Last Monday, one of my occaisional guilty pleasures, The Baub Show, hosted Dave to talk about his new project. It seems Dave is writing a book. And I had no clue the man was a writer. I listened, with rapt attention to Dave’s idea and process. Read 12 of those ‘I did this for a year’ kinds of books and then…write a book about it. Genius, eh? I’d buy it, Dave. I swear. I mean, I bought Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (didn’t read it, but…), so it’s safe to say, I’d buy that. And I might even read it.

Dave runs a blog, a Tumblr, I guess, which is pretty neat because it doesn’t allow for comments, so there’s no hecklement and harassification (I made those words up, because I am a writer. Language is alive, or so I hear), just you and your material. Today’s post reinforces something he said on The Baub Show last week and totally, totally defines my writing experience right now:

1) “I am not a woman who enjoys process. I am a writer who does not enjoy writing.”

I feel you Adrienne Martini. I love writing, but I love avoiding writing even more. You know, obviously. But I promise to do better going forward.

…

3) “That’s what I like about [the] Mary Tudor [pattern]. The pattern is for just one size. That’s it.”

“But is that going to look good?”

“Probably not. But it’s about finishing it, not wearing it,” I say.

Word. The possibility that this project might someday turn into a book, while exciting, is making me evaluate it as it goes, making me less enthusiastic about plowing forward with it when I’m not sure how the end result will read. Some things are just about doing, about finishing. Like the Marathon: I knew I wasn’t going to win, or even look good in the dri-tec t-shirt. I just did it, and I used to just do this, and I need to get back to it.

To be continued, really.

It always strikes me as kind of funny, in an ‘wow, that’s amazing’ way, to hear writers talk about how they aren’t just rushing toward the keyboard everyday and ideas just aren’t pouring out of them all the time and they aren’t deep fountains of pontifications. I wonder if Stephen King wastes time watching Reality TV while his latest novel sits somewhere in his study? Does Nora Roberts accidentally-on-purpose leave her outline at home in some purse and so, oops, she can’t pound out that new chapter? I guess probably not, but us “regular” people, us writers toiling down here near the soil, it’s not an everyday, turned on thing. I might be inspired about 4 days a month. TRULY. The amount of times that I’ve re-written 2500 words of a chapter would blow your MIND.

Like Dave, I don’t so much hate writing. I don’t hate thinking and plotting and planning and mulling over conversations and actions and settings in my mind. Actually what I hate is not writing. When I don’t have ideas, or I don’t feel like it, or I read the first 2500 words and go, ‘woof’, and close the page and watch another episode of Criminal Minds. Readers of this blog know that I regularly question whether I should call myself a writer. Anyone can put words on a page. At least that’s my opinion.

His second point hits me so strongly. Earlier today I was shaming myself. I keep thinking about that book I was going to write this year that I haven’t managed to get past Chapter 1, on. For some reason, calling it a book was so intimidating and daunting. It was like every word was sealing its fate and every sentence or paragraph or chapter was going to cement my chances of getting published. Even if I decided to publish myself, it’s still so much pressure to open up and tell people, “uhhh, so I wrote this book and uh…. you could, you know, buy it. Or whatever.” OH My. God. Would never happen. I’d be the worst self promoter ever!

As well, I’m so lately struggling with motivation and ideas. When am I NOT struggling with motivation and ideas? Seriously. Anyway, I said all that, not to say that I always feel better to see another writer struggling to actually write. I actually don’t feel alone and I feel a bit of a kinship and I don’t feel like a freak. The blogs and twitter are just full of people #writing. So much writing! 800 words! Woo! Rewrote chapter 7, alright! Got my book sold! Yay!

Me? I’m avoiding Chapters 51 and 17.

By the way, Same Time Next Week came calling last weekend. I rewrote several chapters, lopped off the diseased end and am starting forward from a new spot, without resolving all of my conflict. I think. Errr. I’m actually waiting on a friend to read the latest revisions and give me some notes back before I start up again.  In the meantime, I have more to add to the saga that is All I Wanna Do.

Looks at Chapter 51. Again. I swear I am not going to close it.

