Tag Archives: stumbling blocks

Self-Censoring

I haven’t written much, lately.
The last poetry I wrote was for submissions to an anthology/zine/something out in BC (I have no idea if my work has been accepted or not, or whether the anthology is still happening, as the organizer/editor is dealing with Life Stuff and has other things on their plate right now. Time will tell).
I keep going “but I’m tired”, and knowing that’s not really what’s up.
I mean, yes, I have two (both part-time) jobs + occasional other paid work, my social media feed is a landscape of fear, panic, and calls-to-action that is somewhat less-frequently interrupted with Emergency Kittens and kink discussion than it was two weeks ago, and I’m not sleeping too well these days, but when “I’m tired” – and, more-so, “I’m just tired” starts showing up in my interior monologue, I know it means something more than that.
 
Starhawk, in Truth or Dare talks about the gate of the censor (the book is constructed loosely around the Descent of Innana). She says:
 

Notice when you are bored, when the dull fog of the Censor creeps in. Ask: What is not being said here? What am I not seeing/saying/doing? What do I want to do? What do I fear?

 
This is what “I’m just tired” generally means for me. It means I’m self-censoring. I’m “tired” of… what? From what?
So I ask myself: What is not being said here?
My answer comes back:
 
I don’t want to write a break-up album. I don’t want my queer-poly poetry collection to be all sad and wistful stuff about loss. I don’t want my chap-book of femme-poetry glosas to just be me spending more femme energy on a masc who broke my heart.
 
I miss writing. I miss making the time to write, and I miss generating creative work, but I also miss the ritual of sitting down in a coffee shop, dropping $5 for coffee and a lemon square, and creating for a couple of hours without distraction (meaning: without access to the internet, which I can technically do at home by sitting in the front room rather than on the couch; but also meaning: without the guilt/shame around taking time to Art when my living room and kitchen are untidy). I feel guilty for wanting to take that time, and for wanting to spend that money, when I could be working in the shop to help my wife’s business grow (aka: to help us pay our bills) or donating to Standing Rock or emailing my prime minister about repealing Bill C-51 (among other things). But mostly? Mostly, I’m just embarrassed to be still processing a heart-break that happened almost a year ago (meaning: more time has passed since breaking up than passed during the entire, short-lived relationship), and I want to find something else to speak-from-the-heart about that will contribute to the works I have in progress.
 
Ugh. Ages ago, I read a horoscope for myself that said my break-throughs were going to come from the artistic-output equivalent of singing “Bed of Roses” in a really heart-felt way, while drunk at a karaoke party. So maybe I need to write the damn break-up album and be done with it?
 
I don’t know. I’m working at a cegep tomorrow. If I arrive early enough, maybe I can sit myself in their school cafeteria and scribble something while I wait.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under poetry, writing

Hand-Writing My Novel (Yes, Really)

So I’ve come to the conclusion that I am more likely to actually get my novel written if I hand-write it.
 
I know. Some of you are probably looking at me like I’ve grown a second head, right now. But bear with me: My daily writing quota is 1000 words. That’s easy. (Or at least it’s easy for me, since I have the luxury of an extremely flexible schedule). It also works out to a nice, round number of pages in my handy-dandy paper note-book (my last one was just slightly too big to fit in my purse). If I hand-write ten pages I should get my thousand words (or, okay, between 1,000 and 1,200) with no trouble, and I’ll have handily avoided the distractions of The Internet while doing so.
 
Yeah. There’s that thing again. The Internet. I’m hand-writing my novel because I’m easily distracted, have a hard time saying No to the option of looking stuff up (like how far is it, really, from Toronto to Sterling, Ontario – which would give me a good idea of how long my MC’s drive from her old home to her new home will be), and tend to want to tell Twitter exactly what I’ve been up to today… rather than actually getting it done.
So, yeah. Rather than doing what I had originally intended to do – take bits and pieces of my already-written 40,000 words or so and copy-paste them into the new draft as needed – I’ll be hand-writing the whole manuscript. At least as far as the first (“first”) draft goes.
Heh. 96,000 words. Of hand-writing. Yow. O.O
94,000 to go.
 
But I think it’ll work. With short stories, at least, I’ve always wound up with better work when I hand-write things first – mostly, I suspect, because I edit my writing as I transcribe it from notebook page to computer screen. I think it’s reasonable to assume it will be the same with a novel.
 
Wish me luck. 🙂
 
 
TTFN,
A.

