Jennifer Freitag's Blog, page 7

How My Writing Style is a Natural Challenge for Me to Overcome

"WHAT IS YOUR WRITING STYLE?"

I was inspired to tackle a post on HOW EVEN DO I WRITE  THE WAY I DO because a) people continuously ask that question, for some reason, and b) I saw a weekly inspirational gig started up on two blogs introducing their exercise with this question.

further up + further in    ///    ashley aspires
THANK YOU FOR YOUR ADVICE BUT YOU'RE ACTUALLY NOT HELPING
I hate being told what to do.  |   I feel reeeeeally bad about this, but how-to writing blogs are actually SUPER UNHELPFUL FOR ME.  I realize they must be invaluable for other writers because there are so many of these how-to-write posts being churned out by the second, but I am not one of those writers who benefits from them as a rule.  If you are also an independent writer person, take heart. You're not alone.

I've mentioned that I'm intuitive + I MEAN IT.  |  You know those people who say "outline your story!" "write down general ideas!" "brain-storm!"...?  They do that + I cue up Scarlett O'Hara's signature bitch-face.  That is NOT the way my creativity functions + as a general rule that is NOT helpful for me.  If brainstorming is nearly impossible for you too, take heart!  You're not alone in this either.

Do not add me to any of your Facebook writers groups.  |  I will become toweringly annoyed, excuse myself from the group, and probably seethingly despise you for the rest of my career.  I AM A VERY ALONE PERSON.  I don't share my writing with just anyone/everyone/every moment of the writing process.  Anyone who has seriously attempted drawing will probably appreciate the excruciating embarrassment that accompanies the early stages, and the repeated, "I'm not done yet" excuses made whenever someone happens to glance at your unfinished sketch.  LEAVE ME ALONE.  I WILL FIGURE THIS OUT MYSELF.

wash: "you are a very UP person"
MY HUSBAND + THE FRENCH BEST DESCRIBED MY WRITING STYLE
PARKOUR  |  it's a popular, terrifying, probably very-bad-idea brand of cross-country exercise: "practitioners aim to get from one point to another in a complex environment, without assistive equipment and in the fastest and most efficient way possible." (thank you, wikipedia)  Essentially you just GO FOR IT.  It's crazy, it's scary, it's full-tilt-over-anything + everything, and it's basically how I write.

"You write like parkour," said my husband.  "You don't plan, you just start running."   THIS IS THE BEST DESCRIPTION OF MY WRITING STYLE I HAVE EVER HEARD.  It's true: with very little forethought save maybe some dim ideas of the aesthetic of the story, maybe a few concrete images, I just START RUNNING.  There are obstacles - there are obstacles in every novel's writing process - and I find a way to get over them somehow, some way, crawling - climbing - clawing - messy - muddy - bloody - breathless - somehow, I just keep going.

But it works for me!  In this crazy age of planning everything, of having every detail outlined, of suffering the pressure of feeling like you aren't a real writer because you are even beyond the bounds of writing by the seat of your pants, IT WORKS.  No, it won't work for everyone, but it works for me and I don't. care. what other people think about my writing style.

MY WORK SPEAKS FOR ITSELF
The most concrete idea I have for any + every story I begin is a sense of elevation, of something emotional + huge + electric swelling inside you, lifting you off the ground.  Like Kiki the first time she mounts her broom.  The wind beneath you, the magic catching you up, everything - including yourself - feeling bigger + bolder + more alive.  That is my guiding star for all my novels.  I'm here running hell-for-leather through I barely know what, so that someday you can read my novels and fly.

and i love it <3
image via pinterest

Bottom Line of Writer's Block + Why You'll Be Excited

Writer's block can last a day, two days, a week, a month - LONGER (!!)  During that time, our scale of panic goes from mildly peeved to "am i even a writer anymore??"  There are even countless - COUNTLESS - articles out there to get you through/over writer's block.

I'M HERE TO TELL YOU THE OPPOSITE

Sources say, writer's block is a bad thing!  Writer's block needs to be conquered!  Writer's block is annoying!  Writer's block is the bane of any deadline you ever had + all your hopes of productivity!

Sources say, a good writer will write something every day, even if it's just one line, or something pathetically minuscule like that.  WRITE EVERY DAY.  THIS KEEPS YOUR CREATIVE JUICES FLO -

NO.  Just stop.  The only thing about these last few lines that is remotely true is that writer's block is pretty annoying.  We all treasure an edenic image that we can write like the wind without check, our "creative juices" magically pouring out like the Tigris and the Euphrates, and creating a gorgeous, lush plot for our readers.

