Silence, Resistance, and Arguing with Myself

17 Feb 2013 4 Comments

by PartlyPixie in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

I know I've been gone for some time. So long that irowboat took pity on me and wrote a lovely little post just to let everyone know I still alive, if not exactly prolific. Or able to spread butter on bread.

I have drafts and half written posts here on my iPad. More of the in my head. But they and other things I want to write remain as they are, either in the limbo of half-written or left as little thought bubbles in the odd hours of the night.

Before I get those posts that are ready up, I wanted to share this dilemma I'm facing in all it's neurotic glory. I tend to keep these kinds of struggles to myself because they are generally temporary and because we have other things to talk about here. But I need to get this part off my chest.

Because I'm not writing – not the way I need to be.

I don't believe in writers block, and even if I did this isn't it. I'm overflowing with ideas.

And yet, I've gone silent.

Silence in writers can be a good thing. It can be a period of reflection, growth, a respite, or just a small glitch that will work itself out.

But like depression, silence that goes on for too long means it's not just a glitch in the program, and it's time to take a good long look at what needs to change.

So now, let's all imagine the little squiggly lines and Vaseline-smeared lens effect of a television flashback, and go back to nearly one month ago. I'd just written my previous post, and was ready to decide what comes next for me.

And I decided to apply for Clarion West.

If you're not familiar with the Clarion workshops, they are intensive 6-weekly ordeals in which only 18 people are chosen per year, and the process seems to go something like: write a short story and have it torn apart, take a break and tear another person's story apart, listen to the instructors, rinse, repeat. All while staying in college dorms and networking and all that kind of stuff.

The instructors are all accomplished writers. This year, my idol and one do my favorite writers Neil Gaiman will be teaching. The workshop is also in Seattle, and if I get in I would have to get there and back, plus miss 6 weeks of work and pony up the $3,600 tuition cost.

To apply, I need to submit either 2 short stories totaling less than 30 pages (this is the recommended method), or a novel excerpt with a three page synopsis. This shoud not be difficult to come up with.

And ever since I decided to apply, I have been able to write a damn thing. Not even a blog post.

I come up with plenty of story ideas, none of which will fit into a 30-page limit. So I give up and turn to my old rough drafts and search for a excerpt and find one I think I can make work.

But it seems like if I really want to get in, I should write a short story. Two.

So I go back to that, and come up with another few thousand words. It seems to be going well.

And then Resistance sets in. Magically, I have suddenly gone out to do grocery shopping, or decided to clean my house, or have lapsed into a 4-hour coma and wake up on my desk with my forehead all wrinkly like a Klingon from my sweater-covered arms.

Resistance is as common as silence, and generally is something to ignore and push past. But once again, if it goes on too long, I think it comes time to reevaluate my situation.

What if I'm reisisting because I don't want to go?

It's a stupid dilemma to have. The chances that I may be one of the fortunate 18 is small, even if I do my best work. Nothing bad can come of writing and polishing 2 short stories or fixing up 30 pages of a novel. Why not just apply and see where the chips fall? Why not just go for it, and trust in the fates to do what is best for me?

First, the Fates have a fucked up sense of humor, and are not to be trusted. The end.

But the advice is sound, why not just do the best I can do, writing the things that I write (the temptation to write what I suspect they are looking for is high – but that's another post), and get on with things.

It all comes down to goals. Specific goals. If I want to merely apply to Clarion, just to see if what I usually write has a shot, I could have done that yesterday, or even last year. I can easily find 30 pages of pretty damn good writing to clean up and send, but that would only fulfill the goal of applying.

If the goal is to get in to Clarion, then nothing but my best will do. I'll have cheated myself otherwise if I don't do the recommended 2 short stories of my best writing to date, polishing and shining them until they are the pinnacle if what I have to offer. And then if/when I don't get in, at least I know that I did myself justice.

My ultimate goal, though, is to be a writer, to publish and write books people like enough to buy and come back for more, maybe even enough that I could quit my day job.

