Nadia Scrieva's Blog, page 3
April 21, 2012
The Woman in the Passenger Seat
Sometimes when I'm driving along and enjoying myself (it's the only time I really feel relaxed anymore) and blasting a song I love on repeat through my speakers at the top volume, the inevitable happens.
I have to stop for a red light.
I sigh, and press my red high-heel down on the brake pedal reluctantly. I look around me with dramatic boredom and impatience in my expression, because apathy just wouldn't be fashionable.
Then I see her: sitting in the car beside me. She's silent, because that's the safest way to be. You see, she's in the passenger seat, and her boyfriend or husband is driving her where she needs to go. She's dependent on him. There is a forlorn look in her eyes as she stares out the window. Maybe they've been fighting. She looks like a helpless animal, trapped in a cage with a circus performer who has been whipping her so that she'll dance when the music plays and jump through fiery hoops when he commands it.
Okay, I admit-- I'm exaggerating. A teensy bit. Like for example, the hoops might not necessarily be fiery. They might be crackling with high voltage electricity, or perhaps just soaked in poison. You know, surely something which causes irreparable physical and psychological damage.
I can see it at a glance because I used to be there; I used to be the woman in the passenger seat. I used to have that same expression on my face, and feel the same obligation and misery. Take whatever he throws at you, take whatever he says; he's the boss, while your insides are exploding. Then finally, all you can do is remain silent. Until you realize that the effort of remaining silent is destroying you-- it's so difficult that you've actually begun censoring your thoughts. You've begun censoring yourself to mold yourself into a less confrontational shape. Because just being yourself was confrontational.
Why?
Why when you could be over here driving wherever the hell you want, at whatever speed you want, taking whatever route you want? Why when you can choose exactly what song you want to listen to, and choose to play it fifty times on repeat if you want? At top volume? While singing along at the top of your lungs? And switch it the moment you get tired of it? Yes, it's possible to be so attuned to your own feelings that you know whether or not you like a song on the radio. Not whether you should or should not like it in order to please someone else.
Is it comforting to have him there behind the wheel? Is it acceptable to be constantly belittled and insulted? Are the benefits worth the cost, or is it just fear? Because I'll tell you this now; the only benefits are being able to do your makeup while moving because you don't have to concentrate on the road. The rest of the benefits are all fairy-tales and hearsay. Seriously.
Why would you choose to be the woman in the passenger seat when you could be free?
And no, I will not consider "to save the environment" a valid answer!
I have to stop for a red light.
I sigh, and press my red high-heel down on the brake pedal reluctantly. I look around me with dramatic boredom and impatience in my expression, because apathy just wouldn't be fashionable.
Then I see her: sitting in the car beside me. She's silent, because that's the safest way to be. You see, she's in the passenger seat, and her boyfriend or husband is driving her where she needs to go. She's dependent on him. There is a forlorn look in her eyes as she stares out the window. Maybe they've been fighting. She looks like a helpless animal, trapped in a cage with a circus performer who has been whipping her so that she'll dance when the music plays and jump through fiery hoops when he commands it.
Okay, I admit-- I'm exaggerating. A teensy bit. Like for example, the hoops might not necessarily be fiery. They might be crackling with high voltage electricity, or perhaps just soaked in poison. You know, surely something which causes irreparable physical and psychological damage.
I can see it at a glance because I used to be there; I used to be the woman in the passenger seat. I used to have that same expression on my face, and feel the same obligation and misery. Take whatever he throws at you, take whatever he says; he's the boss, while your insides are exploding. Then finally, all you can do is remain silent. Until you realize that the effort of remaining silent is destroying you-- it's so difficult that you've actually begun censoring your thoughts. You've begun censoring yourself to mold yourself into a less confrontational shape. Because just being yourself was confrontational.
Why?
Why when you could be over here driving wherever the hell you want, at whatever speed you want, taking whatever route you want? Why when you can choose exactly what song you want to listen to, and choose to play it fifty times on repeat if you want? At top volume? While singing along at the top of your lungs? And switch it the moment you get tired of it? Yes, it's possible to be so attuned to your own feelings that you know whether or not you like a song on the radio. Not whether you should or should not like it in order to please someone else.
