Wynderlon.com is the personal website of Himani, an aspiring author. Here, she chronicles the daily struggles of trying to get a word count down on paper (or computer screen), the foibles and challenges of life, and the usual random insanity.
|
My muse may be PMSy |
I am not happy with my Muse right now. She refuses to cooperate and thus I have been staring at “Morgan” on-and-off the past few days and getting…pretty bad prose. After knocking my head against my desk for a while, getting some OJ, having a lemon cookie, realizing the lemon cookies taste awful (that’s what I get for going with price and not quality), knocking into the Stealthy Attack Desk of Doom and remembering that I still need to install the lock I bought for it, looking at the bathroom and wondering if I should clean it, deciding against cleaning for today…
…after all of that, I finally succumbed, went meekly back to my chair, and opened up “Tayce.”
Happy now, Muse? 
On the plus side, I pounded out some wordage — about 2,000 words. It’s interesting how I’ve redone the beginning of the story — well, truthfully, a lot of my ideas of changed. This is what happens when you’re forced to take a 7 month hiatus on a story (and since my ideas tend to change a lot if given the time and inclination, it’s also the reason why I’m loathe to work on anything besides “Morgan”). The first chapter of “Tayce” used to begin with a visit to the graveyard and a pushy ex-boyfriend. It now begins with Tayce walking back home from the grocery store late at night with a bear claw, 409 cleaner, and a tin of ground coffee. She ends up getting stabbed twice by a deranged man known only as the “bus stop stabber.”
Now, you may be scoffing…but that’s from real life. Well, maybe not the grocery trip, but the bus stop stabber is quite real and, as far as I know, still at large. Anyway, it worked for my purposes, so into the story he went. 
I was thinking that last night as I finished some character sketches. There’s a lot of characters named Jack in the world: the archetypes from English lore, jack-in-the-boxes, Jack the Ripper, Jack Frost, Jack Daniels, Jack of all trades, Jack Bower, Jack playing cards…
…well, there’s a lot of Jacks out there, and it seems a popular name to denote something wild or mysterious or take-no-bullshit. And it also was my automatic [filler] name for a character in “Morgan.” I was typing up some character sheets and although Jack won’t be introduced until the next book, Morgan recounts how she meets him the first time — which, like a lot of Morgan’s introductions, was at gun point.
Anyway, I paused and thought about it. Jack — who really is a man of many trades, and mysterious, and likes death and fighting and violence, and who Morgan admits beat her ass in a fight, fair and square, and probably is one of the few people she can name who have the training to kill her — is a character I’ve had in my head since 2006. I always knew he would be there; he’s the guy Morgan measures herself against both with envy (because he’s better at fighting than her) and with relief (because she knows she’s not as heartless as him). But, I just don’t want him to be pegged as a “Jack type.” The take-no-bullshit, mysterious Jack.
However, Jack the name has a sound to it. Short, blunt…I remember reading once that hero names lean towards being short with heavy consonant sounds. Kirk, Spock. Luke [Skywalker]. Neo. John [McClane]. Rambo. Rocky. Puck. Jim [Hawkins]. I could go on. Even I unconsciously follow that. The main male characters in this story have the names Quinn and Jones. In the next book, there’s a man named Gio. It’s an interesting thing, the sounds of names and the connotations it brings up.
Which is why naming a character like “Jack” is difficult and frustrating. I don’t know what else to call him but I’m not quite happy with “Jack.” Bah…am I over analyzing this much? Yeah, maybe it’s time for bed.
Yes, it’s been a while since I posted. I have a good excuse! Okay…not really…I don’t. Damn, where did this month go? I wish I’d been able to get more writing done, but I have been struggling with a few non-writing stuff — mostly apartment-related, but a few health-related. Anyway, here’s a re-cap:
- The apartment boiler went kaput for 4 horrific days. Nothing like not having hot water to make you realize how much you love living in the 21st century. And I like my showers hot.
- Had to spray the apartment, twice, for bugs. After 5.5 years of living in Tucson, the cockroaches have finally found me (I actually think one of my neighbors is a slob, since I’ve been the same level of messiness as always — or even cleaner than usual, if my last few posts are any indication). John is now so freaked out about bugs he refuses to use the bathroom they’ve been spotted in. Not that they’re swarming or anything. We’ve seen a grand total of 5-7 over a month and a half period. In 10 days, though, we should be cockroach free.
- I went to visit my parents for a weekend and spent a whole morning and a big portion of an afternoon at the glorious and wonderful Civic Center Library. God, I love that library. Why is it so awesome? Oh, I know why. Because it’s huge and quiet with many plug outlets for laptops, great book selection, and open until 9pm most days. I miss Civic Center.