2 Comments

Filed under prose, writing

A Life that Reflects Your Values

Zen Pencil offers this cartoon from Bill Waterson.
So very, very much worth remembering.
 

Leave a comment

Filed under Getting Paid, writing

Writer Problems – My Main Character is a Douche Nozzle.

So I finished my Novel Skeleton, and have started slotting actual word-count into the framework. In some cases, this means writing new content while, in others, it means finding stuff I’ve already written (because why waste it, seriously), slotting it into place, and editing it for fit and continuity.
I read my first scene to my wife the other day.
She said: “I would read that. It’s a great start. I hate her already.”
 
Which gives you an idea of how much of a freaking douche-nozzle my MC is.
 
I’m one of those people who always wants to write NICE characters. Which is, perhaps, really dumb. I want to write characters that readers empathize with and *like*, even if they do less-than-honourable things. (Think: Cassel from the Curse Workers series, or Leah and Rachel from The Poisonwood Bible).
Right now, what I have is a character who is an asshole. She’s irresponsible, takes advantage of her friends, and is so freaking entitled that I want to smack the bitch. And I created her! O.O
 
And that’s fine, that’s the point, the whole idea is to start with this useless, self-absorbed little twit and smarten her the fuck up over the course of the novel.
 
The trouble is, having written this character – this scene, just one scene – this way (which is the way that she actually IS), I am now more than just a little bit worried that she is incapable of developing into even a redeemable human being, let alone a human being who is actually redeemed (in which “redeemed” means functional adult capable of caring for BOTH herself AND for people who are not herself).
 
I mean, presumably she is.
 
But, even with my spiffy novel skeleton to guide me… I’m really, really, REALLY not sure how I’m going to get her there. O.O
 
Wish me luck. O.O

Leave a comment

Filed under prose, writing

“The Anatomy of Story” (or: I Went and Got Myself Some Writing Help)

So. I’ve been frustrated and discouraged with my novel of late. And by “of late” I mean “for the past two to three months”. In a fit of angst, I hit up the library and picked up a couple of books on storytelling. One of them, Improving Your Storytelling, I haven’t really looked at yet. It’s about the art of performance storytelling. Useful. But not what I need right this second. John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story, on the other hand, is about writing and building a good story from the bones on up. It’s directed at screen writers, so a lot of the examples the author uses to break down the techniques he’s presenting are movies (“Tootsie” and “The Godfather” feature pretty heavily so far). Because it (conveniently?) doesn’t break down movies like “Under the Tuscan Sun” or “The Witches of Eastwick”, it means that I’m forced to, y’know, actually do my own work.
 
The novel I’m trying to write, it turns out, is not a Fun Romp with a romance at its center.
It’s a story about mothers and daughters and the way families fuck each other up for generations.
And, hopefully, a Fun Romp as well. I still want to get Chicken Antics in there somewhere.
 
What I’ve been doing is going through what the author is billing as “22 steps to becoming a master storyteller”, one step at a time, and trying to figure out how my novel is going to do its own talking.
For the moment, I’m about half-way through Chapter Four (“Character”) and I’m running up against the requirements of making my hero – Imogene – a fascinating and relateable character.
This is kind of stumping me a little because, for the moment, Imogene isn’t all that fascinating. Or at least I’m having trouble seeing how she’s going to be fascinating to anyone other than me. I like reading about rehabilitating neglected farmland, learning how to forage, and making preserves for the first time. (I loved Under the Tuscan Sun – original memoire version – for just that reason). Other people? Mmmm… Maybe not.
 
Imogene is a woman who is, honestly, past the age where she can be forgiven for not really being an adult yet; a woman who has been repeating a cycle of (1) need help/support/care (2) find someone to offer that help/support/care (3) allow personality and dreams to be subsumed by helper/supporter/care-giver in order to maintain relationship and retain help/support/care (4) pressure builds up until BLAMO: big fight, runs-away/gets-kicked-out (5) repeat from start, possibly with a honey-moon/appology period if the new helper/supporter/care-giver is the same one as before… She’s been doing this since she was in her teens. First with her mom (who does something similar), and then with her girlfriends (who, in a way, are stand-ins for that first unreliable care-giver, but who are also used by her mom to keep herself (Mom) as “the good guy” or “the reliable one” in Imogene’s eyes). It’s messy and kind of gross.
Imogene is, essentially, a woman who is mooching her way through life because (a) she believes she’s incapable (not smart enough, not reliable enough, not skilled enough, not employable enough, not, not, not… Girl needs to read her some Adulting) of doing otherwise.
And (spoiler) because she secretly (like: she doesn’t even know she thinks this) believes that, if she suddenly starts reliably exhibiting competence, confidence, and the ability to take care of herself… nobody will ever love her. (Okay, yes, this totally plays into how she was raised – her mom is very insecure in an “I need to be needed, therefore how dare you exhibit independent thought?!” kind of a way).
 
