a couple of perks

I watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower last weekend and it was great and it made me both happy and sad.  I related to Charlie, the main character and an outcast of sorts.  I could not relate to the Charlie who finally found a place he belonged.  But good for him.

I just wondered if there was a story out there about a boy who never found his place.  Where was the tale of the guy who sat at the lunch room table by himself?  Where's the book about the boy who reached the end and found nothing was resolved?  Stories like that don't exist because people don't want a depressing ending.  They need to have hope for the boy because they are the boy and if the boy doesn't make a connection, they fear they won't either and no one wants to consider that could be a reality for them.

So we set him up with some good friends and a crush and he gets kissed and holds hands under the stars and it's book perfect.  And we feel both happy and sad because we don't have that but the boy is us and so if he finds it, so will we.

But some people know better.

In the movie (and book), Charlie writes letters to someone, chronicling a year in his life, but we are never told who he writes.  And it made me want to write letters to anonymous people, too.  What if I selected an address out of the phone book and wrote to this stranger, told him or her what was going on in my life?  What if I sent several strangers these kinds of letters?  What if I followed up every month or two?  "Hi, it's me again.  This is what has happened since the last time I wrote you."  But I'd keep myself anonymous as well.  A letter written from the heart and sent to one stranger from another.

Of course, it could be borderline creepy.

I think there's something kind of romantic and beautiful about reaching out to a complete stranger, making an intimate connection, sharing personal struggles and triumphs through a filter of anonymity.  I like the juxtaposition and the...well, borderline creepiness of it, to be honest.  I just know if someone sent me a random anonymous letter that let me glimpse into their life, I'd be fascinated.  Well, it was a good life with good writing, of course.  I don't need anyone sending me their school schedule or grocery list.

Oh, and I listened to the author/director commentary after I watched the movie and it was almost better than the movie.  He delves deeper into the book and the movie and the characters and how he felt about making the movie and writing the book and all the feels he tried to capture and it was just nice and warm and beautiful and I recommend it.

book notes #13: almost there

Last night, I finished up the second edit of my book.  Let me just say again how surprised I was at how much I could accomplish doing a little bit every day.  I've made more progress in the past two months than I've made in the last 5 or 6.  And that's just because I kept going, didn't take these week-long or month-long breaks.

Now, the plan is to work (every day) on rewriting the book, including all the changes.  Then get a few people to read it just to tell me if it's worth being a book and then, depending on how I feel about the possibility of the book being successful and if I can afford it, I might hire a professional editor.  I'll also need to buy an ISBN if I self-publish or if I decide to go the traditional route, I'll start sending out query letters.

With this lucky 13th update, I think I'm going to stop writing about writing the book.  I've written about it for approximately 4 years now and it's gotten embarrassing.  I've done all this smack talk about it and have built it up to be something grand like it will be this huge, life-changing project when really it's just a collection of all my whiny OD entries.  If you've read one of them, then you've already read my book.

I also ran across this quote by author Isaac Marion that I think is appropriate and good timing regarding my decision to stay mum from now on:

I think most people think of writing as a romantic dalliance that is fun to think about and impressive to talk about, but not a tangible reality that can actually be accomplished. Stop talking about it and do it. Don't waste that coal of desire on idle chatter, passing it around the room for everyone to admire. It will go out. Keep it hidden inside where it can burn and drive you and don't stop blowing on it until you've finished something.

Whew, he called me out on that one, didn't he?  I guess I have a lot more blowing to do.  I just want to be done!  And done I shall be, hopefully in the next two or three months.

Making progress every day.  And I won't stop until I have a book in my hands.  Even if I have to self-publish.  Even if everyone hates it.  Because it's my story and my therapy and I won't feel totally healed until I've totally finished it.

book notes #12: cutting

As I previously mentioned, I have been hard at work on the second edit of my book.  I've made a lot of progress since the new year.  I've found doing a little bit at a time really does add up to large chunks of accomplishment.  It feels good to look at my Post-it bookmark and see it slowly but surely (and consistently) moving toward the end of my black binder.

Throughout the course of my book, I chronicle my encounters with hipsters, douchebags, bitches, sluts, tweakers, and kimono wearing opera singers.  And I talked about how much they, and my classes, sucked.  And to be fair, I talked about how much I sucked as well.  You'd think after reading about that much sucking, the reader would come out a little more satisfied, eh?

I already had a suspicion I should reel back on the reaming of others but after going over the book again and again, all the constant complaining is unappetizing.  So, I cut out a lot of the negativity in regards to other people and even myself.  Don't get me wrong, there's still plenty of self-loathing (it wouldn't be Bran's book without one) but I have definitely scaled back on the bad attitude.

I've also cut out a lot of repetition.  I used my blog as a reference while writing my book and the way I wrote my entries was I often gave a lot of back story and repeated information for new readers who had just come upon my blog, allowing them to catch up on the happenings before they dived into a new entry.  But all that extra information doesn't translate well to a book because it's one reader, not a slew of people coming and going.  Once I've established all the info to that one reader, there's no need to rehash any of it.  Taking all that excess background noise has helped lighten the book considerably.  Or at least I hope.  I look through all my pages and most of the text is crossed out.  I've got at least 89 pages to cut so getting rid of the repetition and cutting out all nonessential information and some of the negativity will help me do that.

I know I keep on droning on about this stupid project and hardly seem like I'm making progress but since it's my first book, I want it to be as good as it can be.  Plus, I think all the time I've sat on it and waited and developed my writing skills has made the book stronger than it's ever been.  That's not to say it's even good at this point but it's miles ahead of where it was a year ago so I don't feel bad about not rushing it into publication.

I do want to have it published this year, though.

fate and failure

"This is a lesson in procrastination
I kill myself because I'm so frustrated 
Every single second that I put it off
Means another lonely night I got to race the clock..."
-Brand New, Failure by Design

"How are you going to make an idol from the type of person you're trying to avoid in real life?  I'm afraid if America keeps letting people like that become the entertainers, pretty soon there'll be no one left to work at Rite-Aid."
-Natasha Leggero, Coke Money

Failure is isolating.  I should take comfort in the fact that I am not the only twenty-something floundering in the world.  I am not the only twenty-something with a degree floundering in the world.  I am not the only twenty-something with a degree who no longer desires to use it who is floundering in the world.  But it doesn't make me feel better.

All I can think of are the ones in similar situations as me who have prospered.  They had the same education and privileges and hardships as I did and yet they succeeded.  I stumbled.  That makes me feel like something must be wrong with me. 

I struggle with the idea of fate and putting faith in fate.  Am I destined to do what I love and, if so, should I take comfort in the fact that I will be where I belong eventually, even if things seem terrible at the moment?  Or is fate just a bandage for the broken-hearted, something people tell themselves to get through the hurt of shattered expectations?

People say, "Yeah, things suck now but I'm meant for more.  Everything will work out.  I will live my dreams."  But, is that really the case?

