Tag Archives: creativity

Sunday, snowy Sunday

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While I’m normally one of the first people who make fun of everyone boo-hooing about the cold and snow of winter, especially since I live in Pennsylvania where this shit is so common and unsurprising, I have to say I’m pretty well finished with this snow-and-ice-and-misery business.

I took a nap halfway into that last sentence and forgot what the Hell I was typing. As I often say: in my defense, I shoveled the sidewalk and driveway, and I cleaned off the cars. That counts for something, probably.

Since my goals are more focused on adding to the page count of A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders, I’ll make this quick-ish.

Works in Progress

A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders – 70 pages/11 chapters; about 1/3 of the way complete, give or take

Cordelia’s (short story) – Complete! Working towards submitting it places.

Woman Seeks Vampire for Dinner and a Movie – Still just notes, but with more direction

The Repository of Lost Ideas – Notes, notes, and still more notes.

Interview with a Retired God – Still only a title, with the beginnings of an idea to go with it.

Works On Hold

The Devil Suggested I Do It (novel; working title)

Warpt Factor (the novel)

The Lodgers (novel)

…

On the plus side, there’s now a lot more in the Works in Progress section than in the On Hold section. That must count as some sort of progress, right? Right? Tonight’s Oscar night, however, so I need to make some more writing happen before then. Oscars night means it’s time to drink and live-tweet my disdain for Hollywood.

The thousand-hour Saturday

Posted on by under One Hundred Days of Blogging 2.0

It’s only nine o’clock at night, I’m tired enough that it feels like it’s after midnight, and I had no real game plan going into this post. I realize that’s a little counter-intuitive, especially since I planned out each day’s topic before diving into this fiasco. My defense doesn’t even feel valid at this point because it seems like everyone had a horrible week this week. If you’re one of those people, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I would have brought about the End of Days but I’ve not become at least semi-famous and beloved by fans of the fantasy genre. My delusions got in the way of my other delusions. That’s what my life has become.

On a related note, I am at least somewhat happy that I will likely never see even a moderate level of fame as I’ve recently gotten to see how people interact with celebrities on Instagram. I don’t feel I’m ready for those levels of insanity on a regular basis.

Today’s been less of a writing marathon as it’s been a writing struggle-to-the-finish. I have short story ideas I need to give attention to, still, and progress on A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders has been painfully slow-moving at best. If it weren’t for the occasional moments where I manage to continue along with it, I’d say it’s sitting still. The level of frustration I have regarding this semi-stagnation fluctuates. Thankfully.

Not helping, and not fully expounded upon for obvious reasons: life, work, and so on.

On the plus side, I have written a few pages since starting this blog post, although that speaks volumes about my capacity to maintain a state of distraction and less about my ability to work on one project at any given time. Womp womp?

Alternatively, three or more stand-up comedy specials have played in the background, courtesy of Brianne and Netflix.

Tomorrow’s recap will probably be about as exciting as tonight’s post, and so I conclude by saying I hope to make next week a little less dull.

Winter: nature’s freeze on creativity

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I wanted so badly to call this “The Season of the Nap”, but I’d be lying to myself because I take naps regardless of what season it is.

There’s something about single digit temperatures and exceedingly bad weeks at work (the details of which I cannot, and wouldn’t want to, go into here) that come together and make me want to hibernate forever. Take today as a strong example. Work happened in the most glorious, horrible, unfortunate way any work-day could. Lousy, near-but-not-quite white-out conditions started up before my drive home, during which I slid down most of the one bridge-hill that makes up part of 17th Street (who thought this was a good idea, because it was the opposite of a good idea), and my nap that I shouldn’t have taken (I admit this) left me feeling worse than before I went to sleep. However, I’m still writing words on my blog so I feel validated in my decision to go forward with this Hundred Days of Blogging 2.0, before I start work on a new short story idea.

I actually considered updating my LinkedIn account because that’s how unmotivated I am to focus on creating stories right now. I have a novel-in-progress, multiple novels on hold, and several short story ideas that deserve attention. The litter boxes also require my attention, but there has never been a point when I sprang from the comfort of my chair to take care of such a chore. Anyway, here we are. With me not giving a single damn about tonight. Harrumph grumble complain.

How do you folks deal with nights like this one? Or do you just accept that the Winter infects all it touches with the bitterness of its icy tendrils, wrap yourselves in blankets, and refuse to emerge until the warmth of Spring?

A carefully considered replacement post

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Happy Tuesday (said no one ever). I’m still in the middle of a day long headache-a-thon, which is really fun because it’s fulfilling my life-long dream of feeling like someone is playing the drums on the inside of my skull. That’s the power of positivity, people (says the guy who tried to cure a monstrous headache with a two-hour nap that failed miserably).