- I made hummus. Yes, I’m proud of myself since usually I just break down and buy a small container of ready-made hummus for $6 at Trader Joe’s or Sunflower’s. But, this time I said to myself, “Come on, hummus is super easy.” I’d been craving it for days, so I made a simple version — not much extra, like red peppers or anything — and ate it with whole wheat pita bread and salad. Oh man, it was good. I think I may have the same thing today, or maybe I’ll make hummus and sprout sandwiches. (If anyone’s interested, my recipe is after the “More” cut)
Yeah, not all that important. Kind of sad, really, that those are the big occurrences over the past week. Oh well. I have more to report on the writing. I’ve been outlining all of Morgan because I totally forgot stuff that had already happened. 
This teaches me to try and write a huge-ass novel without any sort of outlining. And through the outlining process, I realized that Morgan jumps around quite a bit from place-to-place for no reason, I have about 5 pages of non-stop “As You Know Jim…” info-dumping I really need to work on, and because I forgot (and didn’t outline), the exposition about Morgan’s past is said twice — and gets a much more dramatic response the second time! 
Oy!
At least I know there will be a lot of cutting and rewriting, which will probably bring the behemoth word count down to a much more manageable number of about 100k. And, I know this is totally against what I promised myself, but I’m beginning that right now. The last scene of the book is very complicated and since I’m changing four core scenes already written, I figured I’d finish that so that if the rewriting changes the last scene, I hopefully would have saved myself some time. When John heard, he groaned and said, “You need to get this finished first.” Yeah, I know, I know. *sigh*
(more…)
The information I got about the soot/burn marks are from a CSI episode. Who knew I’d find it useful?
The snippet from “Morgan” is under the cut.
(more…)
Right now, my stomach is so not happy with me, and I don’t really know why. All I know is it’s keeping me up when what I’d like to do is be in my comfortable bed, surrounded by my Egyptian cotton sheets I got for 20 bucks at the 4th Avenue Street Fair, maybe reading a little bit of Storm Born — you know, just to see if Dorian’s going to get any action or not, ’cause I totally think he should — and I can’t. I could blame the ham sandwich I made earlier, or maybe it was the cupcake John handed me, courtesy of a work colleague’s birthday. Whatever the reason, it’s damn annoying.
I am about (if all goes according to plan) 35,000 words away from the end of “Morgan,” which is totally doable; I mean, that isn’t even a NANOWRIMO novel. So, what does my muse do? Bombard me with images and words for “Tayce.” I swear, my muse is a cruel, cruel mistress and takes pleasure in bitch-slapping me down. I gritted my teeth and fought against the ideas for a whole week and then finally said, “Fine! If I write the first two chapters, will you be quiet about ‘Tayce,’ you vindictive she-devil?” My muse agreed, so that’s what I’ve been working on for the last two days. I only have ideas for the first two chapters of “Tayce” anyhow, and then I can totally go back to “Morgan.” I’m re-doing a major chunk of beginning, which will ultimately re-do some major plot points, for those of you who have critiqued half of it (sorry guys). Now it involves less Dorian, more Russian mobsters, and a cursed man named Leopold.
I’ve also been reading a lot of authors’ blogs and interviews lately. Probably some escapism on my part since the job market is bleak, with tumbleweeds moseying through it. Last night I dreamed I could only find one job and decided to take it. The job was having a woman throw (cooked) hot dogs at me for 8 hours a day. I’m serious, that was my dream. No, my dreams aren’t normal. I take it as both a blessing and a curse.
Anyway, I have learned two important things from all this blog and interview reading:
- Nora Roberts has my dream life. Her husband owns a bookshop and she writes full-time. When I was younger, I used to dream of owning a bookshop, but I thought considering all the hobbies I like to do and that I want to write full-time, having a bookshop would make my schedule very difficult. However, I never thought of the significant other angle. I informed John his new aim in life is to open a bookshop. He gave me a very bland look and said, “I’ll get right on that.”
- Holly Lisle has a really good site about how to become a full-time writer with everything from how to get published to writing tips, techniques, etc. She claims she has “over 100,000 words” worth of articles on writing.
Alrighty, I think I’m going to take some Pepto and try that whole bed-reading-sleep thing again.
