Update:
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Gearing up for NaNoWriMo
Friday, October 19, 2012
National Novel Writing Month is almost here!
It's that time again! Time to write a novel in 30 days, starting November 1st. Sign up here to participate.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Fifty Shades of ...Oh My!
While I was in Sewanee this summer, one of my classmates (who shall remain unnamed) mentioned a book that had swept readers off their feet. The title of this sensational book is Fifty Shades of Grey, which it turns out (much to my dismay) is one of three books in the Fifty Shades Trilogy. When I bought the first book, I had no clue that it was part of a trilogy. I probably wouldn't have started reading it in the first place, had I known. I read the Hunger Games trilogy this past spring, and the Twilight series before that...and the Harry Potter books before that. I'm not big on trilogies or series.
It wasn't until I had begun to read Fifty Shades of Grey that I figured it out. Great, now I have to buy two more books. So, naturally, I went ahead and bought the other two. One of my biggest pet peeves (for myself) is starting a trilogy (or series) and not finishing it. I was stuck. I had to read all of them. So, I did just that...in 4 days.
The first book was shocking, to say the least. I mean, I've read romance books before, but jeez. E.L. James takes erotic romance to a whole new level, at least for "vanilla" readers like me. I also have to say that I was a bit disgusted when I read Christian Grey's dirty secret, but because I vowed to read it all, I trudged on. After reading through the third book (almost 2,000 pages later), I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't bad. The kinky sex wasn't as bad as I expected it to be, and the plot wasn't entirely ridiculous. For romance, I'd have to say that I enjoyed the read(s). There are enough sex scenes in the span of these three books to make most readers exhausted by the time they reach the end of the trilogy. I'm still deciding whether that is a good thing or a bad thing.
For those (average readers) thinking about diving into this trilogy, get ready! It was quite the experience.
Friday, August 24, 2012
The Joy of Writing
It's easy to forget that writing can be a joy. When I started writing creatively, it was only for the love of writing. I had no ambitions of being published or winning writing contests. I wrote for myself. I wrote because it made me happy.
Then, something happened. Something changed me.
Many of my grad school classmates (MFA students) were already published authors, and I felt left behind. I felt as though I wasn't working hard enough. So I began to take online creative writing courses in addition to my grad school courses. I spent hours reading books on craft and style. My head started to spin, and I knew that my motivations had become skewed.
Writing no longer brought joy. It brought anxiety and doubt. Would I ever be published? Should I just quit writing altogether? These were the questions that plagued me on a daily basis.
I started entering writing and poetry contests like mad, and I would often be unable to sleep awaiting the results. I won many of the contests that I entered, but when I didn't win, I would be crushed. I had become obsessed with contests and began to neglect the YA novel that I had spent months drafting. I was stalled at 30,000 words (into my novel), so I concentrated on 300 word flash fiction pieces instead. They were my excuse for not working on the novel.
After months of exhaustion and endless anxiety, I decided that something had to give. I came to the conclusion that if I wasn't writing for fun--first and foremost--there was no point. I would end up drowning myself in self-doubt if I continued on the path I had been on.
A few days after this revelation, I got an acceptance email for 4 of my stories to be published in an anthology by a small, independent press out of Nebraska. In my restlessness, I had forgot that I had even submitted my stories to them months earlier. It was a small victory, but a small victory is victory, right?
So, this November, I will officially be a published writer (creative writer, that is). I wasn't forced to resort to self-publishing. I was chosen by editors who liked my stories enough to publish them. It made me feel as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The burden carried by the unpublished had been taken off my back, and my vision finally cleared. I can now write for the sheer joy of it--and that's what it's all about.
Then, something happened. Something changed me.
Many of my grad school classmates (MFA students) were already published authors, and I felt left behind. I felt as though I wasn't working hard enough. So I began to take online creative writing courses in addition to my grad school courses. I spent hours reading books on craft and style. My head started to spin, and I knew that my motivations had become skewed.
Writing no longer brought joy. It brought anxiety and doubt. Would I ever be published? Should I just quit writing altogether? These were the questions that plagued me on a daily basis.
I started entering writing and poetry contests like mad, and I would often be unable to sleep awaiting the results. I won many of the contests that I entered, but when I didn't win, I would be crushed. I had become obsessed with contests and began to neglect the YA novel that I had spent months drafting. I was stalled at 30,000 words (into my novel), so I concentrated on 300 word flash fiction pieces instead. They were my excuse for not working on the novel.
After months of exhaustion and endless anxiety, I decided that something had to give. I came to the conclusion that if I wasn't writing for fun--first and foremost--there was no point. I would end up drowning myself in self-doubt if I continued on the path I had been on.
A few days after this revelation, I got an acceptance email for 4 of my stories to be published in an anthology by a small, independent press out of Nebraska. In my restlessness, I had forgot that I had even submitted my stories to them months earlier. It was a small victory, but a small victory is victory, right?
