Spinwork Blog

I’m sort of internally screaming in anguish that I’ve done next to no writing on anything since I’ve been in NY. I don’t know–maybe it’s distraction, or maybe its burn-out. There isn’t much exhaustion, or a lack of inspiration, really. A lot of my efforts have been going toward Lanternfly and building up to write the new scenes for the second draft. After that, I can really begin fiddling with it. But for some reason, I’m stuck in the mud. Ah well. As Erik would say, deep breaths.

For the moment I’ve refocused myself on Unwound, a short story I wrote last September and posted on IF (only visible if you have an account there). I’m really not impressed with the story at the moment. The end is massively cheesy, and suffers heavily from the unfocused emotional power-drive I was on when I wrote the damn thing. It’s the narrator that’s really getting me–and his voice. Its rare for me to reread something of mine and feel like I didn’t write it. Something about his tone, and the way he tells his story is so foreign from anything I’ve ever thought about or wrote.

I’m thinking of rewriting part of the story from a point and sending it in a different direction and focusing on the relationship between the man and the doctor, rather than his family. I just gotta put myself back where I was last September–and find the guy’s voice again. I’m really intent to see how this works out.

Thanks for reading.

Spinner Daily Blogging, Hellion, Short Works 2008, 2009, Editing, revisiting, Unwound

A week as has passed since I finished the first draft of Lanternfly and I’m really surprised by how empty I feel without something to do every day. This has got to be the first (and longest) period in the past two years where I haven’t gone to some cafe and sat down to write. When it wasn’t Lanternfly, it was Endoflux, or a short story of some kind, and one of my many tangent projects, and if it wasn’t actual writing, it was conceptualizing. The other day I sat down to look at all the material I have and its sort of shocking–especially the amount of stuff I did in 2007 that *wasn’t* actual writing. Not that I did much of anything writing-related in 2007, but… ah.

According to Erik, the fun part starts with editing. Not that the last 170,000 words weren’t fun, or anything, but the entire effort of actually writing something that I’d eventually have to edit was sort of like coaxing myself to jump off a cliff. In fact, a good portion of the process this time around was writing with editing in mind. I don’t know when, but I came to a point where I just went “fuck it” and started banging away. That really made all the difference, and that’s when I really started having fun.

Now that I think about it, I’m really looking forward to editing, especially since it means I get to revisit and reexplore many of my characters. It also means learning more about the drafting process, and how much room I can give myself in the initial writing. The biggest problem I ran into in the independent study was toward the end where I ran out of time to develop the concepts and characters of the chapters I was about to write. The last three, while decently written, are a complete mess and a prime example of what happens when you don’t space out the bones you throw readers. There’s also the first three, which were when I thought I was writing a story about some girl whose father worked on steam engines in Quebec City and the relationship with the girl’s mother made her run away up there. Well, I still wound up in Quebec City–nearly wound up in Germany, however the fuck that came about–but with a very different story

Something I noticed in writing is that not all the characters came to me fully formed at the end. In fact, one particular character, one who actually used to be the protagonist of the whole damn series, and will assume that role later, is the worst off. In fact, I pretty much ignored his development completely in the first draft just because I had no idea “how much” the reader needed. Now that I’ve got the book down, I’m thinking, I’m hoping, that I can go back and tinker with him a bit and get him how I want. That’s the glorious thing about the drafting process is you can consciously allow a few of these. Or at least, that’s what I think right now. Maybe I’ll wind up revisiting him and shoot myself a quarter chapter after his introduction or something. Fuck.

Last Friday, I had my last meeting with Erik about the independent study. Idiot that I am, I was half asleep through most of it being that I was up late doing things that one should not do when they have to be awake at 9AM. One of the best parts about working with him has been the manner of his encouragement, and caution of holes I could possibly fall into while writing. I think the most important question he asked me was sometime right after we started and he asked why making dreams concrete was important. I sort of sat there for a minute and was like, “wait… what?” And then realized he’d hit on something I hadn’t thought about directly. I had thought about it, but in that really abstract way you do when you’re hashing out an idea and want to leave the specifics out for the time being. In the end, that conversation helped me come up with a pretty important bit of info, and I was able to write merrily again.

There was also a lot of good reading over the course of the study. The two that affected me the most are the ones he gave me about character and the idea of the villain as a catalyst as they taught me to view my characters and my antagonist as humans and not devices. It opened my eyes to a lot of possibilities, not just for the book, but for the series as a whole that I’m really eager to explore.

I could write a million more things about this, and how much fun I had on the first draft of Lanternfly, but I’d be getting ahead of myself. After all, the book’s not done yet and I still have a lot of stuff left to do before I can let anyone read it. What I’m going to do now is enjoy the rest of my “writing vacation,” finish out the semester, see my family and then kick back into things again. And make lattes. Can’t forget the lattes.

