I'm actually not that stressed about my finals. I really only have one final when I really think about it. The other two are pretty much a "show up and get an A" situation. I'm not complaining.
However, my roommate is attempting suicide on a grand scale.
So she got married on February and has spent every weekend driving between Buffalo and Houghton. She leaves right after class on Fridays and then is back either late Sunday or just before class on Monday. That alone is an emotional roller coaster ride for her and her husband, but now it's finals week.
This morning she ran into our flat, looking like a frazzled chicken avoiding the cutting block. Her eyes were trying to but out of her head and she was out of breath as she dragged everything from the weekend into the apartment. After I said, "Hey there. Need help with anything?"
She said, "No, I've got it." As she plopped her stuff down onto the sectional in our apartment, she straightened and said, "I'm leaving at two."
I sat a little straighter in my chair before I got to my feet and said, "Um..."
"Tomorrow morning I mean," she said as she ran to the counter and set her coffee cup down and then picked it up and took a long swig.
"Two AM?" I asked as I moved my backpack, getting ready to leave our apartment for our 10 o'clock class. She nodded and I said, "Um. Why?"
"'Cause I don't have anything going on tomorrow. My poster presentation isn't till Wednesday."
I'm still a little baffled. So she's leaving at all hours tonight to drive back to Buffalo, plans to spend one day there with her hubby, and then tomorrow night she'll turn around and come back to Houghton to give her senior thesis poster presentation.
Here I thought I was insane for wanting to finish my fifth book by the end of the week.
By 1:30 this afternoon, I found her snoozing in one of the booths in Big Al's. I mean, if anyone could pull off driving an hour and a half every two days just to see her husband and still get an A in all of her classes, it would be my roommate. She's pretty B.A. when it comes to school work. Still though, it doesn't seem healthy.
Although I'm not really the best example of a healthy sleep-schedule individual. I barely average six hours a night. Oh well. I guess together we'll try to keep ourselves from dying.
This time next week, I will be done with college worrying things. Everything will be done, aside from a massive print session to get copies of my books for a bunch of my friends. Crazy to know and wonderful to experience. And surprisingly enough, I'm not scared or worried. Thanks God!
Finals week.
Bring it.
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Nothing. Sorry :(
Currently Listening to: "Paraboss" by LittleKuriboh Ft. ShadyVox & TheAzureCrow
Monday, April 30, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Overly Emotional
Today I was talking with my friend about how last night I was bawling my eyes out at a character death. I was asking her if I had bothered her as she tried to read a book as I sat at my desk a sniffling, blubbering mess. She mentioned that all she really noticed was that I sniffled a lot. I kept most of my emotions on the wayside, constantly stopping and gathering a breath and wiping away my tears so it wasn't absolutely ridiculous.
Anyway, she then asked, "I wonder if like, Tolkien felt that way when he killed Boromear."
"I don't know. It might just be a girl thing. I don't know if guys would be the type to just sit at their computer or desk or whatever and just cry," I said. I thought it over and said, "I'm gonna write a quick Facebook message and see if any of my fellow writing partners might be able to answer that question."
So I did.
First off, people either don't get on Facebook regularly or they just don't pay attention to when I ask questions. Regardless, I posited this question to see if the many guy writers I knew would offer an answer. It wasn't something I needed to know, but I was curious. Was this just me being overly emotional? I mean, I literally do just sit at my computer with my jaw quivering, tears rolling out of my eyes, sniffles hitting my nose and sobs racking my body whenever I kill a character.
It took a little while, but eventually one of my old profs from Houghton (who now works at Taylor University), said, "I normally don't when I'm writing, but - if I've done my work well - I often do cry when I go back and read the scene fresh after some time has passed. If I haven't done my work well, then I reread and think of the craft elements rather than losing myself in the 'vivid and continuous dream' of the story."
Okay. A grown man, well respected among his peers, a good writer, does cry upon rereading - if he's done a good job writing the scene. Not too bad. I can handle that. So I'm not overly emotional.
Not necessarily.
I was unable to obtain any other perspectives as apparently all of my fellow guy writer friends were either unwilling to answer or didn't see my post. The problem of Facebook. Anyway, I actually feel rather strongly about this. As a female and thus I am prone to being more emotional than a guy (just stereotyping, don't mind me), I feel as though if you can't cry at your own character's death, then how could the audience?
It's a justified question I think. I heard once - whether at a conference or in a class I don't know - that if you as the writer can't get sucked into your own story, then how could you expect the audience to? It's true. If the story you've written doesn't captivate you and pull you in as a writer, then it probably won't grab anyone.
I think the same goes for your character deaths.
Guys probably aren't as likely to sit with a box of Kleenex (or Puffs, whichever you prefer), as they read through a sad part of a book. They might shed a tear, but in a manly way. Whereas a girl will grab the box of Kleenex and bunker down for the long haul, expecting to take a few breaks just to clear the tears from our eyes so we can actually read the words written.
Is this a stereotype, or is it simply that girls are 'more in touch with their emotions'? I think that it doesn't really matter. If a scene is written well enough and if the character resonates, I think it'll impact both man and woman, regardless of how they usually react to things like that. Death isn't a fun thing. And as I write for an ensemble cast in Omniscient Third, I try to give the audience a feel for how everyone is reacting to this particular death, not just one person.
In a way, I think it makes the death of a character a) that much harder to write and b) that much harder to read. Because it's not just you experiencing it now. It's not just the character's death that's happened. It's the character's death and the impact that will have on those around them. It's a whirlwind that the author has to do well to control, otherwise it's just a mass of words jumbled together that are supposed to make you feel something.
Now, as I've said all of this, I don't endorse that I do any of it well. Yes, I have brought my friends to tears throughout my series because of various character deaths, but that doesn't mean I handle the situations well. I am, after all, still a young writer. There's a lot left to learn about myself as a writer and myself as a story-teller.
But I'm definitely going to try my best to do my characters justice. After all, to me, they're real and have been for a long time. They aren't just words on a page, they're living, breathing individuals with pasts, presents and futures. They have hopes and dreams and some of them die. And it hurts.
Good God, does it hurt.
Moving away from the long chat about it all: I'm actually rapidly approaching the end of my fifth book. I didn't think it was going to happen this fast. I haven't even come up to a month yet. And at this rate I'll finish it before the month marker hits. Granted, it helps that I started figuring out the last book a while ago and had a lot of it mapped out, but still.
The only thing I can think is that with all of my free time (because I do have a lot of it), I'm hammering away at the book faster. If I didn't have all the free time I've found in the closing of this semester, then having a deadline like this would be insane. Thankfully, I do have that free time.
Here's to finishing the fifth book before next week!
Happy writing :)
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Um. Nothing. Sorry. I'm being a goober and I'm spending all of my time writing. Wait! No. I'm reading a story by a fellow classmate of mine and writer for senior seminar. I guess that qualifies.
Currently Listening to: "Dive" by Steven Curtis Chapman
Anyway, she then asked, "I wonder if like, Tolkien felt that way when he killed Boromear."
"I don't know. It might just be a girl thing. I don't know if guys would be the type to just sit at their computer or desk or whatever and just cry," I said. I thought it over and said, "I'm gonna write a quick Facebook message and see if any of my fellow writing partners might be able to answer that question."
So I did.
First off, people either don't get on Facebook regularly or they just don't pay attention to when I ask questions. Regardless, I posited this question to see if the many guy writers I knew would offer an answer. It wasn't something I needed to know, but I was curious. Was this just me being overly emotional? I mean, I literally do just sit at my computer with my jaw quivering, tears rolling out of my eyes, sniffles hitting my nose and sobs racking my body whenever I kill a character.
It took a little while, but eventually one of my old profs from Houghton (who now works at Taylor University), said, "I normally don't when I'm writing, but - if I've done my work well - I often do cry when I go back and read the scene fresh after some time has passed. If I haven't done my work well, then I reread and think of the craft elements rather than losing myself in the 'vivid and continuous dream' of the story."
Okay. A grown man, well respected among his peers, a good writer, does cry upon rereading - if he's done a good job writing the scene. Not too bad. I can handle that. So I'm not overly emotional.
