Saturday 9 March 2013

Memoirs of this Delusional Writer #18

Starting paragraph
Eamon couldn’t seem to sleep. He didn’t want to look into why he couldn’t so he was just pushing it off as homesickness. Which was stupid, because the last thing he wanted to do was leave.
Taking Control of my Werewolf (Moonlit Wolves #4) page 27

What I’ve done
·         Taking Control of my Werewolf (Moonlit Wolves #4)
·         Want: continue—already done 11,504
·         wrote: 2,336 words

·         Something New
·         Want: Out line, start-up
·         Wrote: 1,632 words   

The Excuses
Stress. Heartache. Depression.
Yeah, there really isn’t any. Not really.

Thoughts for Thoughts
I’m nervous, excited, and anxious—no wonder I can’t write anything.
The worse part of it is that I have two stories play around in my head. Telling me what I need, how to proceed. How to make it work, make it different from everything else. And I can’t write it. I get these points up, I get read, fingers on the keys, words on the screen…and fucking nothing. What I do manage to write ends up being crap and I’ll have to scrap it.
And then I have this other book that has me second guessing the whole thing. Should I make it that explicate? Should I pull it back? Most people who read them, and will read this one are woman, and they probably don’t want to know the shit I want to put in the book? I want to write it for a reason and I probably will, but if I suck balls at it it’s not going to be that much help, but it needs, I want something more…. Well, real.

I’ve gotten Eamon and the werewolf in the one room. Or area. Yeah. It took a while though…maybe too long. But this storyline, the full one, still has another book attached to it.
517 words in TComW (MW#4)

Something new!!!
I came up, and started a new Contemporary Erotica Romance, so it’s probably not going to go anywhere, though I’d love to finish all the stories I start, I doubt I’ll accomplish any of it.
Anyway, I’m calling it Getting a Grip, it’s a story about a older guy coming out of the closest with a divorce from his wife. I’m hoping that I can tell this in a way that will work, as it is there are reasons why he looks into this part of himself, ‘cause he ends up with the guy next door, at least that’s what’s happening at the moment, I’m just really getting what’s in my head out, outlining, that sorta crap. Still…..
1,632 words
Only they won’t work, not with the facts that I want it to be a struggle for him as he comes to terms with it. But then maybe he could, just not in….huh, we’ll see. Can’t really write what my fingers don’t want me to, now, can I?
—yeah, I’ve thought it threw a little, and I’ve decided that half of what I wrote will be coming out. Not ‘cause of the context, that crap is still being in there, it will help. I’m not writing this book as a hating himself gay. I’m just exploring that part of him he never looked at ‘cause of his wife and family. And to do that I think it needs something’s hidden a bit. I may be able to get away with him just thinking it, but that’s a lot of info dumping. We’ll see.
            At least 982 words are defiantly staying.

1,138w TComW (#4)
[Chap 7; 1,709w]

This was just to cool to pass up

I haven’t written shit, ‘cause I feel like shit.
It’s not in a coughing and spewing way, more the mental one, but I’m not alone and considering the shit that’s just been dumped on me (no fault of my own) I’m doing really well. And let’s face it, Life can only kill you if you let it, and I’m not going to. I’m stronger than that, I can still fight. Even if it’s one of the hardest opponents I could ever come up against. Myself.
Anyway, I haven’t been writing, not what I should, and surprisingly more than I original thought I did (round 3 thousand worlds). But it hasn’t stopped my mind from working. I’ve nearly figured out how to get my two character to their confrontation they need to have, but I haven’t quite figure the rest out, just that part, which is good, the rest will come better by ear. I’ve also figured out how I’m going to get to the next part, or to make the other story I wrote (Getting a grip) to a point where he can start thinking about what’s what. I’ve gotten a little deeper into his backstory that was needed, and make it obvious that those words are going.
And I’ve been thinking about another book. You see, ‘cause as I’m not writing I’ve procrastinated and by that I ended up reading, back reading and I’m thinking about asexual’s. And about what type of story they could bring to the table. In actually having the fact that they don’t care about sex. That sex can’t be there story, and yet they could actually make a nice romance story. Or just a nice story about the heartache they go through trying to find themselves companionship.
Anyway, that’s where I’m at in this moment, how ‘bout you??