WHO ARE WE KIDDING, HERE

First of all, NO.  |  That idea that a really good writer will writing SOMETHING every single day?  Some people can actually pull that off.  That's fine.  But for those of us who have strained and struggled and tried it and basically pooped dry, pebbly words onto a toilet-paper document, how comforting is the thought that, "Well, at least I wrote SOMETHING today"?  IT DOES NOT COMFORT ME.  I know that, tomorrow, I'm going to have to flush those terrible lines down the drain and start all over.  So what was the point of writing that crap in the first place?

Second of all, NO.  |  Writer's block is not the devil!  It's our fault for believing that we are capable of churning out brilliant ideas ALL. THE.  TIME.  It simply is not possible.  It is a ridiculous standard to set and it will only cause us grief.  If you tell me you have not felt at least a twinge of guilt when a week has gone by without any progress shown on your story, YOU ARE VERY MUCH LYING.

THIS IS ACTUALLY YOUR BRAIN, BEING HEALTHY

Your brain can't keep up with this impossible standard of 24/7 productivity.  While there are many times when you have to buckle down + push, there are also times when your brain is just wiped out and needs to rest, and come up with the next leg of your plot.  Plots are not Athena: they do not spring fully-formed out of your head - and, even if they did, you would have a massive splitting headache, okay?  OKAY.

I am a very intuitive, subconscious thinker/planner.  A lot of my plotting goes on at a level that I am not even aware of.  And when I am in "writer's block," maybe my brain is actually stopping at the crossroads to check its map and determine where to go next?  Maybe it's taking a nap, maybe it's figuring out where to go next, maybe it's even taking a breather and dwelling on some completely-other subject so that I don't burn it out on one topic at a rubber-searing speed.

WRITER'S BLOCK IS A NORMAL PART OF LIFE

True beans.  My advice is to stop belly-aching over "a day of small things" and wait patiently until the next crop of ideas has ripened.  If you try picking the fruit too early, it's going to be tiny, sour, and useless.  Remember that some harvests will take longer to come than others.  Some plots develop faster than others.  Some minds work slower, have more things to deal with, and just basically need to tend to other things as well.  There is //absolutely no guilt// in that.  So just caaaaaalm down, everybody.  Be diligent, but also be reasonable.

you've got this!
image via pinterest :D

DAMMERUNG | Beautiful People

I am 99.9% certain I have never done a Beautiful People post for Dammerung de la Mare because who wants that kind of spoiler anyway?  But since "Plenilune" has been out for a yearnahalf, I figure it can't hurt to highlight our favourite fox in the room, eh?

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE | CHILDHOOD EDITION
1.  WHAT IS HIS FIRST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?
Sitting up in his father's armchair, in a shuttered room, with the sense that he had to be very quiet and very still, and getting to hold his baby brother, who was then only three hours old.

2.  WHAT IS HIS BEST + WORST CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES?
The best  |  Getting to ride a pony all by himself for the very first time, without falling off or executing any horrendous gaffs, and his father's obvious pleasure in his accomplishment.
The worst  |  Being terrorized by his mother in her fits of madness, and having to hide while listening to her crying in the house.

3.  WHAT WAS HIS CHILDHOOD HOME LIKE?
For the most part, beautiful, long, sunshiny Marenove House.  Summer always seems to take up so much more of the year when one is a child, than it does when one is grown: for Dammerung there was no exception.  Life was summer, full of fishing and riding and barefoot exploring, reading enormous tomes of poetry and looking at cartography in old books his father owned; not even his studies could dampen that summer enjoyment of childhood.  Life was as full and as fat and as slippery-shiny as a trout.

4.  WHAT IS SOMETHING THAT SCARED HIM AS A CHILD?
In part, his mother's madness, but more than that he was afraid of a formless sense of his father's fear, and the keen foreboding children can have that something is about to be lost and they don't understand why.

5.  WHO DID HE LOOK UP TO MOST?
Naturally his father, who was in many ways about as opposite to Dammerung as a personality could be: a big, commanding, stern figure that elicited both fear and respect from others.  But Dammerung also idolized the mythos of the Battle of Ampersand, and the figures which took key roles in that pivotal aspect of Plenilunar history. 


6.  WHICH WERE HIS FAVOURITE + LEAST FAVOURITE CHILDHOOD FOODS?
Most favourite  |  candied rhubarb tarts - perfect size for stuffing in one's pockets and absconding with to the out-of-doors.
Least favourite  |  yarrow steeped in toad's fat and boiled in a peasoup, for the prevention and treatment of colds.

7.  IF HE HAD HIS CHILDHOOD AGAIN, WOULD HE CHANGE ANYTHING?
Okay, all the feels.  But if I had to hone in on ONE SINGLE THING, he would have his mother happier, and longer.  That is probably his most haunting regret of his childhood.