Not necessarily.
I was unable to obtain any other perspectives as apparently all of my fellow guy writer friends were either unwilling to answer or didn't see my post. The problem of Facebook. Anyway, I actually feel rather strongly about this. As a female and thus I am prone to being more emotional than a guy (just stereotyping, don't mind me), I feel as though if you can't cry at your own character's death, then how could the audience?
It's a justified question I think. I heard once - whether at a conference or in a class I don't know - that if you as the writer can't get sucked into your own story, then how could you expect the audience to? It's true. If the story you've written doesn't captivate you and pull you in as a writer, then it probably won't grab anyone.
I think the same goes for your character deaths.
Guys probably aren't as likely to sit with a box of Kleenex (or Puffs, whichever you prefer), as they read through a sad part of a book. They might shed a tear, but in a manly way. Whereas a girl will grab the box of Kleenex and bunker down for the long haul, expecting to take a few breaks just to clear the tears from our eyes so we can actually read the words written.
Is this a stereotype, or is it simply that girls are 'more in touch with their emotions'? I think that it doesn't really matter. If a scene is written well enough and if the character resonates, I think it'll impact both man and woman, regardless of how they usually react to things like that. Death isn't a fun thing. And as I write for an ensemble cast in Omniscient Third, I try to give the audience a feel for how everyone is reacting to this particular death, not just one person.
In a way, I think it makes the death of a character a) that much harder to write and b) that much harder to read. Because it's not just you experiencing it now. It's not just the character's death that's happened. It's the character's death and the impact that will have on those around them. It's a whirlwind that the author has to do well to control, otherwise it's just a mass of words jumbled together that are supposed to make you feel something.
Now, as I've said all of this, I don't endorse that I do any of it well. Yes, I have brought my friends to tears throughout my series because of various character deaths, but that doesn't mean I handle the situations well. I am, after all, still a young writer. There's a lot left to learn about myself as a writer and myself as a story-teller.
But I'm definitely going to try my best to do my characters justice. After all, to me, they're real and have been for a long time. They aren't just words on a page, they're living, breathing individuals with pasts, presents and futures. They have hopes and dreams and some of them die. And it hurts.
Good God, does it hurt.
Moving away from the long chat about it all: I'm actually rapidly approaching the end of my fifth book. I didn't think it was going to happen this fast. I haven't even come up to a month yet. And at this rate I'll finish it before the month marker hits. Granted, it helps that I started figuring out the last book a while ago and had a lot of it mapped out, but still.
The only thing I can think is that with all of my free time (because I do have a lot of it), I'm hammering away at the book faster. If I didn't have all the free time I've found in the closing of this semester, then having a deadline like this would be insane. Thankfully, I do have that free time.
Here's to finishing the fifth book before next week!
Happy writing :)
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Um. Nothing. Sorry. I'm being a goober and I'm spending all of my time writing. Wait! No. I'm reading a story by a fellow classmate of mine and writer for senior seminar. I guess that qualifies.
Currently Listening to: "Dive" by Steven Curtis Chapman
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Something Happy
I'm sick of sitting at my computer crying at all hours of the night. I think after I'm done writing my book series, I'm going to write a memoir of sorts. Not necessarily just of my own. I guess it wouldn't be a memoir. I'm not sure what it would be exactly. Just a collection of stories about my family. That would be fun. That would make me laugh far more often than it would make me cry.
So I'm plugging away at my fifth book. I don't rightly know how far into it I am in relation to where the end is, but I know that I'm making headway. I wrote two chapters yesterday, I wrote another two today, and hopefully I can hammer out two more tomorrow. If I keep this up, there's a good chance I'll be done by the weekend of the 5th, which is my unofficial, "Holy crap, you're really going to try this?" deadline. My official "Holy crap, you're really going to try this?" is Graduation. But we'll see about that.
I need to design a magazine cover for my final in Graphic Design and I don't know what to do with it. The little blurbs meant for article stuff on the inside of the magazine are supposed to tell people about me. But I don't know what to write. At first I was just gonna do what everyone does: take a picture of myself and put it on the cover and pretend like one day I'll be semi-successful.
But then my prof saw a photo I had taken of my second book title page and said it was really interesting and he liked that direction. I don't know what to do with it because I was just playing around for kicks.
I've never been good at talking about myself. This blog is the closest I've ever come and mostly I treat it like an online journal. I know few people read it so I never really feel like I'm actually talking about myself. I just come on here and write about my day or my week or whatever. No one actually reads it. Which is fine by me. It gives me something to do when I need to take a break from crying.
Now though, I need to talk about myself and sound assertive, but not egotistical. I need to sound assured, but not cocky. I need to tell people about myself while titling the make believe magazine "The Writing Corner". What else would a magazine by writers, for writers talk about but writing? Reality and a project very rarely co-mingle, and I'm seeing why.
Oh well. I'll figure something out. I've got a few hours tomorrow blocked out for messing around in the computer lab. Maybe I'll be semi-successful.
Happy writing!
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Still Eldest, by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "The Burning Bush" from The Prince of Egypt soundtrack
So I'm plugging away at my fifth book. I don't rightly know how far into it I am in relation to where the end is, but I know that I'm making headway. I wrote two chapters yesterday, I wrote another two today, and hopefully I can hammer out two more tomorrow. If I keep this up, there's a good chance I'll be done by the weekend of the 5th, which is my unofficial, "Holy crap, you're really going to try this?" deadline. My official "Holy crap, you're really going to try this?" is Graduation. But we'll see about that.
I need to design a magazine cover for my final in Graphic Design and I don't know what to do with it. The little blurbs meant for article stuff on the inside of the magazine are supposed to tell people about me. But I don't know what to write. At first I was just gonna do what everyone does: take a picture of myself and put it on the cover and pretend like one day I'll be semi-successful.
But then my prof saw a photo I had taken of my second book title page and said it was really interesting and he liked that direction. I don't know what to do with it because I was just playing around for kicks.
I've never been good at talking about myself. This blog is the closest I've ever come and mostly I treat it like an online journal. I know few people read it so I never really feel like I'm actually talking about myself. I just come on here and write about my day or my week or whatever. No one actually reads it. Which is fine by me. It gives me something to do when I need to take a break from crying.
Now though, I need to talk about myself and sound assertive, but not egotistical. I need to sound assured, but not cocky. I need to tell people about myself while titling the make believe magazine "The Writing Corner". What else would a magazine by writers, for writers talk about but writing? Reality and a project very rarely co-mingle, and I'm seeing why.
Oh well. I'll figure something out. I've got a few hours tomorrow blocked out for messing around in the computer lab. Maybe I'll be semi-successful.
Happy writing!
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Still Eldest, by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "The Burning Bush" from The Prince of Egypt soundtrack
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Rewards
So who wants to get me The Sims 3 plus Pets as a graduation present so I have something to do while I'm in Buffalo for a week waiting for a wedding? Please?
I keep telling myself that I won't ask for (or buy with the few dollars I have), The Sims 3 until I finish my fifth book. Mostly because it'll be a way to reward myself in a small way and then I won't feel bad playing it for hours and hours a day, rather than writing. That game sucks up so much of my life it isn't funny.
So tomorrow marks the beginning of the last week of my college career. There's that pesky Monday the 30th hanging out as the last day, but I count this as my last official week. I'm not going to want to do anything on Monday except be done. My finals will be fairly painless aside from a math one lurking in the distance, so that means that next week will be my packing and fun week while Senior week will be my frantic packing and freaking out week as I try to make sure I have everything of mine that needs to go home and everything that needs to go with me to Buffalo.
And then I'll sit around for a week, waiting for the 19th when one of my friends gets married.
If I make my deadline (which I sincerely hope I do), and finish my fifth book before graduation, then that'll mean that the week I'm in Buffalo I won't have anything pressing to do. At least, I don't think I will. I'm not putting it past myself to suddenly want to tackle the rewrite of my second book or a whole new book entirely in the prequel category of my world.
OH MY GOSH and The Sims 3 plus Pets just dropped to 25 dollars. I need money. Someone, please? Give me a job or pay me to do something? Ugh. This whole process of growing up is hard.