Is it comforting to have him there behind the wheel? Is it acceptable to be constantly belittled and insulted? Are the benefits worth the cost, or is it just fear? Because I'll tell you this now; the only benefits are being able to do your makeup while moving because you don't have to concentrate on the road. The rest of the benefits are all fairy-tales and hearsay. Seriously.
Why would you choose to be the woman in the passenger seat when you could be free?
And no, I will not consider "to save the environment" a valid answer!
The Woman in the Passenger Seat
Sometimes when I'm driving along and enjoying myself (it's the only time I really feel relaxed anymore) and blasting a song I love on repeat through my speakers at the top volume, the inevitable happens.
I have to stop for a red light.
I sigh, and press my red high-heel down on the brake pedal reluctantly. I look around me with dramatic boredom and impatience in my expression, because apathy just wouldn't be fashionable.
Then I see her: sitting in the car beside me. She's silent, because that's the safest way to be. You see, she's in the passenger seat, and her boyfriend or husband is driving her where she needs to go. She's dependent on him. There is a forlorn look in her eyes as she stares out the window. Maybe they've been fighting. She looks like a helpless animal, trapped in a cage with a circus performer who has been whipping her so that she'll dance when the music plays and jump through fiery hoops when he commands it.
Okay, I admit-- I'm exaggerating. A teensy bit. Like for example, the hoops might not necessarily be fiery. They might be crackling with high voltage electricity, or perhaps just soaked in poison. You know, surely something which causes irreparable physical and psychological damage.
I can see it at a glance because I used to be there; I used to be the woman in the passenger seat. I used to have that same expression on my face, and feel the same obligation and misery. Take whatever he throws at you, take whatever he says; he's the boss, while your insides are exploding. Then finally, all you can do is remain silent. Until you realize that the effort of remaining silent is destroying you-- it's so difficult that you've actually begun censoring your thoughts. You've begun censoring yourself to mold yourself into a less confrontational shape. Because just being yourself was confrontational.
Why?
Why when you could be over here driving wherever the hell you want, at whatever speed you want, taking whatever route you want? Why when you can choose exactly what song you want to listen to, and choose to play it fifty times on repeat if you want? At top volume? While singing along at the top of your lungs? And switch it the moment you get tired of it? Yes, it's possible to be so attuned to your own feelings that you know whether or not you like a song on the radio. Not whether you should or should not like it in order to please someone else.
Is it comforting to have him there behind the wheel? Is it acceptable to be constantly belittled and insulted? Are the benefits worth the cost, or is it just fear? Because I'll tell you this now; the only benefits are being able to do your makeup while moving because you don't have to concentrate on the road. The rest of the benefits are all fairy-tales and hearsay. Seriously.
Why would you choose to be the woman in the passenger seat when you could be free?
I have to stop for a red light.
I sigh, and press my red high-heel down on the brake pedal reluctantly. I look around me with dramatic boredom and impatience in my expression, because apathy just wouldn't be fashionable.Then I see her: sitting in the car beside me. She's silent, because that's the safest way to be. You see, she's in the passenger seat, and her boyfriend or husband is driving her where she needs to go. She's dependent on him. There is a forlorn look in her eyes as she stares out the window. Maybe they've been fighting. She looks like a helpless animal, trapped in a cage with a circus performer who has been whipping her so that she'll dance when the music plays and jump through fiery hoops when he commands it.
Okay, I admit-- I'm exaggerating. A teensy bit. Like for example, the hoops might not necessarily be fiery. They might be crackling with high voltage electricity, or perhaps just soaked in poison. You know, surely something which causes irreparable physical and psychological damage.
I can see it at a glance because I used to be there; I used to be the woman in the passenger seat. I used to have that same expression on my face, and feel the same obligation and misery. Take whatever he throws at you, take whatever he says; he's the boss, while your insides are exploding. Then finally, all you can do is remain silent. Until you realize that the effort of remaining silent is destroying you-- it's so difficult that you've actually begun censoring your thoughts. You've begun censoring yourself to mold yourself into a less confrontational shape. Because just being yourself was confrontational.
Why?