I suspect I don't need Clarion for that. It might help, sure – help with craft and networking and unknown other things. It seems like a side-step, though. The next step to publishing a book is editing and submitting, looking for an agent, getting rejected and trying again. That seems to be how every writer I love and respect has done it.

I don't know exactly what Clarion would do for me. In the accounts of those I have read, they say the most valuable lesson was just sitting down and writing.

I think I've got that one down. After writing 650,000 words in a year, it's now an ingrained habit to at least get out a few hundred words each day, or even to make a few notes. Writing on demand is not a problem.

But no matter what may or may not happen for me at Clarion, one thing is for sure.

Ever since I decided to apply, I have barely written.

That moment a month ago when I put it down as what I wanted was the dawn of stress and struggle and daily arguments with myself over what to do and how to do it. The only relief I can find is when I can for five or ten minutes convince myself I don't actually have to go, or even apply. Then, I feel better.

And because I feel better, I start to write again.

Until I realize maybe what I'm writing Something Promising. Maybe for Clarion…

Aaaaaand I stop writing.

I'm a believe in listening to one's own heart. And I think my Resistance and my heart are on the same page with this.

I don't want to go to Clarion. Even though I haven't even applied yet, even though I probably won't have to worry about whether or not to go because I won't get in, even though the workshop is a dream chance, the kind of thing people risk everything to do and if I do get in I'd be stupid to give up.

I don't want it.

So I'll apply. Because I can; I'll send in an except even though they recommend I don't. I'll pay the application fee and email in my words and move on.

And when I don't make it, I'll breathe a sigh of relief and plan what I'd rather do with $3,600.

Thanks, friends. I'm glad we had this talk.

 

 

 

 

 

Month Twelve Reflections: Write What You Write

11 Dec 2012 6 Comments

by PartlyPixie in 12 Month Reflections, December, unsticking, Writing Tools Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We hear about how zombies are over and how fairy tales are in, we hear about agents and we worry about if we can one day sell the thing we have scarcely typed five paragraphs of.

We ought never end a sentence with the word of. Or to. Or with.

We think we should write science fiction because smart people do that, or we should give up on literary fiction because vampires are where the money is (even though some writing magazine just told us the vampire craze is dead – haha dead, get it?), and what if that isn't where the money is and everyone is still stuck on serial killers and zombies after all?

But young adult is where the real market is, right? We should take a class on that, we should join a writing forum, we should have a writing group, except writing groups are bad for originality, or is that reading?

We should not read while we write because it will influence us, or was that we should read as much as we can while we write so we stay fresh?

We should never write cliches, we should only write things that have not been done, we should give up and write whatever, we should cut our teeth on fan fic and not worry about all that pesky character development. Maybe we should skip the publisher for that novel we haven't written yet and go straight to kickstarter, and maybe if we just read the latest magazine article on “5 Sure-Fire Ways to END Writer's Block NOW!” we can finally get started…

Stop

Just stop for a minute.

We are all here because we are writers, we want to be writers, or artists, or creatives. We have a need to express things that are within us, sometimes buried deep from years of shoulds and should nots, or just beneath the surface and waiting to be discovered.

Sometimes they lay like seashells in the sand and beg us to pick them up and hold them, smooth and cold like porcelain, to our ears, and listen.

We will never get to what is inside by reaching for what is outside. We will never be fulfilled as writers, never find that peace we write to seek, if we listen only to the bustle of the world going by, and not the seashell in our hands.

We must write what we write. We must come to the page, the canvas, the world as we are, and no one else. We must dive into our obsessions and burn through them, write into them, explore every unflattering angle and beautiful crevice of the things we cannot stop thinking about.

Whether it is cliche or obscure, if we do it honestly, we will offer the world what we are here to offer. And when we let go and admit to who we really are, the art is a little freer to make, the blocks not so blocked, the time not so long before we can feel the idea giving way and letting us slide into the heart of things.

And if the waves come and take a seashell away, wipe out what brilliant idea we had, it is easier to find another one just as brilliant, just as fine, because we know what to look for.

It does not always come easy.

When I began this year, I thought I was a science fiction writer. I had dabbled with all sorts of things, from some hard boiled crime to short stories dealing with Christian mythology, and of course, my beloved science fiction I thought I was meant to do.

