So It Goes

So It Goes.  It’s what Vonnegut said about death in Slaughterhouse Five.  I’m not writing about a death — I hope — but it was at least a long coma.

If you peek at the date of my last post, you’ll see it was a little over a year ago.  Yes, a year.  I wish I could say that I’ve been too busy writing to blog.  Not so.  I’ve been busy being busy.  Life gets in the way…can’t find time to write…writer’s block…the same old tired excuses.  Bottom line, I really haven’t been a writer for the past couple years.  So it goes.

But the writer in me isn’t dead.  He’s been in hibernation, sulking in the back corner of my psyche waiting for me to stop sulking in the front corner of my psyche.  It’s been a rough couple years for me, no doubt.  It’s been tough to focus on anything at all, let along writing.  So it goes.

I find myself at the precipice of a lot of change.  I have a new job in a new city which means a new house which means unloading the old house (hey, wanna buy a house?) and uprooting my child which means altering the custody schedule. Good thing I have all this time during summer break to get things taken care of.  Right, time.  Why doesn’t there seem to be any? So it goes.

As every writer knows, time isn’t something you find, it’s something you make.  I was horrified when I realized that I hadn’t made any time for anything writing related short of conventions (another topic for another post).  So today I changed that.  I started small, with a few little flash fiction submissions (one reprint and two unpublished gems I had lying around).  I had to really scratch my head just to recall how to write a cover letter.  Three little stories in the wind for a few weeks/months.  And suddenly the ekg attached to this comatose writer made a little blip.  So it goes.  Or so it comes?

Yes, I need to return to actually writing to really resurrect myself as a writer.  That’s coming.  Directly.  But much like a coma patient with atrophied musculature, I can’t just leap out of bed and start typing a marathon.  I have to make sure I remember how to walk, then jog, then maybe some running.  Even just sitting up on the bed feels good. Time to see what the floor feels like under my feet.

Let’s see how this goes.

Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself…

Wow, yesterday was huge on this blog.  I don’t recall ever receiving so many hits or so many comments.  I feel like a celebrity.  I know I’m not, but I feel like one.  I’m sure the curiosity over the new WotF stud (term used very loosely) will die down quickly.  I’m sure Laurie’s getting more of this than I am.  Lael would be getting a lot of attention, too, if anyone knew how to find him.

But with the incoming swarm, I decided I should offer a little more content than “me, me, me.”  I do that from time to time.  I should update my “useful posts” links so people know that.  Anyway, I decided — upon seeing it mentioned in blogs and message boards elsewhere — to comment on the perceived weakness of leaving stories unfinished.

Heinlein’s second rule of writing is to finish what you write.  Who am I to argue with Heinlein?  He’s Heinlein, for crying out loud.  So I won’t argue, rather offer my interpretation.  My slow, erosion-like interpretation.

I’ve discovered recently that I am susceptible to writer’s block.  I think I catch it from my students, though theirs seems to be a plague-caliber strain of homework block.  They need to vaccinate for this.  When it catches me, it usually means there’s something wrong with the story I’m trying to write and my subconscious writer is acting like a seeing eye dog and saving me from venturing further into danger.  (I’ve commented on specific cases in earlier posts.)  Those kinds of blocks are good for me.  They’re pains to get past, but they are good.  It suggests I’m an even better writer than I think I am (and with the swelled head I’ve gotten from WotF, that’s saying something).

For example, I intended my WotF story, “Poison Inside the Walls” to end with my protagonist making a huge discovery about the nature of her alien enemies and gain enlightenment and return home to try changing her society.  I kept stalling in the process.  It was a beautiful story idea, but it wasn’t the story I was writing.  The story wasn’t about the aliens, it was about the protagonist and her family.  Spending  four to five thousand words on the aliens at this point (which was what it was becoming) was going to rob the story of its power and bore whatever readers had been interested enough in the story to get that far.  So I set it aside while I stewed on it, eventually isolating the protag and letting the alien inspire her ultimate decisions.

