I ended up having to print out the entire chapter and read it that way.  I found a few spots to smooth out from my edits, but overall it read pretty good.  This fantasy stuff is a lot of work.  I actually played around with the idea of dropping PC and writing The Best of Me instead.  I've been working and working on this chapter for over a week now.  I am so glad to be finished and moving on.

Guess what came in the mail today?

Oh yeah... *G*  THE COMPOUND.  Squee!!!!   I read the first few pages and they ROCK!  I then forced myself to finish my chapter. lol.  I bet I read tomorrow instead of writing.  ;-)

ARGHHH!!!!!!


Why is it that some days you can stare for hours at your screen and get nothing!  Then other days the words, oh the beautiful words, they just flow.    I'm scrapping just about everything from my scene today's teaser came from.  Well, not exactly cutting it, but spreading it. 

See, here's what happened.  I was feeling very bad about the amount of narration, or better yet, the style of the narration.  I couldn't get Laura out of the hospital and had myself so unfocused I was making her feel things that made no sense.  All day I tried to move forward.  All day I kept coming back to tweak that scene.  It just read bad, no matter what I did.  I wrote it one way and Laura had too much attitude.  I wrote it another way and Laura was too much blah, blah, blah.  I thought I was just having a bad writing day.

Nope.  I was just trying to force a page of notes into a scene.  Gosh and don't I feel stupid now.

Now I have a new plan.   It's called let one itty bit of the story unfold and then don't pile a million other things on top of it at once!  Cause if you are running in circles you ain't helping your book out none, Shea!

Yep, I feel much better now. 

Guess what else happened?  The storm that broke tonight lit up a new scene for me--with a new problem.  Oh and it's good, sooo good.  ;-)


P.S.  I'm doing an outline tomorrow cause I'm just chasing my tail here.  And I'm tired of it! 

P.S.S.  So take that book!

I hate days like this! Yesterday I was too tired to write and today...  I have the energy but I can't remember what I'm supposed to do.  I need to work on Laura's descriptions and conversation with Avery in the hospital room, which will lay the foundation for the next scene. I don't want to write this scene today though.  I have nothing interesting for them to talk about.  I did have, but it's gone now.   I need to write the BIG scene at a party between Tristan and Laura, but I forgot how that was supposed to play out.  I have two fight scenes, a hunt, a dance, a ceremony, and none of these are forming in my head.

Ugh!

So many times I feel I just don't fit in with people anymore. I don't think they realize how lonely this life is and words are a very good way to criticize, but really, I spend my life reading faces, body movements. I see what they don't say. I hear the mockery behind the statements they do make. I can't help that I'm a writer any more than a person who feels the drive to teach, doctor, or preach can help what they are called to do. It's me. So why?

Why?

Do I mock their obsessions? No. Yeah, I do think some of them are beyond silly and a waste of mind space to worry on. But do I belittle them over it? Do I make remarks in the most degrading manner possible?

No.

I am a writer. This is me. I'm sorry.

And yes, I have voices talking to me. I'm sorry.

Yes, I need to push myself to create an excitement in my readers. I'm sorry.

True, there are times I live more in one world than the other. I'm sorry.

You may like reality, but then again, who creates all those movies you stare at mindlessly? Who creates all those songs you fill your mp3 players with?

So, are you always grounded in reality?

Perhaps in my odd and strange mentality, I just might be the more honest one.

I'm sorry.

Here's the deal with this book.  I write and write and I'm thinking it's soo good.  Then I run out of energy and I'm scared.  I start to worry it's not this amazing story, but instead a stupid attempt from a stupid idiot to write a book.  I'm frozen after these thoughts.  I try doing other things, but my insecurities are still there.  I'm not smart enough to pull this together.  I don't have enough mind space to keep it all intact.  They'll laugh at me and talk about me behind my back.  I can't do this!

Okay, that's not all!  I'm scared I'll never get the emotions right.  I'm scared I'll do Rowan wrong and make a mockery out of her story. 

All of these snowball on me and I shut down completely.  Now I'm panicking because see, I am stupid.  I can't even write one blooming sentence.

I'm gonna go sit in front of the fireplace and stare at the flames and breathe.