I thought I knew what I wrote.

But what poured out was not expected: vampires, immortals, fairy tales and black magic, a tower that only stands because of the blood poured at it's feet, enchanted swords, underground owl men who tell your fortune in the bones of their pellets, exiled fairies, greek myths and conspiracies, and even more vampires.

I clung on for dear life as I wrote on and on, things I never dreamed I could imagine, anyone could imagine.

I can see the struggle in my early drafts, the fighting with myself, trying to steer the story to normal, all thrown out when the word count was too low, and I had to face myself as I am. I started many months with the hopes that maybe this time I would find sanity, the previous bloodbath of a novel was a fluke, but I was wrong.

I know better now, and I am a better writer. I look forward to what darkness lays before me, what evil deeds will await, what fairy tale I can twist.

I write what I write, it's just easier that way.

Write what you write, live as you live, let the rules that work for you find you.

And spend that money you save on writing magazines on a good pen, or some chocolate, or wine. Whatever makes you happy.

 

Guest Post: Embracing Incoherence (or, Rambling for Focus)

18 Nov 2012 2 Comments

by irowboat in I might not be in my right mind here, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo Tips, Slightly off Kilter, unsticking, Writing Tools Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s me again, taking over so you don’t have to.

A lot has happened in the last couple weeks, but we’re now 18 days and some change into November, just a smidge past halfway. If you multiply 18 days (and some change) by the Golden Ratio (1.618, a.k.a. “Phi”, a.k.a. “ϕ”), you get 30, or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. How many days hath November? Not a coincidence.

That’s right, you’re at the Golden Ratio, the perfect spiral, the only-thing-that-makes-sense part of your story. If you’ve done NaNo before, you’ve already done your math — 30,000 words are miles behind you, and the wind is blowing comfortably through your hair.

30,000 words. Sound familiar?

So not only is it the most-perfect-hardest-time in your novel, it’s also the Night of Writing Dangerously in San Francisco. How—as a non WriMo—do I know it’s in San Francisco, you ask? Because I dropped your usual host off at the airport at a time that was not quite obscene, but also uncomfortably close to far-too-late. As I write this, she and at least one typewriter-toting maniac are snacking and binge drinking wining and dining and writing with 229 other writers.

“So how does this help me?” you ask. And just because I’m barging in here to hassle her with not-terribly-subtle notes about how far she should be, I’ll tell you.

Refocus on the goal: 50,000 words. 30 days.

Discover your story. Go faster, further. You’ll learn more about your voice. I know from watching Michelle that you’ll grow in your capacity to adapt, and everything will start coming together. It may not happen in just one NaNo, but it’s like watching the explosive delicacy and wonder of a time-lapse flower unfolding. You don’t think the Vikings reached North America by stopping and digging out their cartography kit at every glimpse of distant shoreline, do you?

What follows is actual dialogue (very lightly edited for consumption) between yours truly, and the lass who is going to strangle yours truly. Sometimes, it helps to have someone looking pointedly at the goal.

…picking up mid-conversation…

partlypixie: I’m tired of these stories I can’t end well. It started so damn well. But this month has been crazy, so I guess a coherent story on top of it all is a lot to ask of myself, eh?

irowboat: Stop whining. The point isn’t coherence. It’s 50,000 words. So knock it off.

irowboat: You’re leaping ahead into the “I’m publishing” phase. Not the discovery phase.

partlypixie: You’re so right, I really am.

irowboat: NaNo is discovery.

partlypixie: Yes

partlypixie: Thank you. That really, really helped.

irowboat: btw, that was 164 words you spent. Thought you should know.

partlypixie: Pfffft

…a couple days later…

partlypixie: With all this writing, themes are repeating so much I might as well be writing just 3 over and over. I don’t know if I have it in me to write something distinct.

irowboat: Then write something hazy and diffuse. Sounds stupid and patronizing, but I mean you just write; this is the month—of all months—where you excise every concern about what you’ll end up with. That’s what they look up to you for; that feverish, wild-eyed abandon, the acceptance and embracing of the incoherent. Readysetgo!

