In Which I Am Fearful And Hopeful

   I know that this is my first post in a very, very long time. I apologize for that, but as I'm sure you know life has a habit of getting in the way sometimes. Despite the lack of blog activity, I have not been idle. Far from it. Though, I will admit that life stuff has taken up the majority of my time. But, sometimes, that can't be helped.

   My writing time has largely been spent working on a fanfiction that was begun in attempt to get me out of a writing rut. Did it work? Yes it did. And, as you know, I am a fangirl, so needless to say I've been having a lot of fun with this piece and the characters that are so dear to my heart. An added bonus is the positive and, at times, critical feedback on my work. It's a huge encouragement to me on both fronts.


   As for the rest of my writing time, it's been spent taking apart and re-working my Southern Urban Fantasy novel mentioned in my About Me page. The sad truth of the matter was that the story was becoming too bloated and the flow was gone. So, I decided to step back, work on something else for a while, and then begin again. This strategy has helped. I've begun to re-work my characters and fall in love with them again, and the plot line is beginning to look more and more streamlined as the days go by. Hopefully, I'll be past my sporadic note taking on sheets of blank paper soon and will be able to move on to actual outlining. It's a step in the right direction I feel and I am very excited.


   Now that I've caught you up on everything, it's time for me to move on to something else in this post.


   Recently, I flipped through a copy of Poets & Writers magazine at the bookstore. In the past I actually haven't ever looked through writing magazines (they've never crossed my mind I suppose), but the cover happened to catch my eye. The issue's focus was on writing contests. Of course I've heard of writing contests before, though I haven't worked up the courage to enter one myself- I'll get there eventually.


   But what really piqued my interest was the section interviewing different editors and literary agents and whether or not contest wins matter to them. Overall, it seemed that the opinion was that while they do care that a potential client was a few accomplishments under their belt, it doesn't necessarily make them an automatic shoe in. So, I thought to myself, okay looking at my writing career (or lack thereof) at the moment, I still have a 50/50 chance.


   As I kept on reading, however, the more discouraged I felt. Not only that, I felt inadequate. That, my friends, is a horrible feeling. It seemed that the majority of them were saying that not only do they look at contest wins and other such accolades, but also MFA degrees. Reading that my heart sank down deep into my chest and I could feel the tears behind my eyes. I know that may sound melodramatic, but it's the truth.


   While I can honestly say that I am educated, I cannot say that I am an educated woman. By that I mean this: I don't have any form of college education. This fact has been pointed out to me by a few people (as if I were not already aware) as a type of judgement. It's not very common for a woman my age to not have some form of degree- or two. All I can say in my defense was that I felt that that particular path was not meant for me, that G-d had other plans. I can already hear the scoffs- it's nothing new to me.


   Back to the point. My fear is that my submissions will be looked over because I don't have a college education or letters behind my my name. I genuinely and sincerely feel that I have a G-d given talent. I've felt that since I was a little girl. But will that be overlooked because of the reasons above? I suppose that only time will tell.


   I can only hope that my seemingly round about way of doing things will pay off in the end. Until then all I can do is keep plugging away.


Aimee
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Fear and Loathing

In my last post I covered the...adventure...that was November and December. Now we're reaching the end of January (which, to me, has seemed to be never ending), and I'm sure you're all chomping at the bit to know how I'm getting on. There was a smidge of sarcasm there, did you catch it?


So, January. January, January, January. January has been interesting on the writing front. Have I worked on my Urban Fantasy novel? Yeah, that'd be a no. You'd think that'd be absolutely horrid wouldn't you? Surprisingly, I'm alright with it.


Contrary to what you may think, I actually have done some work- on a completely new story. An idea for a new story came to me, and I just completely ran with it. It totally blindsided me, and shocked me to be honest. Why? It's something completely different than everything I've ever written ever. All of the stories that I've written in my life (this includes the laughably horrid ones that I wrote when I was 12 and 13) have been fantasy/sci-fi/supernatural/paranormal in some form or fashion. This story that I'm working on now is angsty/drama/romance Mainstream Fiction.