… Most of which I figured out to the point of being able to articulate it that concisely, oh, in the past 36 hours or so.
Seriously. O.O
 
So I’ve been looking at my characters, at the poly triad who might or might not stay a poly triad; at my MC’s dead grandmother who left her a house out of spite against her estranged daughter, and who might have been in the same position as Kate – the non-legally-married member of the above-mentioned poly triad. I’ve been looking at Maddy, the 15-year-old being pushed into adulthood too fast by a needy mother who is self-medicating with alcohol to cope with undiagnosed depression, poverty, and a parenthood that she wasn’t ready for at all; and seeing how she is a foil for Imogene (whose mother was also coping badly with poverty and unplanned parenthood, if not undiagnosed clinical anxiety, but who pulled her child into perpetual childhood rather than pushing her into premature adulthood), and also for Emily, who is fourteen and stretching her wings and whose mom – whose barely-nineteen-when-Em-was-born, working-two-side-eye-gaining-jobs and single-parenting an unplanned child mom – is becoming one of Imogene’s closest friends in Emerson. I’m looking at Mary-Ellen, the almost-60-year-old who is a foil for Imogene’s mom, whose oldest (Kate) and youngest (Jade – who will potentially be Heather by the end of the story) daughters are living far outside the boundaries of “normal” (particularly in a tiny town like Emerson, pop: 5,104 not counting out-of-town university students) one for her relationship and the other for her body. I can see how Jade/Heather could potentially be a roll-model/mentor for Maddy, who badly needs to see some other artsy, freaky kid who is loved by her parents and has a safe place to call home and how being an artsy, freaky kid doesn’t automatically mean that your mom can’t deal with you or that you have to sleep in the university library during the day because you’re spending all night at the 24-hour Tim Hortons and have to stay awake to stay in the warm…
 
…I’m looking at all these people and wondering how, when thrown into that mix, I’m going to make Imogene the fascinating one.
 
 
John Truby’s book says that a main character needs to have (a) a moral need, and (b) a psychological need; both of-which drive the character’s development, but also (c) a specific, bounded-by-time-or-activities desire upon-which to hang the events of the story itself.
 
Imogene’s NEEDS are (a) to stop being such a mooch, stop lying to herself about her competence and whether or not people will have her back if she shows it, and also to stop confusing “independent” with “isolated/lonely” and “connected” with “merged/subsumed”. But here desire? The thing that I’m hanging the events of the story on? It’s this:
Pre-Beginning of Story, she unexpectedly reconnected with her grandmother (the one she hasn’t seen, or heard from, since the age of three or maybe four, when her mother got the hell outta Dodge on the coat-tails of her soon-to-be-first-ex-husband and never looked back) during a romantic getaway with her now-ex GF (Jan) in Emerson. She’s been intermittently corresponding with said Grandmother for about a year – not quite – and it’s still a bit of a bone of contention between her and her mom, when said Grandmother ups and dies. I’m not sure of what (it may not actually be relevant to the story). But Imogene doesn’t know this.
She finds out because, as the story opens, she is recently broken up with the above-mentioned GF, has run out of couches to crash on, and is staring her (believed to be only) options in the face:
1) Move in with her mother. Again. Which she doesn’t want to do, but she’s run out of couches to crash on.
OR
2) Go and “visit” the country-dwelling grandmother… and see how long she can milk that visit in order to have somewhere to live while she finds a new GF (ideally back in the big city) with a U-Haul on hand.
Gross?
Gross.
So she picks up and goes to Emerson and is banging on the empty house’s front door, and then goes around to the back to see if her grandmother is outside, and comes back out only to meet some dude pulling up in the driveway who turns out to be The Lawyer (or some other Official – possibly an easy-going cop who’s been called out by a nosey neighbour to see who this stranger is who’s trying to get into the Deceased’s house)… and it’s through this interaction that she finds out her grandmother is dead. And also, eventually, that she’s inherrited the house.
So…
The story is hanging on her decision – made in part to put some distance between herself and her own mother – to stick it out in Emerson for one year before deciding whether or not to sell the inherited house and move back to The Big City.
 
