Balance and rewards

In the last five days,  I think that I have come up with a balance in my life.  I am currently chipping away at my word back log for December,  the Veil, and Red Book Expose are moving a long. I have received positive  and negative  feedback on the pieces that I have posted on Inked Voices. Both of which I plan on using, to some extent.

One part of this new balance is I am starting to work on smaller goals, and then rewards.  Here is how the reward and balance system is working.  I start with the thing I want to do least.  Currently that is reading NY Bar Prep outlines.  Once I have finished a section of that, I get to write.  Once I have finished writing my 1666 words, I get to check out inked voice write a review and read other peoples reviews. After I am finished  with this I get to watch a TV show.  I am  trying to repeat this sequence at least twice a day.  This has helped my get more reading, writing and critiquing done this last five days than in the last two weeks.  Woot for a balanced plan. 

The second thing I have noticed this week is that people critique differently. To me this is beneficial. There seems to be two main types of critiques:  The line editor who look at word usage, grammar, and taste, or the big picture critique that focuses on plot, character, pacing.   However,  I  have also found that some people  are use critiquing to point out errors, which might not be errors; but are merely artistic and stylistic differences.  Additionally, I have come to discover that some people believe that the rules of writing are not meant to be broken. If you are breaking them, then you are doing it wrong.  Well, I have never been one for towing the line.  I have always been the person that saw the line, and just had to cross it. It is just in my nature.

Additionally, I have found that when people critique, even if they say they are not looking at the genre this is not true. I have found this even with myself,  that my writing styles in some ways dictates what I like and what I don't. I have also found in selections that are not my person tasted that I tend to find more problems  The question is are there really more problems or is it just my own personal preferences. More than likely, it more about my preferences than real errors.  But seeing this play out in my critiques, it makes me want to push myself to write in those areas.

One member and I, in particular are at odds with each other. I have read and critiqued a piece by this author,  the piece  is so outside my own voice range that it took me a while, and a couple times reading, it to find that I liked it.  The section is a larger part of her book,  and is beautifully violent, sad and broken story of life. Of what people are willing and able to do, when they feel the world is set against them. After  reading the piece I did a critique which focused on the one skill I have which is laying out scenes and weaving in story.  I am  not sure how she took what I said. But when she critiqued one of my pieces, she focused solely on structure and line editing. I wonder is this because  my selection  is so out side her own voice, she could not see the potential of the piece.  Or is it what she said in the feed back section: that there was nothing that makes a reader to want to turn the page. Why should any one care about a delusional girl who is receiving treatment. Part of me wants to believe that she just can not see past her one style of realism. It makes me wonder, is my writing so unclear or voice specific that it is enjoyable only to me. To Answer that question I am going to post the same piece here: if it utterly sucks,  please tell me.  So I can tear it a part.  If any of it is salvageable.

excerpt the veil:

Chapter 1 The White Room

The drug induced haze is her bubble creating a space for her mind to leave the white room. Even now, she is not there, she is sitting on a bench in a park; she can taste the salt in the air and the smell of pine trees fills her nose.  Leaning into the old wooden bench turned silver from years in the sea air, sea gulls soaring overhead. The thin white cotton pants and tee shirt do not protect her from the cold.  Her toes curl in the dew covered grass; as she longs to be one of those birds. The longing brings the pain, in a sudden flash it is cutting through her dream world.  The pain rips her from the peacefulness of the lulling sea. The smell of salt air is replaced with burning hair.  A silent scream fills the space between here and there, and once again, she is in the white room. 

Her mind and body are on fire, Amelia blinks the dream and pain from her eyes, forcing her white world to come back into focus: white walls, white clothes, white skin, and worse of them all, the blinding white light. She wonders if there is any color but white in this world.  Amelia looks up at the man above her; she sees the fine lines etching his face.  Amy where were you, a moment ago? She looks up from the floor, he is standing there, white jacket flapping about his legs like wings. Is he an angel or a devil?

Her lips crack as she licks the taste of the sea off them, nowhere doctor. I was just dreaming.

Amelia looks up at Dr. White, he is as white as the world he has created for her.  Amy, I thought you had come to terms with your diagnosis.  Schizophrenia is a chronic and severe brain disorder, and these hallucinations are merely one of the positive symptoms that you are suffering. If you continue to hide these symptoms from me, I will be unable to provide you with the correct course of treatment. I thought you wanted to get better.

Amelia looks up at her doctor, wondering if she will ever get the chance to leave this white room. The world outside the hospital: that is what seems like a delusion. Doctor White, I want to get better and go back to my life.  But I do not know how.

Of course you do not know how. That is why I am here to help you.  Now follow me, it is clear that the anti-psychotics are not going to be enough today. The doctor spins on his heel, the white coat flapping out around him. Amelia thinks briefly maybe he is an angel.

Amelia pushes to her feet, stumbling a couple of steps; her hand reaches out for support. Stepping from the padded floor of her room, a shiver runs like electricity through her body. She knows it is caused by more than the coldness of the white granite floor.   The halls of the hospital are a maze that her mind has begun to memorize, but still unknown to her is what is behind all of the doors that dot the facility.  She is only allowed into three rooms: her room, the treatment room, and the doctor’s office.  She has heard screams of others, and the rustling behind closed doors as she walks the halls. She wonders who else is here.

Amelia pauses to stare at one of the doors. Her mind drifts past the door, and Amelia could swear she glimpses a person beyond. Her thought is broken as Doctors stares at her like a bug under a microscope. Amy, what are you thinking about right now?

Drawn back into the white hall, Amelia falls into step behind the doctor. I am wondering who else is here, and if I can talk to them. 

Amy, you cannot worry about others. You have to focus on yourself. 

Sighing, Amy responds, Yes doctor.  As they turn the corner, she realizes they are heading toward the medical suites. Doctor, do I have to do this?  Every time I do these treatments, I feel like I am dying. 