I know what you're thinking: Who are you and what have you done with Aimee? My answer: Dunno. But I really feel that there's something to this story. In practically one sitting I finished the rough outline for the entire novel. That is a first for me. In fact when I had finished I honestly sat at my kitchen table and stared at my notebook with nothing short of complete shock. I could have cried. I finished the draft of chapter one a few days later, along with half of chapter two. In fact, I banked 1,509 words in two hours. I celebrated with a cup of hot tea. That's how I roll.


But, even with all of the excitement I have over this story, I still have a good bit of fear. It's not fear that the story isn't good, it's the judgement that will most likely come with it.


Let me give a little bit of background on this. I'm a Believer. I belong to a Christian Writer's group. Generally it is expected for someone who falls in this category to write something fluffy and G-PG rated. Maybe I'm making a broad generalization, I don't know. What I do know is that I don't work that way. As a writer, even a fiction writer, I feel that I have to write the truth. The sad truth of it is that we don't live in a G-PG rated world. People have problems and issues. They mess up and do things that they shouldn't. They struggle. I can't gloss over these things, not even in an Urban Fantasy setting.

So, back to the whole judgement thing. It's as though I live in constant fear that the people I know that share my beliefs will read my work and will wonder what the heck is wrong with me. And speaking as someone who has had other people stare down their noses at me and be generally condescending, the whole business is very intimidating.


I know that I shouldn't let it worry me and get me down. I am an artist and I have to express myself. Some people are going to love my work and some are going to hate it with the white hot intensity of 1,000 burning suns. I suppose this is the part where I just roll with the punches and walk away from random explosions like a total bad ass. In other words, put on my big girl knickers and deal with it.


All that being said, I really can't wait to continue working on this story. I've even got a writing soundtrack for it- lots of Lana Del Rey to really set the tone.

Oh! In other news, I've ordered a book called 'The Writer's Guide to Psychology', and I absolutely can't wait for it to come it! I think it's going to help me a lot- especially with this new story. As soon as I read it I'll most likely post a review thing-a-ma-bob on here.

Ta!

Aimee
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Back From The Dead And Ready For More

The last time I had a chance to update this blog was last year. Yeesh. That was such a long time ago! But, in all seriousness (we'll see how long that lasts), it was been over two months since I have last posted. It saddens me to say that in between November 29th and December 31st I wrote nothing except for a quick scene "sketch"- during one of the more boring matches of December's WWE Pay-Per-View. That, I must say, is quite depressing.


My last post happened to be a little progress report on Nation Novel Writing Month, or as I refer to it now: "The Bane of My Existence". November started off with a fizzle, progressed into a bang, and then ended with a resigned fall over a cliff and into the realm of "I don't give a damn". In short, it was torture.


Now I am sure, in fact I am certain, that there are people out there that truly succeed at NaNoWriMo. What do I mean by succeed? I mean actually making it to the 50,000 word mark. I was not one of those people, though I did come fairly close. My final word count? 32,000+. All in all, it really isn't that shabby, in fact 32,000 words in 29 days is down right impressive. But, despite this accomplishment I was, and am still not, satisfied.


In all honesty the only thing impressive about my story for NaNoWriMo was the word count. I personally describe what I wrote like this: It was a steaming pile of dog crap. Apologies for the visual. I know, I know, it was a draft. Drafts are supposed to be craptastic. But this one really took the craptastic cake. I genuinely feel that I started out with a good idea, and given the time to really, adequately, nurture and grow the idea it could have been a decent story. Then again, I also feel that I'm being very optimistic on the subject.


I think when you get to the point in a story when you just can't pull anymore out of it, no matter how had you try, it's time to walk away. Maybe not walk away forever, but for just long enough to let the ideas and characters grow on their own without you forcing them.


In November I wanted to walk away from this story on several occasions, but I couldn't. I have a competitive nature, and I wanted to do NaNoWriMo. I wanted to feel like I had accomplished something. When it was all said and done, yes, I did. Here's the real kicker, though: By the time November was drawing to a close I very nearly wanted to give up writing completely.