8.  WHAT KIND OF CHILD WAS HE?
Impetuous, quick, curious, talkative, a firstborn through and through.  He was bright, obedient, and very few things which he put his hands to did not come naturally to him.  Except mathematics.  He and I, man.  We share this one thing in common.

9.  WHAT WAS HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS PARENTS + SIBLING LIKE?
Dammerung deeply respected and idolized his father, and continues to hold him as an unattainable standard of what a man should be.  He was pathetically attached to his mother, and would dote on her as much as a child possibly could.  Her influence, and the time he spent with her, worked to twist and mould him more deeply than his respect for his father ever managed.  As for his sibling, anyone who has read "Plenilune" knows how that panned out...

10.  WHAT DID HE WANT TO BECOME WHEN HE GREW UP, AND DID HE ACHIEVE HIS GOAL?
Only the federal head of the confederation of Honours.  And yes.  But not the way he thought he would. :/

Here are ten things you maybe possibly did not know about Dammerung + his childhood. Because blogs are a much better place for extraneous backstory than one's novel, ehwot?

image via pinterest

Are You a Tear-Jerking Hack?

Contrary to my cynical expectations, I was surprised to see a sizeable backlash against the plot of recent film release/original book "Me Before You" - a story involving a have-who-loses-all and a have-not-who-loves-life.  I was pleased to see this backlash because the story is ACTUALLY HORRENDOUS.

DO NOT AVOID THESE SPOILERS: THEY WILL MAKE YOU A BETTER WRITER

How sweet is a story of a cynical paraplegic falling in love with his quaint, vibrant caretaker?  Um, basically very.  Cue me, reading the Wikipedia synopsis and HAVING ALL ILLUSIONS DESTROYED.  Thank you, modern writing, for crapping so thoroughly on such a cute premise.

PREMISE IN BRIEF  |  Will(iam??), rich young have-it-all, loses everything in an accident and putts around in a wheelchair.  He wants to go to Switzerland where assisted suicide is legal.  His parents convince him to stick around for six more months, during which time they hope he will change his mind.  Enter Louisa (probably pronounced "Loueesur," 'cause British), who has nothing but a joy of life, and signs on to care for Will.  He thaws, they fall in love, how awesome...  AND AT THE END HE STILL DECIDES TO COMMIT SUICIDE.

WHAT.  THE HELL.  Floored.  Disgusted.  Outraged.  My reactions + apparently the reactions of many readers/viewers.  This, my friends, is stupidity and tear-jerking at its WORST.

1.  There is NO point to Will's death.  Unlike stories built around the premise that one of the characters is terminally ill yet still forms a blossoming attachment with another character, Will did NOT have to die.  He chose to succumb to the idea that his life was worthless because he could not longer ski/ride a motorcycle/get it on with the ladies.  WOW.  What a shallow son of a bitch.

2.  Despite the fact that he CLEARLY HAS SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR NOW AND NOTHING IS STOPPING HIM, he chooses death and breaking Louisa's heart.  AND THIS IS COMMENDABLE HOW??

3.  Author Jojo Moyes said in a radio interview that she LIKES making readers/viewers cry because it shows her that she has made an emotional connection with people.  (Kind of like a woman screaming tells the dominant bondage individual that he has inflicted pain on the subordinate.)

I WOULD BREAK YOUR FINGERS IF I COULD

This is an insult to the following:
human lifehuman connection + affectionbasic storytellingpeople who actually have disabilities + rock their life, choosing to be awesome instead of pathetically dead
IF I COULD, I would take away your ability to make readers cry.  I would do that.  I would force you to engage your readership in other ways, make them connect with your characters in ways that define BEYOND mere pain.
make them lovemake them hatemake them angrymake them ecstaticmake them fight with their whole soul for the attainment of the storyline
Yes, DO THAT TO YOUR READERS.  Put away tear-jerking for a season.  It has its place, but it is FAR TOO EASY TO ABUSE.  It's a hack.  It's an amateur's crutch.  It's a narcissist's mirror.  Stop making your readers cry.  Make them CARE.

DEATH IS THE ALIEN GOD

Every time someone dies, we hurl ourselves into the task of making their death MEAN something.  Death does not belong here.  Death is wrong.  Death destroys all purpose we have as living, breathing, busy, creating HUMANS.  Moyes' portrayal of Will's voluntary suicide as a good thing is a lie, and I will not let that slide.  We live before God, and our lives have meaning.  To surrender ourselves to the false god of death and annihilation is an abomination and idolatry.