One of the great hardships of life, and death, is acceptance.  We have to accept a lot of failure, endure disappointment and oftentimes lower our standards just so we can get through the day.

But do we also have to accept that our dreams might never come true?  Do we have to accept that fate isn't real at all, that it's just a nice notion?  Do we have to accept that fate won't always sync up with what we want?  Why must we ache over something we can't even control?

I always dreamed of being an artist and recently, a published author.  But the insecurity and awareness of my limitations hold me back.  I can practice and get better but will I ever be good enough to actually make a living doing what I love?

The truth of the matter is we all have dreams.  A lot of people aspire to do great things but someone's gotta flip the burgers and fold the shirts.  What about their dreams?  Are they where they wanna be or are they just biding their time until their big break?  What if that break never comes?  What if they wait in vain?  What if they crack open and lose all hope? 


What about them?  What if I'm one of them? 

We all stare stary-eyed at those one television who tell us to work hard, to be persistent, to keep practicing and we believe them because they did that and they "made" it.  But we can't base our judgment of ourselves on people like that because the dirty secret is talent isn't as important as timing or connections or pure random luck.  Sometimes talent has very little to do with success.

And that creates a disconnect between our talents and expectations.  If we are so good, why aren't we successful?  Maybe we aren't good after all or maybe we have the talent down but not the timing.  Or maybe we don't have the right connections.  But how are we to ever know what keeps us from happiness and success and fulfillment?

People say to compromise.  You might not make it to broadway but you can do local theater.  You might not be in the bookstores but you can fill a spot on Amazon.  You won't fill a gallery with your art but you can fill a wall of a supportive friend's house.

Is that good enough?  Can we make it good enough?

I think it's safe to say the majority of people out there have dreams but not everyone can follow them.  But if we can't follow them, why do we have them in the first place?  What's the point?  What's the lesson to be learned from craving a passion we can't pursue?

writing my second novel

I participated in National Novel Writing Month again this year.  I did it back in 2010 and skipped 2011.  I almost didn't do it again this year because I have too many other book projects I should focus on but then I did it anyway and actually started on the 2nd.

The reason I participated in 2011, and one of the basic ideas behind National Novel Writing Month, is because I wanted to write a book.  I had been working on my memoir for years and not making much progress and so having guidelines really helped me discipline myself.  I had a goal and I managed to not only meet it but surpass it.  It was a great feeling and once I knew I could actually write a book, I was satisfied.  I think that's why I didn't do it the next year.

But this year, I decided to do it again.  In one way, I wanted to see if the first book was just a fluke because I actually had no trouble writing it.  Every day I sat down, the words flowed and it was a good feeling to know there was a story inside me.  The other fun part was I had the flimsiest idea and yet I let the story tell itself and nothing ever felt forced or rushed.  It just fell into place.  I wanted to see if I could recapture that.

In some ways, I did.  The idea for my first novel was a very basic idea that I had been floating around for maybe a year or two.  My idea was that I would maybe write a short story based on the idea but I never went as far as to develop it into something.  With this book, however, I had a good idea of how I wanted the story to go.  I've had this concept in my head ever since 7th grade and so I've had many years to mull it over in my mind and kind of expand the story.  It's a dumb story but yet it's one I've kept going back to and thinking about and so in a way, I feel I need to write it down and tell the story.  Because of that, I thought it would be a good idea to use for National Novel Writing Month because neither the story or NaNoWriMo are too serious so they fit together.

The cool/weird/disheartening thing is the story isn't finished.  The story in this book is finished but the story itself will continue.  I don't know if I should wait until next November to write the next part or get started sooner.  Well, I actually need to finish my memoir first and after that, then I can decide which project to tackle next.

It's been a long month and I'm glad I did it but I'm also glad it's over.

book notes #11: collaboration

Holy crap.  About a week ago, I finished the first edit of my book!  One step closer to publication!

And it only took a couple of months, which is good considering it took several years just to write the first draft.  I hope the second edit will go even faster.  I've actually already started it and it's amazing and slightly disheartening how I keep finding things I want to change/cut out.  I just keep wondering how I didn't catch all of that stuff the first time around.  But no one ever does so it's okay.

I read a quote from an artist (who I can't remember) that said (I'm paraphrasing [this person really resonated with me as you can tell]), "You never really finish a piece.  You just stop and move on to the next."

I can relate.  I think I usually stop drawing or writing because I get tired of it.  I create stuff as a means of expressing my thoughts and feelings and once I've properly poured out my heart, I'm over it.  When I feel the content is there, I'm satisfied and don't get caught up in the technicalities of grammar and punctuation.

But then there are times when I want to make something really important and really good.  I spend more time on it and polish it up and try to make it something that rises above my normal mediocre output.  And with those special pieces, I'm never really done.  I go back and tweak and perfect but it's never perfect.  Eventually, I stand back and realize it's the best I can do, although it's not what I pictured in my head.

But I don't want to perfect something to the point I poison it, you know what I mean?  It's like you say you're going to fix just one thing, a brush stroke or accidental charcoal smudge or improper syntax and then you see something else that needs to be fixed, a bum note or flat delivery of dialogue, and by the time you've ironed out all the little blemishes, the final product has become grossly altered and no longer represents your vision.

Maybe that happened to Picasso.  He saw the nose on one of his portraits was leaning to the left so he fixed it, which threw off the eyes so he had to shift them around, which screwed up the mouth and by the time he finished swapping and sorting, he had created Cubism.

Anyway.      

The next step is to get a couple of test readers to tell me if it's any good.  I'll be looking for more of a content critique rather than grammar and punctuation.  I just need to know if it's a good book!

I've gotten some positive feedback on my writing here and I appreciate it so much but the compliments are based on reading me a few times a week.  As we all know by now, I'm quite a downer.  I think reading my depressing ramblings spread out every couple of days or so is fine.  People can handle that.  But when I pour all that negativity into one long book, I am afraid it'll be off putting.  So much cynicism.  The reader will have to pop a couple of Zoloft to make it through chapter 5.

The other day, I was thinking about singer/songwriters.  A lot of times, they collaborate with other more seasoned singer/songwriters to elevate their ideas into better products.  It seems common with music but not so much with books, unless it's a real writer helping a celebrity put together a memoir or cash in on their fad success with books written about fictionalized versions of themselves.  Sure, sometimes well known authors collaborate together but I see them doing it more for fun, rather than one writer helping the other create a better book.

Sometimes, I think it would be great if I had a writing partner.  I've stated before that I don't have a ton of ideas but I do have a couple of small pieces of ideas stashed away collecting dust because I don't know where to take them or how to bring out the value of the ideas.  I have lines of poetry and very few short story ideas but they stay shelved because I am not good enough to bring them to life.  But I could if I had a collaborator. 

I think it would be nice if I could have a fellow writer to bounce ideas off of, someone I can feel comfortable sharing possibly bad ideas with, someone I can be totally open with and trust they'll steer me in the right direction, tell me when something is good, tell me when something is cheesy, and turn that cheese into a masterpiece. 