That is a very horrid and depressing feeling for me, and I'm sure some of you think I'm being melodramatic- but I could care less. The focus on word count just seemed to suck the fun out of it. When you get to the point of writing random dream sequences, smut scenes (laughably bad ones at that), and "Hey! Let's kill someone off somewhat randomly in a bloody and descriptive way!" scenes then something is wrong. Though, I will admit that killing off characters is quite fun. Don't judge me.


I think the combination of a dead story, lackluster characters, and the month of November in general (Let's be honest, if you're American November is not the best month to write in.) is what did me in. Of course my month of November was...exceptional. The week of Thanksgiving? 300+ words. That's it. The week after Thanksgiving, the final stretch of NaNo, a couple of thousand at the most. November 29th, my laptop's power cord kicked the bucket and my laptop could only hold a charge for 10 minutes. So, on November 29th I decided that I was done- much to my relief and sadness.

I've been trying to think of the things that NaNoWriMo has taught me. Here's what I've come up with:

• I am perfectly capable of writing 2,000-4,000 words in a day. I hope to take this "new-found" ability with me into my other writing projects.
• If you don't love what you're doing, then it really isn't worth it. It's also soul sucking. I just realised that my NaNoWriMo story was the equivalent of a Dementor...
• Quality is better than quantity. Even though the draft of my urban fantasy novel does mot have the same word count as my NaNo story, it's infinitely better- and it's just a draft.
• November is really a no-go for me. 

National Novel Writing Month was an experience  Not a wholly positive one, and not a wholly negative one either. Just an experience.

My NaNo in a nutshell.

Now we get to shift gears into December.

Let me start off by saying that I love December. I love shopping- for my loved ones and for me (I like to shop. Don't judge me). I love cooking yummy desserts, wrapping presents, and listening to my Bing Crosby holiday station on Pandora. I really love seeing and spending time with all of my family. Plus, my birthday is in December and I think that's just lovely. 

I didn't go into December thinking that I would get much writing done, and I didn't. Well, I did sketch out a scene as I mentioned earlier. But I did keep getting ideas, and the need to write was coming over me once more. 

December of 2012 is going to be refereed to as The Month of the Laptop Perils. Or something like that anyways. As I said my laptop cord died on November 29th, and its replacement didn't come in until mid/late December. Thank goodness for all of the spiral bound notebooks I stocked up on back during the beginning of the school year and the drafts I had saved on a thumb drive that I was able to print out. I carted those suckers around with me most of the month. But, as I'm sure you can imagine, the absence of a laptop began to take its toll on this twenty-something. But, the power cord finally came in and I was back to my facade of normalcy. 

Oh but wait! There's more! Just after Christmas my laptop decided that it wanted to freeze. All the time. Yeah, I panicked. Luckily I'm married to an IT guy and he was able to get it stable enough to pull all of my writing, documents, pictures, and music off of it before it froze again. A few days after that, while he was trying to re-format it (or something like that) the hard drive went caput. 

It was a sad end to 2012 having to say goodbye to my laptop, Galinda (She was pink, and I love 'Wicked', so it worked). She'd been with me through so much; seen so many notes, ideas, chapters, and random bits of dialogue saved in her documents file. She was fantastic, and I will miss her. Now, I have Idris (I love Doctor Who, leave me alone) and there are new adventures to be had.

Adventures are exciting.

Now it's January of 2013. A new year filled with new possibilities. I've made resolutions like every other person on the planet- loosing weight and getting back into shape being one of them. I made one other resolution for this year as well. This year shall be the Year of the Draft. By the time 2013 draws to a close, I want my urban fantasy novel's first draft to be complete. I'm 20,000+ words in, so this is very attainable. More importantly, it's very exciting. 

Allons-y! 

Aimee

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P.S. Random bit of random: Can I just say that I am in love with 'The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey'? I'm a rabid fangirl, and am not ashamed to admit it. 

