Darren Endymion's Blog, page 29

Depressiversary

I recently had an anniversary at my job. I have been there a very long time, and I have been promoted as far as I want to go in my current department. Other departments don’t really interest me that much. I have built myself a niche, and upper management even created an offshoot of a standard position for me, and I know at least two people who want it (and would likely eat my soul with relish and brimstone to get it).

I fought for years to get that position created, and in a Fortune 500 company, that’s no small feat. It had to go from my supervisor, to my manager, to the director, to the junior and possibly senior vice president of our part of the company. They approved it and it was a huge accomplishment, based on my work ethic, accomplishments, and history there.

Shortly thereafter I published my first novel with a small gay publishing company, and several months later a short story for an anthology. It was bittersweet. There was this sense of accomplishment, but it wasn’t the stunning debut I wanted.

Then I realized I was being an ungrateful prima donna and tried to realign my expectations and ambitions. Still, there is a sense that I haven’t done enough for the amount of time I have been on this planet. How do you look at the years, at your relative lack of ambition, and come away without a sense of loss? How do you look away from the lost time and look at the positive?

My supervisor is great: generous, tough, pleasant, and has a great sense of humor (even if his jokes are so lame as to make one think he read them off a discarded Laffy Taffy wrapper). As a joke/well-meaning teasing, he sent an e-mail to my team, a new team he’s watching over, all the supervisors, and our two managers, telling them that I hit my billionth anniversary.

I got a flood of well meaning e-mails, visits, congratulations, and words of support. And it depressed me. Shouldn’t I be further in life? In my career? In my writing career? I have nobody to blame but myself. It’s not like I have been restrained by someone (and when I was, I overcame those obstacles). I was depressed for days. Thinking about it now, I’m still depressed.

In a country with high unemployment and people scrambling for jobs, I know that I’m fortunate. But it’s no longer enough. It’s all very practical, but I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy at that job (for all my accomplishments) for years. If I’m not happy there and my writing isn’t what I want it to be, then I have nobody to blame but myself, and only I can change that.

A rut is difficult to dig oneself out of, but I have two options: to stay discontented but secure in a state where the cost of living is out of control and only getting worse, or to heave myself up while I’m still young and start over somewhere else, to take a chance at being happy instead of just surviving.

I don’t know that there is really a decision here.

So, to make myself happier, I’m off to devour the Shark Week programs currently filling my DVR. *chum confetti*

Self Advice, or Channeling My Inner Yoda

As with everyone else on the Planet, I think I give very good advice and get irritated when people don’t take it. It’s always easier to give than to receive in this case, and I usually run on the harsh side. But, if my advice is taken, one could remove oneself from the offending situation or just fix it. But what happens when it comes time to give myself advice?

Well, I find any number of reasons why it wouldn’t work or (usually) why the standard advice doesn’t apply…but it does. Yet, I still find that I baby myself when I shouldn’t. A long time ago I read in a tarot card book that the most difficult person to read for is yourself, and for these very reasons. This book recommended imagining that you are sitting across from yourself and relate to your issues the way you would any other querant. This works for the simple reason that it makes you take yourself out of the situation and look at it a little more objectively. It works when giving yourself advice, too. I think, “If one of my friends came to me with this issue, what would I tell him?” So, I sat down, imagined I was sitting across from myself , and let the advice flow.

I’m kind of a jerk.

That being said, I’m also right, but I need to work on my delivery even to myself. (No wonder my ex cringes every time I say, “I think you should…”) I don’t know why, but in an attempt to soften the harshness and because of the first response, the advice began to take on the syntax and resonance of Yoda.

I present you with the results:

On having trouble beginning the writing process, and trying to get myself to start: Do or do not; there is no try.

(Obvious, right? I had to. My Inner Yoda got spicier as I continued to question him.)

On a neglectful friend: With no water, wither a flower will. Talk to him, you should. With communication, our differences are distant. If no compromise, there can be no friendship.

On dealing with an extremely difficult coworker: Strong with the Dark Side this heifer is. Defeat her you must, or lost sanity will be. Use management if too messy confrontation is. Silence a weapon can be. Never let go of your light saber, for it is a weapon of defense and she is easily fried.

