The idea that got away

I recently did something I have, on a fairly regular basis, told myself not to do. No, I’m not talking about eating spicy food and then rubbing my eyes (because I still do that more often than I care to admit).

So there was this story idea, right? A basic framework of an idea, with tangible if not fully-realized characters, right there in front of me. It could have had big, neon signs saying “Write me, Philip, you lazy, well-intentioned bastard.” It practically did.

Tonight has been spent being cranky because that idea has gone, having very fragmented thoughts that I’m fairly sure are just the flotsam and jetsam of me rereading Dreams and Shadows trying to manifest as something more, and eating ice cream. Halo Top is really hit or miss, I’ve decided, but there are a few flavors I’ll need to stock up on.

My question is this: what next? Should I revisit a novel project I already started on but abandoned? Should I really put my nose to the proverbial grindstone and get to the serious proofreading and editing for Dissonance in Harmony? Should I force myself to stop being so damn serious and just try writing stuff? Thoughts?

Challenging myself

Or, really, admitting that I’m a bit challenged. I haven’t decided yet.

I have a headache. It has been a trying, busy sort of day. I’m drinking a glass of scotch that was aged in bourbon barrels because I wanted scotch, I wanted bourbon, but I also couldn’t justify that kind of drinking on a Tuesday. Did I mention I have a headache?

This weekend provided a sort of fine point to a murky, nebulous series of thoughts I’ve had lately in regards to my writing. They have been mean, loud, and generally unpleasant thoughts. This point is actually more of a thought-out, nicely worded middle finger to those thoughts because I’m tired of being my own punching bag, tearing myself down, and fixating on the difficulties of writing instead of the actual craft and the joy I derive from it. Case in point: I’m really enjoying writing this, even though it’s largely unplanned, because I am applying no pressure to myself to get it done. There is no arbitrary deadline, nor is there some comparison to other writers and their work. When I hit Publish, it will appear on my site (with all typos that sneaked past my lazy editorial eyes tonight; you may live this once, typos).  Continue reading

Concept envy, and feeling defeated

This is the sort of confessional post that I feel iffy about writing, because it betrays my well-established gruff and grumbly persona and exposes my soft, vulnerable under-belly. All right. Let’s get this out of the way so I can get some actual sleep tonight, and then maybe try to see where my brain goes with writing tomorrow.

Lately, and by lately I mean for quite a few months now, I have felt defeated. I haven’t had ideas popping into my thoughts like before. My projects have been gathering cobwebs like it’s their job. As I said earlier today: I feel less like a writer as of lately and more like someone who wrote here and there. I feel defeated.  Continue reading

A return to journal writing

Last night was riddled with technical difficulties from my laptop and a noteworthy absence of motivation to write anything at all. Let the record show that lack of motivation continues to linger tonight, which is frustrating but something I’m also pushing past. Go me (and the impressive, unstoppable power of my stubbornness). I’m presently looking forward to tomorrow, which will be partially spent getting a much-needed (and deserved) haircut and wandering around Barnes & Noble. Any suggestions for graphic novels, or novels in general, are always appreciated. One can never have too many books.

Right. So last night I found myself tremendously frustrated. Writing wasn’t happening in any way, shape, or form. I tried different approaches to A Princess, A Lich, and Some Murders, hoping desperately to add to the current word count but only failing to do so. Eventually, accepting the night as a defeat, I closed Microsoft Word. It occurred to me that I’d not checked on when The Literary Hatchet‘s next deadline was, and since I planned on submitting “Cordelia’s” I figured I should check…only to discover I’d missed said deadline. While I generally try to shy from this word, my reaction was a rather loud and appropriate utterance of “Oh, fuck”.

At some point or another, right before heading to bed, I decided it would be beneficial for me to return to journal writing. Not necessarily as a nightly thing, necessarily. I also happened to have my awesome Discworld/Starry Night crossover cover notebook, which had not seen use since it’s purchase. This, in case it needs repeating, is a crime I am regularly guilty of with notebooks. Making matters worse, I plan on stopping by Barnes & Noble tomorrow. That means I could very well come home with another Moleskine notebook. The journal in question, complete with its Squishable guardian, can be seen below.

