IWSG: Remove Your Pants!

The first Wednesday of every month is Insecure Writers Support Group. A fabulous blog-hop. Head to the list and support some other writers today. 

This is going to seem like a weird thing to talk about in February but bear with me.... Do you know why I love NaNoWriMo?

It's because, back before 2009, I couldn't finish a draft. Or even come close to it. Then my fantastically talented friend Jean said,"Hey this thing? We're doing it!" It wasn't even November--I think it was March. But we read No Plot, No Problem, made a whole bunch of horrible videos on writing that no one thought was funny except for us and then wrote some damn novels. And it was rad.

NaNoWriMo gave me one of the most valuable tools a writers needs (in my humble blah blah blah). It taught me the value of a deadline. It cannot be overstated that just sitting down with the vague notion of write something, is a recipe for avoidance. You check Facebook. You snap a selfie, annoy your cat with a paper bag and  then take a Buzzfeed quiz to find out which Friends character you'd be.**

And after all of that, you'd open your writing software or notebook and write... nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So once I had a deadline, I wrote. I wrote a lot. And it was THE WORST writing. But that was okay, because I got better. And since 2009 I've written three full manuscripts. But I haven't successfully edited any of them. I fell into the same patterns with editing that I did with writing. I'd sit at my desk with the vague intent to "edit." This often became an exercise in futility as I rewrote and rewrote, hoping the problems with plot and pacing would fix themselves.

I'd somehow missed the most important thing NaNoWriMo waved in front of my snoot... the knowledge that a deadline is nothing but a goal and it's goal-setting that matters most if you want to achieve a dream.

I feel a little dense that it's taken me so long to realize this. If I want a writing career, I can't pants it. I just can't. Now I know, you can probably name someone who is doing it. Some famous person who doesn't take notes or make outlines and if they exist, GREAT. But I think once you get to editing, being a pantser is like putting on a blindfold while walking backward and sideways at the same time. Yeah, you might get somewhere but it's more likely you'll just fall on your ass.

I think this is the point in the process where pantsers just throw their hands up and shout "Fuck it!" They have the story. They wrote it and liked it. But now they don't know how to make it better. So vague promises to edit turn into guilt and self-doubt and then you set fire to the manuscript and start a new one.The bird toy endlessly drinking... never satiated.

 So I've set a deadline for my editing and a goal. First goal was an outline. I outlined the story as it was. Then I wrote a rough synopsis of how I wanted the story to flow with better character arcs and a stronger secondary plot.  Then I re outlined it, scene by scene on color-coded sticky notes. Coral for scenes I've written from my hero's POV, blue for my heroine's. Neon yellow for scenes I haven't written yet.

Look at all this m-effin' cohesion

What I ended up with was a cohesive look at my novel and a very measurable method of goal-setting. writing lobster and I set a deadline of March 31st, for me to do a complete big-picture edit and for her to finish her current novel. So we set word count and edited-page goals, and we printed calendars that we could put stickers on to mark our progress. When one of us hits so many stickers, the other buys that person a small gift.

We are plotter-ing it up over here and we're both making progress.

I guess what I'm saying is pants the crap out of your story if that's what you want to do. But if you're struggling, whether in the writing or the editing, it's time to set some goals. Make some deadlines. Be a plotter. Because it's really effing hard to work when you are vague about what you want to achieve.

Plot on!

**The answer of course is... I'm what would happen if Chandler and Monica fell into a puddle of nuclear waste and melted into one neurotic, funny, perfectionist mess.

My Lisa Frank stickers bring all the words to the yard...

2016: The Year of Big Steps

http://cryptid-creations.tumblr.com/

I'm not a party animal.

Or if I am, I'm sort of a party sloth, so I don't really go anywhere on New Years Eve because people-ing take way too much energy. But I do  love the concept of new year rituals. The kiss at midnight, the grapes for wishes and the resolutions. All rituals of HOPE. I'm a fan of that.

In that spirit, I assign each new year a theme and a goal. I don't like reductive resolutions designed to empty wallets and fuel self-loathing. I've made those resolutions and they never make my life feel better or more purposeful. So the last few years, I assigned themed goals like this:

2014: The Year of Peaceful Living
2015: The Year of Joyful Living 
2016: The Year of BIG STEPS

I really enjoyed meeting my 2015 resolutions like Go to a museum to see real dinosaur bones. That sparked a fun, memorable trip to Chicago, which I would never have done because I'm also a travel sloth.

