K.K. Edwards's Blog, page 2

Time Out

Hi there, peeps.

Assuming, I know.

Since the illustrious 45’s unexpected coup in November of last year, I’ve been lax writing in this little blog. Actually, I’ve been lax since whatever month/year it was that Agent B and I parted company and I feel bad about that, like I’m letting myself and my (dwindling) audience down.

I know I’ve stated in the past that I created this blog primarily to give voice to the process–process, and product–of writing. And yet, time and again, I’ve scrapped a writing-based topic to accommodate billowing angst relative to Trump et al. Every time I write a post about that man, my guilt-bag gets a little heavier. It’s getting harder and harder to drag that thing around.

See, that’s what happens when a writer abandons her goal, especially a goal so publically stated.

One would assume the author of a writing blog would actually be, you know, writing. But my writing muse has been visiting me with alarming irregularity, and my WIP’s wordcount has suffered mightily in her absence, lurching forward in fits and starts when it moves at all. Same goes for queries sent out relative to ALBERT and CHERRY.

I can blame this unpleasant impasse on the unfortunate fact that I don’t have an agent anymore. Or, that my country may or may not be going down the tubes. Or, that my family has dealt with challenges of late and often finds itself floundering in an emotional maelstrom. Then again, aren’t we all?

But the truth is, Inertia has been an enticement I can’t resist, and Guilt–that freeloader–has been more than happy to come along for the ride.

Yesterday’s emails coughed up another rejection for CHERRY. On the scale of one to FUCK YOU, this rejection was up in the OUCH, DAMMIT category. I’d found an indie publisher I thought would be a really good fit, sent the editor my query, synopsis, and the first 10,000 words. She liked what she saw and requested the full and then, yesterday . . . suffice to say that particular love-fest didn’t last. She provided feedback; I shall spare you the gory details. I responded with a short but sweet thank-you because I’m a professional writer and that’s what professional writers do, never mind the fact that I have yet to make a dime from my writing.

See, that’s the point. Unless I keep writing and querying, I will be be stuck in the same boat I’ve been in. Nothing changes when nothing changes. Yesterday, I was disappointed, sure. But then I thought, Write something, goddammit. I pulled up my WIP, got down to business and by seven p.m. yesterday, I’d passed that elusive 60,000-word mark, which is a significant milestone for me. My goal for SOULLESS is 72K-words, which means I have fewer than 12K to go.

I won’t get there by sitting on my ass.

This little blog has served me well, in large part to those of you who’ve read this blog, shared your own stories, offered suggestions and support. Truly, I can’t thank you enough for that. I hope in some small way I’ve returned the favor; hope, too, that down the road, this journey can continue.

For now, I’m taking a little detour. I hope you guys will be there when I get back, but I won’t blame you if you won’t; after all, you have your own lives to live, your own novels to write, your own daily crappola to slog through and try to figure out. You don’t need me to be bending your ears and anyway, I haven’t lately, not to any great extent. Heck, you may not even realize I’ve gone.

Which means I might be back before you know it.

xoxo kk

 

POLY (Many) + TICKS (Blood Sucking Parasites) = We need to &@%$#@!%?! LAUGH!

Okay, so what would you rather read right now: Exhibit A…

 

…more than one quarter of the Administration’s appointees so far to environmental, energy, and natural resource management agencies have close ties to the fossil-fuel industry.

http://time.com/4756797/environment-donald-trump-100-days/

…or Exhibit B…

I vote B. I think we could all use some kinda funny right now with everything that’s going on. Republican Senators just drafted a new version of TrumpCare, giving major tax savings to the rich and the Royal Shaft to the rest of us. A congressional candidate who body slammed a reporter got elected into office the very next day. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZ4ircmvYXE ) Trump’s EPA director is hell-bent of reversing the Obama administration’s anti-fossil fuel strategy. Trump signed a bill in April that could scrap National Monuments. The U.S. is pulling out of the Paris Accord. Then there’s this:

Sometimes, I think humor is the only thing that can make this political clusterf**k palatable and the snarkier, the better. When Ben Carson stated on Sirius XM Radio that poverty was a ‘state of mind,’ Star Truck alumnus George Takei tweeted, “You know what else is a state of mind? Always being a blithering idiot.” True dat, George. We need all the snark we can get, with something like 3 years, 6 months, 29 days, 11 hours and 4 minutes left of Trump et al, according to TickCounter.com , so let’s try to make the most of it, shall we?

As a proud American, I’m doing my part right now. I googled ‘hilarious business signs’ for some funny, so enjoy. Just remember to keep your expectations low (so as not to shock the system), and try not to think too hard about reality right now.

You know what they say about expectations and reality…

Lovely.

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Tell Me

Of course, Mr. Wilder, I know you’re being facetious right now . . . or rather, your Wonkalicious suave and scary self is being facetious. But if you really want to know how original and creative I am, I’ll do my best to tell it to you straight.

(See, when Gene Wilder talks, I listen. As amazing as his Wonka persona was, it didn’t hold a candle to the man. Talk about original and creative…)

I used to think originality and creativity were my two strong suits, especially where writing is concerned. Of late, though, no so much. Case in point? This blog, which–barring a few sporadic posts–has been ‘on hold’ for more than a few months now. I could chalk that up to a lot of things, not the least of which is Donald J., who may be dragging us into a war with North Korea even as we speak. There have also been some issues closer to home which aren’t going away; then again, that’s life in the big city, and I’m certainly not the only one “dealing with stuff.”

There is also the tiny, lasting niggle relative to parting company with my agent, which transpired over a year ago and which–one would think–I’d have “gotten over” long before now. Apparently, not so much. Apparently, that Little Blip on the Radar Screen of Life affected me a tad more than I care to admit.

Regardless of the reason, I’m in what you might call a “funk”. And no matter how many times I’ve dragged myself out of whatever this funk is, I find myself slipping right back into it.  And every time I do, I lose a little bit more of myself.  As a writer, I mean. Which is more than a tad troublesome, considering the fact that I think of myself as a writer, and if I’m not, you know, writing. . .

Which brings me, round-aboutly, back to originality and creativity or rather, my apparent lack thereof. Sliding into a funk is hardly an original past-time, and lamenting a loss of creativity whilst doing squat to change things is not only counterproductive to the cause, but offensive . . . to any writer dealing with anything more challenging than what I’m dealing with. Believe me, there are a lot worse things a writer can be facing than the piddly-ass stuff I’m facing right now.

Speaking of offensive behavior, Miss Manners had something to say about that:

Offensive behavior is an ineffective way to make one’s own case.

Of course, some people make their cases by doing just that. 45 unfortunately comes to mind. On the lighter side, Zero Mostel. Groucho Marx. Gene Wilder? He was playing the part, “like an accident waiting to happen,” which is exactly the way he planned to play it, and which he executed brilliantly and to our utter delight, time and time again. Mr. Wilder’s creativity and originality made him who he was, and neither time, nor the unfortunate circumstances of his last years, diminished his magnificence, nor our admiration for it.

And yet, how much of that originality and creativity did he cultivate, and how much was inherent to him? I have to believe he was born that way, as we all are to some extent. Each of us has our share of the universe’s creative juices flowing through our veins. Each of us harbors at least one or two original thoughts. We all have our dreams, as well as trials and tribulations. Sometimes we find ourselves so caught up in the latter that we forget the former, stray off course, lose our way . . . which is where I am now, I think. And I’ve been here too long.

Gene Wilder once said, Time is a precious thing. Never waste it. Truth time, Mr. Wilder: that’s what I’ve been doing.