Arrant Nonsense

It is cute. It is amusing.

And that's all it is. There's no there there. The core question of "who is this character and what does he want" cannot be answered flippantly by "He's a genius pharma researcher who doesn't want to be murdered by robot bunnies."

Well, I mean. It can, but that doesn't make for a very satisfying story. There's a nugget of... something, here. But I can't seem to winkle it out, and nothing anyone's said to me about it (at least not yet) has hit the core of how to fix the issue.

The last Alex story finally came together when I figured out that it was about his relationship with his wife rather than about the flying weasel and the birth control. In this one, the robobunny accuses him of being "the savior of mankind" before attempting to kill him. And I wonder if maybe he should embrace that role, or I should enlarge on that theme a little. Alex doesn't see himself as a savior, but the dude cures damn cancer for a living, you know?

I have three days before it's due. Theoretically, I should be able to beat it into shape before then.

But, man, I just... don't know. The solution to the problem is elusive.

I feel like a fraud.

By this time last year, I'd written and submitted over 100,000 words of new fiction.

This year, I'm at 41,500.

Less than half.

As you know, Bob, last year I decided I was finally going to get serious about this Writing Thing. I had a plan, and I stuck to it: A short story NaNo project in January, and then (if it was successful) another in June. January was wildly successful, and in June I did 40K. And there were stories between there too for various anthos. It was awesome.

This year, I was going to do the same thing. And then January rolled around... and I got sick. It has completely derailed me for the entire year. My creativity has screeched to a halt, the words are being recalcitrant, and sales have been super thin--five this time last year as opposed to two so far this year. And one of those, I wrote as a throwaway joke, ffs.

So this has all combined to make me seriously doubt myself and my abilities. And then someone like Larry Correia (whom I adore) thinks I'm super awesome and I just feel like I'm... a complete and utter fraud.

And I realize that the answer to this is to say "Screw you, brain, I'm going to write something terrific now," but the Muse is off sniggering in a corner drinking absinthe and eating chocolate-covered ants, which means I should probably have more than a vague notion of what I want to write instead of thinking "Oh, I can totally pants this one because I can write my mad scientist in my sleep," but I have far more than a vague notion of this other thing I need to write (on deadline!) and it's not coming either.

I feel burned out, and like maybe I should take a damn break, but I also feel like I've been taking a damn break for way too long (and also that my last three stories were kind of phoned in, even though they're objectively not--especially the last one, which got the "OMG YOU ARE TERRIBLE" reaction from one of my betas I was going for), which makes me feel guilty and starts the Spiral of Unworthiness all over again.

It is awful.

And I don't know what I need to pull me out of it. Affirmation is clearly counterproductive; I have that in spades and it just feeds the feeling that I'm a fraud. Kicking myself in the butt isn't working either, because it's feeding the feeling of guilt and Why Bother Because You Suck Anyway. Ugh.

But I also know that it is not just me. That other authors go through this. And that helps. It really does.

As you know, Bob, I'm heading out to MisCon next month, where DAW Books is guesting. I'm hoping for a sit-down with an editor so I can pitch the novelthing at them.

I don't have a synopsis. Synopses are of the devil, I'm firmly convinced, and I'm stalled there. Thing is, I've pretty much outlined all but the last two chapters of the thing. You'd think it'd be the easiest thing in the world to just sit down and do it.

You'd be wrong.

I'd rather be doing anything but working on this damned synopsis. So I have been. Which doesn't mean I've been actually working, of course, because that would be too productive.

I think my reluctance to finish it is twofold:
1. I'm afraid the novel actually sucks, and sucks so much that I can't fix it. Considering the fact that I finished the thing clear back in 2009, this is not an unreasonable fear--even though people have told me that it's "compulsively readable." This is Writer Insecurity at its finest.