So here are my resolutions:

1. Have a fully edited novel manuscript (or two) and one novella on Amazon by the end of the year.
2. Start seriously shopping for our dream house by November.
3. Buy a damn elliptical machine and use it.

I know number three sounds like one of those reductive resolutions I was thumbing my nose at earlier, but I have no weight loss goals. What I do have is diabetes. And if I don't start joyfully moving my body, I won't be around for the fruits of my writing labors. So a big step for me is HEALTH. Not clothing size. Not how many chins I have. Just my overall sense of well-being and my ability to eat a twinkie without passing out. It's a big step because it requires me to grow up and get over my perfectionist and fatalistic attitude that says I shouldn't bother because the damage is already done.

Anyhow, back on point, this is the year I'm turning my writing into a writing career.One of my big steps that goes along with number one, is to find my editing process. I'm figuring it out I think and I'll have pictures and thoughts about that soon.

Forcing myself to turn my hopes and dreams into concrete goals is so liberating. They don't feel so far away when I start making plans. I'm so optimistic about this whole writing thing, I started an Instagram account! Do I hate it? You betcha! But the point is I'm working on the dreaded P-word... platform. Ugh. Do I have to? Yes I do. Because a writing career isn't a dream.

It's a resolution.

IWSG: UNDER THE RAFT

 The first Wednesday of every month is Insecure Writers Support Group. A fabulous blog-hop. Head to the list and support some other writers today. 

You know that feeling where you're in the bottom of a swimming pool and you panic a little but you know it's okay because only have to swim to the surface? There is such sweet relief as you rise until you find yourself unable to go further because you are stuck underneath someone's stupid tire raft and for a brief moment, you think, I'm going to die while my cousin farts on my head.

No? Maybe that's just me. 

That is how I feel about this novel. I finished the manuscript and rewrote it twice. I started a third rewrite, thinking that I might be rising to the surface, only to realize I'd started the novel in the wrong place, the external conflict sucked and I'd used a character as a plot device instead of a person. 

So now I'm stuck under the raft.

I'm a pantser so I go into novels with no idea what's going to happen. I have detailed character sketches but no plot.  It's not an efficient system and I usually end up with a nonsensical first draft.  So I rewrite. Then I have a bad habit of writing again and again until I can't stand the story anymore. 

Art byFearEffectInferno

I do this because... well, I don't know how to edit. I can line edit but "big picture editing" as the kids call it, is beyond me. I feel overwhelmed and a bit thick because I can't figure it out. I need a system. My writing lobster Meika is having the same problem. Yesterday she sent me a blog post by writer Julie Dao, all about her editing process. She's a plotter but her hands-on approach to editing appeals to me so I'm giving it a shot.

I've started outlining scenes and I'm already finding it helpful. Sooooo.... I'm under the raft, fart bubbles are headed my way but I'm working up the strength to tip the damn tire, break the surface and breathe the fresh air.

I hope.

Maybe.
Or maybe I'll eat this chocolate strawberry pop tart and take a nap because my optimism is already waning. Sigh.

What is your "big picture" editing process?

Of Sea Witches and Racial Appropriation

My Photoshop skills are strong

My friends keep asking what I think about Rachel Dolezal.

I know, I can feel the whoosh of wind from your eyes collectively rolling. But I do have thoughts and it’s taken me a while to do this because I wanted some time to look at the bigger picture. When the case first came about, it was a hilarious train wreck. Now with some time and some reflection, I'm not laughing.

I suppose I can't start any discussion of her without talking about gender identity too since people won't stop comparing them. Heading to the right, there were a lot of conservatives using Dolezal's situation to point out the hypocrisy of liberals. Then you have lots of woo-woo white liberals on the left mocking Dolezal so they could prove how understanding they are about racial issues. A bunch of tales told by idiots, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

I'm gonna dismiss the comparison to Caitlyn Jenner. It's an understandable one on the surface, but it's fundamentally flawed underneath (much like Dolezal herself). Kaitlyn Jenner may have felt like a woman all her life, but until recently her experiences were those of a heterosexual male. No matter how she felt inside, she was still treated to all the privileges (and struggles) that came with being a man. So transition or not, she can’t speak to the shock of having her first period or being catcalled in middle school. She can't say that someone made her feel ashamed to be a girl who played sports. And no one made assumptions that her only goal in life was motherhood. She didn't experience those things and more importantly, she's not claiming that she did.