Meanwhile, in the life of me, I've been plugging away at my fifth book and it feels like it's moving along fairly well so far. I'm maybe a third of the way through the book so that's good timing and if I keep up this pace, I'll be able to have it done by graduation. That would be awesome.
In other news, my sister just finished her weekend of performances of The Miracle Worker, in which she played Ann Sullivan, the caretaker and teacher of Hellen Keller. It was a great show and good gracious my sister is a talented actress! It's a shame she doesn't see it herself. She was absolutely mind-blowingly amazing in her performance and had the audience going right along with her. It was really cool to see her be the lead in such a complex show where she has to effectively carry the cast throughout the whole play. She really got into the role and brought it to life, and I think she did Ann Sullivan justice.
Welp, I'm off to keep writing till about 3 am. One day I'll learn to sleep like a normal person.
Happy writing!
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Honestly, nothing. All of my free time is spent in writing. I'm still trudging through Eldest by Christopher Paolini whenever I can pry myself away from my computer.
Currently Listening to: "Unstoppable" by E.S. Posthumus
I keep telling myself that I won't ask for (or buy with the few dollars I have), The Sims 3 until I finish my fifth book. Mostly because it'll be a way to reward myself in a small way and then I won't feel bad playing it for hours and hours a day, rather than writing. That game sucks up so much of my life it isn't funny.
So tomorrow marks the beginning of the last week of my college career. There's that pesky Monday the 30th hanging out as the last day, but I count this as my last official week. I'm not going to want to do anything on Monday except be done. My finals will be fairly painless aside from a math one lurking in the distance, so that means that next week will be my packing and fun week while Senior week will be my frantic packing and freaking out week as I try to make sure I have everything of mine that needs to go home and everything that needs to go with me to Buffalo.
And then I'll sit around for a week, waiting for the 19th when one of my friends gets married.
If I make my deadline (which I sincerely hope I do), and finish my fifth book before graduation, then that'll mean that the week I'm in Buffalo I won't have anything pressing to do. At least, I don't think I will. I'm not putting it past myself to suddenly want to tackle the rewrite of my second book or a whole new book entirely in the prequel category of my world.
OH MY GOSH and The Sims 3 plus Pets just dropped to 25 dollars. I need money. Someone, please? Give me a job or pay me to do something? Ugh. This whole process of growing up is hard.
Meanwhile, in the life of me, I've been plugging away at my fifth book and it feels like it's moving along fairly well so far. I'm maybe a third of the way through the book so that's good timing and if I keep up this pace, I'll be able to have it done by graduation. That would be awesome.
In other news, my sister just finished her weekend of performances of The Miracle Worker, in which she played Ann Sullivan, the caretaker and teacher of Hellen Keller. It was a great show and good gracious my sister is a talented actress! It's a shame she doesn't see it herself. She was absolutely mind-blowingly amazing in her performance and had the audience going right along with her. It was really cool to see her be the lead in such a complex show where she has to effectively carry the cast throughout the whole play. She really got into the role and brought it to life, and I think she did Ann Sullivan justice.
Welp, I'm off to keep writing till about 3 am. One day I'll learn to sleep like a normal person.
Happy writing!
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Honestly, nothing. All of my free time is spent in writing. I'm still trudging through Eldest by Christopher Paolini whenever I can pry myself away from my computer.
Currently Listening to: "Unstoppable" by E.S. Posthumus
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Prolific
When you look that word up in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, you get this definition: "marked by abundant inventiveness or productivity."
My professor for senior seminar keeps calling me this. I can only assume, as he hasn't read my books yet, that he's referring to my productivity. Based on the definition, I agree. My productivity in writing as of late has been rather shocking. Nothing I can explain, sadly. I wish I could give everyone the secret to crazy writing abundance. I really do. But I don't even know how I reached the place I find myself in.
Today, I was tagged in one of my friend's facebook posts. She's a writing major as well and last I spoke with her, she was doing fairly well with her project for our senior seminar class. Anyway, I got onto facebook, just to see if anything interesting was happening and to keep tabs on my family, and I got a notification about being tagged in a post. When I looked at it, she was saying that she wanted to emulate me and "write a book in 24 hours". She was being sarcastic of course. I couldn't imagine writing a book in 24 hours. I don't think it's possible. I just found it kind of strange that someone wanted to emulate me.
On top of that, I keep forgetting that I'm a strange kind of writer. During our group meeting for the fantasy writers of our class, one of my classmates was mentioning that he wrote 800 words on one day and 1,000 on another. And that was a good week.
Then I'm disappointed in myself when I only write 2,500 words in two hours.
Is it really so strange to just sit and write? I don't agonize. I don't think I can. I'm just so stinking motivated to write out my books, I don't think I can stop myself. My will to write outweighs nearly everything else in my life. I'm actually really bummed that this weekend I won't be able to do any writing. I'm going to Messiah to see my sister perform in "The Miracle Worker", and that's 8 hours out of my weekend gone just in traveling. Not to mention the fact that a majority of my family will be around so I won't get anything done.
I dunno. It just makes me re-evaluate whether I'm doing the right thing or not. Because the people who agonize over their writing come out with much better pieces than I do. My work in the past year has accumulated to a large quantity, yes, but to what quality? The rewriting necessary in the coming years will be enough to probably make me want to rip my teeth out. All because I was so stinking eager to write them without thinking them through properly.
Then again, I know I wouldn't have arrived to the conclusions of necessary changes without having written things out and seen where the characters were going and what they were doing.
*Shrug* I guess in the end, it's all for the best. In the end, God knows what's going on. That's good enough for me.
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Idumea" by The Millikin University Choir
^Yes, I'm listening to that song again. I've had it on repeat for days. I can't get it out of my head. Someone stop me!
My professor for senior seminar keeps calling me this. I can only assume, as he hasn't read my books yet, that he's referring to my productivity. Based on the definition, I agree. My productivity in writing as of late has been rather shocking. Nothing I can explain, sadly. I wish I could give everyone the secret to crazy writing abundance. I really do. But I don't even know how I reached the place I find myself in.
Today, I was tagged in one of my friend's facebook posts. She's a writing major as well and last I spoke with her, she was doing fairly well with her project for our senior seminar class. Anyway, I got onto facebook, just to see if anything interesting was happening and to keep tabs on my family, and I got a notification about being tagged in a post. When I looked at it, she was saying that she wanted to emulate me and "write a book in 24 hours". She was being sarcastic of course. I couldn't imagine writing a book in 24 hours. I don't think it's possible. I just found it kind of strange that someone wanted to emulate me.
On top of that, I keep forgetting that I'm a strange kind of writer. During our group meeting for the fantasy writers of our class, one of my classmates was mentioning that he wrote 800 words on one day and 1,000 on another. And that was a good week.
Then I'm disappointed in myself when I only write 2,500 words in two hours.
Is it really so strange to just sit and write? I don't agonize. I don't think I can. I'm just so stinking motivated to write out my books, I don't think I can stop myself. My will to write outweighs nearly everything else in my life. I'm actually really bummed that this weekend I won't be able to do any writing. I'm going to Messiah to see my sister perform in "The Miracle Worker", and that's 8 hours out of my weekend gone just in traveling. Not to mention the fact that a majority of my family will be around so I won't get anything done.
I dunno. It just makes me re-evaluate whether I'm doing the right thing or not. Because the people who agonize over their writing come out with much better pieces than I do. My work in the past year has accumulated to a large quantity, yes, but to what quality? The rewriting necessary in the coming years will be enough to probably make me want to rip my teeth out. All because I was so stinking eager to write them without thinking them through properly.
Then again, I know I wouldn't have arrived to the conclusions of necessary changes without having written things out and seen where the characters were going and what they were doing.
*Shrug* I guess in the end, it's all for the best. In the end, God knows what's going on. That's good enough for me.
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Idumea" by The Millikin University Choir
^Yes, I'm listening to that song again. I've had it on repeat for days. I can't get it out of my head. Someone stop me!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Freaking Out for no Apparent Reason
I think I have a problem.