The Doctor just looks at her intently. She bows her head, and he turns, rounding the corner.  Amy, I would never let you die. I am just trying to find the best course of treatment for your condition.   You knew that this was a highly experimental program when you signed on. The treatment and test are the best way to fine-tune your medications.  Or do you want to go back to the way you used to be?

Amelia nods in agreement, the way she used to be, lost between her realities never knowing if the person she spoke to was real or not: no, she did not want that.  But Amelia slows her pace trying to give herself some time.  Maybe she can get out of it, just for today.  She knows better, the treatment room is always inevitable on the days when she dreams of her other worlds.  Sighing, she resigns herself to the treatment. 

As the door swings open, she wonders what he would do, if she ran back to her room. Amelia pushes the idea away, knowing that punishment for such a transgression would be worse than the treatment.  As they enter the room, it is filled with the usual people, all dressed in white. Oh, how she hates the color.  In the center of the room is her chair. Taking her seat, the only woman in the room walks over and straps her wrists and ankles in place, then insert the IV into her hand catheter.  As the substance from the IV, hanging overhead, hits her blood stream, the room spins, and she begins to forget what is coming.  A man, one of the other doctors, comes and places small electrodes on her forehead; a set of censors take their place on her chest, arms, and legs.

Dr. White silences the room. The lights dim.  Now Amy, I want you to the go back to the bench, in the park, overlooking the ocean.  Remember the smell of the pine trees, and the taste of the salt on your tongue.  Are you there?

Amelia tries to do what the doctor asks, but she is still in the room; its cold whiteness is all she can see.  Her voice quakes as she responds to the doctor. That world does not exist. It is just my imagination.  I am still here.

Dr. White takes a calming breath. Now Amy, you need to do what I tell you.  This is the only way to measure the depth of your delusions, and map the location of the brain from which they originate.  If I can figure out exactly what part of the brain is active during your hallucinatory state then I can target your treatment more precisely. Also by volunteering to enter your delusions you can prove to yourself they are not real, allowing you the ability to better differentiate between delusion and reality.  

Confused but wanting this over with, she begins to let her mind wander to the bench, but she did not want to let them into that world. She had let them into so many of her worlds, exposing them to their probing and intrusions.   It was the one place she could escape, from them, from her mother, even from herself when need arose.  No, she would take them to a different world.  As she makes up her mind, her vision begins to blurs, like a veil pulled over her eyes.

Past the veil, there is nothing.  Doctor, I am not at my beach. I cannot find it. Then she sees the shadow of one of her best known worlds a place she has gone since childhood. I am at   the forest again. The Cabin has to be close.  The sun is setting here, making the sky burn.  She feels the electricity course through her body, punishment for her failure.   

Amy, I said for you to take us to the beach.  We have been to the cabin in the woods. You know it is in your imagination.  Anger tinges his voice like a razor cutting across the space between Amelia and the Doctor.  Amy, you are not really there, are you, dear?

Amy knows better than to lie, but she does not want to push through the veil.  Considering her own desires, she pauses for a second floating in the space between this world and the next. The veil is in view, but that is normal. She always sees it. But this space where she is between her worlds, she feels warm, like she has been wrapped in a down comforter. She wonders why she always does what the Doctor asks of her.  Thinking of life outside these white walls, and the space between her worlds, she realizes she wants to live in that world again, and for that to happen, she must do what Dr. White asks. She must push through.  The tips of her fingers touch the veil. Instantly they feel a flame. Without another pause, she steps into the veil, and in that, instant she is like a witch on a pyre engulfed in flames; death, a heartbeat away, but just before she bursts into flame, she is in the forests.

In the medical suites, the diagnostic equipment attached to Amelia wails its concern. As Dr. White and his staff watch as Amy fades, her form becomes incorporeal. In a flash of light she vanishes. As this happens the EKG and EEG go off the chart. Her heart rate is above any acceptable limits.  Dr. White calls out to Amy, trying to maintain a connection to her, and his reality. The air in the medical suite is filled with static electricity, like that instance before lightning strikes.  The staff shuffle their feet, busying themselves with the task of monitoring Amy. 

Again, Dr. White calls out, Amy are you in the woods?  The silence fills the room, the time delay is palatable finally the answer comes, Amy’s response sounds like she is talking on a string phone, rising out of the space where her body should be.  Yes, Doctor I am here.   

The staff let out a collective sigh of relief. The connection has not been broken.  Straightening, Dr. White begins his inquisition of Amy; his voice is tinted in anger at the lost opportunity this experiment has become. 

Why couldn't Amy just do what she is told?  But all of the subjects seem to have one trait in common, stubbornness. Unnerved by her continued refusal to do the simplest of things he proceeded with the treatment. Making note of her continued defiance.   

The third thing I have learned this week is how useful it is to critique other peoples writing, and to read the critique's of others.I look at this feed back and see if, or how I can apply it to my own writing.  As I try to push my skill level from amateur to something more. I see all the other people working on their craft as well and I rejoice.  I am not alone in this mad pursuit,  I am one in an army of writers, and if we work together we will succeed. So here is to work,  more work and still more work,  that is what I am finding good writing takes.  However, I love the work, it is actually like play,  but that is why I have focused this year on writing.

So this is how I am doing so far sit  6436 words behind but it is better than 10K behind.

	30-Nov	Writen	Total
Red Book Expose	52454	8167	60621
The Veil	16071	27107	43178
Close Corp (edit)	22143	0	22143
Cave City (edit)	3372	0	3372
Ex Nilhio	13015	0	13015
Gutter Punk	6373	0	6373
Total		35274	148702

Writing groups, helpful...fun...motivational or a distraction

In my pursuit to stay motivated to write everyday, I have joined a writing group on line. I decided to do this as the group I had working during NaNoWriMo seems to have disbanded. I considered using Meetups to form a new IRL group, but decide an Online group might fit better in my hectic schedule. Though I will continue to designate my Sunday's from 2:00pm to 5:00 pm to Floyd's. The online group will also,  allow me to give my normal beta readers and editors a break since I am writing an obscene amount this year.