I think it would also help my productivity.  I often stay stuck on a topic for days or even weeks (I even have ideas I've been sitting on for years) because I can't break through the wall of confusion/insecurity/cluelessness.  But if I had someone to write with, they could help me break down the barriers that keep me from a good poem or awesome essay.

But the problem with collaborators is I often wonder how much input these singers and/or authors have in the creation of a song or book.  Do they simply add a sentence or two or change up a couple of lyrics and slap their name on it and then say they wrote it?  When I hear artists say they write their own songs, it often annoys me because their liner notes say they wrote the song along with three other people.  How much credit can you really take when you are one of several?  How much is yours and how much are you saying is yours? 

I wouldn't want people thinking that about me.  I don't want to be known for great art or writing if the majority of it wasn't mine.  Heck, I'm not even sure I'd like it if I couldn't claim 100% ownership.  What if someone came up to me one day and said a particular line in a poem or a particular piece of dialogue from one of my books completely changed their lives and it just so happens that one line or that one passage was the one line or passage I didn't write myself?  I'd feel fake and icky.  I don't want to feel that way.

But then again, it's all art and it's all about creating and putting it out there for others to enjoy and does it really matter who it comes from?  As long as I'm always straight up and honest and say I am only one person in a team effort to create the best art possible, then what's wrong with that?

And really, does anyone ever create something 100% themselves?  Even great writers who can write an entire book on their own have to report to editors who give suggestions. 

Then there's the challenge of finding a collaborator.  No one I know in real life likes to write so I'd probably have to joining some kind of writing group but I hesitate to do that because I'm not really a writer.  I write but I just can't take myself seriously enough to go that deep into it, to step into a literary world where poetry pulses through people's veins and books are stored in their heads waiting for them to sit down and extract them.  The only thing I've got floating around in my head is fart jokes and dessert recipes.  I wouldn't want to be laughed out of a group. 

I'll just have to settle with doing the best I can on my own for now, maybe getting help here and there and if I'm lucky enough, stumble upon someone who gets my writing and gets me so they can help me elevate it to the level I want it to be so I can feel like a real, accomplished writer.  

georgia on my grind

I'm still toying with the idea of going back to Georgia during my time off from work.  The only thing really holding me back is that 8-hour drive.  If I could just have someone chauffeur me around, that would be great because I'm pretty lazy and I'm not sure if it's worth the effort.  I also have to take into account gas money and the cost of a hotel.  I could manage but the money would be better spent elsewhere.  Then again, it is my vacation and I deserve to splurge a bit.

It would also be nice to at least have someone to go with me to keep me entertained and possibly halve the driving duties.  Work girlfriend said she'd go if she weren't...you know...the actual girlfriend of someone.  So, little good that did me.

Ideally, I'd go back to Forsyth Park and watch the puppies play as I wrote a masterpiece of some kind.  The problem is I have no ideas.  But going there could produce some.

It could help me with the memoir I'm writing.  Maybe taking a walk through the historic district would drum up some long forgotten (or repressed) memories.  I like the idea of walking next to those cobblestone roads once again, retracing my steps from when I was greener and impressionable, seeing things now through more experienced eyes.

I need to get away and I need some inspiration.  I also need someone to drive me.

I looked through several of the pictures I took while in Savannah and it depressed me.  I realized that I missed out on so much and made so many mistakes.  I wish I could go back and do it again (don't we all).  Sometimes I wish I had never gone in the first place.

2006.  My first day in Savannah.  I was very happy.

 

book notes #10

After yet another break (I don't even know why I keep stopping), I've picked up editing my book again.  I'm also more than halfway through so that's pretty exciting.

Although I get disappointed with myself because of all this stopping and starting, the good thing is when I take an extended break, I come back and feel refreshed, like I'm looking at my book with renewed vigor.  I also tend to be a bit more brutal with my red pen, which is excellent because I have to cut at least 80 pages, which will still make the book too long, but at least it'll reduce it to an annoying length rather than a totally unreadable one.

I've also finally decided to keep the book mostly about the college experience and less on my life as a whole.  That will help me cut out some of the length as well.  I realized I could shed more light on my life through subsequent books instead of trying to cram it all into one.

Yet, I'm also annoyed because when I pick the book up again after a long absence, I feel more and more separated from the story.  I originally decided to write the book in hopes it would be a therapeutic experience but over the years, I feel I've worked out most of the issues I explore in the book.  I thought writing it would help me work through things and it has but I suppose not as much as I had hoped.  Plus, because I have mostly accepted the events and resulting ramifications, I don't feel as much of a push to finish.

I probably will finish but I'm just not on fire for the project like I used to be.  I'm not exactly sure why.  As I mentioned, I suspect it has a lot to do with the fact that it's not as healing as I hoped it would be.  And as I edit, I see it's whiny and repetitive.  Cutting out the repetition will also help shorten the book but how can I fix the whine?  That'll be harder to do.  I have a penchant for not finishing anything so I really need to see this one through.  Even if it is a complete disaster.

As much time as I've spent writing about writing the book, I probably could have just finished the thing already.

sort of like church

This entry is going to be a two-parter so hold on to your taters.  I wanted to write about a Tumblr post I read from an author I follow and then I realized that I need to talk about the guy who wrote it so I decided to split up the topics for your convenience/dread (Gosh, more long posts, Brannon, back the eff off).

parallels
I was perusing the public library one day when I came across Isaac Marion's Warm Bodies.  The cover looked interesting so I picked it up and discovered it was about zombies.  Instantly, I was sold.  I took it home and read it and realized it was not your typical zombie tale.  It was a zombie story with heart.  In fact, the story is told from the perspective of a zombie.  And he has a heart!  Or, well, he's trying to have one.  I liked the book and could really tell that the author was trying to inject more than blood onto the page.  There was a love story there, as well as questions on life and death and the nature of existence and all that good philosophical stuff.

As I do with any book/movie/television show I find interesting, I did some research on the book and Isaac Marion.  Turns out, Warm Bodies was originally self-published.  He wrote it when he was in his mid-twenties and actually landed a movie deal through his contacts in the industry (The movie comes out next year).  A book deal soon followed.  So, while he found his success backward from how most people do, I thought it was awesome that something he put out himself still managed to catch the attention of movie studios and publishing houses.

Due to his movie and book deal, he has a good chunk of change now and through his Tumblr and Twitter, I read along as he traveled across the country and independently put out his second book, The Hungry Mouth, a collection of short stories, which includes a prequel novella to Warm Bodies.  He personally sent me a copy.  Okay, and he sent 500 other people copies too but the point is we are practically BFFs. 

And because we are "so close", I get to see who he is behind the books.  He's a real guy.  He is sarcastic and crass and likes beer and sex and beards and other macho things.  But he can be charming and sensitive through the interaction he has with his readers.  He often hands out advice and his perspective on things.  I like that he's accessible.  I guess he's not famous enough yet to blow off fan inquiries so I appreciate that.  He's also an artist.  He paints.  He writes.  He plays music.  He just finished a screenplay.  He is multi-talented.  I also get this sense that he's a bit restless and is always looking for creative outlets to express himself and it reminds me of me.