Why when you could be over here driving wherever the hell you want, at whatever speed you want, taking whatever route you want? Why when you can choose exactly what song you want to listen to, and choose to play it fifty times on repeat if you want? At top volume? While singing along at the top of your lungs? And switch it the moment you get tired of it? Yes, it's possible to be so attuned to your own feelings that you know whether or not you like a song on the radio. Not whether you should or should not like it in order to please someone else.
Is it comforting to have him there behind the wheel? Is it acceptable to be constantly belittled and insulted? Are the benefits worth the cost, or is it just fear? Because I'll tell you this now; the only benefits are being able to do your makeup while moving because you don't have to concentrate on the road. The rest of the benefits are all fairy-tales and hearsay. Seriously.
Why would you choose to be the woman in the passenger seat when you could be free?
April 14, 2012
The Choice: Mind or Body
The truth is, deep in a secret, shameful part of me, I want to hit the gym for three hours a day and work out until exhausted. Then I want to hit the dojo, and train until I collapse. I want to spar with guys who are literally twice my size and kick their asses, because it's been a far too long-- and is there any better thrill? Then I want to participate in fitness competitions with an oiled-up six pack and thighs that feel like steel. I also want to get a motorcycle license and take the classes, and have an excuse to wear leather pants and be the baddest chick you know.
But I don't have the time to do that AND write. All I can afford are my 200 sit-ups a day and *mumblemumble* push-ups. =( I can't compromise my writing goals in order to increase my fitness levels; especially when I am naturally pretty fit and healthy, and don't have any major concerns.
I am probably more fit right now than I have been in my entire life-- I ate rather poorly as a kid because my mom's cooking was horrible. =) I was pretty skinny, and I would get the flu 2-3 times a year, and it would last a month or more. At the moment, I weigh 120 lbs, while I weighed 100-110 in high school, and I haven't had the flu in over a year. This probably has a great deal to do with no longer having stress from rigid hours at school and work, and being able to make my own schedule.
I still have fitness goals, but they will have to be pushed aside for the moment. I hope I'll get a chance to pursue them next year, when I will have some time to do something other than pound away at the keyboard.
But I don't have the time to do that AND write. All I can afford are my 200 sit-ups a day and *mumblemumble* push-ups. =( I can't compromise my writing goals in order to increase my fitness levels; especially when I am naturally pretty fit and healthy, and don't have any major concerns.
I am probably more fit right now than I have been in my entire life-- I ate rather poorly as a kid because my mom's cooking was horrible. =) I was pretty skinny, and I would get the flu 2-3 times a year, and it would last a month or more. At the moment, I weigh 120 lbs, while I weighed 100-110 in high school, and I haven't had the flu in over a year. This probably has a great deal to do with no longer having stress from rigid hours at school and work, and being able to make my own schedule.
I still have fitness goals, but they will have to be pushed aside for the moment. I hope I'll get a chance to pursue them next year, when I will have some time to do something other than pound away at the keyboard.
April 8, 2012
Fanfiction Readers Are Glorious
Why my fanfiction readers rock:
I wrote a chapter amounting to 10,755 words, and published it yesterday. I received 138 hits, and 16 reviews in roughly a day. All of them lovely, uplifting, interesting and enthusiastic responses! I've even received more personal feedback on top of that from readers on Facebook. In total, I have now received over 600 reviews on Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak, and I am so, so deliriously happy about each and every one of them. I did the happy dances.
Why the real world does not yet rock for me:
I put my heart and soul into writing Fathoms of Forgiveness, and I am so, so proud of it. I cried while writing it in several parts. I laughed until I cried in even more parts! It is 93K words, and it is a full, complete story. I published it on March 15th. I received five reviews, mostly from my loyal fanfic readers.
On March 27th-28th, I gave away 3,011 copies of the novel. For free. That's a tiny bit more than the hits I've received on my teeny weenie chapter, isn't it? Only a few thousand more. Yup, you guessed it. NO REVIEWS. ZERO reviews from over 3,000 free copies given away! Ahhhhhhhh! Perhaps I am spoiled, but I am not used to such neglect and apathy.
Note: If you're wondering what the big deal is about reviews, allow me to explain that I am actually a robot, and reviews are what I eat and drink to keep my mechanical parts moving.