On potentially moving out of state, changing jobs, and finding a new place to live, while bemoaning all the work involved: With no action, stagnant you will remain. From sacrifice the phoenix is reborn.

(No, Yoda probably wouldn’t talk about a phoenix unless it was Jean Grey. Who cares? Stick with me.)

On nearly crippling leg pains which recently and randomly started: In the third world, you are not. Concerned you are? A doctor you should visit and your suffering will end. Remember, suffering leads to the Dark Side.

Finally, on my constant procrastination with writing, both out of laziness and a fear of not living up to the story’s potential: Stop whining or bitch slap you I will. Hmmm? With no beginnings there is no learning. Through learning we grow, and infinite our potential is.

He seemed ornery, so I let things drop after that. Unfortunately, the little green bastard was right.

Sailor Moon Crystal ep. 1-03, Rei – Sailor Mars

I loved this episode. Shocker, I know. Try to contain your surprise.

I loved the equivalent episode in the original anime, the bus into the other dimension. I liked this episode, too, but I noticed something about my feelings about Sailor Moon Crystal.

It’s going too damned fast.

Yes, I know that it’s supposed to, that each episode corresponds to a “chapter” of the manga, and that I knew that it was going to be sped up when I went into it. But the original anime felt more fleshed out. You could argue that it was largely filler, but it gave us a chance to really get to know the characters and spend more time with them.

While thinking this, I was led to another realization: some of the very much beloved stories from the anime won’t be in this. The differences are staggering. Who wasn’t touched when Molly fell for Nephlite and he died? What about Zoicite and Malachite? (Yes, I’m using the English names.) There are others that we will miss, too.

Granted, if the series progresses and we get all the manga, we will have Phobos and Deimos and their significance, as well as the true significance of Beryl’s servants and their connection to Tuxedo Mask, and later on we will have the Amazon Quartet kicking ass as…well, more than they were in the anime. (I love Super S, but seriously, did we need 7,000 episodes of the Amazon Trio and their Monster of the Day, and nothing about the Amazon Quartet and their connection to the comets? Nothing about them, you know, having any significance? *sigh*)

And in this episode, we see the demise of Jedite (or Jadeite, which I have to admit I kinda like). That escalated quickly. Rei/Sailor Mars, kicked his ass, though. Yes, it was very much a group effort and I love that. In the anime (I really should stop using that phrase) it was always everyone else weakening the enemy and Sailor Moon throwing her tiara to finish it off. The other Sailor Scouts took a back seat, and the Inner Scouts were weak little girls all through the third season. It was awesome to see that change up a bit in this episode.

Rei’s transformation was awesome, too. Her attack was murder. Mercury actually did something (I can’t wait until she gets an actual attack).

I liked the episode and I love Crystal so far. What I need to do is stop comparing it to the anime and love it for what it is. To do that, I think I am going to fully dive into the recently re-released manga and read that. Get immersed in it. Become one with it. Try to wipe my expectations clear or to at least realign them with what I can expect and look forward to that. Watch the anime again later (or in November when the re-dubbed, uncensored version comes out). But first, I think I need to re-read Sailor V’s adventures. Why? because I want to, damn it.

Anyway, expect a change in my tune for the next review.

Imagination Committee

There comes a time in the lifespan of a story where you start to lose it, where you have delayed too long and your mind begins to wander. For me, that’s when the story becomes more of a chore to write, when the excitement is gone, and my mind is on something else. I get excited for Story #2, but stick with Story #1 because I have (usually) done groundwork for it, and I like it, but that excitement is gone. Then Story #1 doesn’t get written and Story #2 festers until I have notes for everything and nothing written.

I compare it to falling out of love with someone. Sometimes it was infatuation and nothing more and a part of you realized it. Other times it’s like that excitement, that tingle isn’t there. It’s sort of fading, and you don’t know why, but you know it’s your fault. The story itself has only gotten more involved, you know the characters, the world has formed…and yet you’re starting not to care, most likely out of intimidation.

Other times I think of an upset Imagination Committee in my head which has a meeting rather like this:

 

Elder Mile-long-beard: He’s starting to abandon this one, too.

