33.

Today's my 33rd birthday. Wanting a quiet and less stressful birthday, I wisely took the day off from work. My car's in the shop, so I can't go anywhere for a while, which bodes well for writing. But before writing, a bit of reflection.

I didn't really make any New Year's resolutions, except a general resolution to kick ass. But for my 33rd year, I'm tempted to set a few goals, such as:

Writing fearlessly. This is by far the most important one. Too often I hold myself back in my writing, and I shouldn't. My weird is what makes me interesting. It's also what makes my characters and plot interesting. I can't accept writing timidly, tiptoeing around or glossing over things. Although I hide it well, I'm pretty raw and edgy, and it needs to come through more in my writing. How will I know I'm writing more fearlessly? Because it just feels different. A good kind of different.

Self-control. Getting up at 5:30 AM to write has been really tough when it's 2 degrees outside, and the room where my desk is is freezing-ass cold. But it's a necessary evil. Thank goodness, winter won't last forever, so this is something that will get easier (and when it does, I want to maximize my time even more). I'm getting up and writing, but sometimes I'm slogging through it. I need to be better at getting the amount of sleep I need, limiting distractions, eating healthfully, and feeling okay with saying "no." I must not only treat writing as a huge priority, but treat my well-being as a huge priority, too.

Making peace. Something I'm constantly working on is trying to worry less about shit I can't control. This is the type of stuff that often distracts me when I'm trying to write. I also need to be okay with the things I've given up to write. For me, writing is extremely solitary, and I need a lot of quiet and order to focus. Because of this, I don't tend to do much socially, and there are friends I love dearly that I hardly ever talk to. The bottom line is, there are only 24 hours in a day. There are certain things I must do, like go to work, write, get a healthy amount of sleep and food, and spend time with the small handful of people who matter most to me. Because these musts eat up many hours of the day, I don't often have the time for friends and family that I used to have. It doesn't mean I like anyone any less, or want to talk or hang out with them any less, but it does mean that sometimes friendships are affected because of my inability to be as present as others need and want me to be. It's unfortunate, and I don't like it either. But I feel dead when I don't or can't write. My life is at its best--its most vibrant and lively--when I'm writing, and I need to keep it up no matter what. I have to do what's right for me. And if that's reaching out to people when I can and when I have time--instead of forcing myself to do this with a regularity that throws off my writing--then I have to learn to be okay with it.

Welcome to the year where I stop holding myself back. Let's see what I can really do.

Quick update.

Had a day off today to write and recharge. In addition to writing, I also did some reading, played with a few new beauty tools (hot rollers, blue temporary hair streaks, oh my!), made delicious gluten-free cookies, and decided to do a little blogging 'cause I haven't been here in a while.

I'm currently writing the second book in the Flame series and revising the first draft of the first book in the series. The revising is more challenging for me than the writing is, but both are going a little slower than I'd like. I'm getting back into my "get my ass up at 5:30 AM and do writing/revising before work" routine, but since it's really freakin' cold at that time of the morning, getting out of bed then has also been rather difficult. But I'm pushing through...

I've been a bit quiet and melancholy lately. I think I miss my friends. My fault, not theirs--between working a challenging day job and making writing and revising my other top priority, I've found myself with very little spare time, and I end up sleeping, preparing GF/DF food, and reading (writing books as well as novels in my genre) during any spare moments I get. I constantly feel like I'm being a shitty friend, and I hope that eventually I'll have the time and energy to return phone calls, emails, etc. Fellow writers, if you have any tips for balancing friends and a social life with writing, I'm all ears!

A look into my world these days...
* I've been reading this writer's blog posts a lot--I'm always inspired by her words.
* This book impressed the hell out of me--a fun, twisted read from a fellow Philly-area writer. I read it in one day--couldn't put it down!
* I'm still reeling from the most recent episode of Person of Interest. (Warning: Link contains spoilers!) Were you surprised by it, too?
* I've been cheering this guy on in Project Runway All Stars. He's always been one of my favorite PR designers, and next week I hope to see him win a damn challenge already!
* I needed a writing confidence boost in a big way, so I created this board on Pinterest. I hope it helps you, too!

That's all for now...it's back to writing Book 2 for me!

Simple questions.

I'm diving headfirst into editing the first Emerson novel.  I've taken forever to go through the hard copy and mark the hell out of it, and now it's time to dig into the digital version and start actually making the changes.