I wrote a chapter amounting to 10,755 words, and published it yesterday. I received 138 hits, and 16 reviews in roughly a day. All of them lovely, uplifting, interesting and enthusiastic responses! I've even received more personal feedback on top of that from readers on Facebook. In total, I have now received over 600 reviews on Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak, and I am so, so deliriously happy about each and every one of them. I did the happy dances.
Why the real world does not yet rock for me:
I put my heart and soul into writing Fathoms of Forgiveness, and I am so, so proud of it. I cried while writing it in several parts. I laughed until I cried in even more parts! It is 93K words, and it is a full, complete story. I published it on March 15th. I received five reviews, mostly from my loyal fanfic readers.
On March 27th-28th, I gave away 3,011 copies of the novel. For free. That's a tiny bit more than the hits I've received on my teeny weenie chapter, isn't it? Only a few thousand more. Yup, you guessed it. NO REVIEWS. ZERO reviews from over 3,000 free copies given away! Ahhhhhhhh! Perhaps I am spoiled, but I am not used to such neglect and apathy.
Note: If you're wondering what the big deal is about reviews, allow me to explain that I am actually a robot, and reviews are what I eat and drink to keep my mechanical parts moving.
April 7, 2012
A Million Words
My goal for 2012 is to write a million words.
I need to make that goal a little more specific and focused so that I can't find a loophole around it and write the wrong thing: I intend to write and publish a million words, specifically in the Sacred Breath series. I have written about 250K words so far since January, so I could consider myself 1/4th of the way there, but only 170K of those words have been for the series.
This goal was created when a dear reader of mine told me as she was reading Book #2 that it was the time she spent with the characters which drew her closer to them. To quote her:
"I finally got something I've needed from this story for such a lonnnngggg time. Something finally clicked and it was finally like I went from acquaintances to friends with these characters and started to genuinely care a lot more about how this all panned out for them. I don't think you could've written me to care for them more, I just think it's like how much time you need to get to know a stranger before you are friends with them."
It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from Le Petit Prince:
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
He actually wrote "le temps que tu as perdu," which might translate more precisely to the time which you have "lost"-- I love the idea of losing something (indeed, time is perhaps the most valuable thing one can lose) in order to gain, or create love. I have lost and wasted plenty of time in my life, but none of it has been as rewarding or important to me as the time spent reading and writing. Mainly because literature is far more constant than people.
I am willing to "waste" or "lose" all of 2012 on achieving this goal of one million words. Of course, I realize that quantity is not the only important factor, and I will never sacrifice quality for volume. I will not rush, but I will push past every obstacle and be as dedicated and focused as possible.
So, here's to spending lots of quality time with the characters and growing to love them. Knowing that my reader was beginning to connect with the characters, and hearing similar things from several different readers caused me to somehow grow more intimate with the characters as well, and that is why I believe that the writing flowed so easily from that point on. It was just this huge, indescribable, intangible dynamic that I really needed the feedback of another person to verify! It doesn't become real, it doesn't truly exist unless it can be shared.
I need to make that goal a little more specific and focused so that I can't find a loophole around it and write the wrong thing: I intend to write and publish a million words, specifically in the Sacred Breath series. I have written about 250K words so far since January, so I could consider myself 1/4th of the way there, but only 170K of those words have been for the series.
This goal was created when a dear reader of mine told me as she was reading Book #2 that it was the time she spent with the characters which drew her closer to them. To quote her:
"I finally got something I've needed from this story for such a lonnnngggg time. Something finally clicked and it was finally like I went from acquaintances to friends with these characters and started to genuinely care a lot more about how this all panned out for them. I don't think you could've written me to care for them more, I just think it's like how much time you need to get to know a stranger before you are friends with them."
It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from Le Petit Prince:
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
He actually wrote "le temps que tu as perdu," which might translate more precisely to the time which you have "lost"-- I love the idea of losing something (indeed, time is perhaps the most valuable thing one can lose) in order to gain, or create love. I have lost and wasted plenty of time in my life, but none of it has been as rewarding or important to me as the time spent reading and writing. Mainly because literature is far more constant than people.