Thanks for reading!

Spinner Daily Blogging, Endoflux Theory, Hellion, IS 2009, Short Works 2007, draft one, Erik, IS2009, Lanternfly, Rants, school

I had to edit a peice of Endoflux Theory for class today. My mind’s been really far from the story lately, so I feel like what I wrote is slightly lacking. Nonetheless, I think its decent enough to share with the few of y’all who may read this. Just as long as y’all know, for the record, that this piece annoys the shit out of me. For those of you who read the original on SE,  this will be 100% new. Enjoy, if you can.

“Jump, Lucas.”

Lucas Sebring blinked. Below him sprawled a world shielded behind grey curtains, streaked with the white of slowly falling snow. He knew this place.

He’d had this dream before. It was always the same. The same thoughts. Same stimuli. Nothing was ever any different.

Somewhere behind him, the man who’d told him to jump stood, but Lucas knew that he would never see his face. He was transfixed, as always-rooted and staring into the oblivion below him with the suspicion that somewhere below destiny waited. Was it a chasm? A city? Hell? It was impossible to tell from the muted glow barely perceptible from the other side.

Lucas Sebring sighed. He’d had this dream before. His task was burned into his mind like a drug habit. Right now, he was tripping, repeating things he’d done a thousand times before. When he opened his eyes-or rather, found them open-everything would be gone. Not even the tatters of the dull tinge of this high would remain.

The voice behind him, repeated. “Jump, Lucas. Save yourself.”

Who the fuck are you? Lucas yelled in his mind. Irony told him it was his father, and this dream was post-traumatic stress. Of what, though? Why the hell would he associate that with his father? He couldn’t remember exactly. Something unpleasant. He evaporated the thought.

“You must save yourself!”

The voice had become urgent now. He’d had this dream before. Why did it want him to jump so badly? There were no answers-just orders. Jump. Save yourself. It was like being asked to lose all faith in order to regain it. Stupid shit-the sort of crap religious fundamentalists tell you to do when you meet them on the train. Take a leap. Take a word from someone who’s face he couldn’t see.

So did that mean this was the voice of God? Lucas was a biologist. He was raised in the Earthen tradition of Roman Catholicism. He went to church on Sundays-at least, when he didn’t have a hangover to recover from. That he attended at all was out of guilt, Lucas knew-for what, that was another thing he couldn’t remember. Why the hell did all his memories feel like distant road signs in this place?

The voice came again, this time its tone was reproachful. “Hesitation will not save you, Lucas. Only action.”

Even if the man behind the voice wasn’t his father, he sure as fuck sounded like him. Even the frustration was the same. Fine, Lucas hollered, remembering a time where he might have screamed this from the other side of a door, rather than on the edge of some precipice overlooking some nondescript place. I’ll fucking do it. Save myself-Whatever! Just stop telling me what to do!

Lucas took a shuddering breath and knew what came next. He would close his eyes. Then he would open them. Take in one more breath. Hold it. Jump. His final exhale would propel him to his death.
He’d had this dream before. It was always the same. The same thoughts. Same stimuli. Nothing was ever any different. Except for this time.

This time, Lucas found defiance lingering beneath the surface of his usual response. Where it had sprung from, he didn’t know. Perhaps one of the distant road signs had changed. Maybe it was less clear than usual or more so. Whatever the reason, when Lucas finally jumped, he didn’t let himself fall as he always did-turning in midair as he fell, so he wouldn’t see the ground coming up.  Instead he turned, twisting in mid air so that he faced the precipice, to gaze upon the face of the man giving the orders…

…But there was no face. No eyes. No nose. Or even a mouth or hair. Just a broad frame, the hands held behind its back expectantly, waiting for the command to be carried out.

Figures.

Allowing his back to turn to gravity, Lucas Sebring fell to his death.  An instant later, he found himself staring at the stucco ceiling of his apartment. The traffic light outside flashed yellow against the ceiling. The synchronized beats of his twin hearts echoed in his ears. The 36-hour time clock beside his bed red 9:55AM-five minutes before his alarm. For all he’d known, he hadn’t slept a wink all night.

Spinner Daily Blogging, Endoflux Theory, Short Works, Site-related Endoflux Theory, snippet

After a lovely trip involving spending a night in Chicago O’Hare airport, I’m back in snowy, fresh Burlington, Vermont with a full imagination and keyboard-ready fingers.