We're not totally alike but I do see several parallels between us.  He grew up in a religious environment and had a downfall with religion later on in his life.  Before the success of his book, he worked unsatisfying jobs to pay the bills.  He expresses himself through different mediums.  It's both comforting and inspiring to see he was once where I am now. 

I hope, as with any budding author, if I ever put my book out, it might fall into the right hands just like with his book.  I don't see anyone making a movie out of my story but it might be traditionally published and exposed to a wider audience.  That would be great.  And if I could have the opportunity (and money) to travel, I would.  The guy gives me hope. 

He also lives in Seattle and seems to like it well enough.  I've heard good things about it from people who have been there or currently live there.  I even thought about moving there before, which led to an idea of sending him a desperate e-mail saying I was also a struggling writer and would love it if he'd house me in Seattle while I found myself (and a job).  But then I realized he'd probably get a restraining order against me so I squashed the idea.

sort of like church
As I mentioned, I also follow Isaac on Tumblr and he infrequently posts his thoughts on certain things.  Several days ago, he posted about a bar that offered cheap tacos and beer every Tuesday.  He and his friends gather there and enjoy each other's company, as well as the cheap tacos and beer.  And he wrote something that made me pause:

Taco Tuesday will always be there for you, a regular, reliable community event where friends can get together and share life.  Sort of like church, but with less self-hatred and irrational dogma and more beer and ground beef.

He brought up a good point about the self-hatred.  Ever since I was a little kid, sporadically attending church with insistent classmates, I've been taught that people are sinful and deserving of hell.  Everyone of us, from little kids to big adults to the clean to the dirty to the mean to the considerate.  It's only through Jesus that we can be saved.  Seems a little unfair that we are born sinners.  You can't help your eye color and you can't even help your soul.  That is, until you are old enough to understand Christ (but who ever really gets old enough to do that?) and ask to be saved.

And I can't tell you how many Christian songs out there have self-deprecating lyrics.  Even one of my favorite bands, Showbread, often put themselves down when responding to fan compliments.  They are quick to explain that any talent, any inspiration comes from J.C. and not them because they are losers and sinners.  I know that in many cases, this is a display of humility but come on. It all feels a little too harsh at times.

I don't even disagree that we all suck.  It's true.  We're all sinners.  We all screw up and fall short of God's glory.  BUT.  This is expected.  God himself knows this.  We know it.  It's no huge secret.  So why is it that we have to be constantly reminded of our shortcomings?  Why do we put ourselves down over something that we don't have much control over?  I'm not saying that because we are sinful, we should just give in and indulge in our sins.  Not at all.  I'm just saying we know we will never be perfect so why should we dwell on it?  We should be as good as possible, of course, but we shouldn't beat ourselves up over a few mistakes here and there.

There seems to be so many negative aspects to Christianity that have bogged down believers.  I know I'm one of them.  It would be nice if we could switch the focus from hellfire to helping others.  Pointing the way instead of pointing fingers.  Being kind instead of accusing.  Accept that we are sinners and move on to more constructive things.

I have a problem with that myself.  Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own negativity that I think I inadvertently spread it around like smearing ink.  But embedded deep within all the negativity is the knowledge that God is supposed to love us despite our setbacks and unsatisfied lives.  That's another tough one for me.  I just don't feel that love, that acceptance.  Everyone keeps telling me Jesus is talking to me.  But all I can hear is the negativity, the low growl of disappointment and defamation from devils but grow deaf in the presence of deities.  Hopefully I'll find the strength to work on that one day.

Until then, I need to work on myself, find out how I can climb out of this well of misery and shake off the skepticism and despondency.  I've got to change my focus from regret to revival.

book notes #9: content

I previously mentioned I don't feel like much of a writer, yet here I am talking about writing my book.  Seems slightly nonsensical but the way I see it, Snooki isn't a writer either but if she can put out a book, so can I.  I still stand by my previous statements.

With that being said, it took three ink cartridges but I finally printed out my entire book.   I have already edited 126 8.5" x 11" pages and have 196 more to go.  For the size book I want it to be, it's going to be 589 pages (holy crap) so that means I have to do some major cutting.

It dismays me to report, however, that during my vacation from work, I did not touch my book once.  I wrote several blog entries and picked up The Complete Idiot's Guide to Writing a Memoir and Stephen King's On Writing, both of which I also haven't touched, but as far as finishing editing the first draft, um...I didn't.

But from the editing I have managed to accomplish, I've noticed several problems cropping up.  As I'm reading and editing, I'm thinking of more stuff I need to add to make it coherent.  When I kept track of my first year of college through my blog and with personal journals, I didn't go into exact details on the events that took place.  So, as I'm reading this book, I'm getting a lot of reflective chapters with back story tacked on.  I have to take those tacked on events and put them first so the reflection makes sense.  I think that will help the flow.

I don't like starting every chapter with, "Two weeks prior, this happened" or "she made that face because she still couldn't get over that time a month ago when I..."  I feel the constant back and forth of shifting from past to further in the past makes things a bit murky.  It's a lot like trying to put together a puzzle and that is tiresome.

I realized I also almost fully neglected to talk about my classes, except through reflection afterward.  I have to find a way to talk about my classes first and reflect later.

One way in which I have been trying to cut down on the content is by removing a lot of my tendency to over explain what I'm feeling.  I'll go off on an alliterative tangent and before I know it, I have a whole paragraph that says the exact same thing in different fancy ways.  It's a style I've unconsciously developed over the years and something I'm really going to have to to try to cut out.

I also wonder if I should stick strictly with my time at college.  I included chapters during my Christmas vacation and Spring break while I was at home.  But even though I was at home, all I wrote about was school so I think those chapters are still important.  I thought about taking those chapters and condensing them to the most basic point and sprinkle it in the chapters where I'm actually at school.

And I've noticed that I jumped right into my craziness in the first couple of chapters.  I'm finding it hard to sympathize with me as a character in the book because it comes across like I'm devastated right when I step foot on campus (which I pretty much was) but unless the reader knows my back story, how excited I was for college and how it all blew up in my face, I don't think the reader will get it or will understand why I became so broken so quickly.

My last concern is the fact that I don't even know what I want this book to be.  At first, I wanted it to be a book about my first year of college.  Fine.  But what is that comprised of?  Is it more about me or the college experience itself?  I've put in so much background information about myself, like my struggle with weight and religion and all of those topics come up during my time in college and, once again, for the reader to fully understand how I feel about each scenario, I feel I have to give some additional information.  But that's additional pages.

Obviously, I need to get it together and figure out a proper direction for the book before I get in too deep with the editing.  The truth is, I'm finding it hard to cut out too much because I feel like, even though it's entirely too long, everything I've included has some importance to the overall story and to understanding me as I am.

