F IS FOR FICTION

When I chose Fiction as my "F" word, I really wasn't sure what direction I wanted to take this post.  Was it that I always dreamed of writing fiction?  That I grew up reading fiction?  Well, that is kind of a Duh, no?  Most anyone who dreams of writing fiction grows up reading it.  Then I realized that this was another Circle Story.  What's that, you ask?  Seinfeld did it all the time.  The story started off here, and ended there, and it was actually One Big Ole Circle.  Hilarious.  I look at my life and see a lot of Circle Stories.  Yeah, not as funny as Seinfeld.  Moving on...

When I was in high school, and Oh-So-Certain of where I was going in my life, and my "Career Path," yada yada yada, I heard the story for the first time of my mother quitting college because... wait for it... she couldn't decide on a major.  At the time, I thought this was Hilarious (as in actually Laugh Out Loud Funny), and I told the story to anyone who would listen, and then doubled over, and practically rolled on the floor.  Sooooo funny.  How could someone quit because they were Undecided????  What in the name of Jesus was she thinking?  Bwahahahaha.

After one miserable Freshman year, I came to a very sad and unfortunate conclusion: I was wrong.  I was not going to major in Music.  That was not going to be my Career Path.  My Career Path was now this Blank Slate.  I was void.  So, I took a year of Core Classes, certain that something would come to me; I would find my answer.   I did not.  I finished up my Sophomore year with a whimper.  I distinctly recall sitting in my Guidance Counselor's office, and having The Conversation about "What are we going to do now," since Music was off the table, and I had to declare SOMETHING in order to choose my classes for the Fall.  Egads.  It was happening already;  I had turned into my mother.  Karma is a terrible thing.  It was taking it's revenge.  I wasn't laughing now.  I would never even be able to tell The Story again.  "Don't ask for whom the bell tolls.  It tolls for thee."  Well played, John Dunne.  Well played.

I chose English.  I chose my Major based on the fact that I liked to read. I had nothing else.  All I knew was that I wasn't quitting.  You can bet your sweet (fill in the blank) that I read a lot.  I packed that entire major into two years.  I read and read and read some more.  And when I wasn't reading, I was writing.  Good times.

Since then, I have tried my hand at writing fiction.  If you have read this blog for a LONG TIME you will remember the elation of when that process was going well, followed by the crushing angst of the crash and burn.  What happened?  I discovered that I did it wrong.  Turns out writing fiction is like booking a trip.  You absolutely must know where you are going.  Like a bonehead, I had a story fairly well plotted out, but I didn't have my ending all sewn up.  Now I feel like a moron saying it out loud because it seems... well, obvious.  So, I quit writing where I was and jumped to the end.  But, I could never make the two meet.  I don't think the constant migraine did anything to shore up this problem.  Eventually, my excitement for the project was outweighed by my annoyance.  That was when it got shelved. 

Of course, that isn't the first book I have started.  Or the first Idea For An Excellent Novel that has ever burned across my brain.  That is just the one with actual chapters and word count.  That said, I don't fancy myself a Great American Novelist.  I don't have this gift for weaving words together so lyrically that you will cry, though that would be lovely.  I just like to tell a rollicking  fun ride of a story.  Barring that, if you aren't bored out of your mind, I would say it is a win.

Until I muster the will to start again on The Book, this blog is my writing outlet... and I just don't see myself quitting.   Why?  Because it just isn't in me.  Now, that is truth and not fiction.

Fiction Rating: Passion, Phase, and Life Lesson (this one gets the Trifecta)

image found at www.weheartit.com

Are you a fiction or non-fiction reader?  When did the read you become an avid reader?  Have you tried your hand at writing?  If you are a published writer, did you publish the first thing you wrote or did you have several discarded novels lying around before you finally got it "right?"

THIS BLEW MY MIND

Yes, I am still on vacation. I think I am a blogging addict. Seriously, the rest of my family arrives tomorrow, so my blogging writing, reading, and commenting is about to be seriously hampered. In the meantime, I decided to share with you this mind-blowing little nugget I found on a fellow blogger's page. If you have read my "About Me," it says that I have started and stopped several novels. This is true. Until I watched this two minute video, I couldn't figure out WHY. After I watched it, it was painfully OBVIOUS. It freaking BLEW MY MIND. So, this is for anyone who is writing a novel, considering writing a novel, knows someone who is writing a novel, or just wants to laugh at those of us who have tried and failed. Turn off my music player at the bottom of the page. Sorry for the inconvenience.



In some ways, I think I knew what the problem was, but I didn't have a clear handle on it. I always said, "I can't get a through line on it." In other words, I can't see the ending. It never occurred to me that you have to write the ending FIRST. Duh. Now that seems obvious. You get an idea. A good idea and maybe you write the beginning. But, the next thing has to be the ending. You can write the middle in pieces or chronologically. Whatever. But, you have to write the ending at the start. You can always change it if something pivotal happens with your characters in the middle, and you start seeing them differently. I love that about writing. It is a fluid thing. As they come to life in your mind, things can change, and it might alter your ending, but that is okay. It just has to be there to be changed.