I am willing to "waste" or "lose" all of 2012 on achieving this goal of one million words. Of course, I realize that quantity is not the only important factor, and I will never sacrifice quality for volume. I will not rush, but I will push past every obstacle and be as dedicated and focused as possible.
So, here's to spending lots of quality time with the characters and growing to love them. Knowing that my reader was beginning to connect with the characters, and hearing similar things from several different readers caused me to somehow grow more intimate with the characters as well, and that is why I believe that the writing flowed so easily from that point on. It was just this huge, indescribable, intangible dynamic that I really needed the feedback of another person to verify! It doesn't become real, it doesn't truly exist unless it can be shared.
March 27, 2012
Kindle Fantasy Freebie Today! About the World of my Novels...
I am very excited to announce that Fathoms of Forgiveness will be offered for free today!
I love the opportunity to give away my work for free with KDP Select. I have been sharing my writing with the world for free since I was ten years old, and it feels more honorable than selling something so precious. I believe that time spent reading or writing is invaluable, and above the cheapening of price tags!
Fathoms of Forgiveness is the second book in my epic Sacred Breath fantasy series. As many of you know, I have chosen to work with various water mythologies, but to render them scientifically plausible-- with plenty of steamy romance to boot! My mermaids do not have tails-- they have the amphibious ability to breathe underwater! Sounds like it could come in handy, eh?
As an anthropology student, I am extremely fascinated with both human culture and physiology. You will find plenty of examination of the evolutionary differences between Homo sapiens sapiens and Homo sapiens marinus. The divergence between the two subspecies occurred rather recently: only in the tens of thousands of years. Thus, breeding between the land-dwellers and sea-dwellers is possible. (And fun!)
The undersea kingdom of Adlivun is situated in the waters of Alaska, and the mermaids migrated there almost six hundred years ago from the Nordic seas. Some of them are even old enough to vaguely remember their lives in Europe, and the Old Norse language they used to speak. Having been very close with the Alaskan Natives, the residents of Adlivun named their kingdom after the Inuit underworld, and have adopted many of the concepts of Inuit mythology. You will often hear the mermaids cursing to Sedna, the Inuit goddess of the sea.
While most elements of the novels are scientifically explainable, there is a touch of magic in the inua, or spirit which is in all things, including the water and the people themselves. As is expected, the mermaids have their own traditional forms of government, and sacred tenets based on their connection to the water.
These were just a few light notes on setting and basic rules of the world the characters live in-- if I got into describing the characters themselves, I would never sleep. That's the fun part! I consider characterization to be one of my strengths in writing, but everyone will have a different opinion on the matter.
I hope you will get a chance to enjoy the story! It's free, so in the timeless words of ABBA: take a chance on me. ;)
I love the opportunity to give away my work for free with KDP Select. I have been sharing my writing with the world for free since I was ten years old, and it feels more honorable than selling something so precious. I believe that time spent reading or writing is invaluable, and above the cheapening of price tags!
Fathoms of Forgiveness is the second book in my epic Sacred Breath fantasy series. As many of you know, I have chosen to work with various water mythologies, but to render them scientifically plausible-- with plenty of steamy romance to boot! My mermaids do not have tails-- they have the amphibious ability to breathe underwater! Sounds like it could come in handy, eh?
As an anthropology student, I am extremely fascinated with both human culture and physiology. You will find plenty of examination of the evolutionary differences between Homo sapiens sapiens and Homo sapiens marinus. The divergence between the two subspecies occurred rather recently: only in the tens of thousands of years. Thus, breeding between the land-dwellers and sea-dwellers is possible. (And fun!)
The undersea kingdom of Adlivun is situated in the waters of Alaska, and the mermaids migrated there almost six hundred years ago from the Nordic seas. Some of them are even old enough to vaguely remember their lives in Europe, and the Old Norse language they used to speak. Having been very close with the Alaskan Natives, the residents of Adlivun named their kingdom after the Inuit underworld, and have adopted many of the concepts of Inuit mythology. You will often hear the mermaids cursing to Sedna, the Inuit goddess of the sea.
While most elements of the novels are scientifically explainable, there is a touch of magic in the inua, or spirit which is in all things, including the water and the people themselves. As is expected, the mermaids have their own traditional forms of government, and sacred tenets based on their connection to the water.