Garth Nix, on his website says that, for him, the middle step to writing a novel is what he calls the Long, Hard Slog. It’s when “[...] what I’ve already written is incredibly clunky and terrible and that I don’t know how to go on.” And I agree, the middle is a Long, Hard Slog, because I’m at that stage. I spent all of the last 4 days trying to get one scene written, and I’m still having problems with it, mostly because when I open the Word Processor and read the last paragraph, or the last page, or even the last chapter, all I can think of is Ohmigod, I suck! I suck! I suck!
My immediate, knee-jerk reaction is to start editing and really overhaul the story, but that’s what I used to do. And where did that lead? I’d get so far into a story and then I’d just start over! Sure, I thought every time I started over, I did better. But, I never finished anything. No, I have to just keep telling myself that drafts are messy. That’s OK. It may suck when I’m done, but I’m going to make it beautiful…when I’m done. And I’m not done, far from it…just gotta keep going. Yeah.
Anyway, so I’ve got the Long, Hard Slog to look forward to, which I fear may just stick around until I hit the end chapters. 
But, for now, I leave behind a little excerpt; just the beginning of the scene on which I am totally stuck right now. Enjoy.
Morgan looked solemnly into the Altoids tin. She had precisely twenty dollars and thirty-eight cents, and a button, left—she wasn’t quite sure where the button came from—enough for a meal and a half at a restaurant, not enough for anything worthwhile. Morgan looked towards Quinn. He was driving right now and his hands were precisely in the ten o’clock, one o’clock position. His face was expressionless with the concentration of watching the road, but Morgan knew he was tired. He’d been driving for the last couple of hours and she suspected he hadn’t slept very well last night.
“Where are we?”
“Texas, near San Antonio. Why?”
Morgan didn’t answer for a moment and Quinn repeated the question, glancing towards her. Finally, she said, “We’re out of money.”
As the information sunk in, Quinn’s expression changed subtly as he realized two things: one, fugitives couldn’t just charge something on a credit card because it would be traced, and two, he was a fugitive now. Quinn groaned. “What do we do now?”
I’ve woken up with a headache for the last three days in a row. I know why I have been, too, my sleeping patterns have been disrupted lately by some really weird dreams and then, all of a sudden, I’d wake up at 5AM. Just open my eyes and I’d be wide awake! Anyway, after that, my sleep schedule has gotten a bit dodgy. I think I’m trying to make up, while I can, for the lack of sleep I had last semester. Anyway, I know the headaches have been caused by this odd sleep pattern I’m getting over and by some recent stressful news I received and am trying to deal with. Unfortunately, none of the non-painkiller remedies seem to work: drinking extra water, sipping peppermint tea, chewing on cloves, eating a slice of bread, taking an extra warm bath — the headache manages to come back. So, I’ve been resorting to painkillers, which I’m not prone to do. I try to limit my use, so I don’t build up a tolerance or anything.
Anyway, after downing Advils for the third day in a row, I suddenly thought, I hope I don’t empty the bottle doing this. And that automatically lead me to thinking what would happen if I downed two pills every day. At 40 pills, that would mean I’d need to buy a new bottle in a little under a month. But, what if you went for the max in a day — eight pills? Then in 5 days you’d be shopping for a new bottle. Of course, by now, I was totally not thinking about myself but about a scene I’m planning in “Morgan.”
I put the Advil bottle back into the medicine cabinet and skipped off to my computer. So, even painful headaches that throb just behind my eyeballs have their own uses. 
I am in such a mood to write something…naughty. I stayed up to get something out of me because all day I’ve been working on my MFA packet. (I’m done, btw! Finished at 3pm this afternoon. I’m considering having it looked over one more time, but I may not have the time and to be honest, it is better than it was. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard back from my 3rd letter of recommendation person, despite numerous emails and am now considering my options on that front. The plan had been to take the whole envelope to the post office tomorrow — with a book, because the lines would be horrible, I’m sure — but now I’m wondering should I wait until I get back from the holiday at the parents’? Or would that be cutting it too close?)
Anyway, I am just in the perfect mood for writing something hot. Instead, I find myself writing a scene from “Morgan” where she’s dodging hired killers. Hmmm…not quite the same. 
OK, I am so procrastinating right now, but I’ve got a belly full of orange chicken and fried rice. I’m just waiting for food to digest. Yeah.
Anyway, so I’m out of Nano. I had no time to write the story I wanted to; basically I was adding my papers and short stories (for my masters application) as “dreams” and then I realized that my Nanowrimo contained more “dreams” than actual story. So I just faced the grim reality of life: I don’t have time for Nanowrimo this year.