End Of Week One, I'm Still Alive

   Week one of NaNoWriMo has come to an end. I have managed to survive, thus far, on a healthy diet of coffee, tea, smoothies, Nightwish, and Led Zeppelin. I am also happy to report that, for the most part, my sanity is intact. 

   Has it been sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns? Oh, how shall I put this? Ah. I've got it: Hell No. My first NaNo got off to a very rocky start. Once I was finally able to sit down at my computer everything seemed to be falling apart. My outlines weren't working, and what I thought were chapters were actually just scenes- and a lot of my initial beginning was completely scrapped. I was woefully behind the word count goals I had set for myself, I was even behind the standard 1,667 words a day goal. Then the frustration and stress set in, and I fet very close to an emotional breakdown. In fact, I looked something like this:

   It was not a pretty sight. 

   I related all of my woes to my mentor on the NaNo forums. All I have to say is thank goodness for Holly. Right off the bat she was like: You are taking this way too seriously. She was absolutely right, I was. My inner perfectionist was coming out and and was trying to murder me in a slow and painful manner. Then she told me not to even think of this as a first draft, but a zero draft. Then it all suddenly clicked. I pulled what I had written thus far from my yWriter program and slapped it onto Open Office, and just wrote. 

   I'll be perfectly honest, it's not pretty. In fact I'd even go as far to say that it's pretty damn hideous (hello oxymoron!). But, I'm getting it all out of my system and that's what counts. Slowly my word count started going up and up. I was able to do anywhere from 2,000 to nearly 4,000 words in a day. By the time Thursday the 8th came around I was sitting on just over 16,000 words. In a week I had reached the point where I could say with confidence that I was a third of the way there. 

Then came Friday. 

Yesterday was just not a good writing day. In fact most of the day I sat at my computer looking quite like this:

Rest assured, I didn't plant any corn yesterday. I swear.

   I was only able to get my word count up to 16,585. 500+ words. That was it. Why was only able to pull this meager amount of words out of my mind? Hang on! Hang on! I know the answer to this! 

   I hate my characters. I hate this story. I've threatened it with death by knife, gun, and flamethrower several times.

   I know what you're thinking, hate is such a strong word. Yes, it is. It is also quite possible that I'm exaggerating just a little. However, the fact still remains that I have no emotional attachment to this story what so ever. Truth be told, this makes me a sad panda. I know that these characters, that this story, have the potential to be something. As it stands right now, they most definitely are not. I've been telling myself over and over that this is a zero draft. Actually. Scratch that, this is a -5 draft. All of the problems that this story has (inconsistency and plot holes, I'm looking at you bitches) can be fixed. I've just got to keep going Jason Voorhees on my inner editor, that pesky bugger, in the mean time.

   Luckily, though, I've had some epiphanies about a few of my characters that has me very excited. Also, due to my emotional estrangement, I know who I'm going to kill off. Is it wrong of me to be excited about that? Oh well, I am and I have no shame about it. Yes, my inner voice has been singing "I know who's gonna get it!" since yesterday. 

It's true. I don't.

   So, that has been my writing week in a nutshell of crazy. I should expect next week to be much the same- you have been warned.  

   I cannot tell you, though, how happy I am to have a little reprieve from writing like a maniac. It's so nice to be able to sit down at my computer and spend a ridiculous amount of time on Pinterest, Facebook, Tumblr, and YouTube without having my inner voice telling me to get to work. After all, all work and no play makes Aimee a dull girl. I'll most likely get back to the grind tonight or in the morning. It's worth it, though. Totally worth the insanity.

Aimee

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Let's Pretend That This Is High Quality Stuff

Due to popular demand, here is an excerpt from the Fanfiction that I am working on. Honestly, this is a stand alone piece, as I have not introduced any concepts or characters from the series that inspired this. If anything this just serves to introduce my original character. This is also the portion where I worry about the Mary-Sue level of my character, and hope to goodness that I haven't created one. Mary-Sue's are scary creatures and are to be avoided at all costs- unless you are writing a crack fic, then it's perfectly acceptable.