So I'm hammering away at my fifth book. I'm into the twelfth chapter and I think I'm under 25,000 words. That doesn't bode very well. In fact, I'm fairly certain that's not good at all.
Am I not describing stuff well? Or am I just moving so quickly that I forget that sometimes I need to slow down? I don't know what's rightly going on. I'm worried that this book is going to come out to be the shortest of all of them. I thought my fourth book was going to be the shortest and wasn't too concerned when it cracked over 81,000 words. But the last book in a series is supposed to be something profound.
Now, a first draft is by no means what's going off to publication. But I was expecting it to be substantially bigger than the fourth book. I actually thought it would hit over the 100,000 word mark, like my second and third books did. So what'll happen if it doesn't? What does that say?
So far writing the fifth book has been really interesting. Coming to the end of a story I imagine is among the strangest of feelings for a writer to reach. I don't really know though. See, since I've never written a stand alone novel, I don't know what it's like to reach the end. It will be so strange when I write "The End" after the last sentence of my series.
It's both a wonderful and terrifying experience.
It's a little concerning seeing my word count be so minuscule at the moment. Haha, I think my professor would laugh at me saying 25,000 words was minuscule. I'm sure for some people, 25,000 words is a years worth of writing, not two weeks. And somewhere in my brain, I know that if the book is around 30 chapters long, then that means that I'll probably be close to 70,000 words. And considering the fact that my first take at the final battle culminated to 10,000 words on it's own...
Eh, what the heck am I worrying about anyway? I don't even know. I think I just wanted to write so I could tell you what AWESOME song I'm listening to. Seriously. I downloaded it two days ago and I've already listened to it over 60 times. I think that's my current problem, haha.
Happy writing.
Currently Writing: Revelation (chapter twelve)
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Idumea" by the Millikin University Choir
So I'm hammering away at my fifth book. I'm into the twelfth chapter and I think I'm under 25,000 words. That doesn't bode very well. In fact, I'm fairly certain that's not good at all.
Am I not describing stuff well? Or am I just moving so quickly that I forget that sometimes I need to slow down? I don't know what's rightly going on. I'm worried that this book is going to come out to be the shortest of all of them. I thought my fourth book was going to be the shortest and wasn't too concerned when it cracked over 81,000 words. But the last book in a series is supposed to be something profound.
Now, a first draft is by no means what's going off to publication. But I was expecting it to be substantially bigger than the fourth book. I actually thought it would hit over the 100,000 word mark, like my second and third books did. So what'll happen if it doesn't? What does that say?
So far writing the fifth book has been really interesting. Coming to the end of a story I imagine is among the strangest of feelings for a writer to reach. I don't really know though. See, since I've never written a stand alone novel, I don't know what it's like to reach the end. It will be so strange when I write "The End" after the last sentence of my series.
It's both a wonderful and terrifying experience.
It's a little concerning seeing my word count be so minuscule at the moment. Haha, I think my professor would laugh at me saying 25,000 words was minuscule. I'm sure for some people, 25,000 words is a years worth of writing, not two weeks. And somewhere in my brain, I know that if the book is around 30 chapters long, then that means that I'll probably be close to 70,000 words. And considering the fact that my first take at the final battle culminated to 10,000 words on it's own...
Eh, what the heck am I worrying about anyway? I don't even know. I think I just wanted to write so I could tell you what AWESOME song I'm listening to. Seriously. I downloaded it two days ago and I've already listened to it over 60 times. I think that's my current problem, haha.
Happy writing.
Currently Writing: Revelation (chapter twelve)
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Idumea" by the Millikin University Choir
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Keeping Tabs
The adventures of writing for a 50+ ensemble cast.
Granted, I just killed a bunch of them off, so maybe it's closer to 40 now.
I think the final book in a series is hard to write. Not just because I'm having difficulty (because it's likely that I'm inept), but because most of the loose ends you've had stringing about throughout the preceding books need to no longer be loose. I'm a fan of leaving some things unexplained simply because it'll give the audience a chance, if they so choose, to make up their own story to explain it.
Anyway, I'm into a section of the book where I dragged a bunch of characters together to talk things over and figure stuff out, primarily their next step. When I started writing the chapter, I just wrote. The problem with that is, I'm a fan of making sure everyone says something. So I usually make a "conversation tally" to keep track of who speaks and how often. I'd hate to mention someone at the beginning of some serious meeting and then ever have them say anything. Why were they there then?
I stopped mid-writing-rampage and made up a conversation tally sheet. It alarmed me that I was short around 6 characters from the last time I had to keep tabs on who was speaking and how often and I was having more difficulty with it now that there were less characters. I think that's simply because what I was writing was harder. I had to take what had already been hinted at, discussed, brought up, abandoned and discarded and ensure that it was brought into the conversation at a likely point.
Now that I finished the chapter, I think I'll have to really hard core edit it later. Just 'cause there's so much going on in it.
I'm off to write the next chapter of the book.
Happy writing!
Currently Writing: Revelation (chapter six)
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: the CD Illusions by Thomas Bergersen
P.S.!!! My BFF Dana just e-published a book of her poems! They're available on Amazon, so if you search "Heart Wanderings" by Dana Kristi, you'll find it :) It's a good little collection of poems and I strongly recommend looking into it.
Granted, I just killed a bunch of them off, so maybe it's closer to 40 now.
I think the final book in a series is hard to write. Not just because I'm having difficulty (because it's likely that I'm inept), but because most of the loose ends you've had stringing about throughout the preceding books need to no longer be loose. I'm a fan of leaving some things unexplained simply because it'll give the audience a chance, if they so choose, to make up their own story to explain it.
Anyway, I'm into a section of the book where I dragged a bunch of characters together to talk things over and figure stuff out, primarily their next step. When I started writing the chapter, I just wrote. The problem with that is, I'm a fan of making sure everyone says something. So I usually make a "conversation tally" to keep track of who speaks and how often. I'd hate to mention someone at the beginning of some serious meeting and then ever have them say anything. Why were they there then?
I stopped mid-writing-rampage and made up a conversation tally sheet. It alarmed me that I was short around 6 characters from the last time I had to keep tabs on who was speaking and how often and I was having more difficulty with it now that there were less characters. I think that's simply because what I was writing was harder. I had to take what had already been hinted at, discussed, brought up, abandoned and discarded and ensure that it was brought into the conversation at a likely point.
Now that I finished the chapter, I think I'll have to really hard core edit it later. Just 'cause there's so much going on in it.
I'm off to write the next chapter of the book.
Happy writing!
Currently Writing: Revelation (chapter six)
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: the CD Illusions by Thomas Bergersen
P.S.!!! My BFF Dana just e-published a book of her poems! They're available on Amazon, so if you search "Heart Wanderings" by Dana Kristi, you'll find it :) It's a good little collection of poems and I strongly recommend looking into it.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Blessed Life
I'm super thankful for a number of things. And it's not even Thanksgiving.
My friends, family members, and my college. Houghton sometimes irritates the snot out of me, but that's mostly due to the administration. The students and the professors are all phenomenal. I'm bummed that in two weeks I'll be done classes, in three weeks I'll be done finals, and in under a month I'll be graduating. But for the time I'm here, I'm thankful for what I've been able to learn and for those professors that have made an obvious impact in my life.
I just got back from a half hour long chat with my senior seminar professor and we basically just talked about writing after college and what my plans were. Sometimes it's nice to be looked at as a semi-adult and not as a child. When I sat down and told him that I finished editing my novella and added a few chapters to the end, he laughed and I asked why. "It's just...you say 'I added a few chapters' the way most people say 'I added a couple paragraphs'."
I couldn't rightly explain it, so I tried and I think I failed. I attempted to remind my professor that I had a fairly easy semester and had a lot of free time, which I utilized as often as possible for writing, hence why I was coming out with a "book count" and not a "word count" as my prof said. He then asked me whether or not I was planning to get my fifth book done by graduation. I hesitantly said, "I hope so. My realistic goal is before I turn 24 in June. My 'gosh-I-hope-I-can' goal is by graduation. Then it can be a double celebration!"