Stewing on a story is like letting the dishes soak in the sink, it can soften things up but don’t leave it too long or it rusts.  I probably have a rusted story or two that have been stewing way too long.  I have others getting close.  I have a story on the complacency of religion that needs something I can’t quite place…maybe a stronger speculative aspect to suit my taste.  I have another that I’ve painted with too much culture and not enough theme, to the point that I’m having trouble recalling the theme.  (Maybe I’ll do a post on my definition of “theme” sometime soon.)  One of my most promising novels (yes, I have a half dozen brewing…shame on me) stalled out because I got to part of the story I didn’t really care about.  So why write that part?  Well, it’s an important part of the coming-of-age story; I just need to find a way to make me care about it.

So yes, it is important to finish a story.  If it ain’t finished, it ain’t a story.  If you have no stories, you ain’t a writer.  But it doesn’t have to get finished right away if you’re willing to return to it with fresh eyes later, be it a week or a month later.  It works for me, so far.  In the interest of full disclosure, I hate this system.  I want to be able to start the story, work on the story, finish the story, then move on to the next.  So far, my process doesn’t work that way.  I’m hoping the crucible of Clarion will help me with this.  But for now, I’m slowly cranking out stories I’m proud of, one postponement at at time.

Found gem

I’m back to school.  The weather has been shortening the days (too cold for bus stops) and Thursday’s supposed to bring snow (yay!), but I’m back nonetheless.  Back to having difficulty finding time to write.

I tried to get a start on the 3000 words I resolved to write this (and every) week by reading the stump I had of a story.  This story I’ve worked on for maybe 3-4 years now.  The science comes from an idea my father had.  It took a while for him to explain it to me and a whole lot longer for me to figure out how to make it a story.  Every time I’d get some momentum going on the story, I’d hit a wall.  Those walls stayed in my way until I forgot what the wall was, read it through, and got rolling again.  Hence the long gestation.

Well, I read and was thrilled with the opening scene (save a few small touchups I couldn’t resist adjusting).  It was awesome.  Then I read the next scene: great tension and emotion.  Next scene, well-layed monkey wrench.  Now the plot was rolling.  Next scene, tension built, things spiralling out of control for the characters.  Everything I had was outstanding (if I do say so myself).

So what wall had I hit?  I had tried to keep the story rolling, keep spinning the characters out of control the same way for another few thousand words.  The same kind of chaos.  It wasn’t working.  The story was naturally trying to bring itself to an end (at just over 7500 words) and I was fighting to keep it going.

So I just put it out of its misery and let it close where it was.  It didn’t leave the main character in quite as much anguish and turmoil as I had wanted, but he was pretty gosh darned miserable.  Not a happy ending.  And how many of my 3000 new words did I write?  273.  I was 273 words away from the end of my story and I didn’t even know it.

I think I can attribute part of this epiphany to George R.R. Martin.  I’m currently reading A Game of Thrones in which Martin really finds ways to heap the crapola atop his protagonists.  But the pile on their heads only gets so thick before he changes flavors.  I wasn’t doing that.  But I knew the story wasn’t going to end on an up-note and I knew my protagonist was on a pretty doggone low note, so I just let it end through a final act of self destruction.  (No one dies, though.)

I may not keep this ending as written.  I probably won’t.  It lacks some subtlety and it’s almost 2AM, so I’m sure there are flaws I don’t see, but that’s a matter of revision now.  Revision is more artistic than the delivery-room process of writing is for me.  I have a very sturdy draft at last.  Now I can get some sleep.

Only 2727 words left to go this week!  Come on snow days!

Pulling myself together

It’s amazing how real life can get in the way of writing.  More astounding is when real life gets in the way of real life that was already interfering with my writing.

Case and point: the bout of illness that has struck my house like the plague.  I got sick and got behind grading papers.  My wife got sick and I couldn’t catch up grading papers.  I got sick again and got way behind grading papers.  Through all this, there was no time for writing.  Heck, I had trouble finding time for little things like sleeping and eating and pooping (yep, I said it).  What little I did manage to write was always trite, cliche, and totally directionless because I couldn’t find time to think, to plan.  Bottom line: no production in two months.  None worth keeping, anyway.