These were just a few light notes on setting and basic rules of the world the characters live in-- if I got into describing the characters themselves, I would never sleep. That's the fun part! I consider characterization to be one of my strengths in writing, but everyone will have a different opinion on the matter.
I hope you will get a chance to enjoy the story! It's free, so in the timeless words of ABBA: take a chance on me. ;)
March 22, 2012
How Writing Caused me to Lose All of my Friends
I've had a lot of crazy jobs in my lifetime, including being a professional gambler. I thought that I had the best friends in the world, because they stood by as I ruined my life over and over again, and they listened to my depressing stories, or they watched me lose $30,000 in a few hours and patted me on the back afterwards and told me it was going to be okay. They listened every time I screwed up yet another great relationship with a perfectly normal guy by being my unstable self. Surely only the best of friends would do all these things.
Then 2012 came, and I resolved to put aside every other task and focus on my writing. I spent most of my time writing in 2011, but not for money-- just for pleasure, and feedback, and for a small group of my readers. Finally, spurred on by their feedback and praise, I figured it was time to make a career out of the one thing I loved most in the world, and the one thing I have been doing for my entire life, regardless of every other obligation.
In late January, I had finished the novel that I had been working on periodically throughout 2011, Drowning Mermaids. Almost a month passed without me seeing a single person. When I finally did see my best friend, it was only because I wanted to give her a friendship ring that had arrived in the mail-- she and I had ordered matching rings for Christmas to celebrate ten years of friendship. She told me that she had been meeting with our other friends and they had considered staging an "intervention" for my writing. They also believed that I should sell my house, since I wasn't working. None of them had read my novel, and none of them had contacted me at all in all the time I had been writing. Just one month into my "career" and no one had any faith in me.
This confused me a bit. You see, when I had a serious gambling problem, no one even considered staging an intervention or getting me help. They all had faith that I would sort things out on my own, which I did. How is my writing a problem? Why do I need help? I assume that it is the popular thing to do among my friends to insult Nadia over dinner, and poke fun at her silly ambitions and passions. That's fine, but why now? Why not in the past when all of my pursuits were decidedly and admittedly lamentable and dishonorable? Why now, when I am actually pursuing something rather dear to me that I have been waiting for a chance to do for over a decade?
Anyway, I tried to put these issues behind me and continue on without anger. I began seeing my friends a bit more consistently, once a week or so. In mid-February, I was making good progress on my second novel, Fathoms of Forgiveness, when I received a horrible review. Although I tried to be tough, I took it very personally and it drained my energy-- it was from a respectable source. I was supposed to meet with my friend that day to go to the gym, and while I did want to see her and talk, I didn't have the energy for a workout. I wanted to focus all my thoughts on improving my writing. Unfortunately, she did not want to compromise and go for a drink and chat with me, and chose instead to leave and continue to the gym alone. We went our separate ways, and haven't spoken since.
Since then, every night when I need a break from my writing, I get in my car and drive to Tim Horton's for a coffee. I end up driving in circles around Toronto, and realizing that there is not a single person in this whole city that I can call up to chat with, or sit down to have a coffee with.
I suppose that's what it means to be a writer, but luckily that's a price I'm perfectly willing to pay.
Then 2012 came, and I resolved to put aside every other task and focus on my writing. I spent most of my time writing in 2011, but not for money-- just for pleasure, and feedback, and for a small group of my readers. Finally, spurred on by their feedback and praise, I figured it was time to make a career out of the one thing I loved most in the world, and the one thing I have been doing for my entire life, regardless of every other obligation.
In late January, I had finished the novel that I had been working on periodically throughout 2011, Drowning Mermaids. Almost a month passed without me seeing a single person. When I finally did see my best friend, it was only because I wanted to give her a friendship ring that had arrived in the mail-- she and I had ordered matching rings for Christmas to celebrate ten years of friendship. She told me that she had been meeting with our other friends and they had considered staging an "intervention" for my writing. They also believed that I should sell my house, since I wasn't working. None of them had read my novel, and none of them had contacted me at all in all the time I had been writing. Just one month into my "career" and no one had any faith in me.