A small bit of fear grips me at the prospect of emailing all five books to my prof at the end of the semester (or when book five is done). I've never offered for a professor to read my books, which I think is something that should be done eventually, but it's daunting. To have someone that has spent the past three years looking at my writing, critiquing it, and pushing me forward is almost terrifying. But on one hand I kind of hope it'll act as a prelude to sending my book to publishers. If my prof can read it and enjoy it (which is my sincere hope), then maybe someone else can read it and enjoy it.
Welp, I gotta go off to lunch. Happy writing everyone.
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Down" by Two Steps From Hell
My friends, family members, and my college. Houghton sometimes irritates the snot out of me, but that's mostly due to the administration. The students and the professors are all phenomenal. I'm bummed that in two weeks I'll be done classes, in three weeks I'll be done finals, and in under a month I'll be graduating. But for the time I'm here, I'm thankful for what I've been able to learn and for those professors that have made an obvious impact in my life.
I just got back from a half hour long chat with my senior seminar professor and we basically just talked about writing after college and what my plans were. Sometimes it's nice to be looked at as a semi-adult and not as a child. When I sat down and told him that I finished editing my novella and added a few chapters to the end, he laughed and I asked why. "It's just...you say 'I added a few chapters' the way most people say 'I added a couple paragraphs'."
I couldn't rightly explain it, so I tried and I think I failed. I attempted to remind my professor that I had a fairly easy semester and had a lot of free time, which I utilized as often as possible for writing, hence why I was coming out with a "book count" and not a "word count" as my prof said. He then asked me whether or not I was planning to get my fifth book done by graduation. I hesitantly said, "I hope so. My realistic goal is before I turn 24 in June. My 'gosh-I-hope-I-can' goal is by graduation. Then it can be a double celebration!"
A small bit of fear grips me at the prospect of emailing all five books to my prof at the end of the semester (or when book five is done). I've never offered for a professor to read my books, which I think is something that should be done eventually, but it's daunting. To have someone that has spent the past three years looking at my writing, critiquing it, and pushing me forward is almost terrifying. But on one hand I kind of hope it'll act as a prelude to sending my book to publishers. If my prof can read it and enjoy it (which is my sincere hope), then maybe someone else can read it and enjoy it.
Welp, I gotta go off to lunch. Happy writing everyone.
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Down" by Two Steps From Hell
Monday, April 16, 2012
Graduation
"As we go on, we remember, all the things we, did together..."
I really don't like that song. In fact, I don't know anyone who likes that song. But my friend Amy kept singing it as graduation approached last year and now, I find it popping into my head from time to time.
While visiting Corning this weekend with my parents, I attempted to explain to them how I feel about graduation. I'm not necessarily worried about the future because, well, as perfectly cliche as it sounds, God's got it all figured out. He'll land me where I need to be, so long as I keep searching for where that landing site is. So I'm not worried about that. I'm not worried about money or having a job or even whether or not my books get published. That'll all come in their due times.
The thing that bums me out about graduation is that I'll be back home, in Sellersville, away from everyone I've gotten the opportunity to meet and know in my three years at Houghton. I'll be six hours away from a majority of my friends, while a few of them will require plane rides to even appear that short. I like to think that in Heaven, there aren't long trips to see friends, that we're always awarded the opportunity to see one another. At least, that's what I would like.
My friend Kara stopped in for a bit tonight, dropping off my roommate Janelle, before she turned around and drove back to Buffalo. In the process of hanging out with us for an hour, she reminded me why I enjoyed having her as a friend so very much, and why I'll miss seeing her even on a semi-monthly basis. She was excited about my fourth book and clutched it to herself when I handed her the draft. She then began to exclaim about how much she wanted her day off to come so she could read it.
When I'm down or feel like the worst writer ever, she's there to remind me that I have talent (however minimal it may be in my own eyes). She's one of the few people I feel really believes in me and encourages me along the way, and I'm incredibly blessed to have her as a friend.
Yesterday I was texting my friend Dana for the better part of an hour, and I was telling her that I'm worried about disappointing my heavenly father. Even though I really want to pursue publishing soon, I'm terrified about taking that step, solely because somewhere in my brain I ask, "Is this really what God wants me to be doing? What if I'm wrong?". Dana then texted me, "That fear can either help you stay on His path or keep you from fulfilling His true dreams for you. Something that I like to remember is that God is the one who put my truest dreams in my heart to begin with :)"
See? I have friends that push me forward even when my stupid feet get cemented to the ground.
And after May 12...they'll be at minimum, six hours away. Six hours. With gas being over four dollars a gallon, it'll cost me over fifty dollars to fill up my tank. Fifty bucks in one shot. Boom, gone. I'm nearly broke, which means I'm mooching off the love and grace of my parents until I find a job or help my dad with work to earn money.
Growing up is a rotten thing sometimes. I just keep hoping that things will go the way they're supposed to that soon I'll end up where God needs me to be. Wherever that is. So long as I'm doing what He wants, surprisingly enough, I don't care where I am or what I'm doing.
Three years ago I would have punched myself in the face for that comment. Or it would have been sarcastic. Today, I believe it with all my heart.
Currently Editing: Alaster
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: The DragonHeart Soundtrack (really just the main theme)
I really don't like that song. In fact, I don't know anyone who likes that song. But my friend Amy kept singing it as graduation approached last year and now, I find it popping into my head from time to time.
While visiting Corning this weekend with my parents, I attempted to explain to them how I feel about graduation. I'm not necessarily worried about the future because, well, as perfectly cliche as it sounds, God's got it all figured out. He'll land me where I need to be, so long as I keep searching for where that landing site is. So I'm not worried about that. I'm not worried about money or having a job or even whether or not my books get published. That'll all come in their due times.
The thing that bums me out about graduation is that I'll be back home, in Sellersville, away from everyone I've gotten the opportunity to meet and know in my three years at Houghton. I'll be six hours away from a majority of my friends, while a few of them will require plane rides to even appear that short. I like to think that in Heaven, there aren't long trips to see friends, that we're always awarded the opportunity to see one another. At least, that's what I would like.
My friend Kara stopped in for a bit tonight, dropping off my roommate Janelle, before she turned around and drove back to Buffalo. In the process of hanging out with us for an hour, she reminded me why I enjoyed having her as a friend so very much, and why I'll miss seeing her even on a semi-monthly basis. She was excited about my fourth book and clutched it to herself when I handed her the draft. She then began to exclaim about how much she wanted her day off to come so she could read it.
When I'm down or feel like the worst writer ever, she's there to remind me that I have talent (however minimal it may be in my own eyes). She's one of the few people I feel really believes in me and encourages me along the way, and I'm incredibly blessed to have her as a friend.
Yesterday I was texting my friend Dana for the better part of an hour, and I was telling her that I'm worried about disappointing my heavenly father. Even though I really want to pursue publishing soon, I'm terrified about taking that step, solely because somewhere in my brain I ask, "Is this really what God wants me to be doing? What if I'm wrong?". Dana then texted me, "That fear can either help you stay on His path or keep you from fulfilling His true dreams for you. Something that I like to remember is that God is the one who put my truest dreams in my heart to begin with :)"
See? I have friends that push me forward even when my stupid feet get cemented to the ground.
And after May 12...they'll be at minimum, six hours away. Six hours. With gas being over four dollars a gallon, it'll cost me over fifty dollars to fill up my tank. Fifty bucks in one shot. Boom, gone. I'm nearly broke, which means I'm mooching off the love and grace of my parents until I find a job or help my dad with work to earn money.
Growing up is a rotten thing sometimes. I just keep hoping that things will go the way they're supposed to that soon I'll end up where God needs me to be. Wherever that is. So long as I'm doing what He wants, surprisingly enough, I don't care where I am or what I'm doing.
Three years ago I would have punched myself in the face for that comment. Or it would have been sarcastic. Today, I believe it with all my heart.
Currently Editing: Alaster
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: The DragonHeart Soundtrack (really just the main theme)
Friday, April 13, 2012
Looking Back
About a year ago, my brother Josh asked me where the idea for my story came from. Like many of my conversations with Josh, I remember perfectly where we were. We were driving down to Ocean City for Easter and my mom was passed out, as she always is during a car ride. It was late, maybe around midnight, and his car still wouldn't warm up from my sitting there because of the leather seats.