 
So my hope is that I can show her growing and changing and becoming more confident in her own ability to pay her own bills and generally provide for herself (once away from the influence of her mother and the romantic stand-ins who she’s been repeating her cycle with for years) over the course of an agricultural year (May to May, but also potentially September to September) through actions like:
Finding a job that she finds fulfilling and which miraculously covers her (extremely minimal) bills
Growing some of her own food, learning to make preservers that will not result in botulism
Raising half a dozen laying hens (yes, really!)
Whining a lot, but actually getting shit done
Going from [asking for rescue when things have Gone All Wrong] to [asking for Help when things are getting slightly out of hand] to [asking for guidance when a given task is looking like it might potentially go pear-shaped]
Discovering that her assumptions about Rural Old Ladies aren’t all entirely accurate
Discovering that her assumptions about Rural Lesbians (or straight people, for that matter) are *also* not all entirely accurate
Being moral support for friends going through hard times
Being literal, physical support for friends going through even harder times
Repeatedly taking initiative on things
Slowly becoming a deeper and deeper part of a community of people she likes and cares about and wants to have like and care about her
 
 
…Which, hopefully, will actually work rather than feeling like buckets and buckets of filler.
I’m hoping that chapters 7-10 (“Symbol Web”, “Plot”, “Scene Weave”, and “Scene Construction and Symphoic Dialogue”) will help me prevent the events of my story from being boring. But I have to get through chapters 4-6 (“Character”, “Moral Arguement”, and “Story World”) before I can do that.
 
 
Wish me luck!
 
 
TTFN,
A.

Leave a comment

Filed under prose, writing

Insecure Writers and The Anatomy of Story

Okay.
So Lissa Bryan has this lovely post about how real writers are everywhere and how, by definition, a writer is someone who writes.
And part of me goes: Hell yeah!
…And part of me doesn’t.
 
I’m a largely un-peer-reviewed-publication-published writer. I blog all over the place. By that token, I’ve been published hundreds of times. But as far as getting published after a review process where someone else had to say “Yes, this is awesome enough for me to take the risk and put my name behind it, too”? Only a few. A couple of poems and one short story. Only a couple of which were paid markets.
 
And, to be perfectly blunt, I want that validation. I want someone – someone other than me, someone who isn’t my wife or my friend or even someone I’ve met in person yet – to say “This is a really great story. Here’s an editor on me. Let’s polish this up and help you develope into the even more amazing writer that you so clearly have the potential to become.” The $5000 advance that theoretically comes with this mythical occurance? Not so much on my mind. Wanted, sure. But not nearly so freaking yearned for – at least not right this minute – as hearing that a jury of my peers has judged me and found me worthy.
 
Wow. That was slightly more impassioned than I meant to get. :-\
 
Anyway. Maybe that’s why, when Sofia asked me what I wanted in terms of reception of my writing, I said “I’d like to win a Lambda award” rather than “I’d like to sell five million copies” or “I’d like HBO to buy the rights and turn it into a mini series” or whatever.
 
But why am I writing about this? Well, dear readers, I’ve been having a really frustrating couple of days weeks months on the writing front. 40,000 words or so, and I don’t feel like I really have a clue on how to get my novel to go where it’s supposed to be going. I feel like I’m churning out filler in the hopes that, somewhere in the drose, I’ll find the little thread of gold that I can use to turn into the actual Novel Novel during Draft Two. And, honestly, I’d like to be a little more efficient than that, and I’d like to feel a hell of a lot less lost.
 
Yeah. That lost feeling? That feeling of what-the-fuck-am-I-even-doing? That’s the real bugbear right there. Because when the characters are actually talking? When it feels like all I have to do is take dictation from my Creative Brain (who is going a mile a minute and I’m in that zone where, as Ursula Le Guin puts it, “the words cannot be wrong”) and type fast enough to keep up with a story that is telling itself? Then I really don’t care whether the story ever sees the light of day[1] because I’m actually WRITING and BEING A WRITER and the high of that experience is so very much enough.
But when it’s all just endlessly slogging-slogging-slogging and I can’t see where the fuck the narative is going and am deeply suspicious that this is because it’s going nowhere… That’s when I need some sort of external validation to remind me that, yes, I’m still a writer. That’s when I start plotting out Paranormal Romance Novels – not because I enjoy gritty urban fantasy with an element of noir and a (significant) element of the erotic, and not because I have a couple of characters whose relationship, story, and world I’d like to expand upon, but because “Paranormal’s hot right now, and romances are formulaic enough that I might be able to write one without getting completely lost”[2].
 