On the plus side, there’s a new episode of Face Off tonight, and I’m already quite emotionally invested in this season. It’s also Taco Tuesday, a statement which translates to me going to Taco Bell and buying a big order of spicy regret (it’s a guilty pleasure I just can’t quit, people, and also I love Baja Blast too much). Lastly, I worked up the nerve to write my first fan letter! I put words to paper in what I hope is the least crazy way possible to thank Amy Poehler for writing Yes Please, which isn’t a book so much as a reasonably-priced treasure chest filled with wonderful things. Also, since I’m taking forever to write this: there was an episode of Gravity Falls waiting on the DVR, which made tonight even better.

This post was supposed to be about something else, actually, but then I decided that idea would better serve me as a short story…which means I had to switch gears. The fan-letter thing got me thinking, too. Here’s a fun story about fan-mail.

Once upon a time, I binge-read a bunch of books by Kurt Vonnegut. Breakfast of Champions was the gateway to Cat’s Cradle, Sirens of Titan, and A Man Without a Country (I’ve not finished that one yet). I feel like I’ve read more by Vonnegut, but I also confess that his prose, while delightful and entertaining, had the ability to put me into a particularly dark and gloomy mindset. Probably because there was more than a measure of uncomfortable truth to everything he wrote.

One night, in a moment of bravery, I decided I would write Kurt Vonnegut a fan-letter to tell him how much I loved his writing and how I hoped to one day be as wonderful and beloved a writer as he is. The anxiety was very real; I could feel my heart yo-yoing between my chest and my throat. The cursor in Microsoft Word remained lonely, a blank page staring back at me in mockery of the fool’s errand I had embarked on. Instead, perhaps, I thought I would look up the address I would need to send this hopeless letter off to. A quick Google search later gave me multiple options, all viable, and some suggestions and criticisms about fan letters.

There also happened to be a shitload of articles about the life of Kurt Vonnegut, citing how he had passed away earlier that very day. I stared at the screen, a mix of heartbroken and shocked. In hindsight, my knee-jerk reaction was probably entirely appropriate. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked my computer, fully expecting a response.

I have since interacted with two of my favorite authors on Twitter (on multiple occasions, actually), and that’s been fun. There’s something about interacting with the people who inspire me that is probably far more thrilling than it should be.

Who do you folks idolize so much that you’ve sent them fan-mail/tweets/whatever? Any luck with responses? Was it terrifying, thrilling, or both?

There should have been more to this post, but I have the most vicious goddamned headache I’ve experienced in a while so I’m going to throw in the towel for the night. Apologies there.

 

Equal parts determination and madness

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Or “I’m hitting all of the walls today so I’m going to rant a bit while still being positive about writing”.

Writing, on some days, is a completely magical experience. Those are the days I get completely lost in the words, not focusing on time or making sure I’m eating or anything else. Since becoming the joint-owner of three cats, I’ve gotten used to ignoring the occasional glimpse of cat anus as one of the two cats who don’t hate me will wander between my laptop and my line-of-sight. I lead a magical life.

Other days–days like today, for instance–are less productive. I have an idea of where I want to go with my writing, and then I proceed to flop around without any real progress. It feels like the cartoon depiction of falling down an up escalator, complete with irate people-as-obstacles and all. Days like this make me have serious doubts I could ever become a proper writing-for-a-living sort of writer. They’re not particularly enjoyable days, and I could probably chalk a lot of it up to the hilarious constellation of neuroses I have.

Fortunately for me, I happen to have a tremendous support system of friends and family, a spectacular girlfriend who tolerates my particular brand of crazy that shows up from time-to-time (don’t ask her, though, or she’ll say it’s around all of the time). I acknowledge that goals like being able to write for a living or becoming a best-selling author are lofty, and that’s putting it mildly, but I can also say I will never stop writing. Even on my worst days, I still add at least a couple words to something, or I tweak and adjust something I’ve worked on, because I need to keep at it. I am far from perfect at what I do, as evidenced by the proofread-and-commented copies I get back, but I have my strong points and my weak points. The ultimate goal, above all else, is to continue improving upon the weak points while refining the strong ones.

This post started off as feeling down and out, but I feel rejuvenated and ready to take on the entire world again. I’d throw together a shitty metaphor about feeling victorious, but I’m going to focus on fixing up Cordelia’s as much as I can so it can be that much closer to being publication-ready.

Happy Sunday, folks. I hope you all have a kickass week, devoid of doubts and frustration.

My pledge to no longer be bored

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I think it’s safe to say that one of the most commonly heard phrases, especially in people around my age group and younger folks (You dern whipper-snappers and your selfie-sticks), is “I’m bored”. Earlier today, after having completed my tasks for the day and then-some, I found myself thinking exactly that. I’m bored.