But as he asked me that question, I fell silent and looked out the window, watching the street lamps flash pass like lightning bugs. It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts, and eventually I said, "I think I wanted wings."
He laughed.
For the remaining hour of the trip I tried to explain myself. I remember, vaguely, that sometime during middle school I began to concoct this idea of being a superhero. What was that like? Then I thought about what I would want as a super power. Everyone wants to do something extraordinary, I think. Even though fancy mind powers would be awesome, I always wanted to fly. See, I was that kid that whenever a gust of wind would hit me, I would begin to pretend like I was soaring away with it.
Let me surge through the clouds, race an eagle, feel the spray of the ocean as I glide across it. These were (and still are), things I yearn for in a way that can't ever be fulfilled. At least not while on Earth. Our human bodies have far too many frailties as it is. Having wings would only complicate things.
But regardless, I wanted them. I knew I wanted them. End of story. Period.
Then as I talked more about where my ideas stemmed from, I realized I drew a lot of inspiration off of my old Saturday morning cartoons. Pokemon and Digimon chiefly among them. Kids going off having adventures? Yes please! Digimon especially. Because Pokemon was pretty much self-explanatory. Kid wants to train monsters to fight and be awesome. 'K. Got it.
Digimon however held a deeper story. The kids had to save the world. Kids had to save the world. That idea fascinated me. I wanted to do that. I wanted to be a vital role in the occurance of something legendary. I wanted to be part of an epic story people told and retold a million times over. But I was a kid from the suburbs of Philly. The worst that ever happened was occasionally people tried to jump off the bridge across my street and only broke their legs 'cause it wasn't tall enough.
I delved into stories of grandeur. Of sweeping landscapes and rich storytelling. I wanted to be there, and my imagination would let me. So I built on story after story. If I had known about fanfiction back then, I probably would have written up a storm just to get my own spin on something out of my head. But I didn't, so I didn't start writing till middle school.
I remember that my first attempt at writing a book was awful. Absolutely pitiful. I was fourteen, but it was just...no. There's nothing about it except that it was atrocious. At the time, I wanted to tell a story. I had these images in my head that didn't make much sense. I had a few random characters that, back then, were cardboard. And if I just took everything I ever thought was cool from stories or TV shows or movies into it, then it would be awesome.
And it was. For about fifteen seconds. Then I hated it.
But it was a start. I think, whether I realized it or not, I opened my mind to something that unleashed floodgates in my imagination. The fact that I could, if I wanted, write a story that I would love to read. I knew I would love it. And the older I got, the more I doodled. I thought if I could just become good at drawing, maybe then I could draw what I saw in my head.
The problem was, I wasn't getting good at drawing. I was becoming mediocre at it at best. I couldn't draw people, and they were vital to the scenes I saw in my brain. So that meant the whole drawing excuse was out the door. I couldn't write and I couldn't draw. That left movies. Maybe I could get someone to listen to me and I could then get my idea turned into a movie.
Well that was just foolishness.
So out the window that horrible idea went. I threw everything I had even remotely come up with regarding the story I had into a folder on my computer and I pretended like it wasn't there. I actually used to pretend like I wasn't trying to write a story. I acted as though if I didn't write in my journal about it or didn't talk to anyone about it, then it wasn't happening. And since I couldn't, at the time, get any of my family members to read it, I assumed it was crap and got it in my head that only smart, old people wrote books.
I met neither of those qualifications, so I pretended to not want to write books, meanwhile I had this idea growing in my head. The older I got, the more the story progressed. I knew, even when I was young, that it was going to be a series. I just used to think it was a lot dumber back then. Really, it was absurdity wrapped into stupidity flambeed over ignorance.
I doodled more, hoping that something might come to me. Around eleventh grade I began to mold the story more, trying to make sense of it. I knew I wanted to be important. I wanted to be special. And seeing as I was an ordinary, boring teacher's pet of a student, I knew that was never going to happen. So I made up a story in which I could be whatever I wanted.
At the time I just named the character something silly and pretended I was that person. The stories never got off page two, but I was trying. At least I was coming up with something slightly better. Slightly better than what I had come up with when I was in middle school. Somehow though, my middle school attempt reaching forty pages was looking a whole lot better, simply because it had gotten farther. But each time I tried to reread it, I was bored the whole time.
I knew that if I didn't like the story and couldn't get into it, then there wasn't a purpose.
Then God's grace landed me in a Creative Writing class that changed everything. I wrote a twenty page kick start to my first book. It was awful and whenever I go back and reread it, I realize it was my life, but how I thought it should have been. It wasn't until much later that I realized that no matter how much I wanted to live this life, it wasn't mine. I was writing someone else's adventure, and she wasn't me. She's my alter ego instead, everything I wish I could be and am glad I'm not at the same time.
Now, through all that crap, we land on the morning when I start writing the fifth book.
Funny how God changes our plans, huh?
Currently Editing: Alaster
Currently Writing: Revelation
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Homecoming" by Thomas Bergersen
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Coming to 5 of 5
I'm beginning preliminary work for my fifth book today.
Is this a dream? Is this just some screwed up, sick joke? It has to be. My fifth? really? That's 5 of 5. That's the end. That's the last of the series.
Really?
It's a wonderful and yet daunting thing to experience. There's a lot left to be done and explained, and as I seem to have followed the models of the fantasy genre, I've left the answers to come in the last book. The darkness has fallen on the characters at the end of the fourth book and in theory, the sunrise comes at the end of the fifth book.
In all honesty, I don't know how I feel about this. I don't know how I should be feeling. Times like these lead me to wonder if all authors feel this way when they near their finish line. Did C.S. Lewis feel this way when he crafted The Last Battle? Did J.K. Rowling feel this strange apprehension when she sat down to begin penning out The Deathly Hallows? Did Orsen Scott Card feel this way about Xenocide? How about Jeffrey Overstreet with his Auralia thread? Or J.R.R. Tolkien with Lord of the Rings? What about Christopher Paolini with Inheritance? Or the countless other authors I have yet to read?
Series writing is hard. If you've been following along, I've documented a good deal of it here on this blog. Not all, but a good chunk. You have to be sure that the pieces you've got in your head match up. You have to make sure the bread crumbs you've been leaving behind in the previous books lead to a satisfying conclusion. Is there a plot twist strong enough to give the audience the double-take they're looking for? Is there an ending that leaves them looking back to the beginning? Do they still ask for more, even when the main story has reached its end? Have you given them a rich enough world that they believe in it?
I'm excited and nervous. I'm smiling yet frowning. What happens when I'm done? What then?
Strangely enough...a lot. At least for me. For me, there's a growing number of stories I want to write that might never get published and I'd be okay with that. But I want to explore these stories and write them out. I want to delve deeper into the characters surrounding the main cast.
When you introduce over 50 characters into your ensemble and say, "But really we're only focusing on about 12 of them", the audience probably takes a breath and says, "Good." Some of them do anyway. I like to think there are whole hosts of smart readers out there that are looking for a complex story with a myriad of characters to follow. At the very least, I like to assume that my audience is intelligent and capable of keeping up with my sluggish brain.
So onward I march. There's a finish line out there, somewhere. Right now I'm in fog and can't really see. I'll keep moving forward though. There's a drive in my soul that keeps pushing me forward, so I can't really ignore it. There's a reason for this advancement. There's a reason for this. This story didn't pop into my head for kicks. It means something. I'm adventuring to find out what.
The outline for my fifth book begins and thus the tidal wave will crest and I'll wait in anticipation for the break of it to wash over me.
Let's discover together. Who's with me?
Currently Editing: Alaster
Currently Writing: Revelation Outline
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Emergency" by The Vitamin String Quartet
Is this a dream? Is this just some screwed up, sick joke? It has to be. My fifth? really? That's 5 of 5. That's the end. That's the last of the series.
Really?
