Category: writing

Epilogue Snipet

Angela resisted the urge to fan herself with a dirty napkin. Instead, she gazed around the rooftop terrace for a newly minted shady spot before someone else spied it. It was this search that held her attention as Emmett and Ben talked research.

Yes, I’m writing again…I moved my computer in front of my window. It’s like creative crack.


The Kind of Writer I Am

I’m not much for lengthy self reflection, but when a writer friend asked for more description in a specific scene I wrote, I found myself defending

“The Kind of Writer I Am.”

(You should imagine me reading that bit in a strained and passionate failure at Morgan Freeman’s voice. Go ahead, give it another go.)

For the record, she was not asking me to be something I’m not. Her comment was valid and constructive. But it struck a chord, because, like humans, I tend to read into things that people say sometimes.

I began my response as a preemptive defense of why I chose to avoid denoting specific emotions in the scene.

I ended up on a soap box.

After I got off the box, I decided I needed to save this little gem of egoism for holidays and other special occasions, like when I feel like I’ve failed to live up to who I am as a writer. Here it is:

I like the idea of whatever it is being ambivalent, here. I don’t think the character could pick a specific emotion. She’d have to root around in her head to get it, and by then, the moment would be stale, and the reader would be looking at a perfectly rendered still life, instead of the poignant impressionistic painting I was going for. In my opinion, that’s the kind of writer I am. I don’t like to dictate what the character feels. I like to describe the impression of the feeling. To me, that feels more real. We don’t walk around saying “I feel good. I feel bad. I feel bittersweet.” If we have inner monologues at all, we comment on the physicality of our lives and the residual leftovers of memories that we play over and over. The emotion doesn’t exist separately from the living.

So, yeah.

Of course, in the very next paragraph after the scene I so brilliantly defended to a live studio audience, here’s what I wrote:

It felt nice.

Oh Irony. You are like a nagging mother to me.

An ending…

I just finished the first draft of the ending of my last fan fiction piece: Inappropriate Touching. I have an epilogue and outtake planned, which I hope to complete in the next few days.

Even if I don’t do them, as far as I am concerned, the story is told. The epilogue will revisit some of the secondary characters one more time, and give readers another HEA scene with E and B. The outtake is a surprise.

I plan to have chapter 24 up next week, maybe early in the week. The balance of the story will post as it is polished…every few days to a week.

Thanks again to everyone who has been supportive of this project.



I needed to read this today

Today, I’m a bit stuck. New ideas keep tickling me, and I’m dying to move on to something else.

So, I decided to get out and explore the world a bit, see what would shake loose. This is my M.O., see? I sit around, try really hard not to think about writing until my head cracks open and new words fly out.

I went to the library, read newspapers, played around on Pinterest, and finally found myself picking through Twitter.

I was resigned that there would be no writing today…

And then this:

The 7 Cardinal Virtues of Successful Writers by Rob D. Young

I clicked the link, skimming the article preparing for a bout of self flagellation for being sinful, and then I got to the part about Self Control…

Sometimes you’ll need the simple, harsh self-control to finish your current work, even at the expense of your “next great idea.”

Yikes. Truth.

So. I’m not going to sit around and wring my hands, whining that everything that flows through my fingers is trite, pretentious, hypocritical or pedestrian.

I’m not going to make excuses about “not feeling it.” (Although it is one of my favorites)

I’m just going to write, dammit!

See you in 2000 words.

Well, Now I Want to Write Fantasy

Maybe it’s just a phase. But after reading Johanna Penn’s blog post, a short guide to Writing Fantasy, by Ben Galley, I want to write a little fantasy myself. I may not have gotten into Tolkein’s fantasy, but I do enjoy George RR Martin and Deborah Harkness, and surely Chuck Palahniuk’s Diary contains some elements of fantasy—certainly elements of the supernatural.

I’ll roll this around in my brain for a while. In the meantime, this has given me something to consider for future original fiction projects.

Finding the character

So I ended up reading all of Inappropriate Touching. I didn’t mean to, but I was struggling with writing Bella’s voice. I finished chapter 25, but it felt like I was just plotting along, going from one outlined event to the next; a mindless drone.

Droolella is many things; a robot is not one of them.

I thought when I started writing again that each character would be comfy…like a worn old shoe.

Have you ever put a worn old shoe on?

It’s not usually as comfy as you imagine.

Is it possible to recapture that old feeling? I think it is, but it can never be exactly the same. The shoe will be stiff and your foot will invariably be puffier or longer or something.

It takes time. You just gotta wear the shoe. Wiggle your toes. Take it out and buy it dinner. Take a long walk on the beach. Get it warm and sweaty and wet…and suddenly you’re thinking about sex.

And latex.

And there it is.

The Itch

If you write, you know what it is. It’s that tingle in the back of the brain that won’t go away. You see places that beg to be explored. Characters talk in your head and they say things you feel compelled to write down. You … Continue reading The Itch

My leg, etc.

Apparently I wrote a metaphor so poorly that it’s been consistently mis-read as fact. There’s nothing wrong with either of my legs. I can bend them backwards and forwards like everyone else.

I’m dissatisfied with fanfiction. I don’t have any issues with the fanfictionistas. I just don’t have anything in common with any of them (I have no interest in Robsten, et al, I don’t have nor want children, I don’t like kitty porn and don’t have a secret wish that my husband would dominate me in bed) and all the fic I read seems like the same old shit…even the really fucked up stories. It’s boring.

But that’s not why I’m leaving. I’m leaving because I’d rather be a crap writer banging out my own shit for free, than a crap writer who has to thank and give credit to SM for free. That disclaimer is not fun to write. Also, I don’t need nor do I want constant ego boosting feedback. At first I liked getting reviews and comments, but most of it is useless fangirling, and it’s creepy and weird to me. It’s fine if you’re into it, but it’s just not my kink.

Lastly, thank you (all two or so of you) who’ve subscribed to this blog. It’s very kind of you to show your support.

Write What?

That is the big question. I don’t know what to write, but I know I’m ready to abandon the crutches and this bulky Velcro strapped splint on my leg (<–this is a metaphor for writing).

I’ll say it here, because only those who actually give a shit about me outside of ff, will read my blog: I’ve become disillusioned with fanfic; so much so that I don’t know if I’ll even be able to finish the few WIPs I still bother to read. I won’t go on and on about the specifics. I don’t like to waste words.

I will probably write fiction.

It may or may not be funny.

I will use the word “cunt” whenever I feel like it.

There will be awkward and realistic sex.

I will write from a place of emotional honesty and realism.

No protagonist will have any incarnation of red hair (until I’m thoroughly RPatz purged)

While I’m at it, I will avoid like bubonic plague any reference to Twi-inspired character names, events and locations.

There may be vampires, but they will never sparkle, and they will always be evil. Just as the great sky-bully intended.