2. If I finish the synopsis, that means I have to go back to actively marketing the thing again. The agent hunt is a soul-sucking descent into the bowels of Hell. Not only that, but I am not a novel writer. This has been amply demonstrated across 42 short stories. Heck, the novel didn't start as an actual "novel project," and if you can remember that far I wouldn't even call it that until I was 25,000 words in and figuring out that, yeah, this thing was going long, okay. The only thing I've done since, that's even close to that length? Has been the sequel to it--which will probably never, ever see the light of day, because it's way too close to my id for comfort. Ain't no one wanna see that. People would be (justifiably) "Oh, John Ringo, no"-ing at me.

So, yeah. Not a novelist, and I'm pretty sure that agents don't want a one-shot wonder. Which is not to say that I couldn't do another novel somewhere down the road. The Angry Bitter Angel 'verse begs to be expanded and the ramifications explored, and there's another fantasy novel on my back burner that I need to actually outline and work on as well.

So. I need to break free of this stupid paralysis and just do it like the Nike ad says. And then I can ship the damn thing off again, and work on the short stories that I actually need to work on--of which there are three, right now, all in various stages of first-draft-itis.

Argh.

So, yeah, I'm planning another short-story NaNo push for January. As one does.

And for some reason, my Writer Brain has decided to go completely offline. I still have three outlines to finish.

• I need a concrete villain with a concrete motivation for one.
  
• I need to figure out if another one even has a villain. So far, the answer to that seems to be a resounding "no!"
  
• I need a wholesale Plot for the third. All I have at this point is a bare Idea.

What this means in practical terms is that I'll probably still be outlining some stories while I'm writing others next month. The one I'm outlining right now is the one that's pinging me the hardest, but it's not the one I need to write first. The one I need to write first is the second one on that bulleted list up there, because it's got an actual deadline (February 1). And I still have the second Plot Turn and second Pinch to come up with in that one, along with a Resolution rather than a denouement, which is what I have now.

Antubis and Flaubert (my anteater muses; don't ask) are sticking out their considerable tongues and going "NEENER" at me, rather than actually helping. And I am banging my head on my keyboard and assiduously wishing for something stronger to drink than diet Mountain Dew. At one in the afternoon. I'm just about ready to throw my hands up, say "screw it," and wing the rest of these damn stories.

But I know that will end in disaster. So. Gyah. I am a professional, dammit. Therefore, I will sit down and do my job, which at this moment consists of outlining these stupid stories so I can hit the ground running in January.

A doctor doesn't get to say "Sorry, guys, I've got Surgeon's Block, so we're going to have to reschedule this procedure for a different date when I'm feeling it." And neither do I.

So, in a fit of utter insanity, I decided to attempt to turn Angry Bitter Angel into a novel. Considering the fact that I'm not a natural novelist, this is going about as well as you'd expect. Which is to say, not at all.

What I wanted to do was a sort of three-part thing where all three parts could stand alone, or somewhat--after all, part one stands on its own just fine, thanks. But I'm looking at the Hollywood Formula, and trying to shoehorn that into the seven-part story structure, and I'm not actually sure that works.

Plus there's the fact that I've got a Great Swampy Middle here that I'm not sure what happens in it. I have a great story for the third act, but Act Two is giving me fits.

*squints* I guess I could outline Act Three. That might make actual sense, since I have some idea what happens in it. Hell, maybe I'll skip Act Two altogether, or decide after writing Act Three that Act Two is already encompassed within the whole thing.

I'LL DO THAT.

See, this right here is why I do these blog posts. More often than not, writing out the dilemma gives me the solution to it.

But according to the handsome and hard-working Larry Correia, I should be treating this like a job.

Which I've done this year--I've penned thirteen stories since January and sent out nine of them; the other four are still in edits. I've tripled my wordcount from last year. I've sold four stories.

So why do I feel like I'm still spinning my wheels and faking it?

Maybe it's because my inbox has been woefully empty for nearly ten whole days. Maybe it's because I've scribbled 115,800 words in six months, and it's burnt me out. I realize that 115K words is, like, a weekend for someone like Larry, but it's a lot for someone like me, and I'm caught between awe that I managed it and and disbelief that those words are actually any good.

I guess that's something that I'll just have to grind through until I see a light at the other end.