This confused me a bit. You see, when I had a serious gambling problem, no one even considered staging an intervention or getting me help. They all had faith that I would sort things out on my own, which I did. How is my writing a problem? Why do I need help? I assume that it is the popular thing to do among my friends to insult Nadia over dinner, and poke fun at her silly ambitions and passions. That's fine, but why now? Why not in the past when all of my pursuits were decidedly and admittedly lamentable and dishonorable? Why now, when I am actually pursuing something rather dear to me that I have been waiting for a chance to do for over a decade?
Anyway, I tried to put these issues behind me and continue on without anger. I began seeing my friends a bit more consistently, once a week or so. In mid-February, I was making good progress on my second novel, Fathoms of Forgiveness, when I received a horrible review. Although I tried to be tough, I took it very personally and it drained my energy-- it was from a respectable source. I was supposed to meet with my friend that day to go to the gym, and while I did want to see her and talk, I didn't have the energy for a workout. I wanted to focus all my thoughts on improving my writing. Unfortunately, she did not want to compromise and go for a drink and chat with me, and chose instead to leave and continue to the gym alone. We went our separate ways, and haven't spoken since.
Since then, every night when I need a break from my writing, I get in my car and drive to Tim Horton's for a coffee. I end up driving in circles around Toronto, and realizing that there is not a single person in this whole city that I can call up to chat with, or sit down to have a coffee with.
I suppose that's what it means to be a writer, but luckily that's a price I'm perfectly willing to pay.
March 8, 2012
A Note on Sisters
The most daunting scene for me to write in all of Fathoms of Forgiveness was Aazuria's wedding. The reason for this was that I had to create spiritual wedding traditions for the undersea kingdom. This ceremony is really important to the whole series, and to the establishing the core beliefs of underwater societies. It is the first time that the series title, Sacred Breath is actually used, and I needed for it to be perfect.
That being said, as I wrote the scene it was not the mythology which ended up being the most challenging. It was a moment when Aazuria looks at her sister for support. Elandria smiles at her, and the two share a quiet look of understanding. I won't explain it all here, because the moment will lose its power, but it brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it.
I could not help thinking that the reason I spent so much effort on establishing the bond between the sisters might be because of the complete lack of bond I have with mine. My older sister has gotten married twice without even showing me the courtesy of telling me about it, much less inviting me or allowing me to participate in the ceremony in some small manner. I cannot use words to describe how offended I felt because of her actions... first when I was eight years old, and last year when I was 23. This was the ultimate "deal-breaker" for me, and I have pretty much disowned her as my sister. What this means is that in the rare occasions that she asks for help with her computer (which I bought her) or asks for a ride somewhere, I decline.
So, what was supposed to be the crucial moment which defined the mythology of my series ended up being yet another fantasy of mine on "how sisters really should be" and I think that's just fine.
It's something special that I can offer. My bitterness, and my sadness at not having this simple and basic familial connection gives me the yearning to imagine the very best possible relationship between two sisters. I can live vicariously though Aazuria and Elandria, and I find that to be very healing and uplifting.
My connections with real human beings might be falling apart-- but the love I have for my characters only grows and grows with the more time I spend with them. They love each other too, and they will never disappoint me-- because I have complete control over the situation, and I can (more or less) predict all of their actions and choices. I know who's dependable, and who's safe; I also know who has malice brewing deep inside and intends to betray everyone.
I wish I could know that in real life. It's actually knowledge which is bliss.
That being said, as I wrote the scene it was not the mythology which ended up being the most challenging. It was a moment when Aazuria looks at her sister for support. Elandria smiles at her, and the two share a quiet look of understanding. I won't explain it all here, because the moment will lose its power, but it brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it.
I could not help thinking that the reason I spent so much effort on establishing the bond between the sisters might be because of the complete lack of bond I have with mine. My older sister has gotten married twice without even showing me the courtesy of telling me about it, much less inviting me or allowing me to participate in the ceremony in some small manner. I cannot use words to describe how offended I felt because of her actions... first when I was eight years old, and last year when I was 23. This was the ultimate "deal-breaker" for me, and I have pretty much disowned her as my sister. What this means is that in the rare occasions that she asks for help with her computer (which I bought her) or asks for a ride somewhere, I decline.
