Every Little Ritual

Every writer has their own way to get in the zone. Some need to have their space set up just so. A certain order of events might have to happen for others. It’s a sacred ritual that many writers rely on, and I’m no exception.

I don’t have to have my writing space just so, I can write either at my desk or scattered across the kitchen table. I’ve also been known to nest into my easy chair with files and folders and papers spread all around me. I tote around my current WIP every where I go. Each space has to have a set order and its own unique ritual before I can pull the story from the Library.

My tools also have to be just right. I can’t use just any pencil, it must be mechanical with a rubber grip, size 5 lead, on the wide side with the clicker on the end and a good eraser. Not one of those rubber bits that just smug the lead, but a good one. I have to have wide ruled loose leaf paper. I also have to have a good red ink pen. Not one of those gel pens that smear if you don’t let it dry long enough. I like roller ball pens but they have to be reliable. I can’t sit there scratching waiting for it to warm up.

One thing that is universal in all my writing locations is the order in which I write. The first thing I write up is my goal list. What do I want to accomplish this time? Do I need to research anything? What other things do I need to write before I can start my WIP? Then I start on the smaller projects. A blog post, say, or a short story maybe. After that I dive into some research, but I only research the items I need to know for that writing session. Then, and only then, can I start the novel.

Oh My, What Have I Done

I woke in a panic this morning. It’s not hugely unheard of. Actually, I tend to wake in a panic more often then not. But that’s beside the point. This morning set me flying from bed before my eyes were open. Why? Tomorrow is the first meeting of my new writers group and I’m not as prepared as I would like.

Oh, I have a very good idea of how I want it to go. I’ve outlined and listed and contemplated it all. Or so I had thought…

The main topic is Motivation. It seems fitting enough as a good first topic. Finding the motivation to sit down and write. Without motivation, nothing would ever get down except dream a little about the idea of writing.

I figured I’d say a little bit on motivation, why it’s important, how to find your personal motivation, the keys to unlock the next door so to speak. Maybe do up a couple little things to help find, promote and grow motivation. Then turn the topic over to the group to discuss. That sounds pretty good. Yet, that’s all I have and I’m running out of time.

I have no idea what I’m going to say in regards to the topic, no little exercises in mind. Nothing but the idea of what I’d like to cover. Yeah, that’s not going to get my very far.

I’m also scared out of my left sock about the whole deal. What if I totally F it up? What if I come across as a know-it-all without a clue? What if no one shows up and I’m sitting there with a table of goodies; the fodder to small town gossip? What if everyone shows up and I’m standing there, being stared at and freeze up, turn blue even? Gah, this is messing with my head!

But despite all that, I’m really looking forward to it. And truth be told, I know, in some small little bit of my mind, that I’ll pull it all together in the nick of time, that people will show up, I won’t sound stupid and all I really need to do is have a few topic starters in mind and let the rest unfold. This is a group after all, not a lecture. This is where like minded people come together to share their knowledge and help each other grow as writers no matter what leg of the journey they happen to be on.

So, I’m going to sit back, have another cup of coffee and finish watching the sun rise. Tomorrow will be just fine. And if no one shows, well, I’ll have a nice long block of time to write, and a bunch of goodies to stuff my face with.

To Battle a Mirror

This has got to be the hardest thing I’ve ever set out to do.

I’ve driven across the country with less then $400, a 3 month old baby and an injured shoulder. That was an easy stroll to check the mail compared to this.

Working two jobs just weeks after having a baby was like tossing a TV dinner in the microwave when put next to what I’m doing now.

Fighting to join the Air Force was nothing more then a casual conversation with old friends, while this, this is a life or death pleading in an unknown language and I don’t even have a phrase book to help me along.

I’ve battled demons, tackled dragons and nightmares, and kept my feet when the earth heaved. I’ve overcome plagues, mutilation, sociopaths and horrors. I’ve fought a battle against an army with only a Shield of Crone, the Sword of Motherhood, and the Hope of Maiden.

But this, this path I’ve been laid, goes so far beyond that, my knees bend in awe, my heart trembles with fear such as I’ve never known before and my mind fights against the knowledge of what must be.

All of that was nothing more then a peaceful fall evening under an Oak. This, this is hard. This is rushing blind folded and bare footed across a newly paved six lane highway during LA rush hour. But my babies welfare sits on the other side.

And what is this? This horrific feat I need to do? This, my dear friends, is write. And that, believe it or not, is the hardest thing I will ever have to do.