If you’re even the vaguest hint like me, the temptation is there every moment to edit that sentence just a little – not even trying to perfect it, just nudge it a little to let it make sense. Well, since you were foolish enough to stop in and check this out, you get the same care and watering I give as the stern WriMo wrangler (with a heart of cogs and fables): Stop fussing with it.

Every time your cursor goes up, you could be writing the next word. Every time your hand touches your mouse, you can only write words that are missing half the good vowels or common consonants.

If you’re even sort of close to hitting the 1667-word-a-day pace, that 30,000-word wall is the perfect (yes, I’m being self-referential) time to give up on your outline, ignore your urge to flip to your notes document to jot miscellanea (PROTIP: just write your notes in your story); the perfect time to give in, grab hold of every errant thought, and—with all your writerly might—bind them together like an army of Lovecraftian, madness-inducing, literary horrors.

Embrace them now. Remember this is National Novel Writing Month.

Going insane, losing hair/sleep/relationships, sorting out the gibberish – that’s what National Novel Editing Month is for.

(These 756 words were brought to you by the word ‘rambling’.)

NaNoWriMo Prep: Disconnect Your Speedometer

15 Oct 2012 2 Comments

by PartlyPixie in NaNoWriMo, October Tags: , , , , ,

No, not literally.

This summer, we had a massive heat wave here in Salt Lake, and a curious thing happened after driving around in 102° F heat for a week solid. My speedometer stopped working.

But it didn't stop dead, laying at the bottom of the dial like a sunken boat. Instead, it hovered at twenty miles per hour, the needle staying completely steady no matter how fast I went. Unless, that is, I went below twenty miles per hour, and then it began flailing wildly back and forth until I either came to a dead stop or drove faster (either of which would return the needle to 20mph).

Luckily, I only drive manual cars, so I had some cues about my speed, and I never got pulled over (imagine that exchange!), but I never pass up an opportunity to learn something about life, writing, and everything wherever I can. And learn I did.

I stopped paying attention to how fast I was going, and started paying attention to other drivers and the road, and when I knew I needed to be places. The only feedback I had was the gearbox, the road flying past, and the dancing needle when I slowed down below 20mph. And I did what I had to to arrive at my destination when I needed to be there, never knowing how fast I went between the start and end of my journey.

It was freeing, frightening, and instructive. And now I do my best to ignore the speedometer – fixed with the cold weather – and to pay more attention to my surroundings and just getting where I am going.

I have noticed a lot of my fellow writers planning their daily word counts, planning their plots, planning their everything in preparation for November.

The logic seems good: to reach 50,000 words, all we need to do is write an average of 1,667 words each day. And while this seems to be a reasonable, steady pace, I have yet to meet any piece of writing that is either steady or reasonable. Why should we expect the process to be anything but chaotic?

Stop worrying about speed and planning. Break the damn speedometer, and pay attention to the terrain instead.

All novels and stories have their own biorhythm, their own unique terrain; some corners need to be navigated slowly, other bits are long straightaways where we can really test how fast the old girl can go. Sometimes we are running late and need to speed, other times the road is crowded and dangerous and we must slow down and make creeping but steady progress toward the goal, the end.

We don't need to worry so much. The only plan needed is this: start at the beginning, work steadily to the end, and finish on time. Speed up, slow down, climb hills, and take detours (the best part). It may take some of us longer than others, but the distance driven is the same for all.

Enjoy the journey. Relax. And write.

 

Also? Never backtrack! The backspace key is for when the cat or the kids “help” with typing. This road is one way only—forward.

 

Reasons I Hate Outlines With A Firey Passion

07 Oct 2012 18 Comments

by PartlyPixie in NaNoWriMo, October, The Dreaded Rant Tags: , , , , , , , ,

*I appologize for not getting this up last night. It was late, and some technical glitches were more than I wanted to deal with.