WHAT YOU WILL FIND IN MY FICTION

My characters tend to be bigger-than-life, red-blooded folk, who live coolly, roughly, and often dangerously.  Their words are calculated to threaten and push back against anything that tries to impinge on their egos.

but they respect human life
They are not quick to kill.  Nor do I craft painful or sad storylines for the sake on getting a rise out of my readers.  No, that's absurd, that's abusing the writer's privilege, and it needs to stop.

if you want to improve yourself as a writer, stop leaning on the tear-jerk hack
image via pinterest

6 Expert Questions to Improve the Quality of Your Scenes

EDITING IS MY BANE
I hate editing.  HATE IT SO MUCH.  I'm not going to sugar-coat it, folks.  Editing is not NEARLY as fun as writing the first draft for me.  Editing means I have to be a responsible adult + face all the mistakes I made in that first draft!

If you hate editing...this post will probably not make you stop hating it.  I still hate it.  But HOPEFULLY IT WILL HELP THE PROCESS.  Because all of us who hate editing are secretly looking for a lackey to foist this task off on.

THE BREAKDOWN
Credit goes to Go Teen Writers.  |  I came across an excellent post by author Stephanie Morrill breaking down the six questions to ask while editing scenes.  It was so helpful that I

wrote down the list+the list survived my massive konmari house purge
Yeah.  That helpful.  And in case you never saw that post (from November 2014), I'm going to reproduce it here for you so that you, too, can feel a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

1.  "How does this scene impact the plot? (Also: if I cut it, would it matter?)"
My comment  |  Rule number one!  DOES THIS SCENE EVEN NEED TO BE HERE or is it just pure fluff.  I care...but at the same time I don't care if your heart-strings are tied to it + removing the scene will tear your heart out because I HAVE DONE THE SAME THING + THIS IS FOR THE GOOD OF THE NOVEL.  Think about it.  Think about it CRITICALLY.

(i'm looking at you, bombadill)
2.  "Can I make this scene work harder for me?"
My comment  |  Foreshadowing?  Character development?  Strengthening the reader's emotional attachment to all involved?  Can this scene beef up + look butch?  OFTENTIMES PROBABLY YES MAYBE LET'S BE HONEST.

3.  "Am I telling it from the right point of view?"
My comment  |  Poooooooop.  There is nothing worse than getting well into a story + realizing THIS IS ALL WRONG I NEED TO WRITE A DIFFERENT CHARACTER.  Believe me, I know.  I KNOW.  But if the novel is fighting you, this is a legitimate question to ask.  It is a prickly, bitter pill to swallow (has that phrase been commandeered to be suggestive?  i hope not.  sorry.) but you have to do it.

(i'm looking at you, cruxgang)
4.  "Did I arrive late (enough)?"
My comment  |  One of the bedrock rules of modern storytelling is to drop the reader in with a bang.  Just like Gandalf basically hurls Bilbo out the door before Bilbo can muster a good excuse NOT to go, throw your reader into the novel running, and they won't have time to look back.  Never start static.

(this doesn't always mean PHYSICAL action, but there should be at least MENTAL...momentum.  momentum is key.  that's the take-away.)
5.  "Do I help provide context for my readers?"
My comment  |  Does the scene do one or more of these things?

exhibit WHO IS THEREexhibit WHAT IS HAPPENINGexhibit WHEN THIS IS TAKING PLACEexhibit WHY THE CHARACTERS ARE THERE
Basically, help provide the setting for the reader's mind to anchour in.  As readers, we're pretty good at Inception-izing the scenes we're in, but a good writer is one who helps along the way.  Otherwise it's just endless dialogue.

(i'm sorry but i'm look at you, dorothy sayers)
6.  "Do I leave early + give my readers incentive to come back?"
My comment  |  Have you ever been so bored by the time you elbow-crawled to the end of a chapter you're reading that you decide you don't even care anymore, it's not worth your time?  NOT WHAT THE WRITER WANTS TO DO.  The scene needs to leave the reader

wanting TO SEE MORE OF THE CHARACTERSwondering WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXThoping THE CHARACTERS ACHIEVE WHAT THEY NEED
Wrangle those positive emotions!  Keep the reader coming back for more!  No, this is not an abusive relationship!  (All my genuine sympathy goes out to people who have been in such, not joking.)  Basically, you want the reader to care.  You want the scene to matter.  You want the scene to evolve the story in such a way that the reader can't wait to see what's coming next.

These are Stephanie's 6 questions to guide you through the (hateful) process of editing your scenes.  Please, if you have even more tips, share! share! share!  And thank you so much!

image via pinterest  |  original go teen writers post here

Ethandune [Etc.] Excerpts | The Setup Phase

I'm going on 13,000 words in the Ethandune rewrite, and for the most part I'm pretty encouraged!  I felt pretty rocky at the start - you know how that goes.  But once I hit my stride I was swinging strong.  I'm still in that avalanche stage of setting up the questions, and I may be the story's first casualty before I crawl out from underneath them to answer them all...