So.
Feeling deeply discouraged and wondering what the fuck I was doing, and even wondering if I should bother trying to be A Writer at all[3] I hied myself to the library and picked up a couple of books on how to improve one’s storytelling.
 
They’re actually helping.
 
At least the first one I picked up, The Anatomy of Story (which I think might be targeted at screenplay writers, but that’s not really relevant), is giving me a good bunch of Things upon which to build the skeleton of my story –> things that are kind of like “interview your MC to find out her personal brand of neurotic” but rather more direct.
I’ve been applying it to “Small Miracles” (the small-town lesbian manuscript), working with the elements I already have (which is technically not what I’m supposed to do, but whatever) to fill in the structural blanks. Not surprisingly there were structural blanks to be filled. I’m far from finished this process, which I’ll be doing again with “Crow Maidens” (which might wind up being told from a different PoV, we’ll see), and I’m also far from finished The Anatomy of Story (I’m almost to the beginning of Chapter Four, fyi). But it’s already helping. It’s showing me where I’m missing stuff. My “plan”, while probably acceptable, feels a little too vague to me to really be able to build something around. So I’m poking at it, trying to find the weak spots, and continuing on with this book to see if, getting on with bits like “character theme opposition” or “building conflict”, I get also get a better idea of how The Plan should look.
 
Wish me luck.
 
 
TTFN,
A.
 
 
[1] But also know that it will, somehow, because I’ll make sure of it.
 
[2] Which doesn’t mean that I’m not going to write my Crow Maidens expansion. It just meanst that I’m going to take a good, long poke at it before I go any further in the words-on-the-page department and see if I can’t get a really clear idea of how the skeletal system works, first.
 
[3] I figured out pretty quick that if I just flat-out stopped bothering and went and tried to find a day-job or something, I would probably just wind up going squirrely due to all of the un-written, un-processed, un-acknowledged STUFF swhirling around in my head… and that was actually kind of a relief: Oh, good. I must be a Real Writer because I can’t fucking stop.

1 Comment

Filed under prose, writing

A Session with Sofia Wren (cross-posted all over the place)

Hey.
So, y’all are about to get cross-posted to death, so please bear with me on this one.
 
I just had a lovely chat/consult with life-coach and fellow Woo Person, Sofia Nitchie, talking about energy blocks, life goals, and Pulling It All Together.
 
What I said to her was that – to boil down my rambling into something a little more coherent – I have my fingers in a lot of pies, and I want to keep doing all of them… but I also feel a little scattered and a lot like I don’t have a clue what I’m doing… And what I’m looking for is, basically, way to reframe my million scattered elements so that I can see how they all dovetail and fold together and slot into place to form a cohesive whole (AKA: My Career).
 
Something that was really neat to see her picking up on was that, when I think about “My Career”, even when I do imagine actually make some sort of reliable annual income from it, what I’m thinking of isn’t “money”, it’s “connection”. I don’t want to be a writer like Stephen King or a performer like Madonna. I want to be like Cat Valente and Holly Black. I want to be like s00j and Heather Dale.
 
My two big take-aways from my wee, free (thank you!) introductory coaching session were:
 
1) Clean out your heart and your throat (and I get a little bit of pressure in my throat when I write that, so hey) chakras, ‘cause your passions are right in there[1].
 
AND
 
2) Integrate sex-as-nature and body-as-nature and food-as-nature. This was a really neat observation/piece-of-advice which, combined with the above observation about connection, led me to the idea of career-as-ecosystem, both in the sense of (a) an ecosystem is thrives when it has a lot of variety in it (no monocultures for me!), and (b) I don’t want to be in competition with other people doing the similar things to me; I don’t want to be taking food out of Lee and Andrea’s mouths if ever I wind up on a lecture circuit about polyamoury and consensual-power-dynamics (just as a for-instance). I want to be part of an ecosystem that is thriving.
 
 
That’s what I’ve got to work with, while I’m working on the novel, the locavore cook-book/memoire, the D/s-related essays, the chapbooks, the jewelry, the Making Of Things, the keeping of my house, the search for my Forever Home and its Garden, and all the zillion other little things I have on the go at any (every) given time.
 