After doing some research I decided on using the site Inked Voices https://www.inkedvoices.com/. So far the site seems user-friendly.  I have joined the introductory group, formed my own group, and done my first critique, and posted my first piece for review. 

To use the site there $75 a year subscription fee. However, if you won NaNoWriMo you get 30% off, or you can do a monthly subscription which is $10 a month.  With my NaNo Code I did the year subscription for $52.50, not bad for the whole year,  less than one triple grande latte at Starbucks a month. 

With this site you have to earn points to post your own writing for review.  My first impression of this system is a love hate quandary from me;  I love that it makes people do critiques, but with how busy my life is I wonder if it will be a distraction from my own writing.   However, after doing my first review and reading other people's review of the same writing,  I think that this is beneficial for more than forcing people to do reviews.  First, by having to examine another person's writing you can see mistakes you commonly make more clearly.  Second, it highlights issues and questions that readers have in general by reading the other reviews and applying that information to your own writing you are doubling down on the usefulness of the review process.  Third, it allows you to see what other people are writing and what people think, like and dislike about that writing.  You can then use this information to evaluate your own writing. 

The Next,step was to submit my own writing for a critique.  This was easy to do, you created a new project, then added a document, which you could up load or cut and paste.  I chose to submit my forward to the Red Book Expose,  it is short, a complete work by itself and the start of the two projects I think I will be focusing on in my group.  Now I just have to wait and see if people give me feed back. 

Finally, I can only hope that I can get a group of 5 to 8 people to join me on my voyage this year,  hopefully Inked Voice will be part of that voyage I will keep you posted. 

Now for my progress on writing the last five days.  I have actually written every day, and made my word count or a little more, so I am slowly chipping a way at the back log of words, I am hoping this weekend I will be all caught up and back on track to just having to write the 1666 words a day.

Excerpt The Veil:

 Amelia sat on her cot, leaning into the white wall, every bone in her body hurts, her skin still burns like a bad sunburn. Staring at the door, she knows Xea will be coming for her soon.  As she sits here waiting for her treatment to begin, she thinks about her family.  Most of her childhood, she was raised by nannies, and caretakers, there was always someone around, but she has little recollection of her mother.  She only really remembers her violet eyes,  and melodic voice. Xea walks in, She had a voice like yours.

Who had a voice like mine?

My mother had a voice like yours.  Her voice is one of the few things I remember about her. When I was very little and scared she would come to me and sing, not lullabies just regular songs,  I can remember the tone of her voice but not the words of those song. But even her voice seem to be getting less clear, day by day.  So what kind of treatment do I have today?

Well, Dr. White has not informed me of the specific of today’s treatment.  I do know that he still wants you to try and manifest a real object in your hallucination.  You have gotten very close on each of your last attempts.

I know,  but I don’t think it is possible.  I feel like I am failing him, and everyone.  I am failing my mother. 

I thought you did not remember your mother. How can you be failing her now?

Oh, that is my biological mother. I am talking about my adoptive mother, I was adopted at a very young age. They wanted the perfect daughter, but instead they got an insane one.  I have been reminded of that my whole life.  So the goal of the treatments is to prove to my mother that I can be her perfect daughter, but see look at me.  I cannot even follow orders, a fight treatment every day and I don’t know why.

Maybe, the reason your treatments are not going well, is because you are not here for yourself.  You want to get better but only because it will please other people.  What would make you happy Amelia?

Looking down at her hands, I have never really given that much thought.  I don’t know what would make me happy.  I was happy in London, working in the coffee shop, living in my apartment. 

Maybe you should focus on that feeling,  and see where it takes you.

Amelia stands,  using the wall as support, as she wobbles on weak achy legs. Do I have to do this today?  I can barely stand.

Yes, you have to do this today.  But I will talk to Dr. White after and see if we can get you some recreation time. 

Xea and Amelia walk down the hall towards the treatment room,  Amelia pulls away.  Please not today, Xea.  Looking back at her room, which seems no more safe than the treatment room Amelia see nowhere to run, no way to escape.

Entering the treatment room Dr. White is by her chair, his false smile glued to his faces, there is anger behind his eyes,  Amy. How are you feeling today.

I am very tired, I don’t think I can do this, not today.  Please just let me sleep. I will try again tomorrow. I think I, I do this today, I will die, be burnt to ashes, I still feel like am burning from the last treatment.

Well, Amy, we have discussed your reluctance to seek treatment.  I believe you are at the precipice and if we can just get over this last hurdle you will see vast improvement very quickly.  Also, today, we are going to try something new.  Since you seem so drawn to your memories of London, we are going to focus there today.  So the goal is not to manifest an object into your hallucination, just to control one of your own memories.

Taking her seat Amelia looks around the room, is that even possible. How can one control their memories or dreams?

Amy, it is very simple really, it is called lucid dreaming.  There is a moment when most people are dreaming that they realize that it is a dream and then have control over the environment.  What I want you to do is think of recent memories,  say your London Apartment.

Laying back in the chair, Xea straps her down, attaches electrodes, sensors, blood pressure monitor, and IV.  Over the last couple session, Xea has not let the other doctors help her in this process, which Amelia is ecstatic about. Now the cuffs never dig into her skin, the IV never bleeds, and Xea’s  touch and voice soothes Amelia’s soul.  Looking into Xea’s brown eyes,  she smiles up at her, as she attaches the skull cap.  It is a new part of Amelia’s treatment, bilateral elector shock treatment.  But Dr. White, I thought the goal was for me to realize when I am hallucinating, how will controlling my memory help with that? Shouldn’t we just try another of my worlds.

Why must you argue about every aspect of your treatment? Young lady, the point of this exercise is to see how much control you have over your mind.  Memory, dreams, and your delusions originate in the same sections of the brain, but today we want to focus on the middle section of the brain, specifically the Amygdala.  Now if you do not have any more questions let’s get to work.   