Red-faced businessman: *flips a table, growls* Again?! That asshole! What did he do with the other dozen ideas we gave him?

Husky-voiced female: He took notes. *sips her martini*

Red-faced businessman: Why won’t he just write the fucking thing?

Husky-voiced female: *Shrugs, pops a pill*

ADHD child: But this new one is really fun! It has rats who produce light like Jubilee, so they are good for the goblins in the caves and they can use them as weapons and then there are…

Husky-voiced female: *aiming her pills and trying to throw them into ADHD’s mouth*

ADHD child: Stop that! And then there’s a sorceress who…

Red-faced businessman: We’re doing fucking FANTASY now? *veins on forehead*

Elder Mile-long-beard: We frequently think of fantasy. It’s his favorite genre.

Red-faced businessman: But he never writes them! *bites a pencil in half*

ADHD child: Hey, listen! Listen to this part! Stop throwing those pills at me! And then, then the sorceress takes a pet…

Red-faced businessman: What happened to the goddamned merman story? He had a whole outline! He was doing character sketches!

Elder Mile-long-beard: *points behind him* In the to-do pile. He fully means to complete it.

Red-faced businessman: Fucking asshole! *breaks a window, screams guttural nonsense at a passing old woman who then faints*

ADHD child: Woah. *pokes Husky-voice* You should throw your pills at him!

Husky-voiced female: I think he’s having a stroke. My pills won’t… *snore*

Elder Mile-long-beard: Perhaps we should warn him that he’s falling out of it.

All: Do you think that would work?

Elder Mile-long-beard: He usually seems surprised when he goes to work on something and someone *eyes ADHD child* is busy scribbling notes on something else. It’s then that he realizes he doesn’t care about the last one anymore.

ADHD child: But the sorceress is really coooool!

Husky-voiced female: *pie-faces ADHD child*

Elder Mile-long-beard: *sighs* All in favor…

 

Yeah, that’s pretty much my head all the time. There are a few more in there, but they aren’t on this particular committee. You’re lucky the source of most of my randomness wasn’t attending. (I didn’t think you could handle it.)

So, that was my weekend. I did get a random flash (while I was showering…because I’m certain you all wanted to know that) that I was stalling too much and starting not to care about the last one, so the Imagination Committee apparently sent out an SOS call. Part of it, as I discussed, was that the story felt too big for my current skill set to do justice, which is the second project I have felt that way about (though less about this one). But when has cowering ever been the answer?

So, I finished all the notes I needed, wrote the first part of the synopsis, all the background and world-building, and will continue tonight. I don’t want to piss off the committee, after all.

Noah: The Great Taint Chafing

So, I recently watched Noah, directed by Darren Aronofsky. Raised in a very Christian home, I went to private school off and on from ovum to mid-teens. I fell away and now I would define myself as something else entirely. That’s not the point here.

I loved the movie Noah. It was like a Biblical story in Middle Earth. The beings of light encased in stone, the world destruction itself, their source of energy (glowing golden stones), etc. Add in Emma Watson and Jennifer Connelly, both phenomenal actresses (especially the latter in her frothing at the mouth rage-fit at Noah) and you have a well-acted take on an old Biblical legend.

And I understand why it chafed the taints of every devout Christian, some of the less devout, the casual church goers, and anyone religious ever. I’m here to tell why while using the appropriate Biblical terminology. These are many of the same reasons I love the movie, ironically. (Obviously, there will be many, many spoilers):

1) Noah’s wife was a witch. Don’t try with me. Did you see what she did with those herbs? Sleeping gas, healing, and a freekin’ home pregnancy test? Jennifer Connelly played the world’s first Wiccan.

2) They told the story of creation using evolution as a means, a tool to get from A to B.

3) In said evolution sequence they showed dinosaurs. Christians and Creationists believe that the Earth is something like 10,000 years old. When I was about 10 and in private Christian school, I dismissed this notion totally. Like all young boys, I was obsessed with dinosaurs. While discussing them, one of my friends became suddenly melancholy. When asked why, he said, “Too bad dinosaurs never really existed.” Having just been to the LaBrea Tar Pits I asked him why he said this and pointed to the existence of bones.  He said, “The world is only 10,000 years old, and dinosaurs are supposed to be millions and millions of years old. God must have put them there to test us [and our faith].” Go gentle on him. He was 10 years old and he did not come by this theory on his own. Watch Jesus Camp if you don’t understand what a child can be led/forced/pressured into thinking.