I was lucky and got to have one of her free coaching sessions, which is wonderful. I happen to think she’s awesome, and I found the session helpful and also encouraging, so I’m passing her services along to all of you. Do go and have a look at what she offers both as a coach and on her blog.
 
 
TTFN,
A
 
 
[1] I am not surprised by this. Dammit, it really is all about the singing, isn’t it? Also, as a PS, when I did the above-linked throat-chakra-clearing meditation, I felt my mouth fill up with steam. What does that mean? Thoughts? Beuler? Anyone? It was an interesting side-effect, for sure.
NOTE: For other throat-clearing / chakra-clearing exercises try here, here, here, and here.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

OrgASM – The Continuing Saga

So, no suprises here, I’ve written 1/4 stories that I said I’d have done for Friday.
But I’m not posting in order to talk about procrastination or doing things at the last minute. I’m posting because, well, my Leather Woo Porn turned out not to be porn.
My wife has yet to give it “the boner test”, so it may yet turn out to have some sort of hotness factor. But, yeah. Not so much for me.
I think the Woo overtook the Porn in this particular leather adventure. There are areas where I could add explicite fucking and/or more turn-on (sure ways to make something porn, afaic), but they don’t fit with the actual story. The story is someone’s symbolic death and rebirth, done to allow her to leave her past (the many things she considers to be her failures) in the past and get on with life, having made a fresh start.
And on that level it totally works.
But it’s not porn.
The MC, while she’s attracted to her friend/domme/priestess, isn’t preoccupied by, or focussed on, that attraction. The dynamic tension (confict?) in the story is “person against self” rather than “person against person”. It’s a good story – or the first draft of a good story, more accurately – but it isn’t porn.
 
And I’m not sure what to do about that, given that the story takes place during a suspension-&-power-exchange scene. Crikey.
 
So I’m feeling a bit stuck, I don’t mind telling you.
 
Maybe the next one will go more according to plan?
 
 
TTFN,
A.

Leave a comment

Filed under prose, writing

Character Archetypes – A Handy Chart (link)

Here. 🙂 Have a link to a list of twelve archetypes that an author can use for character-building.

I look at that chart and see that the MC in my novel is a mix of “The Innocent” and “The Everywoman” in terms of what she’s afraid of and what she hungers for… but also because of how boring she is.
I’m wondering if the way to bring her into her own (and make her more interesting) is to thrust her into a position where she has to fill the rolls attributed to the archetypes on the opposite side of the chart – “The Explorer” and “The Creator”.

There are ways I can do this – mostly (duh) through putting her in situation where the way out of isolation, and the way to avoid succumbing to her fears, the way to get what she hungers for, is to put her in situations where she has to explore her creativity (not just art but ingenuity).

Which is all well and good to say, but it still means figuring out what scenarios to use in order to make that happen.
Still, it’s a help and it gives me a dirrection to work in. 🙂

TTFN,
A.

Leave a comment

Filed under prose, writing

Still Scribbling (really, I mean it).

The novel continues to be a huge thorn in my side.
I honestly haven’t worked on it since mid-November.  For good reason, granted.  We recently (and suddenly) got a new apartment, and then got married, all in the same four-week period.  None the less, I need to get back at it.
 
My lady-wife recently offered to beta-read what I’ve already written, and I honestly felt sick at the thought.  I feel like everything I’ve written, no matter how important it is in the day-to-day life of my character, is just… desperately boring to an actual reader.  I don’t have a clue how to make my MC messed up enough to not trust anyone and feel like everyone is going to abandon her when the chips are down while still making her socially-able enough to make friends in the first place, and interesting enough (as opposed to neurotic enough) for readers – or even ME – to find her relatable?
I know it’s possible.  There’s a hell of a lot of actual humans living that exact situation right now.  I’ve spent a lot of my own life being one of them.
 
Anyway.  So that’s the current mess I’m in with The Novel.

That said, I’m not working on The Novel right now.  Instead, I’m writing to deadline and working on a piece of charity porn (er… porn written for a charity anthology, just to clarify.  It’s pagan leatherdyke porn in terms of content), with plans to try scribbling down some snow-queen inspired queer-pagan flash fiction – or maybe poetry – as well.  (I’ve decided to try submitting something to Hyacinth Noir because, well, why the hell not?)  But I have to write it first.
 
So.
Onwards! 🙂

Leave a comment

Filed under prose, writing