Somewhere between stopping at the liquor store to purchase the other ingredients required to make a Blood & Sand–a decision I entirely support, especially after making one and enjoying it quite thoroughly–and contemplating dinner, it occurred to me just how awful saying “I’m bored” is given just how much I could be doing with my time. I’m not talking about endless writing or spending hours promoting things on social media, interspersed with the conversations I’ve grown famous/infamous/unknown for having. Louis C.K. said it better than I ever could, in fact, and so I found a convenient image on the internet with his words placed on it to share to make my point here.

louis-ck-im-bored-useless-world-endless

There’s a lot of fantastic truth in this quote, and it got me thinking even further. There is, at no point, really a good reason to be bored. I’m not going to preach about the miracle of consciousness. I think it’s more about finding the things that matter most in this sea of constant information and distractions.  Continue reading →

Writing hangovers, and other tragedies

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I spent much of today with a strong understanding as to why some animals hibernate. I mean, sleep is pretty fantastic, even though there are plenty of things I could be doing instead of sleeping (like tweeting, obviously). What I’m trying to say is that I’m still very tired from my marathon-writing event to complete Cordelia’s, and so this post is going to be a bit of a mixed bag. There’s also some frustration regarding the lack of new ideas now that one of the short stories is written. Time and patience will hopefully fix that much, even if my patience is a bit iffy at best.

Writing Hangovers

It’s been a while since I’ve really felt a full-on writing hangover. Probably not since I finished working on Joshua Harkin and the Novel-Length Title around this time last year (it was actually in March, but close enough). My brain is semi-willing and eager to make writing happen, but it also wants about a month worth of naps. That being said, I’m still getting a lot of very kind, positive, and helpful feedback for A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders that has me feeling very motivated. Friday is already set aside as an Authonomy and writing catch-up day, so hopefully that goes as planned.

Jon Stewart leaving The Daily Show

God damn it. This, coupled with the end of The Colbert Report, effectively prevents me from ever achieving my dream of being interviewed by Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert (I have delusions of grandeur, but even my delusions are smart enough to know I’ll never be interviewed by Stephen Colbert at his new show…whatever that thing’s called). More importantly, this marks the end of an era in fake-but-not-fake TV news. Jon Stewart helped bring something better to television, and though I’ve not always been the most dedicated viewer I will still miss his wit and wisdom on Comedy Central. That said, I am willing to keep it 100 on The Nightly Show, even if my opinions on major issues are only slightly less worthless than all of Fox News on its best days.

Book Addictions

It’s not exactly a secret that I buy books faster than I can read them. Christmas did me no favors there, as I received quite a few books as gifts. Naturally, my moratorium on buying new books ended almost as soon as it began (I have, however, been very good about not buying new video games; so sorry, Majora’s Mask remake). Today’s purchase is Yes Please by Amy Poehler. I considered getting Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman, but I’m sad to say I’ve never been as disinterested in a book by one of my favorite authors as I found myself with this particular title. Apologies to In Some Other World, Maybe, which is still a read-in-progress that I owe a proper review.

Red Velvet Oreos

I’m sorry, but these things are just awful. Bring back the non-trademarked crispy treat Oreos, please, and my inner (and outer) fat kid will forgive this failure.

Time Management

I am terrible at managing my time well. I’m prone to naps, distractions, more naps, more distractions, and so on. My workplace obligations extend well past when I leave the office for the day, so there are surprises here and there of the work-related variety (Worth mentioning: I welcome those surprises as challenges, and am happy enough to have a job that it’s not really an issue except in regards to eating time). Some days I spend too much time focused on writing and not enough on editing. Or too much time on social media and not enough on writing. The combinations of frustration seem to be endless.

…

What tragedies, minor or major, do you folks find yourself facing this week?

Losing track of time in the name of progress

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Or “I could have slept last night, but I failed to realize I would end up staying awake until 5:30 in the morning to finish a short story”. That certainly makes the chosen title for this post look a lot more concise, doesn’t it?

Last night, having recovered from feeling moderately sick for most of the earlier portions of the day, I decided I needed to accomplish something in terms of my writing goals. Having decided to take a short break from working on A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders (a break I am failing at, as I’m still sort of working on it though I said I would step back for a bit), I focused on giving attention to one of the short story ideas I had recently. I had already started working on Cordelia’s, which was based around the idea of a restaurant that had no menus and served exactly what its guests needed without having to question them, and so that seemed like the right route to follow.

I haven’t pulled an all-nighter in quite some time. I dare say such events haven’t happened since college, but I’m almost too certain I’m wrong in that statement. It’s a mystery. What I do know is that I started by deleting everything I wrote, which is the opposite of making actual progress, and I began anew. Two false starts and a lot of deleted words later, I was well into page four. There was a brief diversion involving last night’s blog post and some live-tweeting of The Bachelor (I detest that show, but it has so much value as a terrible comedy of sorts), and suddenly it was nearly midnight. Conveniently, I had today off and so I figured I would continue to plug away until I got tired.