VERY SMALL PERSONAL UPDATE: thank you - THANK YOU, EVERYONE - for all your super encouraging, banding-together-ness comments on my last (first??) Ethandune update post when I mentioned my yucky sleep/headaches/depression.  I have a brilliant, super-chill, wonderful doctor + she
gave me a muscle relaxer which helps me sleep WITHOUT BEING FULL OF PAIN + TENSION ALL NIGHTgave me a semi-caffeinated painkiller which ACTUALLY MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A REAL HUMAN BEINGand, in the main, my depression has ebbed to a much more manageable level - not gone, but not "regular" + crippling as it had been So thank you SO MUCH for caring for me.  It really means a lot.

 SNIPPETS OF MY WRITING {because that's why you're really here + i need to think of a better term than "snippets"}

We waited what seemed a full ten minutes—mayhap only five, it seemed long, and the sunlight was growing hotter on my neck the while—when at last there came a backflung report of bootsteps on wood flooring within, a bolt drew back at hand, and the door was opened.I jumped—even Golightly, beside me, made a small gesture of surprise. Goddgofang’s brows kicked up in a way that made his ears move, like a horse’s when it catches wind of something interesting.Dammerung himself made no motion.The figure in the doorway was built like a wrestler: hugely shouldered, lean at the waist, and thickly muscled. The man was clad, like Dammerung himself, in a gentleman’s clean shirt with a light buckskin jacket overtop, skimming his knees where he wore breeches and a pair of brass-capped paddock boots. But there all semblance of a Maresman ended. He had a wrap of linen round the crown of his head, swung down in a coin-plated sheath which obscured his face and left only his eyes to sight; his left arm held the door, but his right arm, at right angles with his body, was cast in steel to the fingertips and attached by a stamped pauldron to the shoulder. “Ah,” said Dammerung lightly. “That would explain the illegibility.”“Lord Dammerung.” The hawkish, green-grey eyes flickered from the Overlord to the rest of us, and back again. His voice was one which made you want to cough, somehow to clear the speaker’s throat. “It is my Lord Dammerung? I did not know if you would come.”“I would have come in any event,” said Dammerung coolly. “You needn’t mind about that.” ethandune
“Is there anything more I can get my lords?” asked Youngblood Ireton, hands in his breech-pockets, head cocked back to eye Dammerung, who was leaning through the open doorway of his little bedroom to look round at the view.Dammerung pulled back and swung round. There was a curious light in his eye, as though he and the butler had shared a joke which neither had needed to speak. “Oh, I don’t think so. We’ll see you in a trice at dinner.”“Very good,” said Ireton. He gave a passive, satisfied nod, and strolled out, pulling the door shut in his wake.“Was that—” began Goddgofang.“It was,” finished Dammerung. ethandune
Youngblood reached behind Coeur de Leon’s head, slipped his fingers beneath the coil of linen, and, wholesale, lifted the headgear off with a tinselly jink of coins. The mask was set aside, and I had a blood-curdling view of the man’s face.ethandune
“He hasn’t any of the charm in his blood,” he went on presently; “not Golightly—he’s loam-and-bone to the core of him. But he’s like that one old dog you’ve got that won’t make a noise, so that a prick of the ears is no cry wolf, and it’s best to heed him.”ethandune
We came upon the workers at last, in what must have been the oldest tract of the orchard. Here the light was greenest, the trees thickest, tallest, mingling in a mare’s-nest of branches within each other, overhead, all around—like walking in Pan’s antechamber. ethandune
Little boy blueCome flash your spurThe nightingale’s callingFrom the stoop o’ death’s doorWhere is the boyWhom grim comes to reap?Under the opium,Fast asleep.lamblight
He whirled the winnowing flail in his hand, with a whoop and whistle of the dream-coloured air; and with his off hand pointed at the ring of them, saying with a shine-toss tone of halfway formality, “Come ye, any one of you, who will abuse the feyless white-haired chit—for I’ll stand proxy for her, and let ye see, who dares of you, whether the teeth of the Blue Lord Duke have been trimmed!”Round the back of him, in a pulsing, fretfully semi-opaque mass, the Good Dog swelled and faded and swelled in view, eyes hot coals and teeth, completely solid, grinning like insanity over his shoulder.adamantine
“I was delivered to ye by a devil, and ye made of me a slave, without home, without clothing, and without name. Now, lo!—it is for this I am come, for such a crisis as ye face, to be what ye cannot be, to do what ye cannot do. Now shut up your mouths and stand aside, else, if ye bar my way, your destruction will be on your own heads.”adamantine
Like a lion you came downFrom the nighttime sky,With stars in your mane,And sparks in your eyes,And light at the tips of your teeth.Like a lion you came down,Like a wolf, like a fox;Like a lamb, like newfallen snow;I caught you on the ends of my lashes,And you star-teeth I kissed with my lips.adamantine

4 Little Ways to Make the Mental Shift to Confidence

Here on the internet, where EVERYONE seems to have it together, and you just know that you DON'T, it's really hard to be confident.  I mean, genuinely confident, not just faking it.  Let me level with you: I feel like I am ALWAYS faking it.  Always making the appearance that I've got it together, that I know what I'm doing, that I'm pretty, that I'm smart.  You know.