As some of you may have noticed from my previous post, I am not a fan of outlining. In fact, it takes everything I have not to go on a rant about how much I hate them every time I hear writers talking about outlines. After several attempts at outlining before I wrote this year, I have only increased my aversion. Here's why:

  • Outlining is not writing. It feels like writing, and it fools writers into thinking they have done something productive toward their story. But it is not writing. Go write.
  • It takes time away from writing. I keep hearing about how outlining saves time, but time writing is never wasted. Spending three months writing the wrong things on your novel and having to start again is three extra months of practicing writing. Malcom Gladwell discovered in his research for his book Outliers that the difference between an amateur and a prodigy is 10,000 hours of doing whatever we want to be good at! Do you really still want to save time?
  • It locks the brain into rigid thinking. We're no longer holding on to the edge of our seats, excited to see what happens next: writing becomes less of a process of discovery and more of just connecting a series of events together with words.
  • Outlines are boring. Seriously. There is no better way to make me hate doing something than to make me write an outline about it. Unless I have to eat tomatoes while I do it —that might be worse than outlining. Unless it is outlining about tomatoes. Oh gods.
  • Outlines are perfect and polished. Writing is not. The contrast can make all your little perfectionism gremlins come out to play and this can keep you from writing another word.
  • Outlines can make your story sound stupid. Condense any story into its parts, and it sounds like the dumbest thing on earth. And the dumbest idea on earth can be mind blowing in the right hands. (Don't believe me? Outline Romeo and Juliet and then try and tell me why it's such a great love story. But in the hands of the Bard, it has transfixed generations.)
  • Outlines create needless anxiety. It beaks my heart to read so many writers saying things like “I can't get started writing yet, I haven't done my outline.” We need ways to make starting to write easier, not harder. I don't care what successful writer says we should outline first, if it makes us stop writing, then they are not helping
  • Outlines. Are. Not. Writing. FOR THE LAST TIME, GO WRITE.

 

All of this being said, I know some people work in some backwards fashion and enjoy and utilize outlines. If you are one of these curiosities, stick to what works.

But if you are like me and most people I know, just write. Write, and if you get halfway through and realize you left out something or you need to re-route your story, do it. Rewrite scenes if need be, make notes in the text, and move on through the story.

You know, writing.

When you are done with the first draft, put it away, have a celebratory drink of something fizzy, then go write something else. In a few months, come back to that old messy story and outline it if you really want to.

Or just rewrite it. Whatever works for you.

 

 

Bitching About Outlines

16 Jun 2012 5 Comments

by PartlyPixie in June, Slightly off Kilter, The Dreaded Rant Tags: , , , , , , , ,

If you’re here expecting a little rant about the necessary evil of outlines, but how I’ll persevere to get better at them because that’s what Real Writers do, you’re in the wrong room. Go look at some lolcats or something. Or feel free to stick around, but remember that I already told you this won’t end how you want.

Outlines are evil..

Something has gone wrong this month. And last month. The words just aren’t happening. I have a good premise, great characters, and even some good plot twists. My shitty first drafts are not nearly as shitty as they were in January.

Everything should be going well.

But they aren’t.

I decided to try sketching out a loose outline instead of my usual style of “readysetgo!” I found the idea in some book or other and thought it would be great material to blog about.

I wrote a loose outline for last month. Then, proceeded to write anything but that story and research myself to death, only to end up writing thirty five thousand words in that last week.

This month, again, I wrote an outline, thinking it might help me avoid fatigue. Now, when I sit to write, I end up staring at the outline and trying to figure out what to write next. I try to understand the ending before I’ve even gotten there. Then, I put the outline aside and stare at my screen… And the perfectionist voice starts to chime in.

“Oh you think you want to write that ending, do you?”

“Gee, this story looks a lot like those books you read over and over last year. Can’t you find something else to do?”

“If your story is going to be this predictable, then why don’t you go research some of those college degrees you could have? I hear there’s a shortage of economics professors.”

“Is writing making you fat? Your butt looks kind squishy,”

“I mean really, how many more times can you write a story with a love triangle, anyway?”