You know the routine by now. Shea's started on a new book and now she's frustrated to the point of wanting to hit everything! I didn't buy that punching bag like I said I needed to. I exercised this morning though and that got me through 2k worth of words. Now I'm banging my head against the desk again.

Here goes my list:

I hate that I don't know my characters yet.

I hate that Rowan will only give me dialogue at the moment. I need internals!

I hate that the words refuse to flow from my fingertips.

Everything I write feels like it was yanked from me with a pair of pliers. I have to stop and whine and cry over every sentence. I then have to kick myself and remind myself this is a first draft. Just spit it out! That's all you have to do.

I get too frustrated to think and too overwhelmed at the huge gaping, mocking, remaining book. It laughs at me. It tells me I can't do it. It says I've lost the ability to write. When I argue back, it laughs again and says, "You can't even decide how to form that one sentence and you think you are going to write an entire book? Oh, ha-ha!"

I hate this book for those words. What words? Every word it hides from me. Every word it yanks from me. Every word it spits back at me. Every word that says I can't.

I am ashamed that I can't control my anger at one of my babies. I am ashamed that I can't overcome this and I am ashamed that I'm letting the "I can'ts" get the best of me.

Okay, vent over. Maybe tomorrow will be better. At least I know it will go away. It has before. Surely, it will again.

See that?  That is from one of my current WsIP.  And until I can answer the question that scene is a dead end.  Lovely.  So I've been playing on the internet all day. *G* 

Yeah, I did move on and work some on a different scene, but it's driving me nuts that I don't know the answer to that question.

I wrote 1500 words on chapter one of ITLOF.  Yes, 1500 words on a MG that didn't need 1500 more words on the first chapter.  I also in this 1500 words introduced an old man that has nothing whatsoever to do with the book and will never be heard from again.  He was just there because my characters were at a nursing home.  This old man had lots of ear hair and liked the beige recliner that was fourth in the row of seven recliners.  Also, if Rowan could have a grandpa she would want one just like this old man.   At some point I decided to stop writing and look at what I had done.   If Rowan was never to speak to this old man again in the book, why was I acting as if their relationship meant something  important?  I dunno.   

And... there was no point to the 1500 words.  So I cut them.  It was such a productive day. :)

I have spent over an hour tracking down mileage and travel times.  I hate math, but then I was forced to divide, multiply, add, and subtract.  That's not fair.  I hate math.

I did start on chapter one of Imprimis.  I started on it three times.  I now have five paragraphs that will work for the time being.  There is a turkey in my oven, and all the towels are washed, dried, and folded.  I did some research on gang crimes and initiations then decided I don't want to write about gangs.  I named Lana's boyfriend then decided I wanted him to be her little brother.  I'm floundering here.  Which is how I start every book, until  "they" figure out where we're going and yank the wheel from my hand.

I know what my problem is and I'm just being stubborn.  I have a scene I want to start with, but instead I'm trying to shove all this information before it.  For no reason, really, mostly because I guess I feel like sputtering for a bit.

Okay, here's the deal with me and first drafts--They are torture on my poor head.  I can't sit still.  I want to get up and punch things every few  minutes. I go for walks around the house. This helps some.  I think I need to buy a punching bag. I can't tell myself to leave it and move on.  I want, no I need to get that internal just perfect at that spot. UGH!!!

I want the action tags to be reasonable, with a purpose, not just stage action.... oh first drafts are a pain!

I swore off chunk writing and here I am doing it again. I tried the outline and this just can't work for me. I can't push my characters here and there. It never works and they clam up. And then I thought well, I'll write in order as I do know where we are going with OTOH and I didn't with TWD. That's not working either. But chunk writing is again. I have nothing against chunk writing. It's just when I do it I end up adding way too much info in each scene and then I have to sift and shift and that gives me a headache. Everything gives me a headache these days. It doesn't matter how I get to the end of the story, just as long as I do.  But I really thought since I had the first chapter and started there, pushing forward, I'd make it writing in order. Not to be. And also, I'm wondering why I even care about this... 

I'm also wondering why Shannon, who has been giving me fits lately, has decided she wants me to write her story now? When I have all this work to do before we leave?  I think I'm in a bit of a cranky mood today. 

ETA: I'm up to 2k with the snip I posted yesterday, so that's a plus.