Progress?

Progress-ish? Progress-esque?

I have been able to turn out about 1000 words a day, except for a few days here and there where I had appointments to jet to or other stuff to take care of that kept me away from my keyboard until bed time. It's still too soon to say that I am "cured" of my "writer's block," but I do feel that I'm making some good headway. I've had to chop out a few scenes that just weren't working in Baptism, so the word count is just shy of 34,000 words at present, but I don't mind taking a few steps back if I can be assured that the next steps I'll take forward will really get me somewhere.

Interesting factoid: the theme of this book has changed a lot since I first set out to write it. Now it seems very intent on being about a woman reclaiming her sexuality and ridding herself of guilt in a post-religion life. I like where that's going. It's feeling more and more right all the time. I'll need to re-tweak the beginning just a bit, but only to alter some imagery to fit the new theme.

If I can keep up this pace, I should have the book ready for serious revision around this time next month. But I am not willing to celebrate yet -- it's still uncertain whether I can keep up this pace.

I've got my fingers crossed.

The YA Juggernaut

I have to admit, I've begun to find it frustrating how open the industry seems to be to new YA authors while seeming so reluctant to take a chance on new authors writing in other genres.

Word up.

I woke up this morning and wrote 1000 words. Not as much as I used to write daily, but more than I've written in ten days this year. It's too soon to say whether my horrid road block to productivity has been cleared away, but I did feel good enough to sing Lady Ga Ga in the shower. Maybe the high-waisted pants are already working their magic. We'll see if this positive streak holds out...I am off to co-host the radio show, something I also haven't done in a long time. I like how this day is going so far.

This post has nothing to do with my writing.

Or any writing. It is about...FASHION. Run away screaming now.

Love affair

I am making painfully slow, tortured progress on my novel. I still feel it's good, but my confidence in what other people think of my work is so badly shaken that I vacillate between feeling that I have a decent shot at actually selling this book and total, complete despair -- my other novels didn't sell; why should this one? I realize that kind of thinking will only inhibit progress, but "just think positive" is easier said than done.

The best job ever

So I'm watching back through my saved episodes of Game of Thrones on HBO, because it's just that awesome. It occurs to me that the best job ever might be an extra in a show/movie like this, where you just get to charge around in battle scenes wearing replica armor waving a battle axe and yelling, "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!"

I kind of wish that was my job. I would be so awesome at that job.

The Finger

I have been facing a bad stall of about eight or nine months. I lost confidence horribly when multiple people expressed interest in Baptism for the Dead, then promptly forgot that I exist and that they'd pestered and even brow-beaten me into sending them my unfinished book to read. That combined with the divorce from hell has drained me of creativity and motivation. It feels just about impossible to keep writing at this point, but what choice do I have? I can't do anything else with my life. And not in that awful, cliched "I CAN'T NOT WRITE, I BLEEEEED IIIINNNNK" bullshitty way. I literally have no other skills, no money for schooling, and I cannot qualify for financial aid. Writing is my only viable long-term option for supporting myself for the rest of my life. That's it. It's all I've got. All my eggs are in this basket. Fortunately I do it well, I think, but it's hard to remember that when people pay about as much attention to my writing as they pay to their own respiratory systems.