So, what was supposed to be the crucial moment which defined the mythology of my series ended up being yet another fantasy of mine on "how sisters really should be" and I think that's just fine.
It's something special that I can offer. My bitterness, and my sadness at not having this simple and basic familial connection gives me the yearning to imagine the very best possible relationship between two sisters. I can live vicariously though Aazuria and Elandria, and I find that to be very healing and uplifting.
My connections with real human beings might be falling apart-- but the love I have for my characters only grows and grows with the more time I spend with them. They love each other too, and they will never disappoint me-- because I have complete control over the situation, and I can (more or less) predict all of their actions and choices. I know who's dependable, and who's safe; I also know who has malice brewing deep inside and intends to betray everyone.
I wish I could know that in real life. It's actually knowledge which is bliss.
January 21, 2012
The Difference Between Visola and Aazuria
When I'm sitting on my bed with my laptop on a blanket over my legs, innocently writing Aazuria's lines, and I hear a strange noise in my house, I panic and grab the medium-sized dagger beside me. Then I proceed to think about all the types of people who could be breaking into my house, and what their motivations could be, and where I should position myself strategically, and what I should do in the event that something goes wrong. I look at the shadows through the doorway and think about what exactly I will do if I see the slightest movement. I think about my aim in throwing my dagger so I don't have to get up and remove the laptop from my lap (because I'll really just throw my knife into the person and go right back to writing?) and I think about how the dagger isn't perfectly weighted for throwing and I really should get up and get closer to the entryway so that I surprise them instead of them surprising me. A million other thoughts assail me, so I end up sitting there and staring at the shadows, paralyzed in almost-fear, reluctant but ready to take action.
When I'm writing Visola's lines and I hear a strange noise in my house, I eagerly toss the laptop and blanket off my legs, and grab my medium-sized dagger with excitement while wishing it were bigger. Then I proceed to run downstairs, looking for the source of the noise and hoping some bad-guy is breaking in with bad intentions so that I can kick some ass! I am fired up and ready to fight with someone, but alas, I live in Canada. Bad things don't happen much, (relative to America and my stories) and the strange noises are probably just my furnace struggling to keep my house warm. I am disappointed.
Obviously, I'm still very new to owning a house which constantly makes strange noises.
When I'm writing Visola's lines and I hear a strange noise in my house, I eagerly toss the laptop and blanket off my legs, and grab my medium-sized dagger with excitement while wishing it were bigger. Then I proceed to run downstairs, looking for the source of the noise and hoping some bad-guy is breaking in with bad intentions so that I can kick some ass! I am fired up and ready to fight with someone, but alas, I live in Canada. Bad things don't happen much, (relative to America and my stories) and the strange noises are probably just my furnace struggling to keep my house warm. I am disappointed.
Obviously, I'm still very new to owning a house which constantly makes strange noises.
January 19, 2012
Gratitude Moment!
I spend a lot of time in a cynical mood, complaining about what I don't have, or at least focusing on it.
Let me turn that around and take a moment to appreciate... no, let me be dorky and capitalize that for emphasis like a religious person would: APPRECIATE what I do have.
I have dedicated, loving readers who trust me and take the time to read my writing, which is the greatest honor I could possibly have. I almost feel dirty selling my work, because these people are so kind and sweet and their feedback is so precious to me, and so uplifting to my soul that I couldn't do without it.
Money has always been a great motivator for me in my life, but writing is the one thing that has always been separate from money. I kept writing sacred.
I don't know how I'm going to do this... I don't know how I'm going to mix up love and money, and get married to my work with no prenuptial agreement!
Let me turn that around and take a moment to appreciate... no, let me be dorky and capitalize that for emphasis like a religious person would: APPRECIATE what I do have.
I have dedicated, loving readers who trust me and take the time to read my writing, which is the greatest honor I could possibly have. I almost feel dirty selling my work, because these people are so kind and sweet and their feedback is so precious to me, and so uplifting to my soul that I couldn't do without it.
Money has always been a great motivator for me in my life, but writing is the one thing that has always been separate from money. I kept writing sacred.
I don't know how I'm going to do this... I don't know how I'm going to mix up love and money, and get married to my work with no prenuptial agreement!