I suppose if I were to release other books, I could spread my back story out a little bit over the course of those books but I don't know if there will be other books.  It's almost like I'm trying to tell my whole life story in this one story, cramming twenty years into just one year, like I'm trying to include college life and life in general and me breaking down and trying to build myself up.  It's all encompassing and more than slightly overwhelming.

This is going to take longer than I thought.  

      

on holiday

My mom and dad are going to see my sister for a few days next week and I decided to take advantage of them being gone by taking a holiday from work.  It'll be so nice to have some time to myself for a change.  Dad works during the week and Mom works on the weekend so someone is always home to annoy me.  I love them, blah blah, but a guy needs some solitude, ya know?  I was starting to think I'd have to take a pilgrimage to Waldon Pond just to find a quiet place to poop and ponder.

Mom excitedly told me my sister wanted me to come along, too.  Like she was trying to convince me my sister really wanted to see me.  Like I'm going to buy that crap.  It was annoying because I've already made my feelings clear and nothing anyone says or does it going to change it.

I just haven't had much to do with her after she acted so cold toward me when I needed her years ago.  For so long, I was her biggest fan.  She was always disinterested in me.  Now it's my turn.  We were never close and we never will be and my mom needs to stop trying to make us pals.  It is not going to happen.    

In my continuing to self-destruct my diet, there's a new pizza place open a few towns over and I want to go eat some.  I figure I have the next week to re-dedicate myself to diet and exercise and I am on vacation.  I can splurge a little, right?  But didn't I splurge last weekend and the weekend before that?  Holy crap, I'm such a fat kid at heart.  It doesn't matter how much weight I lose, I'm always going to crave Coke and cookies.

I thought about going to eat with someone but then I realized I had no one.  My work girlfriend has a real-life boyfriend and he probably wouldn't appreciate me going out with her, although most guys aren't threatened by me, which makes me feel really great about myself.

It usually goes a little something like this:

The boyfriend says, "You're going out with some guy?  I don't care if he is 'just your friend.'"

He takes a look at me.

"Oh, okay, call me when you get back."

Just about everyone else sucks so I don't know who to turn to.

I am really alone.

Of course, I just started this entry by saying I wanted to be alone but not like this.  Not lonely.  I thought about buying some crocheting needles and driving back down to the Starbucks in Florida and joining the lesbian knitting group I saw there last time, or either stabbing myself in the jugular with them.  I'm still undecided.

I guess I'll just have to make a go of it solo.  Just get out of the house and explore.  Drive in my car.  Play some emo music to get me in the mood to meditate.  I might even make a whole day of it.  Make the mall my Walden.

The only problem is I wanted to be constructive on my days off.  I wanted to finish editing the first draft of my book by next week so I can do rewrites and ask people to start proofreading/reviewing it soon.  My plan was to write several blog entries for the first day or two I was off and store them so I could concentrate on finishing the book while still continuously updating my blog.  So far all I've managed to do is literally stay in bed all day long and play video games.  So that's one day wasted and if I go out of town tomorrow, that's another day gone.

But maybe I need it.

Or I could muti-task and work on my book at that Starbucks.  'Cause that wouldn't make me look like a douche at all.

book notes #8

After writing, on and off, for about four years, I have finally finished the first draft of my book.  And when I say on and off, I mean I wrote for about two weeks, then took four months off, wrote for about 5 weeks, then took two months off, etc.   So it's not like I labored tirelessly for four long years straight through.

But I have written more in the past several months than I have in the past several years and it feels good to finally be finished.  Of course, I'm not completely finished but I've written the work and the real magic (or madness) begins with editing.

Speaking of, the book ended up being 589 pages!  That's way too long.  And you all thought I was long-winded with my entries.  Imagine them all crammed together and bound into a book.  Although, to be fair, it does cover an entire school year.  A lot of stuff happened.  But I'm going to have to make some difficult cuts to trim the size a bit.

The bad part is I already left some things out that I didn't think were important and I even rushed the last section because I thought the book was running too long.  But hopefully I can even it all out after a few edits.  Once I cut out enough stuff, I'll feel more comfortable going back to the last several chapters and fleshing them out a bit more.

After I finished, I went to print out the book so I could really go in and start marking it all up with my red pen.  But after about twenty pages, my printer ran out of ink.  The next day, I picked up some more ink and went home and changed the cartridge and after about 200 pages, I ran out of ink again.  Maybe I'm not an ink expert but does ink really run out that fast?  Trying to print this thing out is already becoming annoying and costly.

I hope the editing won't take more than two months and then I'll send it to a few people for more editing/content and just to get a different perspective.

It's going to be weird when I really am finished.  Like I said, I've had this project close to me for four years now, even if it has been on and off.  But when I put it out there and no longer sit down and revisit those memories and events, it's going to be strange.  Might even be like a part of my day is missing. 

That's not to say there will be an empty space.  I already have plans for a follow-up book and then I want to participate in National Novel Writing month coming up in November and I have the book I wrote two years ago for National Novel Writing month that I would like to mold into something nice.  So other books are in the works and I should keep busy. 

But for now, this one means the most to me.

stitches & stuff

About two weeks ago, I noticed that the end of my incision was slightly opened and a stitch was poking out.  I don't know how it happened but it was red and hurt to touch.  You know, just when I think things are starting to get resolved, I've got another problem.

So I made an appointment to see the doctor.  The first thing he did was lean me back in the chair and immediately stuck a sharp metal instrument in the incision.  It felt like a bee had just landed on me throat and stung me.

"I know it feels a bit weird," he said as he dug around in there.  "Well, I can't get to the stitch.  I'd have to cut your throat."  I wasn't sure what he meant by that.  I was too stunned by the pain to make much sense of anything and didn't think to ask him for clarification.  I think he might have been trying to either tie everything back up or maybe he was just trying to clip the excess stitch.

I was basically worried that the incision would heal wrong because of the slight opening but he assured me it was okay.  He told me to put some ointment on it until the redness went down so I guess that's all I can do.  Hopefully it'll clear up soon.  Other than that, it's healing as nice as can be expected.

2011 book/movie list

I've kind of started a tradition that at the beginning of the year, I list all the books I read and movies I watched during the previous year.  I have a terrible time trying to remember what books I've read and what movies I've seen so I thought this might help.  Even reading through this list, I couldn't remember reading or watching some of this stuff.  I need to lay off the aspartame.

book notes #6 and more

I didn't want all of my updates to be about book writing but that's basically all I've been doing and as I'm trying to keep this blog updated, I guess that's what I'll update about.  Sorry in advance.

Last month was pretty productive in terms of writing.  I had written approximately 57 pages over the course of two years prior to last month.  It's not as if those 57 pages were perfect and I worked tirelessly every day to make every word gold.  I just wrote for a few weeks and then took a few months off.  Obviously, it was getting me nowhere.  So, after receiving a proof copy of my first novel, it inspired me to forge ahead with my memoir.  And in that month, I wrote another 57 pages.  I still have about 200 to go so I'm nowhere near finished but I'm still plugging away at it.