No, Doctor, I do not have any more questions.  Closing her eyes, her head spins as the fluid from the IV hits her blood stream, then the first painful jolt hits her like a bat to the skull. Wincing in pain, she focuses on Dr. Whites voice, the room buzzes like electricity, and the veil falls over her like a blanket of fire. 

As soon as she steps into the veil, Rebecca is there.  Amelia you are back so soon.  You really should not transverse the drift this often, it will take a toll on your mind and memory.

I think you are right,  but it is not really up to me is it,  Dr. White is insistent that I continue my treatments. 

Where does he want you to go today?

It’s strange,  normally he wants me to avoid my dreams, and memories,  any place that can confuse me,  but today he want me to go to London and my apartment there.

As she steps through the veil into her apartments she steps through the fire,  and hears the echo of Rebecca’s voice,  Why don’t you just stay there.

As she enters her apartment, the light from the stain glass window causes a riot of color to dance on the walls.  Everything is just how she left it,  well maybe it seems cleaner than normal.  There is a vase of sunflowers on the kitchen table,  she walks over and the smell feels her with memories of her child hood.  The room wavers like a mirage seen in a heat delusion and she is standing in her mother’s office.  She had only been here once,  but like that day there were sunflowers on the table,  it was the one thing the shared.  Sunflowers are between life and death, and always looking toward the sun, they are the most beautiful and saddest things she knows.

    Dr. White’s voice scratches at the back of her mind, pulling pieces of her memory out before her,  Amy tell me where you are right now.

I am in my mother’s office, she has sunflowers here, like I had back in London.  I want to see her just a glimpse, maybe she has forgive me.

No, Amy we are not here to go into the memories of you and your mother.  You need to go back to your apartment. Now.

Amy feels Dr. White’s anger radiating towards her, smoldering beneath the surface of his words. Why doesn’t he want her to see her mother? Pain, fills the void left by his voice and she is back in her apartment, hands dig into the back of her couch supporting her as her knees attempt to buckle. 

Now, Amy where are you? 

I am in my apartment, in London exactly where you wanted me.  His voice fills the space left by the pain, good.  Now look down at your hand.  Do you see the walkie talkie?

Amy looks down at her hand,  her whole body grows warmer, intently she focuses on her hand, until all the heat pours into that single extremity.  She is sure if she touched anything it would instantly ignite and burn her apartment to the ground around her.  Breaking her focus she looks up,  flames leap up her arm. And for an instant she wonders if her apartment is the real world,  it is not the same as she left it.  It is cleaner, and there is fruit on the kitchen counter, and a computer at her desk. These are not her things

	30-Nov	Writen	Total
Red Book Expose	52454	4835	57289
The Veil	16071	17051	33122
Close Corp (edit)	22143	0	22143
Cave City (edit)	3372	0	3372
Ex Nilhio	13015	0	13015
Gutter Punk	6373	0	6373
Total		21886	135314

Writing, work or play or something more.

Sitting here at almost 2:00 am looking back at three days of zero word count, I wonder did I set an impossible goal.  Currently, I am working my two part-time jobs, which is more than forty hours a week between them. I am supposed to be studying for the New York Bar exam. And trying to write two books at the same time.  All in the pursuit of making a life change over the next year, to make writing a part of my everyday life, and hopefully something more.

But, as always after the frenzy that is and will always be the beauty of NaNoWriMo, I have fallen off the writing horse.  Can I get back up on it, before the week is out. I am gunning for Sunday, and my scheduled writing group.  But to have a chance of catching up, I need to focus and get in my daily word count for Friday and Saturday, or that 10K words will have grown even higher. 

Considering my options on how I can get myself to write, I realize it is not making me want to write, that is the problem. I always want to be writing, creating, playing in the worlds I create. It is finding the time between work and studying.  But is it really finding the time or just giving myself permission to take the time off.

So I have come up with a plan.  Each morning I will sit down and write for one hour.  This hour will be before I check e-mail, open my Facebook, or check messages.  Hopefully this will give me the time I need to write daily, at the same time not feel like slacking off.

On top of scheduled writing times, I have looked at some other options to really ratchet up my daily word count. , I found this sight called: four the words https://4thewords.com/,  it was on the NaNo website. They call it the writers gym.  I have to wonder if it will be like a really gym. Where you pay the membership and never go.  Is committing 5 dollars a month to your writing real incentive to write. Coins and trophies for writing are intriguing but I am still not sure if this is really the way to go for me.  However as the last week as shown me,  maybe my way needs some changing. 

Beyond setting a time, and signing up for a website to prod me into writing, I wonder what technique, other writers use to just give themselves that window to write,  or even to edit.  Is this a mere time management issue.  I would like to say it is that simple, but in reality I think it goes deeper. To the idea that writing is fun, relaxing, and entertaining; it is not work. My own pressure to always be working and moving forward, makes this a distinction I need to over come.

If I want to write professionally, it is work, even though it is fun, and relaxing.  That writing can be something more,  than simple work in a traditional since, but this is easier said than done; when work is judge not by word count alone, but on its ability to put food on the table, and coffee in my cup.  Hopefully this year, will allow me to make that internal change,  they say it only takes 28 days to create a habit,  but how many days does it take to break one.  Now that is the question.  

Once I make the internal change, hopefully the external one i.e. coffee in my cup will follow.

What is in a name?

It has already been a week since I made my decision to write 50k words a month for a year.  What have I done in the last 7 days?  Well, I have  been writing and editing some everyday, which is a first for me, after the frenzy of NaNo is over. 

Even with Writing daily, I am still behind in my word Count.  Part of this is due to the fact that before I started really writing in the Veil, I went back and did some basic editing, including renaming  some characters, and naming others for the first time.  This brings me to the question. What is in a name?