Since I was having such a hard time with the last chapter of AIWD, I was longing for something new and different to write, to get me out of the funk. Something easy, or something that came to me easier, instead of struggling over every word and trying to make them string together and make perfect sense. And then….

Same Time Next Week… the bane of my existence… my unfinished 2009 NaNoWriMo… the story that was not going to be finished… started talking to me. It started telling me where I could back the story up to and where I could lop off the diseased portion and where I could take the story from the new jumping off point. I’ve been rearranging the last two days and tonight actually added new words. And got to a point tonight that makes me excited to jump in tomorrow. DRAMZ, ya’ll!

Ugh. So excited. And so happy that ideas are flowing, and that I’m not struggling. I just needed to focus on something different, and this story is much looser with language and sexuality so I can uh… let some things flow. LOL. I guess I just need the release and every once in while I need to pull myself out of AIWD and do something else. Since I can’t quite get started on that Criminal Minds fanfic. HA!

But seriously, it’s still rolling around in my brain. *smacks self* Stop it!

My only issue is how to post the new version at the archive because I already have great feedback on what’s there and some of that gets replaced. I’m hoping it will be alright to close the old version and re-upload the same story but a Redux version. So many things are moved around and added that it’d be hard to go in and edit the old chapters. And then the feedback wouldn’t make any sense.

But I think I want to finish it, before I even start to thinking about that…..but it’s nice to think about.

It is month end, which means another update to my Get Your Words Out tally. Last month was a banner month for writing, and this month I did even better. I’ve been on a few “missions” the last couple of months, which is generating a lot of words. This makes me happy.

My total for the month of June, through about 5pm today, is 40,001 words. WOW! I hit about 35K words last month, which was my biggest month so far. Half of that is some thought and pontificating about changing my life and sharing pieces of myself over at the Diary.  The other half, I am happy to say, are additions to my story All I Wanna Do! I managed to get 2 chapters in last month, which is great! Got to keep it goin’!

My grand total for the year now is 203,927. That means I have fewer than 100K words until I hit my 300,000 mark. Uhm, seriously? I’m totally gonna make that. I have at LEAST 50,000 words left of AIWD, if not more. Plus NaNo is coming up in October- not sure if I am doing it yet, and a friend gave me an idea for something new that’s niggling at me. I’ve been laughing off the idea but damn if it’s not writing itself in my head!

Maybe in July. Maybe.

In all, I’m pleased with the progress! To think I was worried…………

Anyway, my numbers this month turned out pretty well– 39,400 words for the month. Total of 163,926. I am officially OVER halfway to my 300,000 goal. Amazing. Now for sure if I do NaNo this year that will put me over 300K, but I’m not sure I’m doing NaNo. I guess we will see once October comes and we’ll see if I have any ideas.

Til then, onward! I’m still ‘just writing’ and trying to plow through my storyline. Pen in hand,

it’s a loooonnnggg weekend, and coming up on the end of the month, which means a  GYWO word count, yay! I actually got back to some writing this month, which feels good. Getting away from needing a pat on the back for every little step and just… writing (even though I did send a very rough draft to a friend for reading because I am special like that. And she was bored. Sue me), so I’ll be adding more to that story before I go back and edit words out. I wrote them so I am counting them!

I also finished A Reliable Wife this morning. Erm. Interesting. It took me so long to finish this book I don’t even know if I can review it but I will try and post it up here. I might have bought a couple of books today…… okay I did buy a couple of books today. They seem to be oldies but goodies but I flipped through them at Target and they looked interesting. I got The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and Go Ask Alice, author anonymous.

Looking forward to reading them both!

The archive that I use to host my stories (and a lot of archives use) is efiction. It makes it easier to track and post chapter stories and even categorize your works. There’s a limit to how many characters you can post in one chapter. On mine I think it’s like… 50,000 characters or something like that. Elsewhere, the limit is lower, which translates to about 10,000 words, give or take.