Add to that the fact that I'm a woman, and I chronically beat myself down, assume everything wrong is my fault, feel like a deadweight and a burden and a nuisance.

Add to that my depression, which tangles my mind up into a morass of knots composed of worry, sorrow, the belief that I'm going to lose everything.

BEING CONFIDENT IS HARD
I recently did a survey just to see who follows The Penslayer, why, and what I can do to improve.  Looking at those responses was nerve-wracking.  I was literally feeling sick to my stomach and shaking all over just opening up the results page on my computer.  It was that hard.  So before I even looked at the page, I turned to my notebook and wrote:

"it's just nervousness. nothing to be afraid of.  'not everyone will like you - most people don't even like themselves.' "

It didn't help much, but it helped a little.  It's true that I'm doing the best I can with The Penslayer, and always pursuing new avenues to improve.  It's not easy to ask for feedback, it's not easy to get it, but there is no rational reason to be afraid of it.  That's what I tell myself.

The downside of Pinterest.  |  While I do believe Pinterest is an excellent tool for discovering oneself, I also believe it is full of lies + contradictions. One half of Pinterest is all -

"be the boss girl!""be independent!""#*@!% what people think of you!"
and then the other half is all -
"it's okay to be imperfect!""nobody has it all together!""bed hair don't care!"
And I'M left thinking, what the HELL, PEOPLE.  CHOOSE ONE.  So basically I've come to do the RATIONAL thing and have thrown just about everything Pinterest says out the window over my shoulder with a grain of salt.  Because sometimes Pinterest is really good at giving you a shake to get yourself in order.  But also...not.

THERE'S A MUCH BETTER PLACE TO FIND CONFIDENCE
It's not always as flashy + fun + full of pretty pictures you can save.  It doesn't care about being fun.  It talks a lot about down-to-earth junk that's not even slightly flashy at all ever.  You have to conjure the pictures in your head.  Whaaaat.  Yes, it's old-school.  But it's so much better.  It's GOD'S WORD.

Struggling with depression, especially hormonal depression, is like trying to manually push a dead elephant up Mount Everest.  It's HARD.  You get filthy + tired-sick + the elephant usually ends up crushing you.  Personally, not only do I shove myself head-first into my own mental grave, I get impatient + angry with everything.  Fortunately, Pinterest was one of those things.

I got tired of how stupid and contradictory everything is.  How am I supposed to be a "boss girl" + "hustle" but also "imperfect" + "totally cool with that" at the same time?  I CAN'T.  So I burrowed into bed with my Bible.  It was a relief.  It was a comfort.  It didn't magically take away my hormonal problems, but the comfort of the soul was there.

GRACE FOR GRACE
Facing the prospect of looking at my survey results + swallowing the knowledge that I amount to literally nothing on the internet, I turned aside and wrote 4 things on my sheet of notebook paper:

DISCOUNT FEARit's hormones
DISCOUNT WORRYyour God cares
DISCOUNT WEAKNESShe knows you are dust
NEVER DISCOUNTthe Spirit of the living God who intercedes for you in the blood of Jesus Christ
EVERYTHING I FEEL MAY BE TRUE, but then there is my God.  Why/when/how would I ever find anything worthy enough in myself to cobble together and make something "boss girl" + "independent"?  I am a physically spiritual human being struggling with the effects of the fall in a body wracked by hormonal imbalances, trapped by the finite constraints of ignorance, and too turned about to see my own way out of the fog.

So to whom else would I go?  He has the words of eternal life.
image via pinterest

Why Every Novel You Love is About You

One of the hallmarks of the amateur writer is the self-insert.  Hey, it's fun!  We've all been there/are there/wonder if it's so bad to go back there.(..?)  My very first story was a portal-fiction self-insert (I also abducted real members of my life without their consent I'm sorry I will never do that again) and it was LOADS OF FUN.  And also terrible.  But that's just because I was a terrible writer, not because the story was a self-insert.

THEY WANT YOU TO BE A SNOB

Stick it to the man!  I grew up(ish) and learned more ABOUT writing, and I developed a disdain for self-insert fiction.  Pfft.  Amateur writers.  Can't distance themselves from their writing.  PFFT.  How pedestrian.  All their characters must be flat reproductions of themselves and their own opinions.  PFFFFFT.  I can do better than that.  I can create unique, stand-alone characters and numerous different story-arcs that have no connection to my own life experiences because I AM A GOOD WRITER.