It's a wonderful and yet daunting thing to experience. There's a lot left to be done and explained, and as I seem to have followed the models of the fantasy genre, I've left the answers to come in the last book. The darkness has fallen on the characters at the end of the fourth book and in theory, the sunrise comes at the end of the fifth book.
In all honesty, I don't know how I feel about this. I don't know how I should be feeling. Times like these lead me to wonder if all authors feel this way when they near their finish line. Did C.S. Lewis feel this way when he crafted The Last Battle? Did J.K. Rowling feel this strange apprehension when she sat down to begin penning out The Deathly Hallows? Did Orsen Scott Card feel this way about Xenocide? How about Jeffrey Overstreet with his Auralia thread? Or J.R.R. Tolkien with Lord of the Rings? What about Christopher Paolini with Inheritance? Or the countless other authors I have yet to read?
Series writing is hard. If you've been following along, I've documented a good deal of it here on this blog. Not all, but a good chunk. You have to be sure that the pieces you've got in your head match up. You have to make sure the bread crumbs you've been leaving behind in the previous books lead to a satisfying conclusion. Is there a plot twist strong enough to give the audience the double-take they're looking for? Is there an ending that leaves them looking back to the beginning? Do they still ask for more, even when the main story has reached its end? Have you given them a rich enough world that they believe in it?
I'm excited and nervous. I'm smiling yet frowning. What happens when I'm done? What then?
Strangely enough...a lot. At least for me. For me, there's a growing number of stories I want to write that might never get published and I'd be okay with that. But I want to explore these stories and write them out. I want to delve deeper into the characters surrounding the main cast.
When you introduce over 50 characters into your ensemble and say, "But really we're only focusing on about 12 of them", the audience probably takes a breath and says, "Good." Some of them do anyway. I like to think there are whole hosts of smart readers out there that are looking for a complex story with a myriad of characters to follow. At the very least, I like to assume that my audience is intelligent and capable of keeping up with my sluggish brain.
So onward I march. There's a finish line out there, somewhere. Right now I'm in fog and can't really see. I'll keep moving forward though. There's a drive in my soul that keeps pushing me forward, so I can't really ignore it. There's a reason for this advancement. There's a reason for this. This story didn't pop into my head for kicks. It means something. I'm adventuring to find out what.
The outline for my fifth book begins and thus the tidal wave will crest and I'll wait in anticipation for the break of it to wash over me.
Let's discover together. Who's with me?
Currently Editing: Alaster
Currently Writing: Revelation Outline
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "Emergency" by The Vitamin String Quartet
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Not Very Good at Math
So I finished my fourth book yesterday morning.
In the incredibly early morning hours, I chronicled the stories of my characters through their fourth book. I called it quits around 4:45 am because I felt spent. If I hadn't been crying for hours on end, I probably could have plugged away through all day yesterday. But, as I knew it would be, I was bawling my eyes out pretty well from 12:30 till I wrote the last sentence of the book.
Why you might ask? It's fairly simple really: I was writing sad things. Character deaths were popping up all around every corner and, as I write an ensemble cast, I write the impact that death has on everyone still alive. It's never a fun experience. As I mentioned in the previous post, killing characters is like killing a part of yourself. If anyone found it easy, I imagine they wouldn't be a very good writer because they wouldn't be able to relay the feelings of the characters to the audience.
I like to think that, in bawling my eyes out and feeling like someone just killed my puppy, I'm relating to my characters. Therefore by that, I am then relating the audience to the characters. Ultimately it will be determined when my friends and family members read the book. According to my friends, they've been impacted pretty hard by the previous character deaths, so I can only imagine how this one is going to play out.
Today, on the way to a hair appointment, I was telling my mom that I couldn't really fathom what was going on. Let me lay this out for those of you just joining in: Less than one year ago, one of my greatest friends texted me. About a week after she ranted about how much she (a non-fantasy reader), loved my first book, she sent me a poem based upon the first book.
To inspire someone is, I think, the ultimate goal of every author. With that knowledge that my friend felt led to write a poem about my book, I suddenly was fueled to write the second book. In under two months, I finished book 2 and rolled right on into the semester with a fire to write book 3. By the new year, I had finished book 3. From my brother's comments, I rewrote my first book, finishing by early February, all the while writing a novella for my senior seminar class.
And now, only a little over a month after finishing my novella, I finished book 4.
With only one book left to go in the overall story arch (because there's potential for 7 spin off novellas, 2 prequels and a plethora of stand-alone books based on the world), I have to wonder how this has happened. If you had told me a year ago that I was going to write three books, rewrite my first book and write a novella, all in less than a year, I would have punched you and cried that you were mean.
And yet, somehow, here I sit. Four books. Four books and one novella. How...? How did we get here? When did the tomorrow turn into the today? What a crazy phenomenon - the passing of time and the progression of a dream.
With accomplishment and approval at my back, I want to stride forward into the fifth (FIFTH! And it's the final one! Holy wow!), and complete the series. I want to get what's in my head out on paper. I want to see all five books stacked in a pile of paper and words and thoughts and story. Already knowing what the first three manuscripts looked like, a smile plays on my face. This crazy scenario I find myself in is surreal. It doesn't feel possible, and yet somehow, it is.
I like to think that God is blessing me with this. I haven't a clue where He's taking me, but I'm excited. A little nervous from time to time, but mostly, I'm excited. The writing life is an epic adventure of happiness if we allow it to be.
One more. Just go one more.
Smile people. Because the sunrise can be painted in your own world. Don't mind me as I go off and paint mine :)
Currently Writing (add-ons): Alaster
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "A Thousand Miles" the Boyce Avenue Cover
In the incredibly early morning hours, I chronicled the stories of my characters through their fourth book. I called it quits around 4:45 am because I felt spent. If I hadn't been crying for hours on end, I probably could have plugged away through all day yesterday. But, as I knew it would be, I was bawling my eyes out pretty well from 12:30 till I wrote the last sentence of the book.
Why you might ask? It's fairly simple really: I was writing sad things. Character deaths were popping up all around every corner and, as I write an ensemble cast, I write the impact that death has on everyone still alive. It's never a fun experience. As I mentioned in the previous post, killing characters is like killing a part of yourself. If anyone found it easy, I imagine they wouldn't be a very good writer because they wouldn't be able to relay the feelings of the characters to the audience.
I like to think that, in bawling my eyes out and feeling like someone just killed my puppy, I'm relating to my characters. Therefore by that, I am then relating the audience to the characters. Ultimately it will be determined when my friends and family members read the book. According to my friends, they've been impacted pretty hard by the previous character deaths, so I can only imagine how this one is going to play out.
Today, on the way to a hair appointment, I was telling my mom that I couldn't really fathom what was going on. Let me lay this out for those of you just joining in: Less than one year ago, one of my greatest friends texted me. About a week after she ranted about how much she (a non-fantasy reader), loved my first book, she sent me a poem based upon the first book.
To inspire someone is, I think, the ultimate goal of every author. With that knowledge that my friend felt led to write a poem about my book, I suddenly was fueled to write the second book. In under two months, I finished book 2 and rolled right on into the semester with a fire to write book 3. By the new year, I had finished book 3. From my brother's comments, I rewrote my first book, finishing by early February, all the while writing a novella for my senior seminar class.
And now, only a little over a month after finishing my novella, I finished book 4.
With only one book left to go in the overall story arch (because there's potential for 7 spin off novellas, 2 prequels and a plethora of stand-alone books based on the world), I have to wonder how this has happened. If you had told me a year ago that I was going to write three books, rewrite my first book and write a novella, all in less than a year, I would have punched you and cried that you were mean.
And yet, somehow, here I sit. Four books. Four books and one novella. How...? How did we get here? When did the tomorrow turn into the today? What a crazy phenomenon - the passing of time and the progression of a dream.
With accomplishment and approval at my back, I want to stride forward into the fifth (FIFTH! And it's the final one! Holy wow!), and complete the series. I want to get what's in my head out on paper. I want to see all five books stacked in a pile of paper and words and thoughts and story. Already knowing what the first three manuscripts looked like, a smile plays on my face. This crazy scenario I find myself in is surreal. It doesn't feel possible, and yet somehow, it is.