Now, to some 10,000 words is an entire story. For me, for a serial story, it’s a mere chapter. I know, I write a lot. I’m wordy. It’s a blessing and a curse. I’ve found myself, over the course of telling this tale, tailoring my words to the word limit instead of letting the story tell itself. This amounts to undue pressure and stress and breaking the story up into chunks that don’t really seem to gel, if you read it all at once. It comes through like vignettes and not a complete story, something I may or may not fix once I finish it.

So my new approach is to just write. Not try to figure out what is going to happen chapter by chapter. I’m just writing. I’ll split it up into chunks later, edit so that they string together nicely, but I’m just going to write, write, write until it’s done.  There is the small matter of reviews (feedback) that come with posting a new chapter. They are quite encouraging and it’s nice to know I’m being read. I’m not sure how I’ll make it without them but I’ll find a way, I’m sure. Maybe once I get stuck on a certain part I will start posting chapters, much like I did with Same Time Next Week, where I didn’t start posting chapters until week 3 of NaNoWriMo.  Who knows??? I just know I’m going to try not to stress about it, and just write for the enjoyment of writing.

I so miss that, from the early days, rushing home to open Word and pound out a few thousand words.  Fan fiction used to be my practice. Writing used to be fun.  Time to get back to that, pull my head out of my…behind…. and write.

I’m also remembering that I had set a goal this year to write something new, some shorter stories. I’ve written two, I think– The Storm And Try to Say No (which needs to be added to my archive, I see). More, more, more I say!

Feeling renewed and inspired,

I wish I could capture some of this momentum to fix and finish Same Time Next Week. *looks at it* *looks away* *sighs*

Baby steps.

Coming up on AIWD are a few chapters I’ve been thinking about for a long time but I really have no plans as far as how to execute them. I don’t want to put a lot of time and space between updates though. Hopefully tomorrow night I can sit down with my outline and put some ideas together.

Taking the rest of the night off!

I did my usual Sunday entry over at the Diary and I spoke a little about my lack of motivation when it comes to writing.  I thought I might glance back at my blog to see if I was feeling the same way around this time last year, and I think that I might have been. Maybe it’s a seasonal thing or a cyclical thing, but I just don’t feel like writing. Sometimes things come to me, additions to my WIP, conversations, ideas. I write them down… it goes nowhere, really. I sit down to add to one of the WIPs I have going and I just feel like it’s lame. So surface and not at all deep or character revealing and just… lame. I think I may have story fatigue, but I do WANT to finish both projects I have going. I just..have zero motivation.

I don’t know what else to do when I feel like this, but to wait it out. Making myself write when I don’t feel like writing results in hours of lame prose that I’ll just delete anyway. I hate everything I have written lately and when I read other people’s work, I am so jealous of the level of skill. When I read blogs and see people that are getting book deals from their writing, I’m not so much jealous as…as… I don’t know. I feel like I should be further along than I am and perhaps I am not because I give into these times when I don’t feel like writing.

I wrote a new scene for the Flirtfest and liked it at first. A few weeks later I looked at it when I went to post it and absolutely hated it. Bland, unemotional, lame, dull. So I went back to something I wrote when I was doing well.

Sometimes I wonder if I am not really a writer, if I struggle so much with writing. It should not be this hard.

So I am asking anyone who writes and reads this blog: what do you do when you’re uninspired? When ideas don’t come and everything seems lame and the writing is lackluster at best? Do you put it away for a bit? Push through? Find some inspiration somewhere, somehow, some way?

I’m sure I have asked this question before… I feel like I have. In fact, this is a rehash of the same post I seem to make every month.

I guess I should read back and see what people have said. I just hate feeling like I suck.

Looking for inspiration,

On Sunday, May 16, 2010 post your favorite flirty scene, either from one of your WIPs, or a brand new one you’ve written just for this blogfest. It can range anywhere from sweet to hot, and any genre is fair game…you don’t have to be a romance writer to participate!

I wrote something specifically for this Fest, but I kind of hate it. It’s so bland. Boo. Then I remembered a scene I really liked from my 2009 NaNoWriMo. It is edited from its original form but the gist is the same. Some steamy flirting going on, so this excerpt is Rated R.