Second Week
681w TComW (#4)
It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be to right anger when your sad and near suicidal it you think too hard about it. Yeah, I was being sarcastic, but then I thought I could write when all I want to do is craw under my covers and cry until someone comes along and fixes this.

Just to touch base before we start up another fortnight
As you can tell, shit job I’ve been doing with the whole writing thing. Not only is this because of moving stress—and the fact that we are meant to be about by the end of next week, but have nowhere new to move into. But my computer decided it wanted to be a bitch and fuck out on me, along with the fact that one of the programs I have has decided it wants to be a dickhead and now opens up with a side bar I can’t fucking get rid of, and it’s annoying as hell, ‘cause I have to cut & paste like everything just so that I can actually work on more than one thing at a time.
Shit as it all is, I still should be writing, but I’ve got no real motivation, or mojo, or anything that resembles an ability to write.
Not that I think you truly care, ‘cause let’s face it, what it to any of you. I can talk about writing, show you all that I’m doing it to some extent, but at the end of the day I’m doing nothing about it.
Yeah, okay, so you see where this could be going…..
Yesterday (Thursday) I decided that it was the day that I was going to submit my first book in the Moonlit series. I have the info that I need, though I feel that I should go over that again, refresh and all that bullshit. Still, I opened everything up and I’m doing it. I’m submitting, ‘cause I’m stressed and distracted anyway, which is what the four to six weeks until I hear back from them is going to be like, so why not add it all now, when I’m already like this, then do it when, let’s say, I’m settled. It also gives me some of that time to get my house in order and all that ‘cause I’ll have energy to spend, nervous energy and nowhere to put it.
So I’m submitting, I’m at the point that I have put in my chapters into the book that I really don’t want to chapter up. It’s just going to lose something in the whole thing. But I will, I’m going to read threw it again tonight to make double sure, then I’ll read threw it on Sunday…. You get it all. And then I’ll get my mum to help me out and hit send for me.
You see, I’m not smart. It’s tragic, but I’ve known it my whole life. I’m not going to come out with things that are intentionally funny, I’m not going to able to pull tears down your face (well I might, that’s really a different point, isn’t it) I’m not going to be able to write about smart people. It’s a fact, and because of the fact I may not go anywhere. Hell, I may not just ‘cause I write shit.
Still, you have to write a cover letter.
I have no fucking idea what the hell I’m meant to do with that. I have no idea how to make things sound professional, and important, and the way I talk, act might work in fiction, but it doesn’t when you’re trying to impress.
I can’t impress. I can’t do it when talking; I can’t do it when I dress. I can’t do it at all. I’m not a person that gives two shits about your first impression of me, and it sucks and it makes me shit at interviews, but at the end of the day your option on me is going to come more from what you are feeling that day then what I’m doing. Since like 90 % of anything is from the perception of the other person not what you look, say or do.
Still, I’m not smart. My mum is. And she’s, to this day, a support system of me to lean on and to make me look better. If only on paper.
Anyway, so as long as nothing goes wrong and my mum says she’ll help me, since it’s just about her telling me what needs to be written, and maybe looking over my language and I’ll do the rest. Still, as long as I can take up a bit of her time, I’m going to submit my book to a publisher on Monday.

Also, over the next couple of weeks I’m going to be putting up a few, randomly moment, Conversation Starters, though recently I’ve realised, there not really them at all, just me talking shit, so I really shouldn’t have called it, ‘Talking Shit’ but doesn’t really make you interested, does it?
I’m doing this ‘cause I can. I have most of the shit ready to go, some still need a bit of brushing up, others need information checked, but they are ready and waiting. And since me writing is shit, and it probably won’t get any better, since my other half is having the week off.  Anyway, so maybe look forward to that. Maybe I’m not really talking much sense in any of them, but, still….

Thanks for the time

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