I’m slowly reaching that point in Lanternfly where I start tying up loose ends and getting ready to conclude the book. I still only have a general of how things are going to turn out, but I’m pretty confident in where things sit right now. All that’s really needed is a power-drive right through til’ the end. Hopefully things will even out then! ^_^

On a more personal note, the trip to New Mexico did a great deal to restore my energy, both creatively and mentally.  Meeting my birth-mother and sister for the first time was one hell of a surreal experience. There’s nothing like walking into a ski lodge after 9 and a half hours of straight travel to see two people whose resemblance to you is at once vague and striking (in the case of my sister, it was like looking into a mirror). I’ll try to spare you the sappy details, but long story short, the trip went very well and we all walked away feeling quite satisfied and comfortable with each other.

That’s pretty much all I can say for now. While stranded in Chicago I did start work on a short story. Murphy permitting, I’ll hopefully finish it and throw it together for your eyes soon.

Thanks for reading.

Spinner Daily Blogging, Short Works Lanternfly, Rants, short stories

Over the years, I’ve just accepted the fact that it’s impossible to write in whatever living situation I’m in. Dorms are particularly hard because you’ve got people around. Not that I don’t write around people every day. I mean, I write in coffee shops where there are anywhere between 5 to 25 people around me at any given time. It really just depends how zoned out I can get.

Yet somehow, in my home and in my apartment, I’m never able to write. Its probably because of the constant distractions–the want to pull up AIM or MSN, or even SE and chat with people on there. I never get that in public because I’m so detached from the people around me. Honestly, you can find yourself a lot more comfortable in the anonymity of a crowd at some points. That, and when you’re listening to music that drowns everything out, it’s easier.

I experimented while I was home over Thanksgiving with writing in my room, the first I’ve really done since I wrote Hellion, by putting on headphones and listening to some Soilwork. I wound up polishing off And the Silence Screamed in that session. It was really fulfilling in the end.

In a way, it’s kind of nice to be coming out of this massive writing slump I’ve been in lately. First, because I’m not taking myself as seriously as I did and because I can experiment with different environments and mediums (And the Silence Screamed is my second attempt at writing in first person). For instance, I’ve been thinking about adding another cafe to my collection: this lovely tea house on Church Street with a really nice selection of teas. Its a little ritzier than what I’m used to (you can’t smoke hooka at Starbucks–not that I smoke). I think it’d be nice to deviate from the $5.00 beverages for a while, especially since I spend so much money on feeding myself now days.

I have such a shitty diet. First half of the semester, I lived off of Dominos Chicken Kickers and pizza. I live in an apartment and I have a limited meal plan, so I technically should be shopping for myself. Yeah, fail that. Lately, I’ve been dancing between Chinese and actually eating the caf food once in a while. When I do eat. I’m gaining and losing weight at the same time.

Aside from excessive distraction, there’s another aspect of my living situation that causes me some issues. Lately, I’ve taken to torrenting. A lot. My roommates and me torrent a shared terrabyte a week. Most are usually between my roommates who are better equipped in the hard-drive department than me, but lately I’ve taken to watching Clannad, an anime based on a Japanese video game. I’m torrenting the first eight episodes as we speak.

I often fail at recognizing how much anime influences my writing. Stuff like Fooly Cooly, Negima, Love Hina, and Chobits really have had a much greater effect on how I view themes than I thought. I noticed while watching the first two episodes of Clannad how real certain animes can be. Naturally, you really can’t call stuff by Ken Akumatsu or FLCL “real”, per se, but all of them have various elements that ignite that “oh, I’ve felt that” spark. It’s those character dimensions that rise above the genre and medium cliches that make me enjoy anime so much. Not every anime has squealing girls and panty shots.

Realistic, developed characters. That’s something I’ve always wanted to bring to my writing. Rowling did it brilliantly in Harry Potter, and shows like Lost constantly inspire me to focus on my character development. But that’s always been a problem, especially with two of the three major projects I’ve done. When I was planning Hellion, my character development was very rudimentary, just sentence long profiles. With Salamander, I didn’t even bother developing until I was 100 pages into the book (I paid for that, dearly). The only project I’ve really approached with a degree of character depth in mind was Shadower. In that case, I had the benefit of having lots of material done, on top of the actual short story.

I probably could rant on forever, but it’s 2 in the morning and I should have gone to bed a number of hours ago. ^^;

Spinner Daily Blogging, Hellion, Musings & Rants, Short Works, Uncategorized 2007

There are a lot of writers out there who go for the “awesome” factor when they write. To me, the “awesome” factor is setting up a scene, character, or situation that’s basically meant to wow the reader. I think we’re all guilty of this at some point. Some of us (*cough* most Hollywood writers *cough*) seem to think the cheap thrills of creating these awesomeisms will make the book, when it really does is make them seem like amateurs complete idiots.

Like me, for instance.