THE GHOST IN THE SHELL

And then I grew up some more.  You know that awful adolescent stage when you think you know everything but in reality you know zilch about anything?  Yeah...  Recently the common sense of storytelling struck me and I realized,  EVERY STORY YOU LOVE IS ABOUT YOU.

It's true!  If you are emotionally invested in your story, if you have a creative connection with the characters and the plot, YOU ARE THERE.  This is YOU.  Perhaps the early days of ACTUALLY being a character in the story are gone (and that's a good thing), but if you care, if you are writing this from your heart, you are the ghost-character within the novel.  Shh!  Don't speak of them too loudly or they will get shy, but EVERY author of EVERY story they have ever written with love and investment is within that story, through and through.

THE BENEVOLENT HAUNT

Don't be afraid of the concept of self-insert fiction.  In its mature form, it strengthens the story immensely.  Every novel is haunted.  The ghost of every author is taking you through their story, unspoken and unseen, like the ghosts of Christmas.  So be YOU.  Write your stories.  Get in the muck.  Dig deep.  Open your heart.  This is your time to grow something beautiful from your soul.  Be there.  It's the best thing you can do for your story.

Welcome to The Penslayer! I'm Jenny Freitag.  Sorry for the mess. Order will be forthcoming. Meanwhile, add me to your list of blogs you love for more short + sweet, writing-related posts to help you on your way! Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest + Twitter. <3

image via pinterest (shocker)

Glorious Freedom + The Truth About Magic in Your Fiction

"men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up & hurry off as if nothing had happened"

MY RULES ON THIS VERY SCORCHED + BARREN TURF
The better part of a decade er so has seen a wildfire debate surrounding anything magical in fiction within the Christian community.  Sound familiar?  If you have never heard of this, you are the OPPOSITE of sheltered, because only the mainstreamest of mainstreamers would be in waters too deep for this debate to rock.  Nope, chances are, you've been in the midst of this debate many a'time, and I'm going to lay down some ground rules for my little post here before cutting to my signature chase.

i'm not going to tell you which books i think you should read + which i think you should noti'm not going to debate magici'm not going to talk about narnia, middle earth, harry potter, percy jackson, i don't even know, world without end, amen
MOSTLY THIS IS MIRRIAM'S FAULT
because she posted a really nice, short + sweet article on the subject of magic in "Christian" fiction.  I highly recommend reading it.  I'm going to expound upon it.  She quoted Spurgeon (always a good idea) -

"the word of God is like a lion. you don't have to defend a lion.  all you have to do is let the lion loose, + the lion will defend itself."

The embarrassingly loud, blog-empowered, what-seems-like-often-homeschooled community of very well-meaning Christians consistently, markedly, unconsciously, forget this fact: THE WORD OF GOD IS LIVING + ACTIVE, SHARPER THAN A TWO-EDGED SWORD (and considering the majority of these blogging girls seem to have a penchant for ren fairs + all things medieval, they should get this fact, eh wot!)

THE REAL ISSUE IS NOT BOOKS
What you do + do not choose to read, that is not my concern, nor is it the real issue.  The real problem is that this community is a quaking, trembling, knee-jerk body of people who - I believe very sincerely - profess to adhere to the guardianship of an almighty, benevolent, ever-present God.  It's hard to see your own faults, and it usually takes someone shaking us up to get us to notice where we go wrong, so that's understandable.

but here i am shaking you up
No one exhibits Christ-like behaviour by being too afraid (AFRAID - don't kid yourself, that's what it is, believe me, I know) to read or view a piece of modern magical fantasy.  This kind of behaviour doesn't belie a firm anchour in an immutable + indelible Spirit.  This behaviour says,

"behold! a sower went out to sow, + as he sowed...[some seeds] fell on rocky places where they did not have much soil, + immediately they sprang up, because they had no depth of soil. but when the sun had risen, they were scorched; + because they had no root, they withered away."

Is that it?  Are we all, unconsciously, terrified in our heart of hearts that we have no soil + are going to wither at the first expelliarmus?  LIGHT OF THE SUN, HOW ABSURD.  Is that the kind of faith we have in our beautiful + completely perfect God?  Is that the behaviour the sons of God are exhibiting to the scoffing, disbelieving world?  THIS IS GUTTINGLY EMBARRASSING, FOLKS.

Again, I do not care what you read or why.  Let every book blogger be convinced in her own mind regarding the content of the books she reads.  WHAT I AM SAYING IS stop. being. afraid.  Be wise.  Be circumspect.  Test the spirits.  Search the Scriptures.  But for the sake of the dignity of the people of God,

remember you are free.  you are full of the spirit of the living God.  no one can take you from his grasp.  there is nothing to fear.  shake it off.  let the word of God fight your battles.  

