipation. Dummm, dumm, dum...
Thank you for your participation we see much pontential in your writing but you are not a finalist.
Imaginary me just jumped off a bridge. Real me stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. At least they didn't say you suck so much you should never write another word again. I wait in not so eager way for the mail person to deliver the critiques from the readers.
I tell myself this will make me a better writer, this will help me build my platform, this will be a good thing. Imaginary me is sitting under a tree throwing pencils as far as she can, waiting for the twilight sky to start burning pages to stay warm. Real me has decided to take a break. No polishing the manuscript today. I'll get back to work tomorrow.
I guess the take home message for me is I better start getting used to rejection, before the you suck letters show up.
So for weeks, I have been going about my life, working , writing and having fun. While in the back of my over active imagination I envisioned being a finalist. Getting a fabulous phone call requesting the rest of my manuscript. Imaginary me jumped up and down, cheeks were glowed rosy red and I was so happy. The start of my writing career was all played out in my vivid dreams.
Today I got the email. Yes, folks hold your breath in eager anticipation. Dummm, dumm, dum...
Thank you for your participation we see much pontential in your writing but you are not a finalist.
Imaginary me just jumped off a bridge. Real me stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. At least they didn't say you suck so much you should never write another word again. I wait in not so eager way for the mail person to deliver the critiques from the readers.
I tell myself this will make me a better writer, this will help me build my platform, this will be a good thing. Imaginary me is sitting under a tree throwing pencils as far as she can, waiting for the twilight sky to start burning pages to stay warm. Real me has decided to take a break. No polishing the manuscript today. I'll get back to work tomorrow.
I guess the take home message for me is I better start getting used to rejection, before the you suck letters show up.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Where do all the minutes go
Many writing books, magazines, articles, mentors say that if you are a writer you must writer everyday. What do you write when there just isn't anything to say? Do you talk about the long busy day you had, or that your feet hurt so bad from standing all day you wonder if you can go bare foot to work tomorrow. Maybe you work on your manuscript.
My next question is when do you do these things? Maybe you get up early before work and jot a few words down. This is not me, I love my sleep and morning already comes to early. So, maybe you write on your lunch break. Again not sure how to do that when I don't have a desk job and my manuscript is creeping in the greater than 50,000 word category. I can't just start anywhere and add later. So, maybe you write at night before bed. Most days I'm all about that. Some days though I like to watch tv, or get lost in someone else's world that they created in their novel.
Then there are night like tonight. I really would love to jump into chapter 4 and rewrite, tweak and edit but I want to sleep. Where do these people who have full time jobs, children and social lives find time to sleep? I believe in the motto "sleep when you're dead" but man as I watch my youth stretch farther behind me I think I need a nap before death finds me.
My next question is when do you do these things? Maybe you get up early before work and jot a few words down. This is not me, I love my sleep and morning already comes to early. So, maybe you write on your lunch break. Again not sure how to do that when I don't have a desk job and my manuscript is creeping in the greater than 50,000 word category. I can't just start anywhere and add later. So, maybe you write at night before bed. Most days I'm all about that. Some days though I like to watch tv, or get lost in someone else's world that they created in their novel.
Then there are night like tonight. I really would love to jump into chapter 4 and rewrite, tweak and edit but I want to sleep. Where do these people who have full time jobs, children and social lives find time to sleep? I believe in the motto "sleep when you're dead" but man as I watch my youth stretch farther behind me I think I need a nap before death finds me.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Poor Old Dogs-Grossmont College Literary Arts Festival
In my attempt to broaden my horizons and support my fellow writers I attened Grossmont College's Literary Arts Festival this week.
Wow. There are some really great writers at this school. There was lots of funny work, serious, and overwhelming thoughts erupting from these authors. A common theme among them was the old dying dog. Can any one say heartbreak.
Young college students reliving the death of their best friends, that they had since they were old enough to roll a ball in their pet's direction. It kind of make sense that the dogs they had as children would all be reaching stout ages of ancient now and passing away due to old age or diseases while their human partners were out exploring college life- beer, sex, skipping class, and top ramen for every meal.
Regardless of how the story was told, they all broke my heart. Which leads me to the lessons from this event that we all can apply to our art.
1. If you ever need a story idea you can always throw in a character who's only pal is his hienz 57 mutt, who dies. Classics like Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows and Journey of Natty Gan resonate in our memories happy moments that end in total torture for our hearts and tissue boxes. You may even win an award for all of your hard work.
2. If you feel tragedy, write about it as honestly as you can. Somebody somewhere else has felt the same way. You might just make them feel not so alone.
3. If you have children or are going to have children don't get them a pet until they are teenagers. This will help a broken heart from happening while they are away at college resulting in depressing stories in their English classes. Mine you, I write this as a long white tail brushes my feet under my kitchen table, followed by the occasional wet nose and drive by licking.
Wow. There are some really great writers at this school. There was lots of funny work, serious, and overwhelming thoughts erupting from these authors. A common theme among them was the old dying dog. Can any one say heartbreak.
Young college students reliving the death of their best friends, that they had since they were old enough to roll a ball in their pet's direction. It kind of make sense that the dogs they had as children would all be reaching stout ages of ancient now and passing away due to old age or diseases while their human partners were out exploring college life- beer, sex, skipping class, and top ramen for every meal.
Regardless of how the story was told, they all broke my heart. Which leads me to the lessons from this event that we all can apply to our art.
1. If you ever need a story idea you can always throw in a character who's only pal is his hienz 57 mutt, who dies. Classics like Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows and Journey of Natty Gan resonate in our memories happy moments that end in total torture for our hearts and tissue boxes. You may even win an award for all of your hard work.
2. If you feel tragedy, write about it as honestly as you can. Somebody somewhere else has felt the same way. You might just make them feel not so alone.
3. If you have children or are going to have children don't get them a pet until they are teenagers. This will help a broken heart from happening while they are away at college resulting in depressing stories in their English classes. Mine you, I write this as a long white tail brushes my feet under my kitchen table, followed by the occasional wet nose and drive by licking.
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