Over the summer, I began writing a story, cleverly titled “The Harlot’s Well”. Here’s me thinking “Harlot” was some kind of awesome demon creature, because surely, if Avenged Sevenfold can use it in the title of their album, then it MUST be awesome.

Wrong.

When I got far enough into the draft to talk about it, I gave my editor-friend a ring to let her know what I had cooking. When she heard the title, she expressed extreme interest.

Marina: “You know what a Harlot is, right?”

Me: “Isn’t it some awesome demon beast?”

Marina: “No, actually, it means prostitute.”

Me: “What? I… you… the… but… *contemplates suicide*”

Well, there went that story idea, along with much of my dignity.

It’s amazing what can happen with your material when you least expect it, especially when you think you have a certain idea of something and it turns out to be completely the opposite of what you think. For instance, I could have changed the story to be about some awesome demon prostitute that somehow manages to teach life lessons–as original a concept as that is–but I was too ashamed to really think about writing at that point ^^;. See, it’s even taken me three months to talk about it. I’m still really ashamed.

That sort of thing happened again, recently. I’ve been writing a short story lately called “And the Silence Screamed”. It wasn’t until today that I realized the proper acronym of the story was “ASS”. It’s sort of ironic, in a way, given the protagonist wakes up after a night of drunken sex and finds herself eye-level with one, but completely unintentional. Once more, my writing has found a way to make an ass (hurr hurr) out of me.

I’ve been outright mocked for some of my attempted awesome-isms, and there are times I admit that I deserve it. For instance, there are these kids I babysit who sometimes get my half-baked ideas as bedtime stories (they bug me about them all the time). I made the mistake of using the name “Asmodeus” in one story. The kids never let me hear the bloody end of it. Yeah, granted, Asmodeus is a cool name, but try saying it out-loud.

In other news, I’ve been pretty much swamped with end-of-semester crap lately. I still need to update the links on ESS. I’m so freaking lazy. I’ll get to it, though. I promise!

And anyone who listens to melodic death-metal, try picking up Soilwork’s new offering “Sworn to a Great Divide”. It’s a lot heavier than their other stuff and shockingly devoid of keyboards. It’s a fairly radical shift as far as focus is concerned, but it works, y’know? There are some times where band’s styles change dramatically from album to album and suck at it (Meteora to Minutes to Midnight by Linkin Park comes to mind. Ugh.), but this actually is acceptable to me. I think it’s because Speed’s vox haven’t changed much compared to Stabbing the Drama and some of the riffs are really sexy (Opening riff of the title track, for example.).

It annoys me when people expect musicians–and writers, too–to not alter style. It really bothered me hearing all the flak Annette Olzen got after joining Nightwish. Yeah, okay, Tarja was awesome. She was a trained opera singer. But you can’t expect something radical like a new singer not to change a band in some way (e.g. Killswitch Engage, Jesse Leach to Howard Jones). I personally think that Anette adds a new dimension to the old songs and an exciting sound to the new one. Seriously, Poet and the Pendulum blew me out of the water. But some people are eager to point out the fact that she’s not Tarja. Duh. If Nightwish wanted another Tarja, they would have called her up, forgiven the whole “underestimating fans, demanding more money, declaring her position in the band temporary” thing and asked her back.

Bands grow and so do writers.

Some people got mad when the Harry Potter books got darker after Book 4. Seriously? How did you expect it to stay light? Voldemort was revived, Cedric died, and people don’t just get over that. It wasn’t just a stylistic change, it was in the character. Harry wasn’t about to deal with Cedric’s death–and then Sirius, not long after–with no more than a shrug of the shoulder. People often forget, despite the way the media works in this country, that human beings have to deal with their emotions. I think even when they are dealt with in books and movies, the “plot convenience” factor comes in to play a little more than it should. It can take years for people to deal with witnessing death.

Ultimately, artists change and evolve. It’s impossible to expect them not to. They, just like those enjoying the work, are under constant influence from the world around them and other mediums. My style altered dramatically after reading Pullman’s Amber Spyglass. Not only did finishing that book change my view on the world, it changed how I view stories in general. Going back to my schpeal on the “awesome” factor earlier, it taught me stories really are the most important part of a book, no matter how you really look at it. Sure, fight scenes are cool and all, but I don’t want my books to be one long fight scene full of empty one-liners. If I want that, I’ll watch any movie with Vin Diesel or a rap artist starring.

Life goes on, ultimately and chances may be, you might like your favorite artist’s new style if you can open your mind and view them as human beings. There is always the very-human want to idolize, but even idols have flaws (*points vigorously at Megatokyo*). It’s best to accept those flaws and try to enjoy them nonetheless.

Spinner Daily Blogging, Musings & Rants, Short Works