4) They always referred to God as “The Creator”. I think the word “god” was used 2 or 3 times.

5) Fallen angels became hulking rock monsters who helped Noah. A Christian would inform you that there were never rock monsters because the Bible does not mention them. *ironic stare* I don’t think it mentions the duck-billed platypus, either…but now I’m just being a dick. Anyway, fallen angels are called demons, and they only do Satan’s work. These beatific helpers chafed the taint of every Christian viewer. Read a review by a Christian. They WILL mention them.

6) Noah’s ancestors kept the shed skin of the snake who tempted Adam and Eve. It glowed and had powers.

7) Methuselah was a mage-warrior with a Flaming Sword of Awesomness.

8) Noah was a dick (and I don’t mean his ability to let thousands/millions/lots of people die). He was ready to kill his newborn grandchildren because of his interpretation of the Creator’s silent wishes to send the flood in the first place. Religious zealotry portrayed as negative in a Biblical movie.

9) All of the animals were pre-evolutions of today’s creatures. They would have to change (EVOLVE) into today’s animals.

10) The movie was created and directed by a renowned atheist who also directed Pi, Black Swan, and Requiem for a Dream.

It sounds like I am being ornery and contrary for the sake of doing so. This isn’t the case. I always loved the story of Noah, but didn’t think I could watch the movie and love it like I did all the Narnia books and movies (eventually, but I’ve already gone over that in another entry a long time ago and it doesn’t bear repeating). I have always loved fantasy and this movie called to me. It was like Narnia in that way. An allegory almost.

It messed with some fundamental stories of the Christian religion. It made them accessible and entertaining, rather than watching two hours of rain, but I understand that this upset and saddened many Christians. The reasons they hated it, and my own love of fantasy is what made me enjoy it.

I totally understand why it chafed so many taints. To quote Misery by Stephen King, “It wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

I, on the other hand, loved it.

Grave Robbing for Posterity?

I recently watched a documentary about bones being found under a parking lot in England and the slew of tests it took to confirm that they were the remains of the maligned Richard III, that he was essentially a hunchback, and the horrible way he died (and, incidentally, that he likely had a ringworm. Ewwwwe.) These bones have been scanned, recreated using 3D printing, and everything put on display, including the real grave and bones (but farther into the exhibit, likely after payment has been acquired). It’s great for historians and bad for those who think Richard III was a wonderful ruler with perfect posture and that Shakespeare was just being a big meanie-head.

But it got me thinking: when does it stop being a quest for historical truth and documentation and start inching into the realm of grave robbing? His bones are on display, and though they plan to bury him again, they first scanned the bones so that they can essentially keep him on display for all time. After the court case over where to put the real bones is over (I’m not kidding), Richard will be interred in a place a little more suitable than an old battleground turned parking lot.

So, what if it was you? Or your grandmother? Most of those reading (and writing) this aren’t important enough to where anyone would ever want to look at our bones — provided we aren’t murder victims, all the gods forbid. But when I started thinking of my dear grandmother, who passed almost three years ago now, and how it might be to see her bones up on display, it hit home a little more. I don’t care if it is over 500 years in the future; you leave that woman alone.

Richard III died in 1485 — if he does have living relations who knew him well, I suggest we all go talk to Anne Rice and demand to know the story. (She KNOWS something, I tell you.) But even if he was the malicious jerk history has made him out to be, someone used to love him. Someone cared about him. I’m sure if we could pop into a time machine and talk to him, we would discover that he wouldn’t want to be on display for any gawkers in the vicinity with mild curiosity and a little time to kill. Who would? And why? Because he was a king, personified and vilified by both time and clever, sometimes genius writers?

