{ 11 } Only Kind of Slacking...

I was gently reminded today that writers write (my own words). True, I have not blogged in a bit, but I have still been writing. My crazy night job has had me on the road or working really odd hours for awhile and I've either not had access to a computer or have been so beat tired I didn't feel like blogging.

Okay, enough with the excuses. Let me fill you in on what I have been doing...

First, I decided to start a crime novel. I needed something to get my mind off of HOS and all of its research. This new project, working title MD, is proving to be a lot more difficult them first imagined. It's not research intensive, thank goodness, but trying to write a plot that's not transparent as water is a challenge. Thus far, I'm just missing one key ingredient and then it's write time. Should be too hard (famous last words).

Second, I started thinking again about J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer. Not so much their "I just had this idea..." stuff, but look at what they wrote: tween/young adult (YA) novels. A quick check of best selling books last week has Meyer's taking four out of five top places and, as far as best selling books of all time, the Harry Potter books take six out of the top twenty one spots. Why? Harry Potter is obvious: great plot, great characters, amazing franchise. I have not read any of Meyer's books (they are on reserve for me when they come back to the library), but I have heard they lack substance or deep characters. So why the huge success?

I have my own opinions, but not having read the books, I can't really say. What I can report is what others have said: all the characters are perfect, it's sexual without sex, Edward is HAWT (gross, IMHO), Edward is a hollow shell so girls can fit his "personality" to what they want, et cetera.

What I think this series and others in the YA genre break down to is simple: YA girls want romance and they want to get away with reading sexual books. How many of you sneaked a peek at your mom's copy of Fear of Flying or read and reread the "taboo" parts of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.? I think the sexual non-sex of Meyer's books appeals to young girls and their parents. Spicy but not too hot.

I also think this particular series is so popular is because teenagers are sheep. Wait, that came out kind of mean... But still: it's great to be popular and if reading these books and loving them makes you popular (or at least gives the illusion), all the better. Not that that's a bad thing. If kids are reading, I'll get behind any book. Think for a minute about Fear of Flying and Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. How did we ever find these books before the invention of the Internet? I can assure you no teacher in their right mind was recommending them to my generation, what with all the censorship going on in the '80s. More then likely we heard they were "naughty" and just had to read them. But in this decade, one blogger can write a review or one girl can post a MySpace "I Love TWILIGHT!" message and it's an international sensation. Easy peezy.

Okay, that's enough Meyers/teenager bashing for now. In my next post (which will be soon) I'll share with you what I wrote (on actual paper!) about what I think YAs want and the challenges I'm going to face if I decide to write for the Me Generation, which is looking like a very strong possibility.

Now if those damn little girls would just return their copies of Twilight to the library...

{ 7 } Flatlining

Getting inspired in bursts is starting to piss me off. One day I'll write or research like a mad women only to have it followed by days and days of nothing. It makes me crazy. Even writing this blog is taxing right now. It has been said that a good writer writes every day to keep their skills honed, much like a track runner. And I try, I really do, but some days I don't want to read let alone write.

I've been trying to compile a list of things that inspire me to work. So far all I can come up with are things that don't inspire me. I now present you with The List of Things That Make My Brain Shut Off:

• Booze: I've tried the Hemmingway/Bukowski approach and it doesn't work that well for me.
• Canasta: I will play online for hours on end without a single thought in my brain.
• MySpace: How many times can I hit refresh to see if I have a new comment? Lame.
• Life in general: Same day, different crap.

I know there's more. But what inspires me? In this current brain cloud I'm sitting in, I can't think of one thing.

Help?

{ 6 } Dispair And Desperation

It's almost six in the morning. I browsing Amazon.com, searching for more books to digest that might help my novel. I am being punched by a wicked thought: what if this novel of mine is too big? What if I'm not ready to handle it?

This novel I am writing is to be the one. I've said it time and time again: it's my magnum opus. But what if I'm still too naive as a writer? What if I haven't truly found my voice? What if I fuck up the best thing I am ever supposed to create?

I'm wondering if I shouldn't try to write a less important book first. "The Great Gatsby" wasn't F. Scott Fitzgerald's first. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" wasn't Mark Twain's first. "As I Lay Dying" wasn't William Faulkner's first. Hell, "The Da Vinci Code" wasn't Dan Brown's first either. Should I try and write something else as my first to find my "writer's legs"?