I like to think that God is blessing me with this. I haven't a clue where He's taking me, but I'm excited. A little nervous from time to time, but mostly, I'm excited. The writing life is an epic adventure of happiness if we allow it to be.
One more. Just go one more.
Smile people. Because the sunrise can be painted in your own world. Don't mind me as I go off and paint mine :)
Currently Writing (add-ons): Alaster
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "A Thousand Miles" the Boyce Avenue Cover
Monday, April 2, 2012
Oh, Okay.
So, according to the outline for my fourth book, I only have 3 chapters and an epilogue left until I've finished.
Hmm.
At this current moment in time, this book will be the shortest out of all of the ones I've written for the series. Not counting my novella of course. Right now I think I'm just shy of 70,000 words for the novel. If I had to guess, I might just crack over 80,000 - if I'm lucky.
Now is that a bad thing? Having your second to last book of a series be the shortest of them all? I really don't know. At the moment I feel as though I'm running straight into the book, so it's likely that I need to go back, write a whole new introductory chapter for the book and then pick up after that. I mean, a chapter might only add about 2,000 words, but it might be enough that I don't feel like a silly person.
I suppose I could look at moving bits of book two to book three and bits of book three to book four. But I don't like that idea. This could change, naturally, but at the moment, I really like where I chose to end each of the books. I guess the beauty of writing in today's world is the fact that you can always go back and change things.
With only three chapters left (according to my outline. Which is likely to be off), I find myself dragging my feet to finish it. I know precisely why. I'm coming up to a character death. Those are never fun. I've been killing characters since the second book, maiming characters since the third, and brutally harming them all since the first. I guess you could say I'm not very nice to my characters sometimes.
Despite putting them all through very real scenarios and suffering in very real ways, I'm not looking forward to this one. Character deaths are always difficult. Any writer (or storyteller in general), knows that. When you take the time to develop characters, it's hard to essentially banish them from your thoughts again. And I think for writers of series books, it's even harder.
When you write a book series (or a movie series I suppose), you've spent an inordinately long amount of time with a group of characters. For me, I've spent years, probably close to ten years, with these characters. It's a hard experience to take a personality that's been in your head for so long that you can't even tell when they appeared and then suddenly make them disappear. Their voice can't pop back into your head willy-nilly because...well, you've killed them.
Even though, as the writer, I know in the end everything's okay, I don't want to experience this. Last time I wrote a character's death, I sat like a lump on a log for a week and couldn't move forward. I practically cried myself to sleep. In the second book when I killed characters, I was bawling at my desk at all hours, wishing I didn't have to do this.
That then raises the ultimate question: does the character have to die?
It's an important juncture to reach as a writer. If you an answer that question with an honest answer that it does benefit the story and it does serve a purpose, then you're okay. But you can't just have characters dying for kicks or to show "how dangerous the situation is." On one hand, yes, the reader needs to know just how drastic the scenario is that you've placed your characters in. However, sometimes I think people get carried away.
For instance, with Harry Potter, I found some of the deaths to be meaningful and have a purpose. I understand Rowling's problem though: when you have a major final battle, you can't just have everyone you've ever met walk off the field with some nicks and cuts. On the flip side though, things are a little ridiculous when you go so far as to kill both Harry's owl and his wand.
Then on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have Twilight. When people should die, they die. If a battle is talked about and prepared for but then in the end, everyone talks and it's all okay and nothing happens, that's not only unrealistic, it's boring.
The goal is to find the happy medium. It's a hard thing to accomplish. You can't just have everyone live. That's boring and unrealistic. Yet you can't have everyone die. That's also unrealistic. There need to be stakes and there needs to be risks, but at the same time, a chunk of your characters can survive the bloodshed. After all, someone's gotta be around to tell the story afterwards, right?
I think (in my limited view point), I've done a good job determining who should die and who should live. I also think that those that survive suffer enough from either emotional or physical damages that it's obvious everyone was effected somehow. At least, that's the hope. There's always the knowledge that I might have screwed up somehow.
But, like I said before, that's the beauty of writing. I can always change it. There's always the ability to edit. And when all five books have been written and I get the overall feedback from my friends and family members, then I'll do an overhaul of the series. I do want to make this the best story I can write, so that's what I'm gonna do.
Let's just see how well I can do that.
Currently Writing: Unseen
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "There's a Place for Us" by Carrie Underwood
Hmm.
At this current moment in time, this book will be the shortest out of all of the ones I've written for the series. Not counting my novella of course. Right now I think I'm just shy of 70,000 words for the novel. If I had to guess, I might just crack over 80,000 - if I'm lucky.
Now is that a bad thing? Having your second to last book of a series be the shortest of them all? I really don't know. At the moment I feel as though I'm running straight into the book, so it's likely that I need to go back, write a whole new introductory chapter for the book and then pick up after that. I mean, a chapter might only add about 2,000 words, but it might be enough that I don't feel like a silly person.
I suppose I could look at moving bits of book two to book three and bits of book three to book four. But I don't like that idea. This could change, naturally, but at the moment, I really like where I chose to end each of the books. I guess the beauty of writing in today's world is the fact that you can always go back and change things.
With only three chapters left (according to my outline. Which is likely to be off), I find myself dragging my feet to finish it. I know precisely why. I'm coming up to a character death. Those are never fun. I've been killing characters since the second book, maiming characters since the third, and brutally harming them all since the first. I guess you could say I'm not very nice to my characters sometimes.
Despite putting them all through very real scenarios and suffering in very real ways, I'm not looking forward to this one. Character deaths are always difficult. Any writer (or storyteller in general), knows that. When you take the time to develop characters, it's hard to essentially banish them from your thoughts again. And I think for writers of series books, it's even harder.
When you write a book series (or a movie series I suppose), you've spent an inordinately long amount of time with a group of characters. For me, I've spent years, probably close to ten years, with these characters. It's a hard experience to take a personality that's been in your head for so long that you can't even tell when they appeared and then suddenly make them disappear. Their voice can't pop back into your head willy-nilly because...well, you've killed them.
Even though, as the writer, I know in the end everything's okay, I don't want to experience this. Last time I wrote a character's death, I sat like a lump on a log for a week and couldn't move forward. I practically cried myself to sleep. In the second book when I killed characters, I was bawling at my desk at all hours, wishing I didn't have to do this.
That then raises the ultimate question: does the character have to die?
It's an important juncture to reach as a writer. If you an answer that question with an honest answer that it does benefit the story and it does serve a purpose, then you're okay. But you can't just have characters dying for kicks or to show "how dangerous the situation is." On one hand, yes, the reader needs to know just how drastic the scenario is that you've placed your characters in. However, sometimes I think people get carried away.
For instance, with Harry Potter, I found some of the deaths to be meaningful and have a purpose. I understand Rowling's problem though: when you have a major final battle, you can't just have everyone you've ever met walk off the field with some nicks and cuts. On the flip side though, things are a little ridiculous when you go so far as to kill both Harry's owl and his wand.
Then on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have Twilight. When people should die, they die. If a battle is talked about and prepared for but then in the end, everyone talks and it's all okay and nothing happens, that's not only unrealistic, it's boring.
The goal is to find the happy medium. It's a hard thing to accomplish. You can't just have everyone live. That's boring and unrealistic. Yet you can't have everyone die. That's also unrealistic. There need to be stakes and there needs to be risks, but at the same time, a chunk of your characters can survive the bloodshed. After all, someone's gotta be around to tell the story afterwards, right?
I think (in my limited view point), I've done a good job determining who should die and who should live. I also think that those that survive suffer enough from either emotional or physical damages that it's obvious everyone was effected somehow. At least, that's the hope. There's always the knowledge that I might have screwed up somehow.
But, like I said before, that's the beauty of writing. I can always change it. There's always the ability to edit. And when all five books have been written and I get the overall feedback from my friends and family members, then I'll do an overhaul of the series. I do want to make this the best story I can write, so that's what I'm gonna do.
Let's just see how well I can do that.
Currently Writing: Unseen
Currently Reading: Eldest by Christopher Paolini
Currently Listening to: "There's a Place for Us" by Carrie Underwood
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