Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I told myself again yesterday, get out of the way and write. Write, I did. And when I reviewed what I wrote, I laughed to myself and whispered, “This is fucking crazy.”
By far the craziest of what I’ve ever written, I sat down with a specific purpose and some simple ideas about where I was going. Well, The Writing Neurons quickly queued up, redecorating, rearranging, reordering, taking me into completely foreign waters. “But how will this match up with what I had planned and previously wrote?” I complained.
Well, after the cat barked me awake at 5:58 AM today, The Writing Neurons pounced on my poor brain. They began weaving story webs like caffeine-fueled spiders in a web-building competition. I laughed at a lot of the shit they conjured. Then, when I put eyes to screen and hands to keys, I hustled to duplicate The Writing Neurons’ input.
It’s a wild frigging ride so far and I’m nervous about where I’m going. But you know, write on.
That’s what it’s all about.
***
So…I finished a novel last month. Felt damn good about it. Began firing up the querying mechanism.
Meanwhile, I handed it off to friends for feedback. But, without telling them, I capped it at part 1. I figured, if they finish part 1, I’ll give them parts 2 and 3. I did this knowing that the manner the novel unfolds will be confusing by the end of part 1. You need part 2 to see where it’s going, and part 3 for full illumination. But I still thought it would be a fast read for them. Instead, I’m hearing that they had to reread parts; they were creating notes. They want to sit down and talk about what’s what. All of that’s pushing my hopes and confidence toward the writer’s abyss of despair. I just need to hang on. Wait for their feedback. See where it goes.
That, too, is part of the writing process.
I so love it when I go on a net page in Chrome to read something. Google covers part of it with ads. I can ask that they close the ad, and do.. They want feedback when I do that. Four options are included. None allow me to tell them, “YOUR AD IS BLOCKING THE FUCKING PAGE’S CONTENTS WHICH I WANT TO READ.”
No, that’s not an option. Guess that’s the price of technology.
Floofback (floofinition) – feedback or information about reactions to a product, a performance, etc. which is used as a basis for improvement or change.
In use: “His cat enjoyed tummy rubs but gave fast floofback with sharp claws and a quick nip when the tummy-rub session should be ended.”
I’ve enjoyed some of the feedback received regarding “Life Lessons with Savanna,” and the next one in the series, “Road Lessons with Savanna.” Three main points have been mentioned several times.
“The Thanksgiving scene was just like my house.” That surprised me. There are a few minor elements of my experience in it, of course, but it’s mostly just imagined based on the characters’ behavior and background. For the record, my childhood Thanksgivings were generally pretty damn good, and not at all like the novel.
“I know someone who had a spider in their ear.” I had read about someone having a spider in their ear, and how it felt. After reading it, I mentioned it to others, and a friend volunteered a story about a relative who had a spider in their ear. For some reason, it became part of one of the characters. I believe the part about her having it in a glass vial after it’s removed and carrying it around was all fiction on my part, though.
Several specifically mentioned that they liked the end to “Road Lessons with Savanna.” They called it clever, which is awesome to read from them. The ending was one of those things I was thinking about as I was walking and finishing up, and suddenly, bang, it came upon me. Writing the end was then like the purest form of writing like crazy that I’ve had.
So, thanks to those have bought and read the books, and wrote me about these things, along with the other things that I didn’t include here.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 