This all leads me to think about J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer. Their first books were international sensations. Of course, I hate both of them due to their "I just had this idea..." attitude, but could I join their ranks with HOS? I mean, honestly, I just had this idea...

My biggest fear while working on HOS is that it will be poorly received and I will have failed at the one thing I have a true passion for. Do I need to write something else to get my name out there and to make sure I know just what the hell I am doing? Could I even begin another book with all the HOS stuff in my head?

There are so many good books out there that I've never heard of by authors I've never heard of. There are also some really bad books out there by authors I have heard of. I am torn between two worlds: write HOS and hope it's all I know it to be, joining the ranks of Rowling and Meyer, or push something else out there and hope by the time I get to HOS I can be the next Fitzgerald or Faulkner?

Isn't being a writer supposed to be easy?

{ 3 } Panic In My Brain Space!

I was sitting in my car at lunch break, about 1 a.m., talking on the phone to my BF. He asked if I brought lunch and, since I had not, he told me to at least do something productive with my half hour. Productive, huh? Well, of course that led me to thinking about the novel. I decided to formulate a brief outline in my head so I will be better prepared when it's actually outline writing time.

Then it struck me: I don't have a novel. I have an opening, a huge plot point, and, finally, an ending. I have two underdeveloped characters. I have no side stories. I have no catalysts or motivators. I have a three line description of a story I have been working on for almost a third of my life. When telling people what my novel is about, I filled in all the details with "Then some time passes and..."

How could this happen? Easy: since I have not had an ending I have not been able to write. Since I have not been able to write, I didn't bother to formulate the actual story. Simple, stupid answer. I got arrogant and figured that, by the time it was time to write, I'd have it all worked out in my head. Oops. I forgot to think about it.

Still sitting in my car, panic sets in. I start babbling to myself trying to remember any book I've ever read and what the point of it was. Blank. Nothing. I've read hundreds if not thousands of books and I can't remember the name or plot of a single one of them. I try to mentally scan my bookshelves back at home. It's all a blur. I try to think of movies I've seen. All that comes to mind as of recent is The Strangers. That is so not helpful.

I finally start to get titles: Anthem by Ayn Rand. Too simple; no good here. Dead Eye Dick by Kurt Vonnegut. Really? You're not Vonnegut, baby. The Sum of All Fears by Tom Clancy. What? I haven't even read that book!

For the life of me I could not figure out what people in books actually do, especially my people in my book. I know what they don't do. They don't mill around while the writer says, "Then some time passes and...". That is not a plot. Hell, it's not even remotely anything even valid. Things happen in books. That's why they exist. To be obvious, without a story, you have no story. Duh.

There I sat, still mumbling to myself, not caring that I was in full view of my coworkers in their cars, probably thinking I had lost my mind. And I had. I presented myself with a whole new set of problems, ones that no amount of research in the world will fix.

So what to do? Other then cry, I just need to start working on the actual writing of this damn thing. I need to get to know my central characters a little better and find out what makes them tick. I need more story for my story.

Crap. I'm doomed...

{ 1 } Research Loop

I'm doing it again: endless research. Page after page after glorious page. Not that there's anything wrong with that. This is a very specific book and I don't want to mess up or miss any details. The more believable and in-line with previously written texts the better.

But I find doing research is taking away from my actual writing. I'm stuck in this infinite cycle:

• Can't work on the story until outline is written
• Can't write outline until more research is done
• Can't stop doing research; too much to know!
  
• Stop doing research and write already...
• Begin loop again

Every time I touch pen to paper or fingers to keys, I panic. Dear god! I can't write dialogue! I don't know my characters back story! How do they respond to this situation? What implications will this text have further in the book? I need to make an outline! MORE RESEARCH!

At this point, I could write a nonfiction with all the research I've done. But I don't want to do that. I want to write my story. The one that's almost fully hatched in my brain, minus silly little details such as, oh I don't know, the actual story.

I currently have four browser windows open with research material. When those are read through, no more. I should have more then plenty of information. Thankfully, I've been keeping wonderful research notes, so I don't need to worry about cataloging all of that. Then, it's out line time, baby.

Sigh...