I’m also going through writing withdrawal. My fingers are itching to type out characters and conflicts and dialogue. Oh man, I miss Morgan. I was just shy of 100,000 words before the hell that is student teaching began. I miss you Morgan! (I spent about an hour yesterday and wrote 2,000 words on Morgan. I just had to otherwise I was sure I couldn’t survive the night)
You know what’s the interesting thing though? I spent some time writing “Morgan” yesterday and today I’m in a better mood than I have been for a long time. I’ve always said writing keeps me sane.
I finally got to the scene in “Morgan” that I’d planned 3 months ago. Yes, I know, a long time to keep something in your head, but I’m not very good with writing out of chronological order. I’d much rather write utter shite and then go back and fix it then write chapter 19 before chapter 4.
Anyway, this is a big day for me because the scene is a sex scene. “Morgan” has been developing for nearly four years. I came up with Morgan, the character, back in 2004 shortly after my first Nanowrimo. In 2005 I wrote my first attempt at a Morgan story for that year’s Nanowrimo and utterly despised the product. I shelved the story for a very long time, coming back to work on it here and there, but it wasn’t until this summer that it all just finally clicked and I’ve steadily been writing “Morgan” since. But, through all those four years, despite all the character changes Morgan has gone through and all the story evolutions, one thing hasn’t changed — who Morgan was going to hook-up with first. And I finally got there!
And in true geeky fashion, I wanted it to be done just right. So, I picked out a perfect playlist of music to listen to while I wrote it and I kept the lights dimmed and typed. The music actually helped quite a bit and I saved the list as “Smex” so next time I write a sex scene it’ll be ready to go in the background. If you’re wondering what my playlist is, here you go:
- 3 Doors Down - So I Need You (3:50)
- Christina Stürmer - All I Want (ana ahabak) (3:49)
- Sinéad O’Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U (5:07)
- Sophie B. Hawkins - Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover (5:23)
- The Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch (4:21)
- buck cherry - Crazy Bitch (3:22)
- Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (4:52)
- Kylie Minogue - I Can’t Get You Out Of My Mind (3:50)
- Live - Deep Enough (3:20)
- Marcy Playground - Sex And Candy (2:51)
- Myah Marie - Stiletto Sex (3:30)
- Greenskeepers - Pussy (feat. Princess Superstar) (GK Remix) (4:12)
- Prozzak - Sweeping Romance (2:44)
- Real McCoy - Another Night (3:55)
- Red Hot Chili Peppers - C’mon Girl (3:48)
- Scooter - I Was Made For Lovin’ You (3:31)
- She Wants Revenge - Tear You Apart (4:44)
- Stiltskin - Inside (4:26)
- The Darkness - I Believe In A Thing Called Love (3:38)
- Yoshika - Loop In My Heart (4:59)
Of course, halfway through the scene John came in and whined he needed to get some food. I muttered, “You realize I’m writing a sex scene and you’re totally killing the mood!” To which he replied, “But wouldn’t you write it better on a full stomach?” So, in the end, I had to leave the lovers hanging so we could go to Eegee’s for sandwiches.
And yes, I’ll leave you with an excerpt. I’m too lazy right now to put it under a cut or anything, so I’ll just let it all hang out. Remember, I haven’t edited or anything yet…
It was a quick kiss, a butterfly touch of lips upon lips. But, it held offers and promises. Morgan pulled back and searched Quinn’s face. His blue eyes were big with surprise and he reached out and grabbed Morgan by the shoulders.
“Morgan—” he began, but Morgan didn’t want him to say anything sensible and logical. And if he mentioned that her past life had been wrong one more time, she may just have to punch him, which wasn’t sexy.
She’d much rather fuck him.
She shook her head slightly, cutting off any questions, and leaned forward to kiss him again, pressing her body against his. Quinn hesitated for only an instant longer before returning the kiss, deepening it, taking it over. He tasted good—sleeping breath and everything aside—feeling his lips play over hers made her tingle and when his tongue ran over her lower lip slowly, Morgan felt desire explode in her abdomen. She hadn’t expected Quinn to be a good kisser. He was tentative, hesitant, but it worked in his favor because he was driving her crazy just by his soft kisses.
*devious laugh* And before anyone says, “Hey, where’s the smut?!” I said I’d give you just an excerpt…a small taste, shall we say? Oh yes, and those of you who know of the Great USB Flash Drive Loss of 2006, do not worry, I backed up everything as soon as I finished the scene. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me…
Oh yes, I found some good advice on how to write kissing and sex scenes. If you’re interested:
Next Page »
(
Subscribe to the Writing feed.
(or IE) and 1280x1024 or larger screen resolution.