Why? Because in order to write I must battle the worst demon you can ever imagine, myself. I stand between me and the book, the page, the word. The armor I wear is damn near impossible to get past. I brandish a flaming sword in one hand, a poisoned tipped cat-of-nine-tails in the other. I know my every move before I do. I can throw obstacles in my way I know are far beyond my skills to over come.

How do you fight a mirror? How do you get past yourself?

With head held high, the power of Knowledge by your side and little help from the Web Mistress, Liberian and knowing that you must.

I Think I Need More Coffee...

Looking over the past month I’m floored at everything that happened. Did I really fit all of that into just one month? How is it my head is not spinning like a top while pea soup spews forth? Well, my head is firmly attached and the only pea spewing going on is all the Puffet’s doing.

Despite having switched jobs, moved across a mountain, over come a major health icky, wrote half a novel, started a writers group, battled an ogre, dived into networking, and manifested a new way of life altogether, I’m still sane and relatively unstressed. My being possessed is something that’s never been up for debate; I am and always will be which is why I avoid the above mentioned pea soup. But that’s another story completely. (see character take over’s)

This time of year, the cusp of Fall, always brings out my most productive side. Why? I have no flipping idea. I hate the cold and wet and dark of winter and Fall is just a nasty reminder that the misery is soon to come. Yet without fail, things get done at such a rapid rate I’m left breathless, dizzy and empty. Like taking one too many spins on a whirl-a-wig and losing that hot dog I shouldn’t have eaten anyway.

And it’s not just my writing that explodes into being, it is life events coupled with insane word/page counts. Oh, I just wrote 10,000 words today, so I think I’m going to finish that up by quitting my job and starting a new one in a whole new industry, just for giggles. I got 50 pages edited? Ok, I think I’ll pack up my two kids (again) and move across a mountain because I have nothing else to do. So what if I just wrote two newsletters, 3 shorts and half a novel, I must be board so I’ll battle an ogre while entering the world of networking and finding a new way of life. I just gave birth to a baby so I’ll start a new novel while moving out on my own and getting two jobs, because hell, why not?

Now, with my two girls, Bells and the Puffet, waking up to a new day, I know this one is going to be just as insane as the one before. If not more so. How much am I going to get done today? Am I going to knock out the rest of my novel, start a new one, fumble my way through the new job, slay a dragon and manifest that 20 bucks I’m short till payday all while organizing the first meeting of my new writers group?

I think I need more coffee…

On My Lack of Motivation Today

I should be writing. I should tuck myself away at my desk with my coffee and my book and just knock out the words one page at a time. Yet, I’m not. I’m sitting here, staring out the window, complaining to myself that I can’t seem to get up the motivation to write. I’m wasting my priceless time whining about never having time. What is wrong with me?

The house is still asleep. We had our monthly get together last night; the booze ran freely, so the house will stay asleep for a while yet. My girls (way too young for the grown up juice) are also still asleep. Even the cat is dead to the world as she basks in the early sun. I should take advantage of this rarity. I want to take advantage of this rarity. I’m not taking advantage of this rarity.

My desk is already set up. I don’t need to reorganize my notes or writing to do list. I don’t need to go through a mountain of writing that’s accumulated since my last sprint. My calendar is up to date, I have an empty inbox. The monthly newsletter for my writers group is already sent on its way and the next isn’t due until next month. I’m current on all my social media outlets. So, what’s stopping me from just picking up that pencil and writing?

I’m feeling pretty good today. I can feel the words, the stories, just begging to be released. Already my fingers are fending the feel of paper and graphite. I’m working on my second cup of coffee and the buzz juice has cleared the sleep fog from my head. So I should be able to let the words free. But instead, I’m complaining that I should be writing. How can I get over this hump?

Why is it that my motivation is gone when I have this great opportunity? Why is it I just have to write when things are so crazy I don’t even have time to eat? Would it help if I just put my butt in the chair, picked up the tools of my passion and just did it already? Is that how I’ll get anything done today or will I just stare at the blank page and get all sorts of flustered?

Of Two Minds

At just before four in the morning I’m torn. Should I go back to bed, get a few more hours of sleep or should I take advantage of the predawn stillness and let the whispers guide my hand to bring life onto paper?

As I wait for the Bright Eyed Quill to slip once more into the land of sweet dreams the stories take shape in the sleep-fogged recesses of my mind. Three to four hours of rare uninterrupted writing time lay right within my grasp. I can all but taste the sharp tang of graphite dust, the promise of a blissful hit of my sweet addiction.