When I first started writing the Veil, I had the great character, her name was Nurse Hathaway,  I just liked the way it sounded. No,  I loved it. To me it sounded caring, familiar, and loyal.  Well it should, sound familiar. It took me some time to realize that the name is from a character of a widely popular television show ER.  Once I realized this what could I do,  the character is still a nurse, she still needs to be caring and loyal.  So at the beginning of December I took the time to discover this character, beyond my initial first impressions. 

Her office, at the White Institute describes a world traveler,  someone who has been from the cold beaches of Rockaway Beach, Oregon, to the warm sands of Thailand. She loves nature, is a vegetarian.  The key aspect of her that builds the tie between her and the main character is her voice, it calms and soothes the main character, encourages her when needed and warns when appropriate.  She is strong, caring, independent and fiercely loyal to her own.  Now my once Nurse Hathaway,  from a forgotten 90's sitcom has been reborn as Xea Song. 

Xea Song,  is a name but does it hold up to my character,  over shadow other characters,  is she in harmony with the novel. Does a characters name have to be ideal, or can it just work?  How unique should they be?  Or should they ring of familiarity and forgotten bed time stories? 

For me a characters name, is like any other characteristic, it must serve a purpose.  From the main character in the Veil,  Amelia Courant to Joshua Morningstahl.  to the diminutives that others call them Amy and Junior,  it service to show growth and their own since of self and a choice in who and what they are and will become. 

Excerpt The Veil

I never thought of it that way.  Watching the Xea leave her room Amelia began to plan,  Rebecca was right, she has to bid her time,  until she can escape.  But escape where and how, are the questions rattling around in her head,  as she sips the warm soup.  

Her meal finished, she slides the tray out of the door, and decides to rest.  Sleep, maybe in her dreams she can find a way to escape,  or maybe she will see him again. Curling into a ball on the small cot.  Amelia is firmly planted in this reality for the first in more days that she can count.   Though the veil is at the edge of her vision, it is not consuming her, but her dreams are another story.  As she drifts asleep, she dreams of her childhood. 

The large houses surrounded by gates and fences had always been her home, and her prisons.  She cannot remember, ever having a loving Mother or Father,  she had nannies and guardians, people who took care of her but never loved her.  As she drifts into her past, she remembers playing kick ball with her imaginary friends. Today was a rarity the front gate was open,  they had just moved into the house, and moving trucks were bring in furniture and her stuff.  In a couple of days, the gates would close and she would once again be cut off from the out side world.

The street out front is narrow and lined with cars and trees,  as she kicks the ball, she wants to go outside the gates. With Junior at her side she seeks adventure,  quickly she kicks the ball as hard as she can watching in glee as it flies out into the street.   She chases after,  it dashing into the street. Junior on her heels. Standing in the middle of the street, Junior at her side,  there are kids laughing and playing with each other,  she can not see them but she can hear them. Longingly, she looks around the neighborhood, it is the type which should have children, but there are none in sight, just the sound of their voices. 

Reaching down to pick up the ball, Amelia looks at Junior, I guess you are still my only friend.  The Boy smiles, his hazel eyes always so sad, brighten. He mouths,  Don’t worry I will always be your friend. Holding up their hands,  palm to palm but never touching.  Then Junior screams soundlessly,  a horn blares, tires and brakes squeal,  and she is on fire.  Her nightmare has consumed her, turned her to ash.  Then truck is gone,  and standing before her is Junior, she wants to hug him but knows she cannot.

 

So that brings me back to names,  was taking the time to really find names I loved worth it?  Yes, will the names shape the characters,  I think that they will,  even now as I write, today,  Xea, is doing things that she would not have done as Hathaway.  and Amelia is no Amy to anyone but Dr. White,  and Joshua is only Junior to his long dead abusive father.  Each character claims their space and lives up to the name I have given them,  but then again it could only matter to me,  maybe it does not matter.  And Harry Potter, would still be the same if he had be name Neville Longbottom.  I think not. 

 

	30-Nov	1-Dec	2-Dec	3-Dec	4-Dec	5-Dec	6-Dec	7-Dec
Red Book Expose	52454	2904	1682	13
The Veil	16071			71	1666	300		2459
Close Corp (edit)	22143
Cave City (edit)	3372
Ex Nilhio	13015
Gutter Punk	6373
Total		2904	1682	84	1666	300	0	2459

      

First Post A year of writing Madly

So November has come and gone,  with 50,000 words under my belt for the Red Book Expose I forge ahead into a year of writing, exploration and learning.  So far I am on track with my daily word count,  I have decided to focus this week on writing and probably the next on writing.  I am currently dividing my time between The Red Book Expose and the Veil. 

The act of putting words on paper soothes me, as I prepare to dive back into Bar Prep world, which terrifies me.  Last time I dove to the bottom of that pool, and it was a long dark swim to the bottom, which took months to recover from.  I hope to keep the surface light in sight this time down, but know that it is the darkness of the bottom that will pull me in, to its reaches.  The Bar, is like nothing else I have ever done,  harder and easier than anything else at the same time. Harder because it allows me to see everyone of my self doubts tossed into the light of testing.  And easier because it is just a test, passing it is not life or death,  just another step.  So with half my time dedicated to the Bar for December, January and February will I also be able to keep up with my writing goals.

I think and hope that I will be able to accomplish this goal of writing as it is a way to relax after a day of work and studying.  However,  I see that I might be procrastinating on the one thing that is truly difficult for me,  Editing.  As I write my rough drafts,  I do not care about exactness of my words, spelling or grammar; the thing I focus on is the story, and characters.  But once I start the editing, no word seems good enough, descriptive enough,  or beautiful enough to be the correct word I want to use to tell the story.  I never seem to be happy with a sentence once I start to edit, which makes me toss whole sections, chapters, paragraphs in the proverbial trash.  So in the creation stage words will flow even as I prepare for the Bar.  It is the editing stage that will bring me to a screeching halt.  I saw this in November,  I was able to easily write 50k words, but only edited about 8000 words half of which went into the trash. 