The trappings of race are not the same as the experience of race. Rachel Dolezal didn’t simply live a black woman with her cute ‘fro and an over-application of bronzer. She appropriated the hardship stories of living as a woman of color. And not only did she relish sharing these stories, but hers were the most harrowing. She claimed to be stalked by the KKK and that she was a victim of numerous hate crimes. Tales that now appear exaggerated or fabricated.

Make no mistake, Dolezal was grown and harvested in the same cabbage patch that spawned another famous pathological liar, Alicia Esteve Head, who faked being a victim of 9-11. Like Dolezal she was smart, educated and people valued her. But that wasn't enough for Alicia. So she crafted a heartbreaking story of bravery and loss. She claimed that families of 9-11 victims stalked and harassed her because she lived and their loved ones didn't. Her narrative was so powerful that other survivors felt guilty about their own grief because their pain paled in comparison to hers. Much like Dolezal did with the NAACP, this woman became the leader of her community. And as a voice for the World Trade Center Survivors’ Network, she really was a force for good. But she was also a liar who used the other survivors to fuel her narcissistic, parasitic desire for victim-hood and in doing so, she siphoned off compassion and sympathy that should have gone to actual survivors.

So when did the laughter stop in regard to Dolezal? It was about the time I watched a bunch of her interviews on YouTube. I spent far too much time listening to her talk about the difficulties of being mixed race and acting as a bridge between black folks and white folks. She went on for a long time saying that dating black people or having mixed children not give white people a free pass to appropriate black culture (okay I laughed a little here). On one of the videos she gave a talk on the history of black hair. After that, I watched a video where she talked about cultural assumptions and how she didn't feel safe leaving her house with her 'fro messy because she had to represent the race. A vein in my forehead pulsed when I read that.


My hair has been the touchstone for every act of hate that was ever perpetrated upon me by strangers. Growing up as the lone person of color in my itty-bitty town I experienced the things that Dolezal claimed as her own. Harassment, intimidation, violence. Powerlessness when I was punished for defending myself from acts of aggression. Every curl on my head is a reminder of being repeatedly thrown off the school bus for refusing to sit with the kid who punched me and called me a nigger. And thrown off again when I refused to sit with the other kid who routinely spat phlegm into my 'fro. It represents the counselor who straightened my hair. The dead animals in my mailbox. The unwelcome demands to touch. This tangle of beautiful, complicated hair is stubbornly knotted up with my feelings of worthlessness. Of ugliness.

I don't speak for all minority women, but if you spend a lot of time talking to us about our hair, there's a word that comes up a lot. Protective. We are always looking for the most protective hairstyle, the best way to keep our fragile, overworked, disparaged hair safe. I think that's an apt word. There are many blogs and videos out there about protecting our hair. And underneath the twist outs and expensive products these videos and posts have deeper meaning. They are about women of color communing about the pain of invisibility. We are rejecting the notion that our hair is ugly. We are telling each other that we are beautiful. And in doing that we are creating another way to protect our hair.

So Dolezal's smug claiming of the black hair experience makes me feel a little protective and a lot unsafe. It also makes me want to scream, how dare you? How goddamn dare you steal our most profoundly painful experiences and shrug them on like a ratty old coat that you can cast off whenever you're sick of playing dress up? I'm not mad about her hair or her duck-faced selfies. I'm mad because she appropriated the pain of being a minority to feed her ego. She absorbed our history, invaded safe spaces and then felt entitled to speak for us. It’s privilege at its worst. This wasn't the appropriation of our looks, it was the appropriation of our stories. In order to sing, she stole our voices.

So, dear friends, how do I feel about Rachel Dolezal?

Fuck that bitch sideways.

That's how I feel.