I yearn for that escape, the joy of watching worlds unfold across off white and the thrill of exploring the minds of unnumbered people. To cast aside all worries of my mundane life and simply exist would be damn near orgasmic.

Yet the responsible adult in me is appalled. I’m about to endure a long stretch of late nights and early mornings. I should sleep while I have the chance. I’d regret the lack of sleep as I make the midnight drive home tonight.

“You cannot count on a nap before work,” my mind says, “Sleep while you have the chance.”

“You sleep every night, how often do you get to write now a days?” The voices whisper. “You got a solid three hours already. Indulge your passion, your dreams and the rewards will be well worth the loss of a few hours tonight.”

I can’t decide as both hold equal draw, the same importance and mutual priority. Yet, I cannot simply remain in this purgatory. I’ll flip a coin and let it guide my actions.

Heads-I let my mind unfold across the infinite nothingness and allow myself to be possessed by those who need to share their stories.

Tails-I lay myself down to sleep with the promise of another opportunity as this and the knowledge that I’ll start the swing refreshed.

The coin is warm between my fingers, a testament to the heat that awaits the dawn. I close my eyes and send a slight prayer to guide the coin and flip it into the air.

Stark man-made light glints off the etched surface as it falls end over end. A regal profile, a majestic bird, heads, tails and back again. I shut my eyes once more as it nears the ground and wait for the muffled signal.

The coin, which was to help my indecision lodged into the tight coarse weave of the carpet. On it’s edge, nether heads nor tails.

Well shit.

My Biggest Weakness's

As an emerging author, I’ve hit a wall. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, the catch 22 of publishing. I can’t be published without having already been published. Over the past year, I’ve beat my head against said hard place, trying to figure out the best way to obtain those coveted publishing creds. And up until just last night, I’ve come up blank.

After a lot of searching and evaluating, I’ve figured out the things standing in my way. My weakness that make up the hard place and my thought patterns that have solidified the rock.

1)      I cannot (at this time) write short stories.

2)      Entering contest’s require money I do not have

3)      I get distracted from writing too easily

4)      It’s difficult for me to interact with other writers.

5)      My editing skills are not where they should be.

I’m sure there are more but those five are the biggest. Over the coming weeks, I’ll be focusing on improving each one until there is nothing but myself standing in my way.

I'm Ready!

Over the last few months, I’ve been forced to evaluate my life, where it’s headed and where I want it to go. I had to think about the things I truly want and if I was willing to put in the effort to go after them. And decide if those dreams were still worth the time, emotional commitment and, yes, the money.

And I am very pleased at what I found.

Despite the hardships I’ve faced, am still facing, my writing is still important to me. The dream I’ve had all my life is still worth every last minute, penny and tear. So, I’ll keep on plugging away, find the time, energy and money, and put in everything I am in order to make that dream come true.

This is no longer a fun little hobby or a way to spend a rainy day. This time, it’s for the gold or I should say the black and white. I am no longer willing to settle for any thing less than my dream of becoming a published author.

Goals - Nasty Little Buggers.

Goals, aren’t they nasty little buggers?

They tease you; taunt you like a worm on a hook. “Come, try to reach me,” they whisper as they wiggle, inches before your nose. And if you’re not careful, if you don’t keep your eye on the hook, those goals are jerked away and before you know it, you’re a hungry little bass in an ocean of sharks.

I won’t lie; I’ve had my tasty worm tugged away on more than one occasion. I’ve gotten close enough to get a taste and know I want more. But there’s a fine line between the doable and biting off more than I can chew. I have a habit of filling my plate too high, wanting to fly before I’ve learned to walk.

This time, my goals are less defined, more flexible. Instead of a daily word count, I’ll strive for writing time. Instead of getting an agent by a certain date, it’s querying a certain number each week, that kind of thing. And each day gets different goals depending on life and what not.

This week I plan to:

Write 30 minutes in each WIP (work in progress) each day and there are three of them. (WIP’s not days, last I checked there are seven days in a week. Correct me if I’m wrong)

Locate, join and participate in one writing group.

Write the first draft of one short story for either a contest or submission.

Maintain social networking stuff AKA branding.

Maintain this blog and follow a new one each day.

From where I’m sitting, these seem doable without being overwhelming. We’ll see. And as always, Write on Writers of the World!