I've been lazy.  Sick.  Sleeping a lot, or not sleeping enough.  Thinking a lot.  Sometimes thinking too much.  And all of it's good for my writing--the thinking especially, but even the sick and tired, because some of my best brainstorms have come when I'm a little fuzzy in the head.

But goddamn it, now it's time to get down to business.  And my business is writing.

I started up again today with the early o'clock wake-up time.  It makes me happy to tackle the most important thing in my day first.  It's what I need to do, and I started doing it today.  And I'll do it tomorrow too, and the next day, and so on and so forth.  I'm getting other shit done too--work, freelance, life in general, cooking delicious gluten-free noms, etc--but writing must be my number one thing.  And I must treat it as such.

Treating it as my top priority boils down to asking myself a few simple questions when something comes up.  And "something" could be anything--being distracted by cats on the internet or a Sephora sale, catching up on Person of Interest, taking a nap, writing something else, doing something that could take me out of "writerbrain" mode, etc.  But in the case of any kind of something, I'm training myself to ask:

1. Is this really necessary?
2. Is it useful to someone I care about helping?
3. Will this help me with my Emerson-related goals?

If the answer is not yes to one or several of those questions, then I need to think very carefully about whether or not I do the thing that I'm asking myself about.  This line of thinking is making me cognizant of the many barriers (whether meaningful or frivolous) to writing and how I can handle them well so they don't derail me from my goals.

And with that, it's nearly 11 PM.  I need to be up in 7 hours, and in that time I need to get a good night's sleep, so off I go...

I'm a writer.

I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately.

Yes, I have a completed first draft, which I’m due to begin editing, like, yesterday.  And yes, I’m working (albeit slowly) on the first draft of the second book in the series.  But progress has been slow on both—a stark contrast to the month of July, where I felt like I was a writing superstar, not just churning out more words, but also better work.

I think it’s that I don’t feel like a real writer all the time.  And that’s a problem.

Of course someone who doesn’t feel that much like a real writer is content to curl up in bed, reading books by other writers.  Or watching baseball games.  Or sleeping.  I feel like a legitimate baseball fan, and I'm most definitely an experienced sleeper.  I’ve earned my cred in those areas.  But when it comes to being a writer, I have to convince myself of my cred, and it’s disconcerting.

Too often I focus on what I don’t have: a publishing contract, an agent, a ton of industry contacts, etc.  I focus on the things that keep me from writing, like the day job, baseball season, feeling exhausted, not always being in the right frame of mind.

I forget to focus on what I do have.  I do have a completed first draft.  I do have a fully realized plot and characters, and a mapped-out 7-book series.  I have a website I’m happy with.  I have an author platform, and am learning more about social media—and how it can benefit me—every day.  I have people in my life who cheer me on.  I have talent and determination.  And I have a plan—for revising, for editing, for querying, for networking, for getting published.

That’s a lot more than other people have.  Comparatively, I’m probably ahead of many others who share dreams similar to mine.

I need to remember that.  I need to focus on comparing myself to who I was months ago, weeks ago, even yesterday, and improving that person—not comparing myself to other writers.  I have to go at my own pace.  I have to move forward with networking and interviewing and researching, keeping in mind that I am a writer.  If nothing else, I’m a writer of a first draft, and I owe it to myself to remind myself that I’m a writer so I can take on the necessary tasks to bring this from first draft to final draft, thus further legitimizing that whole “I’m a writer” thing.

It’s okay if I’m a novice writer.  An amateur writer.  A budding author.  All of those things are true.  And so is the fact that I am a writer…and I deserve to treat myself, and think of myself, as such.

Quick hits.

So a few exciting things have happened this weekend:

1. Went to Kinko's and printed out my manuscript.  I'm gonna start revising this week...and I am so excited about it.  Yep, I'm a geek.

2. Had a lot of fun writing this article: http://www.listmysocialmedia.com/writers-and-twitter.  If you're a writer/author who needs ideas on what to do--or not do--on Twitter, check it out!

3. Last night I seriously gorged myself on amazing gluten-free food from the always-awesome restaurant Grandma's Grotto.  Two appetizers, a scrumptious dish of baked penne (half of which I ate for dinner last night, half for lunch today), dessert (a gluten-free eclair...NOM), and a gluten-free white pizza that I've been randomly eating pieces of.  I swear I'm not 800 pounds, not even after eating all of those oh-so-delicious vittles.  But damn, it was good.  All of it.  (And yes, I can still fit into my jeans.)