These books are not chemical cults which have no choice but to magically react with your subconscious and fizzle your faith away.  No.  Stop being afraid.  That's all I ask.  Stop being afraid.  Our God is an AWESOME God.  What better bulwark could we have for our souls?


image via pinterest

What You Need to Know About Your Next Plenilunar Obsession

This is the post where I finally reveal which Plenilunar novel I'm working on! Ready?  Set?  First of all, you're going to need this -

Not because the book is boring (PFFT), but because it will be EXTREMELY PERTINENT and who doesn't like living their book out as they read it?  I ASK YOU.  

Rich clothing, expensive jewels, masquerades?  I mean, what kind of writer would I be without indulging in these things when I can?  AGAIN, I ASK YOU.

The killer might of the big cat.  I'm not sure if the answer is "Yes, please!" or "Oh no."  Look at this beauty: raw, majestic, carnivorous power.  My reader is this cat's next meal.

Were you worried?  Everyone's favourite crush makes a comeback in this next novel.  Yes, it's him, the one and only - DAMMERUNG.  THIS IS THE BEST NEWS YOU'RE GOING TO GET ALL DAY.
Hint #1: this story is a rewrite, because I am a super picky perfectionist who won't give you anything but her best.  Hint #2: nooope, this is not "Adamantine," because that novel isn't Plenilunar.  Okay.  Okay.  You ready?  It's

ethandune

BOOM.  The very large cat is out of the equally large bag.  I'm just getting into the rewrite - like, FROM SCRATCH rewrite, because I'm THAT picky and I want to completely overhaul this plot and make it awesome.  Stay tuned!  No doubt there will be snippets in the future.

missed my inspiration collages? check them out here because they are gorgeous.
VERY SMALL PERSONAL UPDATE.  I am dealing with some physical issues - debilitating headaches, exhaustion, poor sleep, acute + chronic depression, yuckiness type stuff - so my progress is slow, but I'm making strides to beat the monster (please let's pray God shows me a) how to work through this, or b) how to work with this), so that I can pursue this newest manuscript with all the grit I have.

thank you so much for reading!  are you excited? i am so. excited.

I ducked in, blushing profusely, and set the coffee tray down in place of the tea. As I made myself busy preparing their cups, they revolved on around my head, like the stacked circles of the ever-looping heavens whirling round, regardless of a sparrow on the ground. For a moment my hands worked blindly, for I was in confusion. They were always kind to me—too kind, as was their way; I found they were uncommonly beneficent to people whom they chose to like, and had more than once seen the surprise and discomfiture it had brought to other people as they struggled to find their footing. But never before had I felt the dizzy confusion myself. I was suddenly abashed, unaccountably shy, when before there had been nothing but a child’s patient ease to serve. Here I was on the brink of manhood, and they were beginning to see me as such, but I had not yet arrived, and the between-place had of a sudden turned a moment to sour which I thought should have been sweet.
“You seem to have your tongue hinged at the middle.”“Sooth?” mused Dammerung. He leaned down and handed his empty cup back to Fairfax. “You’re not the first to mention.”
When we left Marenové House the next morning, it was well before sunrise and the land was a shroud of deep blue mist and the ominous dark shapes of the woodland around us. Through the days we climbed, for the road northeast to Ethandune was of a gradually ascent, dipped once into a corner of Capys, and came out again into the Mares. A misshapen, sprawling Honour, the Mares. I came of gypsy background, and though I came into Dammerung’s service early in my life, I had then been old enough to recall some recollection of long, overshadowed tracks that smoked with dust and smelled of bees and hay and rockrose on the pasture walls. The summer-colour of my childhood was not unlike the days through which I rode in Dammerung’s little train, but it was touched with the early faint frost of manhood stealing over me, and the foreboding which haunted me and buried, sometimes, at the corner of the Overlord’s mouth when he had his thoughts to himself.
The sheriff bared his teeth to answer, but in the same moment, with his the first two fingers of his rein-hand, Dammerung put back the long flap of his riding jacket to bare the hilt of his sword. Not a great gesture—only a little thing. Not a beautiful sword—only a battered, serviceable piece. And yet the sight of it sent a visible jolt through the alpha-dog sheriff; under the high-trained sunlight of the coastal town, his face turned deathly white. “It is not every day that the Overlord asks a favour of you.” Dammerung’s voice had become gentle again, and yet not at all kind. His eyes flashed an upward, mocking laugh-light. “Best be gracious.”

{ethandune pinterest board}

all images via pinterest. yep. that disclaimer again.