What I'm doing now

nobody@vox.com(Stephanie) — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 18:05:13 -0500

Well I've been trying to come up with story ideas and I got nuthin'. I thought one of my dreams might yield something but that lasted about as long as it took me to get out of bed. I did dream that a friend of mine had a radio show/podcast and that I had to hose Clay Aiken down outside a drugstore.

Which brings me to the fact that I've written about 2k worth of filth in the last few days. I found an old snippet on the laptop and continued writing it just for the practice. Today I found where I'd outlined my ideas for the lengthy story and I'd ended up taking it in a bit of a different direction. I could bring it back around to the original easily. Some of my ideas made me say, "What kind of mood was I in when I came up with that?" It's creative but it's also fetish-heavy. Not that there's not a market for that but I'm wondering how I'll be able to write it with kids crawling around.

I think that I'm going to have to do my writing while H naps. It's too much to run around after the both of them. Z is being uncooperative and I have a head cold that has rendered me practically voiceless. So to yell at her, well, I can't. Most of my yelling is "leave him alone" or "stop kicking him" or "get off him" or "give that back to him" or similar.

It's been quite a change having nothing to write and wanting to write. I'm almost ready to edit again just b/c I enjoyed doing it so much.

So if I could just get an idea for a nice vanilla story, I would write it. As it is, I haven't and now I have to go feed a child.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

A little catch-up and a renaissance

nobody@vox.com(Stephanie) — Wed, 10 Jan 2007 18:07:32 -0500

I've been writing about writing on my regular blog and I think I'm boring the non-writers. I suppose since this "writing about writing" blog is sitting here gathering dust, I should use it.

Here's a compilation of what I've shared lately:

12/29/06:

I decide to see what’s happening at TC. Someone has written “haiku” which isn’t haiku. Someone replies that you don’t have to follow the 5-7-5 form for it to be haiku. Not in response to anything, just as a reply to the poem. WTF? Yes you do. That’s what makes it a haiku. So I reply that I’ve never heard that rule before, let’s hear about it. Strangely enough the reply comes from the “haiku” writer. She says that translated haiku doesn’t follow that form. Well of course not. But did you write it in Japanese & translate it into English? Of course not. You wrote a short sentence, broke it into three lines, called it a “haiku” and that’s that.

I had also said that, basically, there’s no meaning in the poem that I can get and could she talk a little about what’s behind it. She said that there is no meaning in it. So why am I reading it? I feel like Russell Dalrymple.

Few things in writing piss me off so much as people who put words on paper and call it “poetry.” To go on and call it “haiku” when it’s not is just obnoxious. Poetry has meaning. Poetry gives me an image, a reaction, a feeling. Otherwise it’s verbal masturbation and you can keep it in your diary. These “poets” don’t want any feedback, questioning, challenging, etc. They want praise for their nonsense. Fine. Go put it up on your Live Journal. Don’t put it at TC, where we exist to give you feedback and to treat you like a real poet.

I responded, “Are you translating it?” I don’t know what else to say. She doesn’t want feedback, obviously. She doesn’t want to be told “that’s not a haiku.” You can’t just take the form and do what you want with it. It can be a poem, sure, but haiku, it’s not. It’s like put down a paragraph and saying “This is a novel.” No, it isn’t a novel.

Enough of my verbal masturbation. I’m off to find some chocolate…

1/6/07

“Writing is easy…

…All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.”

It’s Saturday. Hawk is working. Z is asleep and H is content. Me? Well I dreamed all night that I was in my book but not in any way that helped me figure out how to close the gaps I’ve made. But at least I was entertained.

Then this morning we have another poet at TC who’s doing rhyming stuff. I’m just not doing feedback on rhyming poetry. Period. I hate it and I think it’s inherently insipid. “What the best word I can put here? Doesn’t matter b/c I have to use one that rhymes.” *grumble*

And I asked the same poet about a misspelling on a different poem (b/c you never know with rhyming poets if their misspellings and other weird choices are intentional) and s/he said “it’s correct.” Um, no. It’s wrong. She wrote “tails” and she means “tales” and if she can’t be bothered to spellcheck her poem and then argues with me when I point out a misspelling, I’m certainly not wasting time on a SC (stark critique) that she’s going to rebut. ETA: she also misspelled “separate” in her response.