Excerpted from Same Time Next Week:

Somewhere between the second shot and him letting her win at darts, Shelby decided that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. It seemed like it was going that way-if he wasn’t to ask her to go home with him, he wouldn’t have asked if she was hungry. That sneak was trying to drag out the date!  She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, either.

‘Besides, I could use some of that, right now.’

The Dessert Lady was a cute little store front with striped awnings over the windows and tables for two set up around the small space. At the front of the store, a glass case was lined with rows and rows of cakes and pies from cherry to strawberry pie, from pound cake to chocolate cake to coffeecake. Shelby’s eyes lit up at the selection. Jackson was momentarily forgotten-she was lusting after the chocolate torte, sitting in the middle of the case.

“Have you had any of these, before?”

“Honey, I have had all of these before. They are all excellent. You’re a big fan of chocolate, right?  The torte is excellent…”

“I was looking at that…”

“Or the Six Layer Cake is really good, too… or the Oreo Cheesecake. I’m partial to the Peanut Butter Pie, myself.”

After a few minutes of slowly crawling the dessert case and drooling over each selection, Shelby made her decision, nodding at the decadent layers of chocolate in the middle of the case. “That torte is calling my name.”

Jackson ordered for the both of them, and then, despite being alone in the store, pulled her toward a table near the window, behind an oversized fringe curtain. The table was small, so small their knees bumped under it.

“So, you’ve been in Orlando all of four days. What do you think of it?”

Shelby gulped at the glass of water set in front of her. Three beers and two shots made for a very tipsy girl. She wanted all of her wits about her, later on. “I like it. It’s nice. I mean, a little frustrating at four am, but at least it’s quiet. I feel like I don’t get a moment’s peace in Miami. The city never sleeps. That gets tiring after awhile. So, yeah, it’s nice. I’m in Winter Park, actually. Real small town-ish.”

Jackson perked, sitting up straight, head tilted a little. “Wait. You live in Winter Park?” Shelby nodded, smiling. She had no idea where he lived exactly, just that he was rumored to have a home there. Winter Park wasn’t that big… he had to be close.  ”What part?”

“Off of Park, near Rollins College, I think it is?”

“Yeah, I’m not too far from there at all. Lake Virginia. How weird that we live so close to each other.”

“Well, if you think about it, not really. We met at the neighborhood grocery store. It’s not like I drove from Melbourne to shop at the Winter Park Publix.”

Jackson smirked, narrowing his eyes, mouthing a playful ‘smartass’ across the table. He was delightful. So funny and laid back. And cute. And so sexy. Every time he smiled at her, her stomach lurched and she felt warm inside.

‘Ask me already! I don’t want to go home tonight. How many more signals do I need to send??!’

“Here we are,” said the server, a short woman dressed in white, complete with baker’s hat. “Peanut butter pie and chocolate torte. Enjoy.” She slid two plates and two forks onto the table and left a stack of napkins.

“That looks so good,” she said, eyeing his plate, stacked high with a peanut butter-chocolate concoction.

“It is. Haven’t had it in a long time, actually.”  He sliced off a chunk and slid it into his mouth, his eyes closing as he chewed, a few light moans coming from his throat.

Shelby laughed at his dramatics. “Is it really, really good, Jackson? You look like you’re about to–”

He laughed, almost shooting peanut butter and chocolate out of his mouth. “Not yet,” he said, wiggling a brow at her while shoving another forkful in his mouth. “It is good though. Want to try some?”

“I’d love a taste.”  Jackson picked up his fork again, but she stopped him with a touch of her hand, shaking her head slowly, a hint of a smile on her lips, praying he would catch her hint. ”Not from there.”

He caught it, loud and clear, but seemed like he wasn’t sure what to do. He blinked, swallowed, and then, springing into action, reached under the table to grab a rung of her chair and slide her around so she was sitting next to him.  Wasting no time at all, he laid an arm over the back of her chair and leaned in, tilting his head toward her. She met him halfway, mouth open, eyes closed, heart racing.

Warm. And sweet, and soft and gentle, and oh my God. He was kissing her. And he was awesome at it.