So the question. Do I count all edited words,  or only those that end up in the final draft.  Which means that some days I could actually have negative word count. 

The Veil is an example of this,  I wrote yesterday on this project,  but as I was writing I was also doing some clean up in the story, since it has been awhile since I writing anything for this story.  I ended the day with 71 added words,  but a better story.  Should I have keep a track of all the words I wrote yesterday,  or just the ones in the story now. 

Excerpt from The Veil:

In his offices he looks around calmed by the white on white surfaces,  ever paper, book, pen, all perfectly white and perfectly in its place.  His office calms him and reassures him that there is order in this world.  With a smile no, not just this world, in these worlds.  Sitting behind his desk, he pushes the power button and his computer screen came to life, he already has a number of messages waiting for him, digital voicemails,  e-mails, but the one he is ignoring is the instant message that blinks on with the computer.  Instead of opening it, he went to the file on Amelia,  found the footage and once again views the file that gave him hope that he would succeed.

The footage lasted about five minutes, and it is the grainy gray of security camera footage.  She was nine years old and she playing out front of a large house,  really a mansion, he could not tell what city the house is in, or even what country; this was not information that he has been given.  The first minutes of the video were of the little girl kicking the ball around the yard, she was alone, it is in the instant that she kicks the ball into the street darting out to retrieve it, that interests him. 

Is it worth it to loose words, to make the story better.  I know the answer to that questions is yes,  but when every word counts, it is hard to justify the backspace and delete buttons no matter how much they are needed.  

SO to keep me honest I will post my word counts,  I will work on a better chart,  but for now this will work. 

Current word counting Chart:

	30-Nov	1-Dec	2-Dec	3-Dec	4-Dec	5-Dec	6-Dec
Red Book Expose	52454	2904	1682	13
The Veil	16071			71
Close Corp (edit)	22143
Cave City (edit)	3372
Ex Nilhio	13015
Gutter Punk	6373
Total		2904	1682	84	0	0	0

Nano last days

The last week of NaNoWriMo has been a whirl wind of writing, with little or no editing. But I have won NaNoWriMo according to their rules,  but the Red Book Expose is not finished and I did not finish editing Cave City. But I have learned a lot this month.

What this NaNo has taught me.

• One that sometimes the book you think you are going to write is not the one you end up writing. 
• Two that sometimes your mood effects your writing and other times your writing effects your mood.
• Three that success and failure have many definitions, but what really matters is trying.  Though I think I knew this,  it was nice to have it reinforced.
• Four that Portland has any amazing writing community, that is not only encouraging but can offer a wealth of advice.
• Five sometimes your hardest critic is your self,  layoff a bit and things will fall into place.

This is just some of the things I have learned this NaNoWriMo,  but the one thing I am taking away that is more important than any of these,  is the Fact that I truly do love writing, and in reality this is what I want to do with my life.  Now the goal is to figure out how to make that happen.  What does making writing my life mean.  I think the next year will tell me just that.  '

I have decided to take NaNo on a yearlong journey.  That's correct,  for the next 12 months, my goal is to edit, write or create 50,000 words every month for a grand total of 600,000 words in the next year.  Well, I have 52,434 of those words done.  I think this will help me learn what I want to do with my writing.

So the rules,  as life needs rules. 

1. The only words that count are words for fiction writing, be it a novel, short story, poem, lyric.
2. Any words I write for work, that is not related to a writing project will not count.
3. I will blog about my experiences over the next year. This blog will keep me accountable for writing,  and what I am counting towards my goal. 
4. I will also work on writing short stories, which I will submit to journals for publication.
5. I will put myself and my writing out there.
6. I will look to the community I have found for encouragement and support, and I will offer that encouragement and support in return. 

Over the next week I will add more rules and formalize my goals for this year.  I hope that people will give me feed back on what rules I should follow.  And if they think this is crazy, which I am sure it is.  Can anyone keep the frenzy that is NaNo going for a whole year.

I am sure of one thing, no matter what I will be a better writer for even attempting this,  and in reality that is the real goal, to improve your craft, to move from amateur to professional.  I began the journey almost 2 years ago, I started writing to relieve stress and found my passion.

The Red Book Expose is not what I intended when I started,  but I think that there is a lot there that I can use.  But it has a long way to go before it is finished.  As I look back on a project that I was doing just to improve my writing skills,  I realize that there is a story there to tell, the story is dark and funny and hopefully poignant.  I realized from listening to the story of my friends that work in the service industry that our lives or put forth as a commodity that opens us up to being used for the benefit of others,  but also opens us up to meeting great people and helping both those in need, and those who are needy.  But we serve, some do it for a paycheck, some do it because they like it, some do because they are good at it,  but for the most part people that serve do it because a small part of them want to make a difference in this world. 

Excerpt  Red Book Expose 

Americano and workbook in hand I return to the front desk, to find the guest from 174 pacing in the lobby.  Great.

“Hello, ma’am,  Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes,  can you make him stop.”

“Can I make who stop what?”

“The man, he is screaming and yelling at the woman.  I cannot take it anymore. She is crying for help.”

Looking at the women,  she is on the verge of tears, desperation oozes from every pore of her being, “Ma’am, where is this man?”

Looking at me the small woman seem startled “You believe me?  It is the man I complained about earlier, in the room next door.”

Picking up the Red Book I flip to the page from a couple days ago.  “Well, I see here that you did make a complaint twice about someone screaming at you.”

“He is not screaming at me,  He is screaming at the girl in his room. He won’t let her leave.” 

Looking at the women I wonder if my caffeine consumption had driven me stark raving mad, because I believe her,  and realized for the first time she might not be as crazy as we thought.  “Ok you stay here,  I am going to go up and check.”

The woman begins to wring her hands,  her eyes darting about this way and that “But he will know I said something, he will hurt me and you.  You can not go by yourself.”

The terror was clear on her face, “I am just going to check real fast. I’ll be back down in a minute.  Wait here.”

