Laurel Myler's Blog, page 5

So, sometimes my brain moves too fast for my fingers when I write, and I end up jumping to the next...

So, sometimes my brain moves too fast for my fingers when I write, and I end up jumping to the next sentence or idea before I finish the last one. Not wanting to waste a good line (or what feels like a good line), I let myself do this and employ brackets to keep track of the empty spaces I need to go back and fill in. Projects generally end up looking like this:

An image of [something really dangerous] came to mind and I tried not to draw the comparison between that and talking to Merle about my issues with the way she was running things.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?”

I []

“What are you thinking about?” Elle asked again, laughing this time.

“Oh, um…you,” I said. That was probably the safest answer. 

One time, in my Honors thesis, I forgot to take out some of the brackets before I submitted the final version. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The dog in the Rosetta Stone application just looks like he’s...

The dog in the Rosetta Stone application just looks like he’s having a really great life. Keep on keepin’ on, pug.

In Ireland, all the grass looks radioactive.

In Ireland, all the grass looks radioactive.

Bucket List Item #127: Ride Sebastian’s favorite carnival...

Bucket List Item #127: Ride Sebastian’s favorite carnival ride, the ~ZIPPER~

Manager: Okay, so that's the project. I'll have someone in servicing write down the names of the loans in the Dropbox so you don't upload the wrong docs to a loan in the database.

Manager: Okay, so that's the project. I'll have someone in servicing write down the names of the loans in the Dropbox so you don't upload the wrong docs to a loan in the database.

Me: Sounds good.

*proceeds to upload over 100 documents to the wrong loan anyways*

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, San Francisco,...

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, San Francisco, California

Photo credit: @pazzy23

(You can tell it’s candid because my hair looks like someone tied actual knots in it.)

Don’t let me walk down the toy aisle at Target because I WILL leave with three Barbies and a...

Don’t let me walk down the toy aisle at Target because I WILL leave with three Barbies and a Lego set. For me. They’re for me…

Positoovity

Lately, I’ve been in crisis-mode when it comes to my writing. I’m not entirely certain what brought it on or how long it plans to stay (I may need to prepare a room and hot daily meals for it) but it’s here and it’s my state of mind, so I’m going to write about it because dang it I’m a writer. 

Or, at least, I think I am.

Maybe nobody wants to hear about my insecurities, but 1) I don’t really care, and 2) we all have them and I’m fairly certain we all have a lot of them in common. It makes me feel better to know that there are people out there having the same problem as I am, so here we are. 

I’ve lost a little bit of faith in myself and in what’s coming out on the screen when my fingers plunk away on those funny square buttons with the letters on them. Writing is weird, isn’t it? You sit down (or lay down or stand up or however you work) and come up with other people, places, things, events, worlds even and you put them into words for others to read and experience. Crazy! 

Writing is amazing. In any form, at any level, even if you can’t spell worth a damn, you’ve written something, and that’s fantastic. So why do we so often hate the product that comes out the other side?

Plenty of times I’ve been schooled on “it’s not about quality in your first draft, just get it on paper and refine it later” but nobody’s ever told me how to actually accept that something can be garbage the first time around. How can we not want our product to be good? Of course we want it to be good. Of course we want to feel proud of what we’re working on while we’re working on it. 

Here’s what I’ve discovered: none of us really know what we’re doing. None. Not your professors or teachers, not professional authors, not that human who sits in the basement all day in front of a computer screen typing four hundred words a minute, not me certainly. We’re all stumbling around in the dark, throwing words at a processor, and seeing what sticks. Anybody who tells you otherwise is lying through their teeth. Or delusional. 

My current issue is that I’ve been tied up with this new novel for a year now and it’s nowhere near complete. It’s thirty pages shy of being as long as City Ash and Desert Bones was when I finished the second draft (*deep breath*) almost two years ago. So, I’m actually working at a pretty good pace, especially considering that I’ve gone back over and changed the first act a good three times now. So, what’s the problem?

The problem is that I’ve spoken so negatively about the project so many times to so many people that my frustrations are no longer frustrations, but reality. I’ve slammed my main character, my ability to complete the project, the direction the narrative has taken, the fact that I feel like nothing is happening, and doing this time and again has changed the way I look at and feel about the story. I’ve forgotten what I’m trying to accomplish. I’ve lost sight of the aspects of it that are actually pretty darn good. I hate the stupid thing, and all because I complained about my struggles to too many people.

Now I’m second guessing myself at every turn. Should this happen? Should I summarize more here? Should Moira’s stage name be Cadbury or Wispa Gold? Should there be seals? How soon should I introduce these new characters? And I’ve asked the whole world for their opinion, but guess what?

It doesn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter what your best friend, mom, or coworker thinks should happen or how they feel about your characters. It’s not their book. It’s your book. It’s your world. And if you want it to be about your characters playing Rummikub and taking really long, unnecessary showers, and just freaking looking at each other for, like, forty minutes, then LET IT BE ABOUT THOSE THINGS. You’re the one with the story to tell and you’re the one who decides how that story should take shape. Who cares about convention, about rules, about what other people “want to read”? If you don’t want to read your writing, that’s a bigger problem. Write a story you want to see, not the story you think others want to see. If it’s good (and when you follow your heart, it usually is) people will recognize that and love it like you do. If it’s garbage, hey, at least you’ve got a fun little piece to look back on and treasure while you move ahead to the next thing.

Don’t let self-doubt hold you back from telling the story you need to tell. Whatever it is, it’s beautiful. And so are you. Believe in that, and in your product. Negativity bleeds through onto the page, but so does positivity. If you’re excited about what you’re doing, other people will be too.

Speak with joy about your work. Speak about your struggles with love. What you say about a project eventually becomes the project. So keep asserting how spectacular your work is, and poof! It’s spectacular. 

Don’t let expectations or frustrations keep you from staying positive. A good attitude and determination are 80% of the recipe for a successful story.

I think it’s high time I took my own advice.   

lesmoules:Book of Murder outfit

lesmoules:

Book of Murder outfit

If you could have one magical creature as a pet what would it be? And what would you name it?

Okay, so, hardest question EVER.

Lawd.

Let me think…

This is an age-old favorite, so nothing special here I don’t think, but I’ve gotta go with dragon. I mean, you get the functionality of a horse plus flight, not to mention added bonuses like fire breath, clubbed tail, retractable teeth, night vision, supersonic hearing, et cetera. There’s a reason dragons are everybody’s favorite, right? I’ve always had this vision for having a dragon with wings that look like lace, so let’s go with that. And I will name this dragon Maminnic.

But, dragons aside, my second choice would be a gnome and I would name it Mike because that’s so ordinary it’s hilarious.