Tweet Child O' Mine

Can you believe that's the post title I went with? I know. I should be ashamed. I'm not. But I should be.

Though I am too long-winded for it, I'm finally on board with this whole tweeting thing. I still don't think it's gonna catch on though...

https://twitter.com/delusionshumor

Let's be Buddies or Tweeters or Twatters or whatever. Just follow me. Gah, I find your new  language confusing. Why is everything so bright and shiny? What are these magical screens full of pornography and cat pictures? How do I surf the webernets?

IWSG: So many much things happening!

Click for the Blog Hop List

It's been a crazy couple of months. Deaths in the family, some life changes, writing career choices... being a grown-up is exhausting. Where to begin?

Let's start with some awesome news. I was asked to join the board of directors for the Capital City Writers Association! Squee! I feel honored and all that. Mostly I feel completely unprepared, overwhelmed and worried that I'm gonna screw up. That usually means I'm doing the right thing.

Beyond that, I'm in a full re-write and it's crazy. I'm struggling a bit with it because I feel like I'm carving the funny out of my novel. I'm replacing it with depth but I miss the funny and I'm worried that I'm writing something more dour than I wanted. We'll see.

Speaking of this damnable book, I made a dumb decision.My heroine is a rock singer/song writer and there is a bug-fuck crazy part of me that decided I need to have a line or two from each of her songs at the beginning of each chapter. A great idea, if I were in any way talented at poetry or song-writing. But alas, I'm too long-winded and literal. But what is life without completely stressful and unnecessary challenges? So I've been writing song lyrics and I can confidently call them, "Not completely awful." So yay?


Also I found out that someone I really respect as a writer (and general smart person) has decided to self-publish. This paused me for a bit. I have no problem with self-pubbing and it was always in the back of my mind as a possibility but now I'm seriously considering it. 

I absolutely believe I can get an agent and get my books published traditionally, but do I want to do that? I feel like my options are the prestige of being "chosen" or the checking account of someone actually selling books. If you have a solid business plan and do it right, you can make a living for yourself with self-publishing. Everything I've been reading and researching tells me that if you choose traditional, you'll be eatin' crackers, waiting years to see your book in print, still doing all the legwork of pimping your work and you'd be making next to nothing. But boy would people respect you more. Sadly, I cannot buy a house with the respect of my peers. I am an artist but I'm a practical one. 

 Anyhow there's more but this is long and rambling enough. Oh yeah, check out my pretty new blog logo and template design. I did everything, including all the coding myself. Take that web designer-who-must-not-be-named. It looks a million times better. I'm so happy with it. I still have some jiggering to do, especially with my footers and my sidebar but I'll get there. Now that I don't hate looking at it, I can take some time to do it right. 

How YOU doin'?

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This post is part of the Insecure Writers Support Group blog hop. We are here, we are insecure, we are legion. Go check out some other blogs on the sign-up list and give a neurotic writers some love and support.

IWSG: Neurosis - Writer Edition

 I had to bow out of the A-Z challenge. I'm starting to get unstuck in my rewrite and I need to focus on that. Maybe next year. In other news, I'm unstuck in my rewrite! This has been a strange journey.

My first go-through, I connected strongly to my heroine but I didn't know my hero. Now I feel like I connect to my hero but I've lost my connection to the heroine.

Writing is hard, yo.

 I'm feeling all kinds of things these days about writing. Scared. Excited. Jealous and judgmental of people further along in their career path than I am. Worrying that my unpublished novel will get made into a crappy movie and I'll have to be embarrassed about it forever, like I bet Ann Rice is about Exit to Eden. That book was lovely and sexy and heartbreaking and that movie was... a buddy cop story with wacky S&M hijinks. WTF?

I digress.

Most of my process involves me worrying about stuff that I'm nowhere near ready to worry about and then those thoughts meandering into non-sequiturs. What if I don't find an agent? What if I never sell a book? What if I get in a tractor accident and lose my writin' hand? It happened to that girl in Drop Dead Gorgeous. What if Denise Richards rigs my tractor to blow up just so I can't win the Sarah Rose American Teen Princess Pageant?

What if I took a Xanax and watched Drop Dead Gorgeous and shut the hell up?

What does your neurosis look like?