TC is a small site. If we had some writers who wanted real feedback, they could get it in spades. No charge, no strings. And we’re eager to do it (hell, we could “mentor” them). If I weren’t working on a piece that’s over 100k, I would probably post something just to get the ball rolling. But what I need feedback on is the whole, not snippets, so that’s not happening.

Our e-zine submissions are excellent. We can really be picky about them. So I know the writers are out there and they’ve heard of us. Maybe it’s just that bigger sites get more attention. I mean, we’ve been a WD 101 Best three out of the five years we’ve been in existence so we’re doing something right.

So anyway…

I know! I’ll share some of my pornrotica that I wrote during NaNoWriMo. That’ll spark things. Whaddya think?

ETA: link to pornrotica already published. Does not include won tons.

1/8/07

Quick breather, quick entry

So I was writing and writing this morning. Hawk has the week off & is spending it at home so he was gathering laundry and I was baby-watching and writing. I missed the “People’s Court” I wanted to see b/c I was working and lost track of time. In the preview the defendant said, “If Douglas touches me, you’ll be sorry” and Judge Millian said, “If Douglas beats you to a bloody pulp, I couldn’t be happier.” I heart Judge Millian.

So anyway… I’m writing today.

I have this scene that I’m changing. I had chucked a portion b/c I deleted a charater (pretty much) but I still wanted the original feel of the scene. Plus I needed to bridge the gap I’d created by removing the old bit.

Here comes the writerly bit.

You know how you can think about something you’re going to write for a couple of days, you kind of plan it out, test some dialogue and maybe a little blocking and then you sit down to write it? Well I do that. Anyway, I had a false start on this bit and needed to change it. So I made that change and then started to write what I had in my head. Ah, the best laid plans.
Then my first-person narrator/MC (his name is Jake, not to be confused with Jakedog, a.k.a. 4LJ — four-legged Jake) just goes off and does something completely bizarre. His attitude is just about the polar opposite from what I’d thought. Naturally I just followed him and he started telling me all these things and I was like “WTF is happening to my story?”

So I just wrote and wrote and wrote and then I’d missed over half of “The People’s Court.” I had no idea what time it was. All’s I knew was Zoe wanted to watch “Misser Wonka” and so I put it on and Mike Teevee had been zoomed across the room and I was watching things happen in the story that I certainly did not expect. In fact I wrote to someone this morning and said that I would be writing a “pseudo sex scene.” Well Jake must’ve heard “pseudo” and said “fuck that.” BTW: This post’s title is profound. *wink*

So I’m dying to get back downstairs and find out what happens next.

ETA: 1700+ words later, it’s finished. And I’m watching the 6 p.m. “People’s Court,” but it’s not the same ep.

Later, that same dark and stormy night…

Jump to Comments

As I “ETA”ed my earlier post, I wrote about 1700 fresh words today and got the book all patched up. Then this evening I spent two hours editing my first 12 pages. Cleaning up bits of overwraught description & such. Like I had written “bank building.” WTF? “Bank” works.

See, I wrote the first draft from 1999-2000. I wasn’t working, we had a word processor and I wrote. Then we got a computer and I printed everything I’d done and scanned it in and wrote on the computer. Then I joined the “writing classes” at eVil, learned a little from them but learned a lot from my writing buddies and formed TC b/c we are teh awesome. Then I finished the book (called “WS” for blogging purposes), went out to dinner with Hawk and saw a ghost, then the next day I went to the pound and found a wonderful dog with the same name as my narrator.

So it’s been some time since I finished the original. I’ve worked on it off & on since (I queried about five agents and four asked to see the whole ms; of course they all passed b/c I still have it here but now I’m like, “ugh, I wouldn’t even POD this”) but not so much since Zoe was born, but now I’m working hard on it. Every day.

In fact, my arms are sore from where they rest on the the chair I sit in to work. I’m physically exhausted but mentally I could keep working another two hours. Then I’ll get the energy up and my brain goes, “No no no no no.” It’s fine so long as I take breaks, like this one.

Where I’m writing. Again.

Project 365

Toasted Cheese Wall of Glory

Originally uploaded by edenza.