I leave the woman clinging to the front desk,  and walk towards her room,  before I am even in the hall way by her room I hear the yelling,  and then a blood curdling scream.  I stop dead in my tracks frozen, should I go knock on the door, maybe there is a reason for the scream.  My feet carrying into the hall and before I know it I am in front of the door. Yelling rattles the world around me,  I shrink from it. Why in hell has no one said anything?  Knuckles hovering an inch from the door, the scream echoes down the hall.  Turning, my mind made up this is a police issue. 

Unfinished projects=4 (added Red book expose)
Words Written=52,434
Words Edited=0  ( I have decided that none of the editing I did during November will count toward my year goal)

So here is to a year of writing madly.  Let the journey begin. 

NaNo Oh NO! Only a week to go

Monday has come and gone, and we are already, two days into the last week of NaNoWriMo.  With word count,  on tract, I just need to keep up writing my 1666 words a day and I will win. 

But what is winning?  Is it meeting the goal of writing 50,000 words in a month; is it finishing the novel; is it meeting what every goal you set for yourself.  I think that all of the above can be considered wining NaNo. 

This year, I will take my 50k, and walk away happy and disappointed.  Happy that I have recommitted to writing.  Disappointed that I did not met my individual goals.  But hey, I Still have a whole weekend off, and now work in site, so I could just pull one out of the air and even meet that goal. 

So for all, those NaNoer's out there be proud of what you accomplished,  and realize that the end is not here.  If you have not met your goal yet don't give up,  just keep working to the end of November and hopefully beyond.

Another thing, this week as brought to my attention, is the need for a writing group.  They are great to bounce ideas around, see a hole in your story you may have missed,  encouraged you after you mercilessly killed off a beloved character,  or want to kill a character because they just won't do what you want.   So this has lead me to the idea of Keeping the Floyd's writing group going.

I have also realized in the last week, no matter how much you may want to write one story,  if it is not happening it is better to write the one at hand.  What does that mean,  Well last week I was very disappointed that my satire comedy, had taken on a serious tone.  This week I realize that adding that seriousness has created drama for my main character,  and made her more interesting then just the crazy coffee drinking stressed out front desk agent, she has meat on her bones so to speak. 

Excerpt Rough Draft The Red Book Expose

“Excuse me, are you working?”

“Oh, sorry for the wait.  Sir.  How can I help you?”

“Well, I have a reservation, and I need to check into the room.”

“I’ll need picture ID and a credit card.” 

The man sighs , tired weary, but even after that he has clean Baldwin good looks,  but with out the smile or jokester spark that really makes me like the brothers.  He slides the cards across the counter.  “Any day now, its not like this job takes a rocket scientist.”

“No, sir it does not.”  I respond taking the id. Pulling up his reservation, I groan to myself,  “Well Sir. Apparently you made the reservation for tomorrow as your check in date.”

“Well, it’s unlikely a place like this is sold out.  Just fix it. Or, are you too incompetent to do anything with out written instructions.”

Looking at the man in front of me,  his smug condescending smile spreads across his face like he has me beat or trapped.  Without hesitation or thought every word that I have wanted to say comes spewing out of me like projectile word vomit.  “Well, Sir Maybe I am on the unparalleled level, of incompetent. You see its not like I have a college degree or my Masters degree or even a law degrees. No its not like  I just failed the bar,  after three years, of law school, and 125,000 dollars in student loans,  months of studying.  Yes, I am a retarded, fuck-up, an imbecilic of the highest origins,  who can not possible have the skills or know how to do anything in this world. 
Like seeing you don’t have a reservation for tonight.  And that we are  in fact, sold out.  Yep, this run down, stuck in the 70’s flash back hotel and I are clearly well below you,  in every way.  So see, I cant just check you in and fix it.  Because I am such a lazy, incompetent, rude person,  that I want to mess up everyone else life,  just so they can be down in the muck with me…

The man starts to back away staring at me like I am a lunatic.  Finally when he is about three feet from the door he turns and runs.

From the other end of the Lobby, “Well, did you really need to terrify the poor man.  He just wanted a room for the night.”

Spinning around with homicide on my mind, I see my favorite guest, “Oh you heard all that. Sorry?”

Laughing,  “Melt down much?  But he did deserve it.  Do you have any more of those coffee packs”

“Yeah, I do.  And thanks.”

 Nothing on my editing because it has been like prying a corpse from the frozen tundra of my mind.

Unfinished projects 3
Word Count 41666

NaNo's lost week

I have had ups and downs, this NaNo cycle, from writing 5000 words in a day to catch up, to just breaking even for the week.  This week has been different,  after my disheartening last week, I came to a screeching halt.  Between my indecision about the direction my two projects seem to be taking me, to a work week from h3ll I am behind the eight ball, once again. 

Can I catch up,  yes.  The question is; Will I catch up. Or will I  allow my indecision and life to distract me from my goals.  Looking back at the year,  I realize that even with every excuse I have made for myself, the one reason I have not gotten projects done is my lack of forward motion this year.

I have been stagnate, life is gray and not in color. For me this is a very unusual. Normally I see twenty shades of blue, I see the accomplishments I have made, and the people around me have made, be they friends, family, co-works or the man on the street playing music.  I have stopped seeing these things and this has stopped my forward motion. 

Now that I realize this I need to make an effort to do that focus on the colors of the world and the people around me, to see where I should go next.  This will flavor, my writing and my life.  Like the titles says this has been the lost week of NaNo,  I have been lost in my own mind,  swimming through, story ideas, character development, and all of it has been a useless pursuit as it stopped my forward motion.  And without actually moving, doing, working nothing will get done, nothing will change. 

So today is the day,  to grab a keyboard, or pen, and move forward; regain my momentum.  Right this second, that movement could be on the Red Book,  or Cave City, or anyone of my other projects but I must start moving again. 