I’ll spare you the rest – you get the idea. I’ve been stifled, fighting myself as much as I fight for time to fit words in. Hell, I’ve barely even blogged; it takes too much energy to fight the perfectionism monster just to get fiction in, and for the first time in a while, I can’t find the off button.

It didn’t even occur to me until today that the outline could be the problem. I write to find out what story I’m telling. I like plunge in, letting my hands type on, under the complete influence of my writing mind and my intuition. The story is alive and breathing, it worms into my skull and I am excited to get back and find out what is going to happen next.

The outline already tells the story. It’s dead, it’s theoretical, it holds no mystery at all. I know it all needs to be written, but the joy of it has been bled out by even a rough little list of events leading to an ending. It’s all there, no point in me doing a damn thing. I skip straight to second-draft mode where I obsess over details and flesh out the story and write much tighter prose. I freeze up. And I hate it.

The outline must die.

I suppose it could be argued, especially since I rallied against ignoring the perfectionism monster previously, that I ought to employ the same tactics and keep the outline.

But why? Because outlines are so damn great? Because that’s what Real Writers do?

Some people have likened outlines to the storyboards film directors use to have a rough idea of how to shoot the movie. They say that writers need that kind of thing too. Yes, great, but the last time I checked the film was already written. The two processes cannot be compared.

Another argument for outlines is that is saves time in the writing of the story. This, at least for this writer, is demonstrably untrue. I wrote 50,000 words in a week in march, outline free. It even had a beginning, middle, end, central conflict et al.

And as for what Real Writers do, I’ve done a helluva lot of research on this, on blogs and books and interviews and other things, and the only thing Real Writers do consistently is write. A lot.

Therefore, anything that prevents me from writing a lot makes me less of a writer.

And I made a new rule as I watched my pretty little outline catch fire and curl into black and orange soot.

Burn away everything that makes you less of what you want to be.

I feel better now.

When FILDI Kicks In

26 May 2012 3 Comments

by PartlyPixie in May Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Day Twenty-Six: Aprox. 20,000 of 50,000 words

Last Sunday’s inspiration post mentioned something called FILDI, which means “Fuck it, let’s do it!” It is that beautiful moment when we suddenly remember that everything is temporary anyway, and if we don’t get it done, it never will have a chance to suck and to just do it for the sake of doing.

Which all amounts to saying “Fuck it. Let’s do it.” I am about to say it. I’m about to do it.

I have only 20,000 words written. I need another 30,000. It is the twenty-sixth.

Failure. Is. Not. An. Option.

Fuck it. Let’s do it.

This month has been less enthusiasing than expected. I thought that blogging my novel would be an extra push of difficulty and fun, and in many ways it has been. It has also re-aquatinted me with a dear old nemesis. The delete key.

Little vixen. So tempting, especially when I know what I am writing will be read. Gulp. The tool of the perfectionism gremlin, sitting in the corner of my keyboard with it’s harmless looking arrow with a little x in it, promising redemption if only I get rid of the crap I just wrote and try again.

Because this time, it is for real and available to be read.

I write, then I realize I really ought to make more sense than usual, and there needs to be a plot told in order, and maybe I should make sure the spellings and such are all are corrected and there aren’t any major errors. This all takes time. Lots more time and energy than just banging things out fast and furious and unhindered by fear of judgement like I have become accustomed to.

I expected this issue. I did. I knew that the pressure of posting fiction online would push me to new ideas and maybe greater insights. The vision I had was that I would turn out posts on a regular basis throughout the month, and then have maybe another month of just automatically posting the rest of what I had written if anything had not made it. I imagined things streamlined and fairly carefree overall.

What I got instead was the sudden and overwhelming need to do other things, from the other novel insisting in being written instead to doing a cleaning overhaul of a good deal of my house. I am so very reluctant.

I fully intend on extending the posting of the articles I am writing and keeping them going until the story finishes up. I fully intend on finishing this month even though I would just about do anything else, including continuing to clean my house, maybe take up a hobby of sticking nails through my cheeks and making funny faces.

I want to leave this project and just skip it, write the story I’m already working on or move on to the next one or even give up on writing and run off to train exotic animals for movies. I want to quit so badly. I am sick of the story and the research and I am sick of myself being sick of it and avoiding it. I want this month to just be done already.