In the interests of that, I'll be posting something, probably De-Wolfed Ben, up for the Usual Suspects pretty soon. Because this is my job, and I need to do it even though I'm not "feeling" it right now. My husband doesn't get to call into work and say "I'm just not feeling the Pilot Muse today, so I'm taking the day off." So neither do I.

Where I have realized that the 1st person POV I started it in simply will not work. There is no way to make it work, and I should stop trying to do so.

Of course, now the question is: do I go back and fix 3600 words' worth of Wrong POV, or do I just go forward on the doc with the assumption that I've done so and then fix the beginning in post? How crazy will it drive me to do that? Survey says: "probably pretty crazy, as per experience."

However. I'll probably, at this point, just go forward like it's always been in 3rd person. I am woefully behind on wordcount, and fixing it Right This Minute will take time that I could spend, you know, writing.

Last time this happened to me, it was the opposite problem. I started in 3rd and the story needed to be told in 1st. That... was an easier fix than this. But at least this means I get to write the scene I wanted to write but was constrained by POV because the POV character was not on the stage when it happened.

*sigh* It's never easy, is it.

That does what I need this one to do for my plot.

Mainly because the design is completely stupid, redundant, and unnecessary. Apparently you can build a double-barreled shotgun with pump action, but no one makes one. For obvious reasons, now that I've thought about it.

But I need it for my plot.

And, you know, maybe it seems ridiculous to be worried about the verisimilitude of my firearms when I'm writing about werewolves, vampires, and sorcerers--but even in a story like this, the things that people know to be factual? Still need to be factual.

So, I'll figure out some other way to do what I need to do here.

If I have to.

I guess.

Combined with the other problems this thing has, frustrated agilebrit is frustrated this morning.

Is that I need to do a massive re-write of the meeting scene between my protag and my preacher and I DUN WANNA. I've already written it, but I need to go back and re-do it because then I'll be able to make that snippet I posted on Sunday actually resonate instead of lie on the page like a dead and smelly carp.

And that feels like going backward, because I've Already Written That Part, Dammit. But it needs to be done. And so I am putting on the Firefly soundtrack (since it sets the appropriate mood) and I'm doing it.

Half the battle is getting the cursor on the Word doc, you know? I keep letting myself get distracted by Shiny Things instead of just sitting down and scribbling stuff. This is really the part where I should turn the damn internet off and write for an hour, even though I hate the story right now.

But, as my lovely and effulgent RP partner said "You'll never stop hating it if you don't finish it." She is a wise woman. And I need to stop worrying about the structure of the thing and where what looks like the climax is falling. Like they said on today's mini-cast of Writing Excuses (paraphrased because I suck at remembering exact quotes): No one ever finished reading a book, set it down with a happy sigh, and said, "I really loved how the author used the three-act structure."

Tell a story. The structure will take care of itself.

about the new!Ben&Janni story.

It's not actually Ben's story.

Oh, sure, he's the one getting whumped. His pain (mental, physical, and emotional) drives the plot.

But the story itself is about Angeline and how she grows as a person.

Capitalizing on this realization will require an extensive re-write that I'm, frankly, not sure I have the energy to tackle. Or even the inclination. May I just say that I love the fact that it took me 145,000 words and over a year to realize this. And by "love," I really mean "it makes me want to stab myself in the eyeball, repeatedly, with a letter opener."

I may just chalk this one up to a learning experience. This is akin to the realization I had 70,000 words into the last one that Ben was my real protagonist. At least with that one, it was an easy tweak. This one, not so much.

I hate everything I'm writing right now. I have five fic docs open and no idea where any of them is going. I should just go to the bookstore, or perhaps the coffee shop, and see if a change of scenery and an infusion of real caffeine and sugar helps the process.

The good news is that I've finished three short stories (for a certain value of "short") totaling nearly 23,000 words in the last three months. And they are all out seeking homes. So, I guess that's some sort of accomplishment, and I should hold onto that. Lord knows I don't have any other accomplishments to hold onto; I haven't been paid for my writing in over a year and a half, and it's wearing on me. I remember when this was fun.

Meh.