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.  I hit slumps periodically, often longer than a couple months.  There was one year where I only finished one story (but tinkered on all my half-baked novels).  One.  I don’t even recall which story it was.  But I came back from that stronger than I had been when I slumped.  Maybe I’m in for another of those rebounds.  Maybe.

The family seems to be on the mend, myself included, and the papers are almost caught up, just in time for the end of the fall semester.  I already did Christmas (so to speak) with my parents when they came to town for my daughter’s birthday, so that’s one Christmas distraction I can avoid.  There are always others, but it looks like I can finagle some quality writing time during this semester break.  I’ll be scurrying like a rat on the Titanic for the rest of the week while finals are going on, but at least there is light at the end of the tunnel.  Time for a deep breath and a system reset.  Time to be a writer again.

I suspect I’m not the only part-time writer, full-time flunky that gets in these jams.  They’re natural.  Stressful situations are good for a writer.  I hope to use mine, build on it, make my stories deliver the kind of I-can’t-escape-the-vortex stress that I’ve been battling.  Ironic that I need that stress to settle before I can create it in fiction.  It shouldn’t be that way, I should be able to write through the hurricane.  I’m not that organized…yet.  It will come.  It will take a lot of work, but I’ll get there.  Right now, writing is my hobby and hobbies have to take a back seat to jobs that bring home pork products.  I need to be a better teacher in order to be a better writer.  No, that’s not true.  I need to be a more productive teacher in order to be a more productive writer.  Production comes from organization, not chaos.

I simply have to get my $#!+ together.

-Oso

My Writing Must Have Made Karma Unhappy

If it’s not one thing, it’s three others.  Now that my wife is finally starting to emerge from her bout with pneumonia, I seem to be battling it (or some close cousin, perhaps bad bronchitis).  I just pray my daughter doesn’t get it.  This clearly seems contagious.

Needless to say, I have gotten no writing done.  None.  It’s been a month and a half (I think) since significant words were added to one of my stories.  It’s just really tough to focus when I’m trying not to drown in my own phlegm.  (Too much?)

I have decided, however, that I should try to resurrect an older story in time for the WotF Q1 deadline.  “Thinking Out Loud” was a promising old story that I didn’t write from the correct POV.  I have since rewritten it (at least parts) from every character’s POV.  That’s right, all eight characters from the original story (there was a ninth, but pure cardboard set-dressing).  The idea was to rotate through all eight POVs when they were most important to the story.  That proved a touch exhausting (though still a cool idea, just not for these characters).  The next idea was to cycle through the four original antagonists.  Better, but I found I was only really interested in one of them.

So now I plan to rewrite the story just from this interesting character’s largely unsympathetic POV, changing a few plot points (more monkey wrenches in the works) and tweaking some characters (make some more exaggerated), all in about a month that includes Christmas and my daughter’s third birthday.  After that, I plan to pull a rabbit out of my…

In an effort to make this blog more educational and less personal, I hope to highlight some of my story wrestling here.  For instance, I have gotten away from outlines almost completely.  Soon I will explore the possibility that this is a causal factor of my current block (that and phlegm).  A no-brainer, but a boy has to sort out his issues somewhere.

Eventually.

-Oso

Too Tired to Type

The ideas are rolling around in my brain.  New ones, mind you, not solid finishes to any of my countless works in progress.  But I try to follow my inspiration.  Unfortunately my fingers and my subconscious can’t get together on this one.

My wife has pnemonia and I’ve been Mr. Mom the past week, so I’m pretty darned pooped.  My daughter is pretty demanding of attention, though I am happy to be the parent lavishing that attention.  She’s a momma’s girl.  Anyway, between attending my daughter, caring for my wife (who doesn’t seem to be improving and I’m starting to fear hospitalization is in order), teaching, andlosing the battle to keep the house halfway clean (not my forte), I am very tired.  I find my free time spent decompressing with a game control in hand or asleep.  I want to write (I have a little vampire-funeral story begging for keyboard time) but I can’t seem to construct seentences, just ideas.