I have to say I feel good about the book so far.  As I was looking over my notes, it brought back so many details that had gotten lost in the gutter of my head.  Scents, visuals, and even strands of dialogue came back to me as I wrote.  Also, I realized how varied the book will be.  While it focuses on my time in college, it also addresses a wide variety of issues that I dealt with before I even stepped foot in school and issues that I'm still dealing with today.  I think once it's finished it'll give a pretty good picture of who I was as a whole, not just a college student.  We've got God and sex and art and mental health and death and eating disorders.

And the best part about it so far is that it's been fun to write.  Not only do I feel like I'm working with some good material but it's just been enjoyable to go back and relive those moments.  Even the not so good times were worth revisiting because it's been pretty therapeutic overall and has given me a bit more perspective on things.

In other news, I feel like I have completely disconnected myself from the real world.  My mind has been filled with writing two books and reading Harry Potter with any spare time I have and I haven't left much mental energy to concentrate on the issues that are slowly dissolving me into a second death.  My existence is in shambles and I've just been ignoring it by placing my priorities elsewhere.  I hate my job but I've all but given up on finding something else because there is nothing here for me.  I hate my body but I'm too lazy to exercise and I'm too depressed to eat healthy because fattening foods make me feel better, no matter how short-lived the feeling may be.  It's better than the emptiness.  At least that's what I try to tell myself.  I know better but I ignore it.

If I had to work in retail, I wish that I could work somewhere a bit more upscale, somewhere where the customers observe a minimum standard of hygiene, like bathing and brushing their teeth.  I had one gentleman shuffle his way into my department the other day and as I was processing his transaction, I literally had to hold my breath.  The body odor was so strong it was sharp, like it was stabbing my face.  Naturally, it took him several minutes to get the change back into his wallet.  Her gingerly eased the money in as I began to turn blue and become lightheaded.  I actually had to turn around and take a breath before going back in.  I don't deserve this.

There are three other coworkers besides myself who have bachelor's degrees.  And none of us can find anything better than crappy part-time work with this company.  I think it's kind of sad.  One's in business, the other in education, the other in social work.  I think they still stand a better chance at finding something than I do, at least something relatively nearby.  But the fact that they can't find work still makes me feel bad for them.  We all spent so much time and money to become educated, to do better for ourselves, and we are all still stuck.  And also in student loan debt on top of that.

The lady from the wireless phone company finally called me back the other day.  I had actually given up on getting a call back and put it out of my mind so when she called, I was surprised.  Obviously, I wasn't going to take it.  I had already decided that, especially when my work said they wouldn't let me stay on with them if I took the full-time job.  I didn't want to risk leaving something secure to jump into something I wasn't sure would work out.  I'm not a daredevil like that.

The funny thing is I wanted them to call me back even though I wasn't going to accept.  I just needed to know that they wanted me, that I was good enough.  But after I started thinking about it, I realized I was good enough.  I rocked that interview so hard and I am darn good at customer service, although I loathe it.  I pretty much hate all people but I am awesome at pretending I don't.  I realized I didn't need their validation and I was proud of myself for owning that.  But, I got the validation anyway so I had to make an awkward phone call back to the lady to explain to her that I was no longer interested in the position.  I wondered why it took her so long to call back as she told me it would be two days but instead it was around two weeks.  She never gave me an explanation so I'll never know.  My paranoid mind thinks she might have hired someone else and they didn't work out?  So I was second best.  Or maybe she just got busy.  I don't know and I don't have the energy to care.  It's done.

Plus, she kept calling me Brandon.  I hate that.  Even during the interview with my application sitting right in her lap, she called me Brandon.  People have done that all of my life.  When I'm at work, people read my name badge and call me Brandon.  Most of my teachers from middle and high school still know me as Brandon.  It really makes me feel good about who I am.  Thank you.

book notes #5

I decided to go ahead and use the free proof copy on the novel I wrote for National Novel Writing Month last year.  I didn't have time to edit it or even read over it but, as I mentioned, I thought it might be interesting to print it out just as it was written to see what I could do in such a short length of time.  Then, later on if I decide to edit it seriously, I can resubmit the novel and have it printed out again.  Then, I can compare the first draft to the final product.

The process was incredibly easy.  You just upload the work as a PDF, upload a cover or use their cover creator program, obtain an ISBN number and submit it.  They have to approve all the files before they are ready for you to order the proof.  They said it could take up to 48 hours but I think mine was done in a day.  I ordered the proof copy, put in my discount code and got it for free.  It's usually around 7 dollars plus 3 dollars shipping but I only had to pay the shipping.  And in a few short days, it arrive in my mail!

I would have liked to have created my own cover but as I was pressed for time and running against the free proof expiration, I decided to go ahead and use the websites cover creator.  So, it's not really what I envisioned it looking like (I don't even know what I would envision it looking like) but I think it came out quite nice.  The overall quality is pretty good, too.  For the record, I'm no book aficionado but it looks just as good as something you can pick up at Barnes & Noble.  So, I'm pretty happy with the end result.  I'd be even happier if the book were entirely finished and I had my own cover but to have a physical copy of my first book practically for free, I'm pretty pleased.

book notes #3

I finished writing my novel last Friday night.  Because I had the day off, I dedicating it to finishing.  I will admit that I probably rushed it a little bit but that's what the second draft is for, eh?

It feels good to know I wrote a book.  It's bittersweet, though.  Anyone can write a book.  Not too many people can write a good one.  Am I one of the good ones?  I suppose time will tell.  For now, all I can do is try to make it as good as I can within my....uh, I hesitate to say...talents.  I think one of the reasons it's taken me so long to write this book and even more so, what's taken me so long to write my memoir, is because I am absolutely terrified that I suck.  It's one thing to sit back and wish that I could be a great writer and animator and overall a great artist but it's another to actually produce a work and put it out there and bomb.  It almost feels safer to wish for future admiration rather than go out and really try for it and fail.  Because what happens when I fail?  Where do I go from there?

I know I have low self-esteem and maybe I don't see how...talented (there's that icky word again) I am but in all honesty, I don't necessarily think it's my low self-esteem at work here.  I just genuinely don't think I'm great.  Maybe I'm not the worst writer in the world.  But, I'm not amazing and for me, if I'm not amazing, what's the point of even trying?  There's so much garbage in the world and just about as much mediocre work clogging up people's heads and I don't really want to add to the junk pile.  Then again, not everything has to be amazing to be influential.  Or maybe I'm just a bad judge of good art.  But art is subjective.  Can you see how complex this whole thing is for me?

I just come across random blogs sometimes and I see how so many people are so much better than me and I think to myself, "These people deserve to have a book out.  Not me."  But, I really enjoy writing.  And if I like it, why shouldn't I continue?  And if someone else likes it, why shouldn't I share it with others?  I guess it goes back to the fear of rejection.  But, people will criticize anyone.  Because art is subjective.  Not everyone is going to like the same piece.

I also hesitate to work on it too hard because I don't want to put so much of myself into the project only for it to utterly fail and cause me to never write another word again.  I know that seems extreme but so are my emotions.  It would just seem like a huge waste to dedicate so much of my time and then I won't sell but three copies.