But this is that moment. The moment that separates the writers who get things done from the ones who remain unfulfilled and not writing.

This is what we do the practice for, the daily or weekly or monthly goals. This is why we work at making relatively well formed sentences and paragraphs. It isn’t for the good times. It’s for the times we hate and wish we could be anywhere doing anything else.

We work hard and get good at doing it so we can keep going when we would rather do anything else.

If I keep going, I will be uncomfortable and maybe amused and maybe brilliant and maybe miserable for the next five days and 30,000 words.

It will probably suck.

For five days. Maximum.

But if I quit now? I will feel the sting for years. Maybe a lifetime.

Because these are the times that show us who we are capable of being.

So here we go.

Fuck it.

Let’s do it.

Never miss the opportunity to be greater than you are.

Inspiration #17

20 May 2012 3 Comments

by PartlyPixie in Inspiration, May, Writing Tools Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Every Sunday, I choose a passage of wisdom from someone who knows better and much more than I do about writing, life, the universe and/or everything.

Share and enjoy!

I normally really dislike videos in blogs, but this one is a must-see. Please watch it. You will be glad you did.

And as a note, this is vaguely NSFW, so put on headphones if you’re around people who can’t handle a smidge of mild language.

“And God let me enjoy this! Life isn’t just a sequence of waiting for things to be done.”

~Ze Frank

On things going well and encountering an old enemy

04 Jan 2012 4 Comments

by PartlyPixie in January Tags: , , , , , ,

Day Three: 6,212 of 50,000 words

So far things are going really well. I’ve written a little over 2,000 words each of the three days so far. At night, my brain keeps track of the time and has kindly fallen into the writing rhythm I cultivated last November: when it’s time to write, I write, and it’s even got a built-in alarm that so far lets me know when I really need to get to business to meet my daily goal.

I know this kind of continual progress isn’t just a lucky thing – it’s good habits I’ve developed and a certain refusal to accept the tantrums I throw right before I get to work as part of my writing process, and not just a reason to go do something else. Honestly, every time I sit down each night to get some words down I have a little hissy fit in my mind, just like a little kid before bedtime.

So I sit and suffer with myself for a time until I get tired of it. I open the Scrivener file, read over where I left off, realize it’s not terrible and I can keep going, procrastinate by making a hot cup of something that will most likely just sit next to me and get cold while I work. Then I write.

It also helps that I have a boyfriend who has taken it upon himself to bug me about getting it done as much as I bug myself.

And I am not above bribing myself with chocolate.

What has been difficult, and I didn’t anticipate this, is getting around to this blog. It was much easier a few weeks back when I was maybe getting one or two people reading it – I assumed it might be my mother or boyfriend, so I felt fairly free to post a few things and see if I can get the hang of writing for an audience.

The weird thing is, you people are coming here and reading this. More of you than I expected to, though I know it’s fewer than saner people would find exciting.

I’m feeling performance pressure to actually write things that make sense, that talk about what I’m doing, that keep you, yes YOU coming back to see what else I’m up to.

It’s a very new feeling, being read.

I like it. I like it a lot.

It also is very scary, because it makes me feel like I need to be perfect, and perfection is the enemy. Yes I know, the saying is “The perfect is the enemy of the good.”

But I’m going to just say that perfection is the enemy. Say it with me. Say it with me again.

Think of something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It could be finishing sorting out your stuff in storage, it could just be doing the laundry, or it could be that thing you know would make your life better. Like writing a novel, or getting back to those activities you loved before you realized you had to make money and gave them up.

Have you only not done it because you want to do it right the first time? You want it to be perfect?

If so, say it with me one last time: Perfection is the enemy.

I want to be perfect here, and that’s just not going to happen. I’ve learned it for my fiction, and for my martial arts. I’ve learned it in a lot of ways, and here I am learning it again.

I would rather edit something finished ten times than wait to do it perfectly for ten years.

That’s it for now. I’m going to go write. Thank you for reading.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 377 other followers

%d bloggers like this: