Tag: gravity’s emotions

The Writing Moments

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.

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The Writing Moment

I completed revising and editing the novel in progress. Gravity’s Emotions.

I wrote the novel I wanted. The story I wanted to read. As ‘they’ always advise and suggest. ‘They’ are the establishment. The writers who made it. The teachers who teach it. The editors who edit it, the publishers who print it, the agents who represent it. Of course, once the writer writes the novel they want, ‘they’ all take their turns on it. That’s the art, and the business. Then it gets to the readers.

Woo, boy.

My doubts have been kicking me, heaping scorn on my effort. Those doubts are always ready to jump on me. Doesn’t matter what’s going on. They are what they are.

“Your idea of inconsistent consistent inconsistency is ridiculous,” they growl. “It’s too complicated. Too surreal and too far out there. And the book is too big. That’s also a stupid title.”

“Thanks, guys,” I answer. Because there is no arguing with doubt. Let it come, beat you up, expend its energy, and walk away. Don’t engage your doubt. That’s what ‘they’ say.

The doubts do present legitimate points. The manuscript is an epic monster. 700 pages. Umpteen billion words. Lot of fun to write, edit, revise. Amazing that I wrote that thing in a few hours a day. I started it in July of 2024. I often ponder, HTF is that possible? It neatly slots into my thoughts about duality: it was at once hard work and a long time and a lot of hours, and not much time, not too difficult, and a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, the draft is being distributed to my small core of private readers. See what they think. Decisions will be set regarding their feedback. Then, into the submission maws.

While that’s all happening, another novel is already underway.

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It’s One or Another

Daily writing prompt
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?
View all responses

I write fiction. I love writing novels. I don’t work so much on publishing them afterwards. Writing them is the fun of it. Fiction writing always lets me be other characters.

Today was typical. As I worked on the novel in progress, I was several characters. A mashup of genres, I told the muses that all genres are welcome in this tome. So, today, one of the principle characters in the scene was the talking dog, Sly.

Sly is a small dog. His name is short for Sylvester. Besides talking, he’s a thought reader. His owner is Instant, a rock and pop star who uses magic to enhance her performances and control her fans. They live on a starship named the Stellar Queen.

When Sly was introduced chapters ago, he came in to give specific warnings and revelations. When I thought about his voice and tone, I began imagining my father’s words coming out of Sly’s mouth. Thereafter, Sly’s behavior model is my father. Later, I realized with a start, Dad’s nickname among some of his friends is Sly. Kind of trippy. I named the dog before ever thinking about his behavior.

I think my favorite character in the novel, though, and the one who I would prefer to be, is Ari Four. As part of his modelling,another fictional character inspires him. That’s Uhtred of Bebbanburg, son of Uhtred, played by Alexander Dreymon in a television series called The Last Kingdom. The television series is based on a series of novels by Bernard Cornwell. Uhtred is based on some history, and Cornwell’s distant forebear. Besides sometimes acting irrational, staunchly adhering to principles when others urge him to abandon them, Uhtred is bold, loyal, and decisive. He’s willing to fight.

Ari Four is always urging, “We must do this now.” He speaks forcefully, as Uhtred would. If someone else is about to pull a sword, Ari Four will pull his first. That’s the thing about fiction writing. Like fiction reading and watching movies, plays, and television shows, you can let yourself be someone else for a while.

Even if it’s just your father, the dog.

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The Writing Moment

Eighteen pages. 5070 words. This is the gist of the chapter in my book which gave me so much trouble.

The chapter is called “Reconciliation”. Consisting of eight sub sections, this part of the story swung back and forth between two points of view.

Man, was editing and revising it a challenge.

I began with reading it after finishing the previous chapters. Right away, my brain was screeching to a halt. A grimace of displeasure spread. This wasn’t working.

Okay, recognizing there’s problem is a good first step. Identifying the problem is the second step. Fixing it is the third step. Then reviewing it to confirm it works is the fourth step.

“Reconciliation” begins on page 532 of 646 manuscript pages. So a lot of the story is well underway by then. Until encountering “Reconciliation”, the editing and revising was going well. I think I owe that to my process. I write and rewrite and polish as I progress. If I’m uncertain about what happens next, I’ll drop back and read and edit until I’m ready to write the next stage. Also, this is the novel’s third official draft. So there’s already been a lot of effort in it.

“Reconciliation” was a whole different animal. The story and the flow balked and balked again. It was like a squeak that must be fixed but first I needed to locate the squeak. I went through that chapter seven times before I was satisfied that I could go on.

The chapter after that, “Camden”, 23 pages, 6400 words, was done in a day.

Yet, with all that whining, editing and revising “Reconciliation” was very satisfying. There was a problem to be fixed. Fingers crossed, that’s what I did.

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The Writing Moment

I finished my writing session yesterday and headed off to shop with my wife.

Well, that’s the story. In truth, I continued writing in my head. I’d been editing the novel in progress. After finishing for the day, my mind stayed on tht treadmill. Sentences to add came to me as I studied cat food offerings, strolled along bulk offerings, selected green onions.

I made mental notes to myself. Remember this and that. Would it hold?

Settling in today, I remembered that I’d continue writing in my head. Were they still there?

Yes, they all returned. I pressed into the manuscript to make the changes. Even as I did, I reflected, would I really know if I remembered them all, or is that just another trick of mind?

That’s how writing often seems to be to me: a trick of the mind.

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The Writing Moment

As I wrote and edited my novel-in-progress, or NIP, this week, a realization struck. I like to practice a ‘stream-of-consciousness’ style of plotting. And I like incorporating details about people and their lives, settings, and events.

My novel ends up with an unusual personality as I cater to those preferences. Starts as science fiction on a starship with a dragon in another dimension. Shifts to ‘literature’ and relationships between family members. Swings to sword and magic low fantasy. Then back to science fiction. All with threads of mystery, genetic engineering, time shifts, and sometimes thrillers.

I enjoy such mash-ups. Fun to read, great fun to write.

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The Writing Moment

Scenes hang in my mind, waiting to be unfolded. A line or two or three is written. A pause to contemplate them is embraced. More lines come, get written. The growing new scene is reviewed, lightly edited. More lines come, more gets written.

Sometimes, the pause gets extended. I surf into news articles and others’ posts. Then a muse spears my attention and I jump back to the scene being written. Lines are added. They stack into paragraphs. Paragraphs stack into pages. I review what I wrote and lightly edit.

That scene is eventually done. The next one is considered and plotted in my head. I approach again. A line or two or three is written. So it goes.

Meanwhile, muses ambush me with a new concept. I’m reading a non-fiction article about glaciers. The concept harpoons my mind. I grin with delight and think, oh, wow, that would be fun. An opening scene begins unfolding.

I open up a new doc to capture the first lines. Scenes are written. They turn into chapters and branch into a structure’s glimmerings. I think, this will be my next project. I rummage around my brain for a title. A tentative one is hauled out. Rejected. Another bubbles up. Acceptable. More is realized and written. The working title is modified. The quick, sudden progress surprises me. This will definitely be fun to write. But first, the other novel in progress must be finished.

I close the document. Return to the work in progress. A line or two or three is written. I’m close to the end. Close to tying it all up and saying to myself, finished.

So it goes.

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The Writing Moment

I wrote another ending to my novel in progress the other day. I think this one might stick. Man, what a glorious, exciting, invigorating, disturbing, worrying day that once after wrote it. I was so excited as I wrote that I began vibrating inside. I want to believe that it’s a good ending — hey, I do believe it is — but until others read it and judge it, I won’t know. Or rather, it’ll always be good to me, but may not be good to others. That’s how reading goes.

The novel isn’t done. I’d become semi-paralyzed by thinking over the ending. I kept rolling it through my head, coming up with possibilities, and then shooting them down for different, valid reasons. The one that finally landed was a surprise but feels right. I hope it holds together through the editing, revising, publishing process.

Meanwhile, to finish the novel, I need to go back and write the climax. Sounds funny but that’s how it worked in the case of this book. Several different arcs need pulled together; in writing the ending, I saw how the arcs should be handled. Now to wrangle the words and make it work.

Okay, back to writing like crazy.

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The Writing Moment

I’ve re-written the last 20% of the current novel in progress. Again, I guess. Guided by muses, and getting out of my own way, I added a whole other first section. Started it on Dec 26, 2024. Finished that section yesterday. How well it fit in really surprised me. I sweated and cringed as I wrote, wondering with clenched teeth, where is this all going? How does it tie together? But while I fretted over those things and tried my hardest to step up in front of myself and squirm and overanalyze, something inside me managed to push me aside again and again, and keep writing.

Then, suddenly, OMG, plot twist. And another one. And another.

I’ll tell you, all these plot twists make me nervous.

Am I close to writing a final ‘the end’? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… I can’t seem to really say. There’s a writer in me who took over, and he/she/they don’t let on about what they’re doing. I’m just going to sit down, gulp up coffee, write like crazy, and see what’s delivered.

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Thursday’s Theme Music.

Today is Thursday, December 26, 2024. Five more days to the year. A year stamped with historic and personal significance. Wonder how 2025 will compare at this time next year.

Gray. Rainy. Chilly. Call it 44 F. Light rain. This is winter in Ashlandia. Snow hugs things above three or four thousand feet, looks like at a glance. Down here, we’re stuck in the gray. Sunshine muted through gray clouds from mountain to mountain to mountain. Gray clouds as far as I can see, looking down into the valley. And rain.

Yes, I’m complaining.

The cats are not, however. After a night of howling wind and incessant rain, Papi dragged in his wet Butter Butt and found a warm space to sleep off the day. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) had already set the example, staying in, finding a comfy zone, nodding into slumber.

Late post as I spent the morning writing. One of those days when the muses arrived early. The house was quiet and the coffee was hot, so. Seated myself at the laptop and added 2,500 words. Excited by the twist added. See if it stands revision, editing, and further thinking.

Today’s music selection was made by The Neurons after a friend’s comment yesterday. A decade older than moi, she’s not known for her colorful language. But there she was making a risque, off-color comment at the Christmas bash. As we reacted and laughed, she turned as red as Santa’s outfit. Net result: The Neurons have “Dirty Mind” by the brilliant Prince playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark filthy).

Well, deep breath. Dredge up some positive energy. Here we go again. Let’s start with the music. Cheers

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