I’m willing to bet that nobody who will ever read this will be a king or a queen (not of the officially coronated kind, anyway). Probably not even a Prince or Princess. Here in the US, we don’t have kings and queens, even if elsewhere they are merely much-celebrated figureheads of a largely dead monarchy. What we DO have are stars — actors, musicians, performers — who we treat like extended parts of a large family of Divine Untouchables. What if someone were, say, to dig up Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie in 500 years just to see the framework of their bodies? Or, like Richard III, someone more polarizing like Mel Gibson? At what point does it become exploitation?

Richard III is history (in more ways than one) and I understand that need or desire for documentation. Here is this legendary figure, here is a replica of his bones, inches away from us. In the end — not that it matters what I think — I think that displaying him, or the Egyptian mummies, or countless other artifacts “liberated” from tombs is a tolerable practice and can serve an educational purpose.

Yet, I can’t help but get a chill when I think of it in today’s terms.

Sailor Moon Crystal episode 1-02

And so we get to Ami/Sailor Mercury. This pace is certainly more advanced than the original anime, and that’s okay — provided I get enough Sailor Moon goodness. (Ha! Never enough.) I watched this episode on my phone this week because of issues with Hulu/crunchyroll (and the full episodes being removed from YouTube), but I still enjoyed every second.

First, Ami’s transformation pen is actually a pen. She writes with it. I don’t know why, but this made me happy. Of course, I thought, “Where would she get refills for it if she uses all the ink? Can you buy Sailor Mercury-infused ink at the store? If so, which freekin’ store and how soon can I get there? I’m ready.”

Of course, Serena/Usagi also got her Disguise Pen (by abusing the same arcade machine). This…I’m sure it’s for animation and recognition purposes, but all this pen appears to do is change her clothes. I’m not saying I would turn such a pen down if it was offered to me, but I want the pen to turn her into Mystique, not put an outdated nurse’s bonnet on her and give her a matching satchel.

As for the episode itself, Ami was ridiculously cute. Being very shy and nerdy growing up, I can empathize with Ami, and I think Serena’s inclusion of her shows us a great deal about Serena. It’s something that has always resonated with and kind of touched me about Serena and Ami’s relationship — something that was touched on several times when Ami remembered how lonely she was before Serena (and the Mercury transformation pen) reached out for her.

Speaking of transformations, I liked Serena’s more this time. Ami’s was even more CG than Serena’s and yet it didn’t bother or sit oddly with me. It was water. Mercury’s powers have to do with water. It works. It was longer than her anime transformation, which was good — why should Serena/Usagi get all the good moments?

Mercury’s attack was different than the anime, but cool. And it did something! Usually Bubble Spray/Bubble Blaaaaast! was there to give Mercury something to do other than be a blue-haired clothes hanger. They also showed us that the attacks will be changed up — something that stabbed my nostalgic heart with simultaneous joy and disappointment. Sailor Moon’s was WAY too brief. Again, it was about Mercury this time, so I will let it pass. (Though I loved the second use of the sonic weeping).

It left me excited for the next one, and I love the Crystal series as a whole so far. And who else got chills seeing Queen Beryl? I can’t be the only freak out there. Confess!

On a side note, Viz is cashing in on their rights to the anime. They are playing the original Japanese episodes on their website, and blah, blah, blah. It’s great, but I own those already.

They are also re-dubbing all five seasons.

Now, I was originally horrified. It’s great that they aren’t making lovers cousins and all that, but the original voices hold a place in my heart. I mean, I love the original 3 Serenas, 2 Amis, 2 Reis (one of whom eventually became Venus #2 in a loop that still throws me), 2 Minas, 2 Dariens, etc. and will accept no substitutes…but I hated the first Chibi-Moon/Rini. Woof! “I want my mooooommy!” I would have punted her to the moon. Seriously. DOn’t play with me. The second Rini, Stephanie Beard (I think) should return. I loved her as Rini.

Anyway, given the dub’s history of switching voice actors as frequently as one should change undergarments, what’s another VA added to the list? I’ve heard some clips and I’m okay. I read someone comment that geeks don’t like change, but the commenter was sure she would adapt. I, too, will try to be open minded.

However, as a huge Disgaea geek from the first game on, I’m not sure how I’m going to ignore that Sapphire (Disgaea 3) is now voicing Sailor Moon and Etna (in all Disgaeas except the PS2 original — though she re-voiced Etna in the PSP re-release version of that game) will be playing Luna. That one is going to really mess with my head.