One of the best things about joining this blogosphere has been getting the opportunity to follow writers. All kinds of writers. People who write blogs. People who write for magazines. People who write novels. People who write for fun. People who write all of the above.

I haven't said much about my book project, but it is coming along. I am definitely more than halfway done, which is a HUGE milestone for me. I got stuck (because I couldn't see the end, but I didn't know that was why I was stuck) and then Kimberly posted her blog with this video. Mind blowing. That unstuck me. I didn't start writing, but I did start thinking. So, now my ending is coming together in my head, and I tinker now and again where I've left off, when I just feel the need to write *something.* However, I know that the next REAL writing I do will be THE END. And then it will be back to the middle.

Better yet, I am totally jazzed about picking up the novel I put down four years ago. You heard that right. I LOVED LOVED LOVED that idea. I wrote the first three chapters or so, and then "couldn't see the throughline," and gave it up. But it was a great idea (better than this one actually). And once I understood that I had to write the end first, I saw it. I now know how that book ends. I can see THAT ENDING better than this one. And the middle got clearer, too. Additionally, I can see it actually being a series. Too bad Janet Evanovich took the Numbers with her Stepanie Plum series, and Sue Grafton got the Alphabet with the Kinsey Millhone series. Drats. Well, it is what it is.

MY MOJO IS BACK

"I have made this letter longer than usual because I lack the time to make it short."
~Blaise Pascal

I used to be one of those people who thought of fictional stories all of the time. I was a novel starter/stopper. I didn't really like that. I would rather have been a novel finisher, but at least I heard the stories in my head. My problem was the arc, or the through line. I always got bits and pieces of the puzzle, but couldn't put it together. Then another story would come along, and I'd set the old one aside, and just never get back to it. And so it went. A couple of years ago I really thought I found "the story." I was excited. I became a writing fiend. I made the mistake of sharing it with too many people. Some people were really supportive and assured me that it was really, really good. When I say "some people" what I mean is my mom and someone she was working with at the time. Everyone else was like, "Yeah, it's good. Where do you want to eat?" That isn't actually a direct quote from anyone. It just wasn't the standing "O" I needed to keep my momentum going. Had I been finished with the book, that might have been okay. I was about three chapters in. I lost my mojo. It just went away. All of that storyline that had been coming to me so fast and furious that I was losing sleep and typing through the night, just packed its bags and left for parts unknown. It didn't come back.

A little over a year ago, a good friend of mine started corresponding again via email after a long hiatus. Life gets like that. We started talking about writing a book together. I felt the euphoria begin to build the more we talked; it all started coming together in my head. It was the first time that had happened in a while. When I got her pages, I could tell that we weren't seeing this book the same way at all. That wasn't good, bad, right, or wrong. To make matters worse, she was also about to be really busy going back to school, she was a single mom, and I could see that there was no way that she was going to have time for this project even though she liked the idea of it. Heck, I liked the idea of it. I knew that given enough time we could bring the project into sync. Time was something we didn't have. I could feel my mojo slipping and my brain shut the whole thing down.


Yesterday morning I woke up with a fictional book idea buzzing around in my brain, and it wasn't letting go. It hounded me all day. I was having trouble with Microsoft Word on my laptop and I couldn't write a word. Can you say frustrating? I can. Over and over. I fought with it all day. I gave up, wrote my daily blog, watched LOST, took some Excedrin Tension Headache (at 10pm) and knew I was "in for it" because of the caffeine, watched GENERAL HOSPITAL on Soapnet, turned off the TV, and laid on my bed and thought about my book. After thirty minutes of that I got up, picked up my flash drive, got on my stepdad's computer, pulled up Microsoft word, and started typing. Before I knew it, it was 2am. Holy cow! I wasn't even tired. I really wanted to keep going. My brain was firing neurons, or whatever it is your brain fires when it is producing ideas, like fireworks, and I wasn't ready to quit.

The thing is I am SUPPOSED to take Rx internal cortisol at 7am and noon to get my body back on a "normal" schedule. That means not being up all night and sleeping all day. I just got this Rx on Monday and started taking it on Tuesday. I haven't seen 7am in a really long time. When I read the instructions Monday night I knew that wasn't going to happen, so I decided to ease into this and shoot for 9am and noon. It seemed more reasonable since I was currently getting up at 11am. 9am was only seven hours away. Uh oh. I inserted the flash drive and saved my work. There was a problem here. My brain was not done. I laid in bed still writing. The beast had awakened and I couldn't find the Off switch. I turned on my guided meditation CD so that I would listen to that instead. My inner voice just talked LOUDER. I couldn't even hear my CD. I was still mentally writing at 4am and doing a mental countdown to 9am.


When I woke up at 9am I took my cortisol and fell right back to sleep. I really don't think that was what the doctor had in mind at all. It's designed to jump start you. Kick off your day. I woke up again at 1pm and took the other one and made myself a sandwich. I decided to write this blog earlier, rather than later, so that I can get going on my book SOONER. This time NO ONE reads it until it's done. I admit to making mistakes. If there were an Olympic Mistakes Contest I would have medaled A LOT. Gold. Silver. Bronze. I just don't ever want it to be in the same event. I like to spread it around.