Squishthulu guards my deep, dark secrets.

Squishthulu guards my deep, dark secrets.

Not only have I forgotten how helpful keeping a journal is for venting frustrations, but I managed to forget its terrific applications as a means to remind myself of all of the positive things I have going on. Not everything in its pages has to be doom-and-gloom, cloudy-with-a-chance-of-bitching sorts of frustrations (that was a horrible joke and I’m not sorry). It’s a reminder that I’m working on more than just one project presently, and that there will be some nights when my brain simply doesn’t wish to cooperate with me in working on one project or another. Those nights are not the end of the world, nor do they render me any less of a writer.

Suffice it to say, I’m already happy with this decision after only one entry. I can only imagine how therapeutic this will prove in the long run.

How many of you write in journals? Is it on a regular basis, or more sporadic, and is there a particular topic in mind or is it more just whatever’s on your mind at the time?

A vexing night

This is going to be short, sweet, to the point, and a pretty healthy dose of “get your head out of your ass and move on already” for myself. That last bit’s kind of important, even if it’s a little selfish. It’s been a weird night of running into walls, struggling with inner demons, and other meaningful cliches for the headaches I associate with dwelling on the gap between where I’d like to be and where I presently feel I am.

Warning: There be some f-bombs a-lurkin’ in this here post.

I could easily put together a post on how many creative-types are weighed down by their own doubt, fear, self-loathing, and so much more (I came way too close to listing the various Sha there, and I’m not sorry to point that out). That’s very nearly what this would have been, but I couldn’t. It felt wrong and unpleasant. Plus it was the last thing I needed to read in the mood I’m in, and so I doubt it’s the sort of thing anyone else would want to read if they’re trying to muster up the energy to get back to work.

Here’s what I’d like this post to be instead. The instructions for myself and any other creative folks, or really anyone, who find themselves frustrated and feeling stuck.

Create. Don’t force it because it’ll only end in regret, but create as often and as passionately as possible. Build amazing, awe-inspiring worlds and populate them with characters both sympathetic and heroic as well as ones who are irredeemably loathsome. Let them move through lives that are only somewhat guided by the art you create and enjoy where things go. Don’t let the goddamn what-ifs and why-nots, the feelings of doubt and failure, all of the shit that makes creative types like myself into their own worst enemies. It accomplishes no good, and only results in nights spent after long days at work only thinking of the things you’ve not accomplished. What you haven’t done or where you think you should be. All of this instead of celebrating where you are and what you’ve accomplished.

I say this as someone who won a book contract, which should be a big deal for me as a writer. I’ve been so busy worrying about never managing to create something that big again and dwelling on how people will perceive my book being published not based on its merit but because of a contest victory.

Screw that.

There’s a reason the saying “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” has endured the test of time. My schedule may be a bit all over the place, and I may question my merit as a writer a good deal. I don’t have a five year plan or a ten year plan. Hell, I don’t even have a particularly well-assembled one year plan. While I recognize such things as long-term planning are crucial to being a successful artist, I’m pretty sure there’s more than one way to handle them.

Most importantly, and veering a little bit back from the rather self-centric post we have here, I hope any artist who finds this gets enough of a boost to keep going if that’s what they need at the time.

Going back to my post about almost being to Pumpkin Spice Season/Hot Apple Cider Season – I need to just focus on finding time to create, not worrying about the outcome. Far easier said than done, especially when every fiber of my being is saying to just go to sleep. What’s the point in busting my ass at a 9 to 5 if I’m not going to find time and energy to do what I love most (hint: I’m talking about writing).

So I end with a challenge to anyone who reads this. Create, with or without a plan, but with all of your heart and soul. Make something you think is awesome, even if upon editing you decide it’s not the best thing ever. At the end of the day, you’ve still made something new that wasn’t in the world before that point, and that’s pretty fucking rad.