I am a very happy, very gay, very lunatic geek. *tingly everywhere*

I Have Nothing

I’m not talking Whitney Houston here, people. I have spent this weekend watching documentaries (the ones I mentioned I wanted to watch in preparation for my next writing project, and then some), meditating (not about writing), and playing Disgaea D2 so that I have nothing to talk about other than those things. So…what the hell?

The documentaries were about, well, Life After People (hint: that’s the name of one of the documentaries). There’s a series, too, which I plan to check out. The others were about the apocalypse, the Tower of London, and I think I snuck one in there about serial killers, though it has nothing to do with anything. I also watched Blackfish this past week, though that has nothing to do with anything. Terrible. Seriously. I could write a whole post about that. I also watched a bit of anime.

The documentaries had the desired effect, though. They were disparate, incohesive, and generally had nothing to do with one another. But I took something from each documentary and they all fueled my imagination while teaching me some stuff. I’m a documentary nerd, so it wasn’t as dull as it may sound. For me.

The meditation was very calming. (Duh, right?) It was something I needed to sort of put things in perspective. Life has been very difficult lately, from the health scare to being taken for granted by a close friend to work drama to just about anything. I even busted out an old Buddhist meditation I got from a book by Sharon Salzberg, titled Lovingkindness. It was about regaining balance in my life, and I meditated a few times. It helped, and I can still remember the affirmation phrases:

May I be free from danger. May I have mental happiness. May I have physical happiness. May I live with ease.

Repeated in the back (or the front) of the mind when relaxing and calming oneself, it helps provide equanimity. It was exactly what I needed.

Finally, I finished Disgaea D2. I gave in to the DLC hype. I got…well, more than a couple. Yet I don’t regret a single one. If you have played any Disgaea games, you know that the real game begins after you have defeated it. There are too many things to do. I need to balance my Disgaea time with my writing time, because I have one more step before actually starting the writing.

Still, this story idea seems potentially very big. I’m a little scared, and I think I’m stalling, honestly. Because every time you sit down to write, you know that it will never come out just the way you want. You are not a writing god; nobody is. But you have to make do with what you have.  And all you can do is the best you can do.

Sometimes I think that one of the bravest thing a writer can do is to begin.

Keeping Me Up at Night

I admittedly have a very weird sleep schedule. I’m very much a night person — my prime hours take place after sundown. Not wanting to waste my best moments and favorite time on the boring day job, I work early mornings. Really early. Like, I start at 5:30 or 6:30 in the morning. I come home, nap (if sleeping for 2-4 hours can be called a nap), wake up, eat, do whatever, and go back to bed at about midnight. I could do later, but that’s pushing it. I get 6-8 hours of sleep total, but they are separated. It has worked for me for umpteen years.

I’ve read a bunch of the reports about how bad this is; how we need to get 8 hours of continuous sleep. Not doing so seems to cause everything from heart disease, to hyper-obesity, to Ebola, to shin splints, to lockjaw, to melanoma. That’s not the point here. The point is that when bedtime comes, I need to get on it and get to sleep. This usually happens quickly.

Narcolepsy is a possibility.

Unless I have a story on the brain. Or overwhelming anger/frustration/rage at work/personal issues. Or the heat. Gods, I loathe the heat. Anyway, whenever I have something in my head, either under the surface or consciously, it always tends to land on me with both taloned feet at night. When? Just as I am drifting into that bizarre land of half-wake, half-sleep, thereby snapping me right awake.

I have had to get up and write notes, be they on paper, my phone, a wall, whoever might be sleeping next to me…something is getting written on. I have mountains of Nocturnal Notes — ideas, images, quirks, full story ideas — which need to be put down and remembered. I would roll over and go back to sleep if they weren’t usually pretty good. It’s like my brain has trained itself that it is Creative Time about 10 seconds before REM sleep. Add this to the tons of stuff I have notes for and it far outweighs the paltry two things I have published.

As I mentioned earlier this week, my brain has been aflame with the new story. It is now keeping me up at night. My traitor brain will be drifting off to sleep and then BAM! Psychic, creative dagger to the psyche, like a dangerously bipolar, mean-spirited Psylocke is ninja-running through my room, determined to piss me off.