His tongue rasped across hers, over and under and around, swirling, spreading the taste of peanut butter and chocolate with it. His lips were soft, brushing against hers over and over, light as air. Shelby fought herself every second, trying not to push the table back and climb onto his lap, sort of grateful he hadn’t touched more than her lips. She was already on the edge, and just about over the point of no return.

He pulled back, his eyes dark and hooded, but his expression gentle. “How was it?” he mumbled, his face still so close to hers.

“Delicious,” she answered, grinning, licking residual peanut butter taste off of her lips. Trying not to pant.

“Thank you. I enjoyed that myself.”

“Good. It’s uhm… rich. The Peanut Butter Pie.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s why I like it. Lots of flavor.” He stared at her, blinking every few seconds. She stared back, bold. Refusing to look away and pretend she was shy, despite how… intense his stare was.

“So, uhm, not asking about the past, but I know you don’t sleep well. Are you… are you tired, or…”

“Not at all.”

He cleared his throat, and swallowed again. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could go someplace a little more private. Do some real talking.”

“Really. Where would this place be?”

His tongue flicked out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. He reached for his water glass and sucked down half of it. Shelby’s eyes never left his face. He laughed, finally, looking at her again.  “Why are you making this so hard on me?”

She giggled, caught in the act. “Because you already know the answer.”

“I do?”

“You wanted me to suggest I go home with you? How many times am I gonna hear Jackson Pierce ask me to go home with him?”

The smile faded, slowly. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he kissed her again, this time more forceful and passionate, deep breaths through his nose, his lips pressing hard against hers, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, fighting with hers. He grabbed the back of her head and held her against him, against his mouth while he kissed her. It was so damn hot… the hottest kiss she’d ever had. Ever.

He pulled back, ending the kiss in a smack, and before his eyes even opened, said, “Come home with me. Please.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice no higher than a whisper. “We should maybe get our dessert to go. I’ll want to eat this torte, later.”

“And I’ll want to taste it.” He leaned in to her, his lips almost touching her ear. “Maybe I could lick it off of some places, too.”

Shelby stood so fast, she nearly knocked the chair over. She shook, she was so excited, and had to calm herself down before they left the store, to- go boxes in hand. Jackson seemed to be in a hurry, pulling her down Church Street, then crossing the street and walking toward a dark blue Mercedes. The lights flashed and the door lock clicked with a mechanical sound.

“Well, shouldn’t I just follow you in my car?”

“Nah, just hop in. I’ll bring you back to your car.” He all but pushed her into the passenger seat and shut the door as soon as she was inside, then walked around the front of the car and got in on the driver’s side.

“Okay, Jackson?” Shelby laid a hand on his arm. She understood his pain… really, she did. But this rush job wasn’t very sexy and was ruining the mood. “Relax. It’s gonna happen. I’m not a tease. You don’t have to rush. Take your time.”

He exhaled, blowing out a long, slow breath. He laid a hand over hers and squeezed. “Sorry. I’m not rushing. I’m just…. I like you. I’m ready. And I want to do this. Like, yesterday.”

“I know. I want that, too. Just slow down, a little. Be gentle. For now.”  She teased him, scraping a fingernail lightly down his arm. He groaned and squirmed in the seat, shoving the key into the ignition and turning it roughly.

“Lady…”  Jackson heaved a sigh, looked toward the heavens as if he was mentally thankking every higher power that existed, whether he believed in them or not. “You’ve been killing me, all night long. I cannot wait to get you home.” He grabbed her hand and shoved it between his legs, wrapping her fingers around the mass curled up in the front of his jeans. “Don’t you dare move that. Don’t even think about it.”

Et voila.

My April numbers show it, I feel. I usually hit about 30K words a month. this month I just barely scraped 25K. Got to get on the ball! Right after I take a nap.

I’ve attached the chart that I use to track and submit my numbers. There are corresponding monthly charts behind it that feed into this one. This just gives me a snapshot of where I am. Almost 50%! WOOO! Even given my slackerificness, I am head of the game.

GYWO_2010_Pledge_Tracker