I started printing out the novel so I could begin editing it but ran out of ink halfway through.  I thought I had an extra ink cartridge but it turns out it was color ink and not black.  It kind of irritated me because I had it all set up and everything but now I'll have to wait until I can get some more ink sometime next week.  I guess it doesn't even matter all that much since I'm going to now focus on fleshing out the characters instead of working on the actual content of the book.  Because I wrote the whole thing in a rush, I don't think I was able to make anyone three dimensional...or believable...or even likable.  That's kind of a big deal to have good, likable characters.

Then, I have to get into plot and dialogue and weave in the twist that I have at the end of the story.  Plus, my closing is kind of weak so I need to work on that.  I have a lot to do.  I'd love to post snippets of the story but because everything is so rough right now, I'd rather wait until it's a bit more polished.

It has come to my attention that I might not have even provided a basic synopsis for the story.  I really thought that I had but I guess I have not.  It's a pretty basic premise.  A guy named Chris and his girlfriend named Jenny are attending a Zombie walk when Chris is bitten by one of the attendees.  At first he and his girlfriend shrug it off as an overzealous zombie fan but then Chris starts getting sick.  As his health rapidly declines, he begins to think he was bitten by a real zombie.  And there you have it.  I didn't want to go too far over my head so I kept it simple with two main characters and their situation.  I figured since this was my first foray into novel-writing, I shouldn't include too many characters or interlocking stories because then I'd just be setting myself up for a big mess and most likely a big failure.

I just need some talent.  And motivation.  And Ritalin.

book notes #2

I wrote 5,538 words yesterday.  It's about twice as much as I've ever written in a day.  I'm pretty proud of myself.  Of course, it did take all day.  I wrote a little bit, watched television, ate, surfed the web, wrote some more, and then repeated the process until falling asleep. 

Because I have been off this weekend, I suppose I haven't been so stressed out and that has allowed me to have a clear mind to write.  That's another reason I hate my job.  It's so mind numbing and all consuming that even when my shift is over, all that residual anger and frustration and fatigue comes home with me and all I want to do is go to sleep, but I don't go to sleep because the faster I go to sleep, the faster I'll be back at work.  I need a bigger buffer zone than that.  But since I'm too tired to write, I just sit around and do nothing productive.  I hate that I'm that way but I can't think of a better solution so I just kind of coast for now.

It seems that I can write until I hit some sort of wall with the story.  I'm kind of trying to let the story tell itself without putting too many restrictions on the direction, therefore the story is going its own way and that often leads to bumps in the road.  Depending on how much energy I have or if I'm thinking clearly, I can overcome those obstacles rather easily or I'll step away from the writing and not come back until a week or two later.  I think the combination of work and hitting one of those rough patches made me hesitant to get back into the swing of things.  In fact, that's why this whole process has taken so long.  I managed to write a little over 50,000 words just in the month of November last year and since then it's taken me 4 months to write a little over 28,000 words.  That's not very good.  I think if only I could have continued at that pace, I'd be done writing and well into editing by now.  I suppose I shouldn't beat myself up about it too much.  It is my first book and I am battling outside factors.  Just the fact that I'm working on this thing almost consistently is a good sign.  I think I'm pretty close to finishing the story and it's taken less than a year.  Way better than the memoir that I've been putting off for years now.

As I said, the story seems to be shaping itself and I like that.  I feel uncomfortable trying to change too much.  It's almost as if maybe my subconscious needs to tell the story a certain way so I'm kind of letting it take the reigns.  I feel like if I get too involved, it might muck it all up and it won't be as good as it would be had I just let it all happen.  Plus, so far I'm pleased with the way things have happened.  I'll be writing and suddenly I'll think, "Hey, this is the point where this needs to happen."  And then it does and it opens up wonderful new avenues for the characters to travel and it all feels very organic and natural and I like it like that..  It's actually kind of fun to see how the story unfolds as I write it instead of having this rigid outline that I have to strictly follow.

I was hoping to be super close to finishing by this weekend.  I was going to write every day this week and try to come close to the conclusion by tonight.  Well, I didn't even start until yesterday so I'm way behind but I think I wrote just about as much in that one day as I would have over the week so it's kind of worked out.  I just hope that today is as productive as yesterday was.

My only real problem now, and this is a minor one, is I have no idea what to name the book.  And that's really weird because I am usually really good at coming up with titles for the stuff I write.  In fact, I'll come up with a title in my head and then base what I write around the title.  I guess I'm a title first kind of guy.  I'm not saying I'm great at titles but I think I am.  I remember my nonfiction writing professor in college didn't like any of my essays' titles.  He said they were too cutesy.  I would agree with him but I like cutesy so it works for me. 

It is bothering me, though.  I'd like to think that maybe something will happen in the story that I can pluck a title from.  I love it when I read a book with a sort of obscure title that you're not sure how it relates to the book but then toward the middle or end of the book the title comes up in a character's dialogue with another or it comes from a memory or an observation and suddenly it all comes together and makes sense. I love that.  I hope I can recreate that. 

This is so lame.  The tentative title is Decay.  I will not be sticking with that if I can help it.  I feel like it's hard to name a zombie book without stepping on the toes of every other zombie book title out there.  Anything to do with rotting or deterioration has pretty much already been taken.  And let's not get started on how many ...of the Dead titles there are.  Plus, there's no zip to my title.  There's nothing to hook the reader into reading it or buying it.  Decay?  Where's the creativity?  It's kind of frustrating because I'm normally so good at coming up with titles but this one is really escaping me.

There's also a part of me that wants to discuss the book but at the same time that would spoil some of the surprises that pop up throughout the story.  I'd also like someone to read a rough draft just to give me pointers but I don't want to ruin anything for anyone.  In a perfect world, the story would be perfect and ready for everyone to read and enjoy without having to point out my (probably numerous) missteps.  But, I really do think I need some outside help.  This is my first book and my first foray into the world of large-scale fiction so I'm probably making a nice mess of things without even realizing it.  Sure, I've written short stories but there's a world of difference between short stories and novels.  I think I'll try to push the story as far as I can until I feel like it's decent enough to show and hopefully whoever reads it will still be entertained, even if they are proofing it for me. 

book notes #1

So far, I've written 6,8714 words and approximately 149 pages for my book.  Christmas kind of slowed me down and then I got out of the habit of writing daily.  I could be finished with the first draft by now if I never would have stopped.  Now, I'm finding it slightly difficult to get back into the mood of the story.  I'm also at a point where I don't know how to continue.  I had an original outline but things have changed slightly and now I'm not sure if continuing in the intended path will make any sense.  Frankly, I haven't given myself the time or energy to come up with a different direction.

So, I have to wonder, when you plan on writing something, how much should you stick to the plan and how much should you allow the story to tell itself?