So with that out of my system,  lets look at the Red Book:

Currently I am about half way through writing the book and the story,  which means it will have to be over 50k words to finish. The current word count is 33690,  that means I am looking at about 70k words. 

I have gotten my character through taking the bar the first time,  and the waiting to find out if she passed.  The next chapter I am going to write is the chapter where she finds out she has failed the Bar, which from personal experiences, makes a person question every one of their ability, intelligence, and worth.   This should actually be a pretty fun chapter to write.

I have to fix the next two chapters a little to tie them into the story line more consistently.  Then I get to move into her studying for the bar and taking it for the second time.  OH fun times.  The last couple of chapters are going to end the book on an up note I think,  with her finding out she passed the Bar,  self worth restored. 

All I can say about Cave City, is, oh cave city how I love to hate thy. 

Unfinished projects 3
Words written 33690
Words edited zilch.  :)  hey but I am only working one job this weekend, I see the light. 

NaNo halfway gone

I have reached the mid point in NaNoWriMo,  and I do not feel half way done,  I feel half way gone.  I finally caught up on my word count, then I made the mistake of reading what I wrote and every fiber of my being told me to push the delete key. 

In the Red Book Expose,  I am taking not only my own stories and experiences but those of friends and co-workers.  In my lasts chapter, I think I may have stepped over the line.  You may be asking if I asked,  and I did.  But siting down and reading it,  I just don't know.  For now it will stay in the rough cut,  but I doubt this story will ever see the light of day, or anyone else's eyes.  But there is a part of me that also, wants this story out there. 

In the current chapter  I focused on the sexual harassment, front desk agents face on a regular basis.  From being called baby, sweetie,  sugar,  which are minor annoyances that I personally would not deem sexual harassment.  To guest grabbing hands and arms,  mooning us when drunk, to making sexual comments,  to down right rude comments about our shape and size.  To comments,  like can you repeat what you said, I was distracted by your tits.  Sexual harassment is something most agents have had to deal with.

The question, is what happens when comments, become  more than just words and guests act on their preconceived notion of who we are.  This can be anything from the female guests, that smack the male employees on the ass, and proposition them in their rooms.  To female employees being heckled and groped, to all out sexual assault. 

I ask myself, is this book the place to tell these stories, or does it make light of a very serious issue in the service industry. Which is those who are paid to serve, have lost the right to limit contact to their body,  and have opened the door to sexual comments made about them, to being hounded, to have a drink with me, come up to my room,  the idea that you are just another item on the list of incidentals for them to use. 

This chapter is making me second guess the whole project.  Yes the men I wrote about a despicable people and I gave them no redeeming qualities, but the project was supposed to also be light hearted and funny, and I find nothing funny about the last chapter I just wrote. 

Excerpt Rough Draft Red Book Expose:

As soon as the third agent left, the first mass of guest came arrived.  “Hello, would you like to check in, I need picture id and a credit card.”
The guest looks at me and glares, “The room is supposed to be paid for.  Can’t you read?”
Looking at the man in front of me, who looks like a drunken weasel all light shades of brown, small beady eyes,  “Well, Sir,  the room and tax are paid for.  But I still need a credit card for incidentals,  like room charges and parking, this was indicated in your confirmation letter.  If you have it I can read it for you.”
The man looks at me like a bug under a microscope,  “Well, I will certainly look at that later.  I don’t have a credit card, so you are just going to have to check me in with out one.”
“Unfortunately, Sir that is just not possible.”
“Not possible, you fat little cow.  It is possible.  Now do it.”
“Sir, I think that you need to take a step back.  Before, you say something that will require me calling security.” I reply sliding his Id back to him, making eye contact with the person in line behind him.
The guys stares at me,  not sure what to do,  “Please move along. Sir.  Hello,  I can help you over here.” I pointedly stare at the man behind him.
The guest steps up the counter leaving the other guest,  in limbo,  “I need picture ID and a credit card.”
The guest, hands me his id and credit card, grabbing my hand,  “You are not fat,  I would love to ride those curves.  You should come to the Ball tonight.”
Turning slightly pink, “Umh, Thanks but I work all night.  Are you parking a car?”
The guest smiles at my reaction, like a heyna on the hunt, grinning wide, “Yes, I do a truck, lifted with a dual cab.  You are the perfect height, so your toes won’t touch the ground.” 
“Well, I like to keep my feet on the ground. Here is your parking pass and room keys,  Have fun at the Ball.”
The guest takes the pass and keys, licking his lips,  “You are a spicy one,  I love me a red head,  always full of spunk.” 
“Have a good, night sir.  Can I help the next person?”

This is just the beginning of a very long dark night,  To events that maybe should be left in the darkness. 

In regards to editing,  Cave City.  With the half way point come and gone,  I am not even close to hitting the editing goals, and word count..  I have not edited one word in Cave City in more than a four days. I feel disconnected from the story.  I see where I need to go, but I just do not have the drive to take it there.  The story ended up being over 50 last year,  now I have only touched about 7,000 words. Completion of the edit seems to be a lost cause.

Additionally, as I sat back and was looking at my current edits,  I realized that I have made a mistake with how I want the story to progress.  Do I move on from here,  and change my course of action,  or go back.  As Abraham from walking dead said There is no going back, every direction is a question. 

So moving forward with this edit, now every direction and path I put my characters on is in question.  In a way I like this, I think this new path could make a much more interesting, if darker story.  But then again this week has been all about the darkness in people. And how people deal with that darkness, the pain it causes them, and if it will destroy them, or make them stronger. 

These last couple of days, have been hard won words. I want  return to writing lighter fair.  Maybe I will put aside the Red Book for the rest of the week and focus on either editing Cave City but this has also taken a dark divergence.   Maybe I need to work on another project.  I think I am losing, my resolve.  Time to buckle down, dig in and push forward.  I know I can do this. 

Unfinished projects: 3
Words written: 32,666 <---that's a fun number :P
edits,  I am giving my self a goose egg big fat zero,  I have to go back to the beginning.