This story takes place in the universe established in the mini-series Rose Red. Rose Red is a horror series that aired on ABC back in 2002 and was written by Stephen King. Here's the show in a nutshell for those who haven't seen it: If you take Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, Sarah Winchester and her Mystery House (this place is on my bucket list, it's just that cool), and a few good classic Stephen King elements such as psychics (including some very strong telekinetics) and Indian burial grounds, that is Rose Red. Is is the best horror mini-series ever made? Decidedly not. But, for some reason, I absolutely love it.

So, without further ado, here's a sample of my work. Just a disclaimer, I don't write for children- this goes for my original fiction pieces as well. So, if any of my original works ever get published, they will not appear in the Young Adult section of your bookstore. That being said, I don't go out of my way to be vulgar, or curse at every possible opportunity  Everything in moderation. Moderation is key.  

***

The room was littered with books, papers, and clothes but it all went unnoticed. Violet Shaw lay sprawled across the mattress, her headphones cupped over her ears bombarding them with a cacophony of guitars, drums, and bass. She found it completely intoxicating. The industrial thrum of the music sent shivers down her spine as she took a drag from her cigarette, it was almost orgasmic.

The music blocked everything out. The traffic, the neighbors, everything was gone. The song changed, the tempo slowed and there was a sensuality to the beat. Violet arched her back, feeling her spine pop, her shirt riding up her torso. She moaned as she eased herself back down and rolled over onto her stomach.

The alarm clock came into her line of sight and she glared at the green glowing digital face. She had only ten minutes before she needed to leave. She took another drag and stubbed out the fag in the cheap plastic ashtray that sat on the floor, smashing the ash and paper right over the top of the illustrated Space Needle, and pulled herself from the bed with her Walkman clutched firmly in her hand.

The bathroom lights were harsh, casting a sickening glow to the yellow tile and wallpaper. She quickly brushed her teeth and reapplied her deodorant- the stick she picked up from the organic market didn't last worth a shit, but since it said “all natural” on the label she decided that it would all be alright.

Her black hair had frizzed slightly after laying on the bed so she yanked her hairbrush through the thick tresses, snagging it once or twice on a knot. She applied another coat or five of mascara and a swipe of lipgloss and stared at her reflection. That was as good as it was gonna get. Though, she did decide that her well worn, beloved Sex Pistols tee shirt was a bit inappropriate for her appointment. She walked over to her closet and pulled out a cream colored long sleeved lace shirt and shrugged it on. Her jeans, she decided, were fine- they were perfectly clean despite the holes in the knees. She slipped on a pair of black shoes and spritzed a pit of perfume behind her ears. Again, that was as good as it was gonna get.

Reluctantly, she switched off her Walkman and laid it reverently on the bed. The sounds of the outside world came crashing down around her. In their own way, she supposed, they were beautiful and she truthfully didn't really mind them.

The emotions, the impressions, the images, however, were a completely different story. She could feel the lust coming from her neighbor upstairs as he watched the porn tape that he had popped in his VCR five minutes ago; the neighbor to her right had just gotten home from work and wanted nothing more than to pull the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and drown his mind in it, but he promised himself that he was done with that and he tried to ignore the tremble that had settled in his hands; to the left was nothing but pure concentration, finals were around the corner and she had to pass this class, everything depended on it, then she broke down into tears; downstairs a little old lady was knitting a blanket for her new grandchild, she was filled with mostly contentment other than the small grudge she still held against her daughter-in-law. Violet pushed them all out of her mind, humming the song that she had been listening to a few minutes ago to distract her. She pulled on a blue jean jacked, grabbed her purse, and stormed out the door, down the stairs and out of the building.

Bouncing Off The Walls

I am officially bouncing off the walls. Though, I admit that a lot of it could be the Grande Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino that I just sucked down. So yeah, I'm bouncing.