And then I didn’t get tired until shortly after I finished writing, which was around 5:30 this morning. My internal clock doesn’t typically allow me to sleep later than 9:30 on my best days of sleeping in, so…I can’t exactly say I got my whole eight hours of rest.

Despite having a meeting I need to be at in about an hour, I’m still convinced this is the polar opposite of a bad thing. As it is now, I feel like Cordelia’s turned out to be a tremendous success, far better than I had hoped. I’ll have to wait to see what my wonderful, kind, typically-benevolent proofreading friends will have to say on the subject. Most importantly, it was some of the most fun I’ve had writing since the completion of Joshua Harkin and the Wicked Nightmare King. It’s also one of the first short stories I’ve completed since summer of last year, which is a bit more embarrassing than it is a positive thing. Oh well.

My questions to other writers and creative types out there: when was your last all-nighter? Was it worth it, or did you end up feeling like you’d have better served yourself by getting more shut-eye? What inspiration struck to lead to such a creative spree?

Capturing the magic of magic systems

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The concept of magic (or magick, in some cases) is absolutely fascinating to me. It’s neither inherently good nor evil, and it has a virtually unlimited number of practical uses. Each fantasy world has its own approach to magic use and magic systems, too, further adding to a story’s complexity. Better still, magic can range in importance from being a key plot device to just being background noise.

Alternatively, there are plenty of arguments against magic in fantasy (written, on-screen, etc). It feels like a cheap solution that characters can use to further the plot and bypass otherwise-insurmountable obstacles. It’s lazy. There are too many different approaches to the same thing. And so on. While I appreciate these views, I don’t necessarily agree with them. I think a large part of how well or poorly magic and a magic system works in a story comes down to how it impacts the way characters interact. I’m not just talking about how characters interact with each other, but also with situations and environments.

A quick and easy example to go off of: a character is entering some temple hall. It’s vast and ancient, and above all else it’s most certainly very dark. Yes, the character should be carrying a torch. Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. There’s always a chance some giant spider-demon had to be dispatched by the torches flames earlier. That’s not the point. The chamber is, as all ancient temple halls are, loaded with dastardly traps just waiting for some careless rube to trigger them. There are also convenient, relatively well-used torches lining the walls. They’re extinguished, however. It’s not like someone gets paid to stick around these places and reignite torches for a living; the folks who did wised up years before and unionized, making it near-impossible to keep such rooms as this well lit.

Now the character could very well build suspense by crossing this room by torchlight. There’s no doubt in my mind that readers would be on the edge of their seats, fearful for our nameless hero. Or the hero could ignite the torches with a well-used, well-timed spell. With the right elements–a mysterious shadow shifting about, or perhaps something foul awakened by the newly reignited torches–and the right pacing, this use of magic works to help the plot along while still helping build tension. This example doesn’t even begin to delve into the realm of possibility in which backfiring spells and misspoken curses, among other things, exist.

There’s also a lot of fun in basing entire civilizations around a centralized magic system. It allows for a lot of fun what-ifs. What if that society’s magic system collapsed suddenly (whether that was by means of the magic suddenly no longer being accessible or turning against the magic users)? What if the ability to properly harness magic was only afforded to society’s super-rich? Or perhaps its outcasts, instead?

Obviously, all things in proper moderation and so on and so forth.

What’s the best approach to magic? To really own it and make it part of a story? To let it be a small part of a bigger world? Or, perhaps, is it best to just avoid it entirely and work on other methods of storytelling?

On elves, orcs, and other standard, fantasy fixtures

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Fantasy creatures are all pretty well universally recognizable to most fantasy and non-fantasy readers alike. Orcs are usually the big, burly ones with green skin and a need to break bones, invade places, and generally wreck things in the name of honor, family, and glory. Elves are beautiful, often androgynous, woodland-dwelling masters of archery. There are certainly plenty of variations on these themes, but they are tried and true enough to keep readers (and viewers and gamers) coming back. Is it because these types of characters are familiar, bordering on near-family? Or are they more like set pieces to the overall story?

One of the driving forces behind A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders is that I wanted to play around with these races of characters. High elves are always the most revered, esteemed characters, but why can’t they be laughable, lowly gutter-scum? Why not make orcs sophisticated, reformed from their more bloodthirsty ways? Does deviating from the tried and true versions of orcs and elves and so on reduce them to something less than they are meant to be or help them grow into something more?

Are writers better off sticking to the usual of what works or should we focus on mixing things up more often?

I’m asking these questions as I write, of course, but my focus is elsewhere. I’ve been slacking, and this novel has been sitting. There’s writing to be done if I ever expect this to be the novel that gets me noticed by HarperCollins (wish me loads of luck, please).