I've always been a pretty big fan of natural, organically flowing material.  I've never been big into planning, whether it was with drawing, animating or writing.  Sure, I'll have a general outline of what I want to happen.  I think some structure is important, otherwise you'll run the risk of running way too long and getting off track of the intended message.  But, too much structure seems to stifle creativity and could possibly interrupt a certain flow as well.

I think the thing that drives me crazy is the unlimited possibilities that present themselves when creating something.  You can go anywhere, do anything.  While these endless possibilities are wonderful, they are also stressful because when you finally choose your path, you have to wonder if there was a better road out there.  Are you choosing the best possible scenario?  How will you ever know?  Art is an intricate maze of possibility.  There are trillions of ways to get out but which one will be the most gratifying?

As I write this story, there are several possibilities that are starting to sprout up.  I had originally intended the story to be about a guy who believes he is turning into a zombie.  I wanted to share the perspectives from the guy and his girlfriend.  Yet, as I wrote, I realized I was more inside the girl's head than the guy's.  It's actually turning more into her story than it is his and I don't know if that's good or bad.

I think there must be some reason why my head decided to dictate the story the way it did.  If this is my creativity taking over, should I be so quick to negate it by trying to sway myself back to my original plan?  Sometimes plans are good until you are knee deep into the situation you had so carefully planned out.  You're out in the trenches and you realize your plan no longer applies to your predicament.

The most appropriate solution is compromise.  I suppose I should put a loose leash on my outline.  I guess I'll try to follow the basic elements while allowing the story to tell itself.  I don't want it to feel manufactured.  I want it to flow.  I want the characters motivations and actions to be based on their experiences, conversations, feelings rather than just to get from point A to point B.

And the more I write, the more I'm having ideas, ideas that differ from the original plan.  Sure, that's a good thing.  There's no reason to stick to a plan if you come up with a better one but it also complicates things, causes things to have to be changed around.  Makes things messy.  Things are messy enough on their own.  And being such an amateur, these changes are scary.  My outline was safe and I felt good writing within the lines of what I knew I wanted to happen.  Exploring these new ideas, however, leave some situations open and unpredictable.

I guess I'm just scared.  Maybe this book has a lot of potential, some decent ideas, but if I don't execute it right, I'll fail and no one will ever believe I can write anything good again.  And I'll always wonder, "Well, if I would have done things differently, had the characters do one thing instead of the other, it might have made all the difference."  It's very complicated to try to unfold a story, especially when it doesn't come out how you intended, especially when you feel you've lost control of your own creation.  Then again, too much control is constricting.

All I can do is treat this first book as a learning experience.  Just get it done, make mistakes, learn from them and write another one and hope I can do better.

exquisite vampire

I just finished Breaking Dawn, the final book in the Twilight saga.

As per usual, when I watch a movie or read a book, I like to look up the reviews to see what other people thought.  Sometimes, they'll even bring up a topic about the book/movie that I'll find interesting.  It might ask a question I hadn't thought of or bring up a point that causes me to appreciate it more.  Sometimes, they might even answer a question or concern I have.

Well, the book got a lot of bad reviews.  Lots of accusations of bad writing, bad plot, bad characters...pretty much bad everything.  I started to feel bad for Stephenie Meyer because people are really trashing the book.  Not just that one, either, but the whole series.  Even though I feel bad, I can't not agree, at least somewhat, with the reviews.

Frankly, I didn't hate the book.  It kept me interested (mostly) and I was able to read it in a few days.  But, I went in having already read the first three and I knew I shouldn't expect anything groundbreaking or life-changing.  Pretty much my whole attitude toward the books have been that they are decent stories about vampires and love and that they are aimed toward preteen girls, whether that aim was intentional or not.  So, using my preteen girl mind, I took the books for what they were and enjoyed them.  They are safe, not asking you to think too much or feel too deeply.  Outwardly, they don't cause you to question people or relationships or life.  It's just good entertainment.

For some reason, it seems to me that books are judged much more harshly than movies.  Have you ever watched a Friday the 13th film and expected it to touch your heart or enrich your life?  Of course not.  The movies are just good watches.  So, why does every book, including the Twilight series, have to be a Shakespearean masterpiece?  Why should the author be punished for her imperfect prose?  I can't speak for Ms. Meyer, as I don't know her intentions while writing the books, but she probably wanted the books to be good and to touch people in their own way, but never thought they were going to be literary ambrosia.

And I'm not trying to make excuses for bad writing.  Obviously, the more crap we allow to be put into the world, the more people will absorb it and accept it and start expecting it.  We will gradually dumb ourselves down.  In fact, I'm sure we already have.  Just look at the reality television explosion.  They've replaced well written shows that could entertain, teach and enlighten.  But, I think there's different forms of entertainment out there.  I think all of those different forms of entertainment should be absorbed.  Sure, you can have some mindless fun but you should also try to educate yourself as well.  Watch a little Jersey Shore, then absorb a documentary.  Listen to Britney Spears and follow it up with some Beethovan.  Read Twilight and then check out Pride and Prejudice, which Twilight is loosely based on.

As I mentioned before, I feel bad for Stephenie Meyer.  No matter what her intentions for the books, I'm sure they are incredibly special to her, especially considering what they've managed to accomplish.  And to have people bash that must tarnish a bit of her happiness.  Then again, she's a multi-millionaire so she really shouldn't have anything to feel bad about.  Even if everyone thinks her work is crap, she's still cashing those checks.  It's just that, as a wannabe writer, I know how it is to put stuff out there and hope people will like it and when they don't, it's a let down, especially when your writing is extremely personal to you.  When people reject your work, it's almost like they are rejecting you.  And that hurts.  And, as a wannabe writer, I don't think I'm any more talented than Ms. Meyer.  So, if people think she sucks then I guess I do, too!  Of course, her books have been wildly successful so maybe that also means mine might be one day as well.  Lastly, as a wannabe writer who happens to be working on a novel, I know it's not easy to write a book.  So to be able to write something that's at least coherent and readable is an accomplishment itself.

And isn't entertainment subjective?  Not everyone is going to like the same thing.  Not everyone is going to hate the same thing.

I guess feeling sorry for Meyer is a reflection of my own insecurities.  If I ever get anything published or go the self-publishing route, I'm going to be terrified that I'll suck, that people will be repulsed by my horrid writing.  I'm terrified people will find out that I'm actually not talented at all, that I can't  handle anything more than an unorganized blog.  It's kind of funny because I actually found an editor willing to work on my novel I wrote for National Novel Writing Month and now that I've found one, I'm too scared to actually work with him.  I don't want him to read my stuff and think it's crap, that I'm crap.

I suppose I really need to get over this self-loathing.  It's starting to get tired, I know.  I can't help it much, though.  But, hey, if I could make the kind of cash the Mormon vamp lady is making, I think I'd be able to deal a lot better.  In fact, I'm sure I'd feel pretty darn good about myself.  But, it'll never happen if I never submit the story to an editor, never have the guts to put my writing out there, put myself out there, believe in what I can do and share it with the world.

I guess I gotta suck it up and take a bite out of life.

See what I did there?