So, this November, I will officially be a published writer (creative writer, that is). I wasn't forced to resort to self-publishing. I was chosen by editors who liked my stories enough to publish them. It made me feel as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The burden carried by the unpublished had been taken off my back, and my vision finally cleared. I can now write for the sheer joy of it--and that's what it's all about.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Now that I'm back...
My Sewanee summer ended at the end of July, but I still had writing to finish up until a few weeks ago. Now that those weeks have passed, I must get back to writing.
Don't get me wrong, I've been writing a page or two every week or so, but that just isn't going to cut it now that I don't have graduate school work as an excuse. We started back to homeschooling our kids this week, but I really can't use that as an excuse either. Ok, enough said about that.
I've decided that I will take up the "paragraph a day" challenge if I can't do any better with my writing. I should be shooting for 1,000 words per day, but I'm not holding my breath with that goal. It's something to work towards, but I'm not feeling up to it yet.
Even though it's old news, I still have to remind myself that writing is hard. It's work...and if it was easy, everyone would do it. I must repeat this to myself at least once a week. It does a writer good...really, it does.
I have started writing a few pages, here and there, for the memoir that I have planned. I know that this particular project will be a long time in the making, but I have to get started...even if it's just scratching a few lines here and there or taking notes. One of the most important things that I learned this summer (in John Jeremiah Sullivan's workshop) is that some writing requires the "iceberg effect." 80% of the work is research, and only 20% will make it into the piece. So, I trudge on....
Don't get me wrong, I've been writing a page or two every week or so, but that just isn't going to cut it now that I don't have graduate school work as an excuse. We started back to homeschooling our kids this week, but I really can't use that as an excuse either. Ok, enough said about that.
I've decided that I will take up the "paragraph a day" challenge if I can't do any better with my writing. I should be shooting for 1,000 words per day, but I'm not holding my breath with that goal. It's something to work towards, but I'm not feeling up to it yet.
Even though it's old news, I still have to remind myself that writing is hard. It's work...and if it was easy, everyone would do it. I must repeat this to myself at least once a week. It does a writer good...really, it does.
I have started writing a few pages, here and there, for the memoir that I have planned. I know that this particular project will be a long time in the making, but I have to get started...even if it's just scratching a few lines here and there or taking notes. One of the most important things that I learned this summer (in John Jeremiah Sullivan's workshop) is that some writing requires the "iceberg effect." 80% of the work is research, and only 20% will make it into the piece. So, I trudge on....
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Online writing communities
The sites listed below have free and paid memberships:
- WDC (Writing.com)
- Writer's Cafe
- Scribophile
- Flickspin
- The Next Big Writer (requires paid membership)
- Writer's Network
- Author Nation
- Protagonize
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Summer in Alabama
Yellow grass crunches underneath my flip flops. The old folks are all talking about rain. They're saying what I'm thinking now as I listen to the crunching under my feet. It's too dry outside. The heat is almost unbearable, even to a veteran like myself. Thirty-one years seems like plenty of time to adjust to summer weather in Alabama. I'm beginning to believe that a lifetime isn't long enough.
I can't contemplate how my ancestors survived in the heat and summer draught before the days of air conditioning. Most of my ancestors were farmers. Draught means minor inconvenience to me, but it would've meant a loss in income and possible starvation to those that came before me.
Two zucchini and one cucumber plant make up my micro garden. I can sense how the plants suffer in this heat, and even though I water them twice a day, their leaves are still shriveled and less productive than normal. I can't imagine large scale farming in this heat wave. It's too depressing.
Yet somehow my great-great-great grandparents, great-great grandparents, great grandparents, and grandparents survived and prospered through the draughts, despair, and doubts that came with farming the dry dirt in Alabama. My life and living aren't dependent on the rain, but the living of modern farmers may be. I pray for rain for their sakes, as much as I pray for it to ease my physical discomfort. Rain brings relief and life to the dry landscape. I sit waiting--expectantly--as I watch the sky.
I can't contemplate how my ancestors survived in the heat and summer draught before the days of air conditioning. Most of my ancestors were farmers. Draught means minor inconvenience to me, but it would've meant a loss in income and possible starvation to those that came before me.
Two zucchini and one cucumber plant make up my micro garden. I can sense how the plants suffer in this heat, and even though I water them twice a day, their leaves are still shriveled and less productive than normal. I can't imagine large scale farming in this heat wave. It's too depressing.
Yet somehow my great-great-great grandparents, great-great grandparents, great grandparents, and grandparents survived and prospered through the draughts, despair, and doubts that came with farming the dry dirt in Alabama. My life and living aren't dependent on the rain, but the living of modern farmers may be. I pray for rain for their sakes, as much as I pray for it to ease my physical discomfort. Rain brings relief and life to the dry landscape. I sit waiting--expectantly--as I watch the sky.
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