I write here trying to remind myself what it feels like.  But it’s 1:30 in the morning and writing isn’t happening anyway.  I guess I just wanted to share my frustration with the net at large.  Thanks for listening.  Therapy session complete.

Night all.

Getting out and pushing

brainlogoThe writing machine has run out of gas.  No words are pouring through the fingers to the keyboard, no stories are progressing.  So what do you do when you’re out of gas?  Get out and push.  And I’ve got a shove that will either gdet me going or get me run over by my own vehicle.

Several other writers have mentioned the flash fiction contest over at Brain Harvest.  I decided (yesterday) that I am going to write a new story and get into that contest by the deadline of…tomorrow.  How hard can it be to write a 750-word story in a day?  Ha!

It’s not so much about winning the contest, it’s about clearing the fuel lines so I can start producing again.  So far I am part wa through my first attempt, placing me at about 1500-words.  Yikes!  I had planned to write the story then go back through for heavy cutting, but I may have gone too far here.  It’s tough to put a unique twist on story’s from Strange Horizons’ dreaded cliche list in so few words.

So maybe I’ll wander back to the list and think a little more.  I will get this done.  I must.  Then I’ll repair a few other stories and get my submission list back up to snuff.  I don’t even have my WotF submission ready to go.  Not long ago I had a line of manuscripts ready for that envelope.  Time to be a writer again.  Otherwise, why am I here?

Not as bad as I thought

A while back I startedrevising “Leech Run” from both ends and had a little trouble when those ends met in the middle.  That was when I put it aside.  Going back over it helped me realize that it wasn’t that bad.  I still have a decision to make about Titan’s actions (whether to reveal them or not), but otherwise I think I ironed most of it out.  It wasn’t so bad.  A lot of the fixing I needed to do was fixing my previous fixes.

It wasn’t quite the task I imagined it to be so my revision notes are only half the coup against writer’s block that I hoped they would be.  I’ll hit the keyboard with those revisions tomorrow.  Little by little, it’s all coming back.  I knew it would.

Getting around the block

It’s official: I am blocked.  Not a bowel thing, I’m talking writer’s block.  Several different stories I have tried to work on recently have all come to a screeching halt.  

Part of it is probably my distraction from having so many stories out.  I’ve never had so many under consideration, especially stuff I really believed had a shot at selling.  My quality has gone up of late (I think) and maybe I’m expecting too much of myself.  Like Mur says, I am allowed to suck.  Easier said than done.  

So what am I going to do about it?  In the past, switching stories has tended to unblock me.  I dug out an older story based on an idea my father pushed on me.  I read it last night and was pleased with what I had, but it was only half done.  It had gone through a lot of iterations to get where it is now and it’s ready for an ending (and a middle).  I’ve already tapped away at it.  While I still don’t feel like I’m producing grade-A prose, I’m reasonably happy with the way it’s progressing.  I’ll work on it a lot tonight; I’m aiming to add 2000 words before bed.  I seldom get large chunks of keyboard time.

My hope is that finishing this story will open up some creative juices for at least one of my other works in progress.  There are quite a few.

  • Untitled sound story (that’s the one I’m picking up now)
  • Untitled mother vs. daughter story 
  • Leech Run — story that got me waitlisted for CW, but my rewrite stalled out
  • Untitled female warrior story
  • Thinking Out Loud — military experiment story
  • All my novels: Honor by Proxy, untitled YA space novel, Tones of Magic, Eversio and Podera, The Legend of Eversio (prequel), untitled space comedy…  It’s a wonder I ever finish anything.

With all these options to work on, surely I can get something written.  I’ll keep everyone posted.  In the meantime, I’d love to hear other people’s writer’s block stories and how you’ve gone about beating it.  

-Oso