“I bless you with creative inspiration and curse you with sleeplessness!” *stab, bounce*

Usually when a story gets its hooks into me like this and I’m not ready to start writing it, I write out a character synopsis or a full story synopsis…something to take the edge off. This one isn’t letting me do that. I’m not always one of those people who can fully conceptualize a character without help. What I use is a character sketch worksheet, usually only a page or two, that helps me get the background of a character, his/her relation to the plot and environment, and the relationships between characters. More than anything, this will usually give me plot ideas, so it’s dual purpose. I have written five of these — main characters, side characters, and one who is plot-important, but not overall.

Yet I still can’t sleep at night. I drew a map. No sleep. Started the synopsis. Some sleep. Writing this out makes me realize that I’m probably holding the story back, that it’s ready to be born. I’m like a mother using a road cone to keep the baby in the womb-oven for another few weeks. It just doesn’t work like that.

What are YOU smiling at?

Does this happen to anyone else? I’m sure it does, but to what degree, I wonder. Oh well, I’d love to hear from people, but for tonight, I’m off to be productive. Or play Disgaea D2. Whatever.

Things Have a Way of Growing in My Mind

Editing is always a problem for me because, like most people who write, I’m more of a putter-inner than a taker-outer. I always find some way to twist something, make it clearer, find that a whole new scene needs to be put in, etc. That’s why I decided to challenge myself when I wrote for the Torqued Tales Anthology — I had a distinct, small word limit, and I stuck to it (even if my one story was responsible for one-third of the length of the small anthology).

My novel Winter’s Trial was an example of why I need to train myself to be more economical in my writing. I don’t think it was bloated (like I would, right?), but for the genre it was a behemoth. Give me a word limit and I’ll meet it. Some stuff gets chopped, but restraint is the better half of valor…or so I imagine the saying goes. (I was totally Mina/Minako/Sailor Venus there, wasn’t I?)

So, I planned to write a novella, a few short stories, maybe a short novel, and then my next wolf book. During this time I would work on the intimidating, huge, possibly (hopefully) mainstream fantasy novel. The next anthology/short story I planned to write was for the Torquere steampunk anthology. I’ve never done anything like that before and it sounded fun. I had an  idea which I had to scrap. I almost got rid of the whole thought and moved on to the next project.

Someone very close to me, who I often accuse of blind and baseless optimism, told me that he was confident that I would come up with something better and that he had total faith in me that I could do it. So far, I can say that, during the conceptual stages at least, he was right. He will read this and he will know. I will never speak of it again. Were I a sentimental person, I would thank him and tell him that I appreciate his confidence in me. But I’m not that kind of a sap. *middle finger, cackle* So, I humored him, and sat down to think about it. During this I got a picture of a city and a world. The picture came with a question — under what ghastly circumstances would a place like this come to exist?

Stephen King has this theory that writing is almost like archaeology, that stories are artifacts of worlds waiting to be discovered. Some call him a genius and disagree, citing work, concepts, and intuitive leaps. I think the truth lies between. This picture came with characters, with a back story, with horror, with love, and all that junk. It was fully formed, but I had to work to retrieve it, to connect themes, and will have to work my ass off to expose it, shine it up, and display it properly.

The short story became a city which became a world which turned it into something I think will require more care and time. I have all the character information down, I have parts about the city and world, I even have two documentaries I want to watch to help out. I think…hope…that I can squish it into a novella. It may get louder in my head and become something more, but I think I can stop it from auto eroticism and making itself pregnant and spawning a baby which will then have to be killed anyway.

Where was I going with that? No idea. But the story keeps getting bigger and bigger. I’m praying for a novella. Is that odd? Does this happen to anyone else? I told this to a writer acquaintance and she told me this:

“…Trusting your instincts while writing is a good thing. Write it the way it wants to be written. Edit later. If it doesn’t work you can decide after the first draft and fix it, but why not have fun and go with it it to begin with?”

Simple, but totally on the mark. Still, let’s hope that it doesn’t overeat and make itself morbidly obese. (As you can see, I’m still struggling with the idea). Anyone else deal with this? Thoughts?