I don't know where the hell the summer went (oh wait, I spent the whole summer writing...), but I can feel fall in the air, and I can't wait to get my red pen out and start the next phase of whipping this book into shape...

The black leather elephant in the room

I've been working on my "elevator pitch" lately.  Because, quite frankly, it sucks.

Not that I plan on running into or cornering an agent in an elevator anytime soon.  But the elevator pitch would be handy during those moments when somebody asks, "So what's your book about?" and I'm stuck fumbling around for just the right words (and for all my effort, my description comes out sounding extremely lame).

Although I still have much more progress to make, I'm getting better at the elevator pitch.  I've written the story of Emerson, a young woman who stumbles into becoming a hitwoman for hire...  But what I'm not good at is addressing the black leather elephant over there in the corner. 

Emerson is a wife.  The only child of a murderer and an abuser.  A young woman who keeps to herself, with good reason--she has many secrets.  She's a habitual liar.  She was thrust into the unenviable role of caregiver/breadwinner after her husband becomes paralyzed.  She has a secret life.  Maybe more than one.  And now she's a killer, encouraged to kill by the cops, of all people.

I'll readily talk about all of those things.  They're all integral to the plot, and they've held people's interest when I've talked about them.

What I haven't really talked about is that Emerson is also a dominatrix.  A domme.  Someone who blurs the line between pain and pleasure, who hurts people--because they ask for it--for money.

I'm comfortable writing about this aspect of Emerson.  But I'm not so good at talking about it to other people.  Because once you start talking about sex, people often get weird, uncomfortable, and even judgey.

I'm okay writing about it.  If (after I'm published, of course) someone doesn't like reading about it, they can put the book down, write me a nastygram, leave a pissy review on Amazon.com, whatever.  Or they can be intrigued by it, keep reading, gradually become comfortable with this aspect of Emerson...  But it's different when I'm talking to someone about the story.  If I start talking about the black leather elephant, they'll have to respond in some way, and...hello, awkward, if it makes them uncomfortable.  I'm all about challenging people's comfort levels, but I don't necessarily want to be looking them in the eyes when I do it.  And I don't want them to feel pressured to respond n a certain way, either.

I went to a writer's group meeting the other night.  A few people, after critiquing a few of my chapters, asked follow-up questions about Emerson, and I happily answered them.  Without mentioning Emerson's domme job.  Sigh.

It's something that has to get mentioned sometime, but I'm nervous that once I mention it, it'll skew people's perceptions of the book.  I've managed to write about a domme in a completely un-pornographic way (seriously, not to toot my own horn, but that takes a bit of talent).  But that's hard to believe without seeing it, reading it.  And I'm scared of this aspect of the story scaring people away from it.

So for now, I let it be the black leather elephant in the room.  I know it's there, and for the time being, I let it lurk in the shadows, whip in paw (or trunk), paddle at the ready.  But sometime it's gonna want to come out of its dark little corner, and at some point, I'm going to have to let it.

Why yes, I *am* plotting something...

I had a light bulb moment today.  After a week of trying to cobble together a short story idea, it came to me.

Why are you spending all this energy thinking of short story ideas when you've got another Emerson book to write?

I guess it was because this period was supposed to be my "break from writing."  It didn't seem right to interrupt that with, well, writing.

But...let's just say I am, to some degree, re-inspired.

And if I've learned anything about inspiration, it's that I need to use it when it shows up, because it could disappear into the ether again pretty quickly.  When the muses, those sly little pixies, show up and sprinkle a layer of fairy dust on you when you're sleeping (it totally happens that way, right?), it doesn't last forever, and you'd do well to use it ASAP.

So I did.  Not only did I plot out the first 8 chapters of the book, I also wrote 800+ words--the first chapter.

It felt good, it felt natural--it felt like it took no time at all.  The flow, the voice, and the celerity I'd cultivated during the last third of the first book (yeah, that's a mouthful) is still here.

I can feel it in my bones--I'm ready to do this.  It's what I should be doing.

I never thought I'd be gearing up to revise Emerson 1* while writing Emerson 2*, but it's pretty clear to me that that's how it's shaking out.  And you know what?  I'm okay with that.  It's a little crazy, sure, but what decent writer isn't a little crazy, or hell bent on doing stuff that qualifies as a wee bit nuts?

This kind of crazy feels damn good.

* Because I still haven't settled on actual titles yet.