One more day until NaNoWriMo! I'm about to the point of counting down the hours until I can get started. I have seriously been chomping at the bit here- it's getting to the point where I am going to have to sit on my hands or something. We all know that tactic isn't going to work.


So what have I been doing to feed my writing addiction until November 1st? Why writing Fanfiction of course!


Fanfiction, in this particular situation, is neutral ground for me. I'm able to keep my writing gears greased, but I won't have to worry about getting truly distracted. Let's face it, right now would not be the time to pull out my main novel and start working on it- it would completely throw me off. With Fanfiction I can start it, put it away, and then pick it up again in December (since I won't be pulling my main novel back out until January).


Let's just be honest Fanfiction, and really anything in the universe of Fandoms (i.e. Fanart), is just plain fun. It gives us the opportunity to play with our favorite characters (you can take that statement any way you want), and gives us a chance to practice keeping a character in character. What it all boils down to is that being a fan is just plain fun.

So, this long spiel was just to say that I'm writing un-publishable content to keep myself occupied until November 1st. If anyone is interested to read the Fanfic that I am working on, let me know in the comments and I'll post an exerpt.

Aimee
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Going Off The Rails...

I keep staring at my calendar with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. NaNoWriMo is upon us, and this is my first rodeo. Just the phrase "50,000 words in 30 days" is enough to make anyone do their best Keanu Reeves impression (which really doesn't take much, let's just be honest): Whoa.


The word count minimum is enough to make anyone pale, though in the scheme of things it's really not nothing at all. When I write, I tend to be my own personal task master. I demand an absolute minimum of 500 words per writing session, but I honestly shoot for 1,000+. Nothing makes me happier than to be able to tell my husband, as soon as he walks in the door, my word count for the day. It just gives me the warm fuzzies.


So, 50,000 words isn't all that intimidating. The discipline that it's going to take to get in in 30 days, however, most definitely is. And while we're at it, let's throw in a lovely little curve ball. I won't be writing on Saturdays. Now it's 50,000 words in 26 days. Oh look, here comes the crazy train! Here's another little curve ball- why the hell not? I intend on producing a complete first draft novel.


 Let's recap: 26 days. Minimum 50,000 words. Complete draft.

All aboard! Feel free to start humming some Ozzy any time now. I'll even join in.


Ernest Hemingway said: "There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.". I have this quote, along with several others, tacked up on the cork board next to my desk, and I've never heard a truer statement. While writers don't literally bleed while they work (at least I sincerely hope not- very sincerely I might add), we bleed in other ways. Remember my previous post about a writer's soul being on a piece of paper? There ya go. But, I digress.


All stories are a part of the writer who created them. Sometimes it's difficult to get everything out, sometimes it's downright scary. I have several stories floating around in this little noggin of mine, and in a few days I'm going to begin the process of ripping one of them from the recesses of my mind, and pulling it down into my fingertips so that they can appear on the computer screen in front of me in glaring black and white. That's the tricky thing about writing. In your mind everything is so colorful and surreal, and then you have to translate it into colorless symbols that will, hopefully, grow back into their colorful origins in someone else's mind.


That whole concept is daunting to say the least. But, despite all of my fear and trepidation, I feel strangely ready for this. I'm looking at NaNoWriMo like an adventure, actually scratch that. This is a challenge. I actually like a challenge.

One thing that people don't realize about me, most likely because I'm a quiet person, is that I can be quite competitive and if someone says that I can't do something my immediate reaction is to prove them wrong. Though no one has poo-pooed my writing, well at least not those who really know me, I feel as though I have something to prove. I intend on doing just that, and not just with my NaNoWriMo novel but with my other novel as well. Proof that,contrary to some people's belief, that I don't sit about twiddling my thumbs. Proof that I am worth something.


I suppose that I ought to step off my soapbox, for a little bit at least. I'm sure you all would appreciate it.


All of this was really to say that the crunch time countdown to NaNoWriMo has begun. I think it's time to start polishing my armor and get out my war paint (other than what I wear on a near daily basis anyways). November is going to be a damn good time.


Aimee
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