Hello everyone! Just a quick note as I’ve been busy-ish the last few days. Even though I had yesterday off from dayjob, I used the time to clean the house and watch some very strange movies I borrowed; The Wicker Tree and Uzumaki.
In writing news, I’m plugging away at finishing Winter Boot and editing Greenhouse. Both are proceeding slowly but surely. I want to make sure I get these right.
I subscribe to The Writer and the October issue has an article about some authors who are amazingly prolific and their strategies for how they’ve got 50, 90, 100+ novels under their belts. They get up every morning and write for a set number of hours, have tea, coffee, whatever; and then go back to writing for another set number of hours (or words). They do this every day and that is awesome.
I can’t do that.
I ADORE my day job. Quitting my day job is not why I write. I had a guy who owned a publishing company balk at the fact I didn’t want to quit my job (he didn’t want to publish me anyway so the point was moot). I don’t understand why this would be so strange. I have the most awesome job in the world. I have access to all different sources of inspiration; movies, music, television shows, real live people! I don’t have to go on a walk to get rid of my writer’s block, I go to work. Something always shakes loose.
There are books on how to be a mother and a writer but they are geared more towards stay at home moms or bloggers who want to write about motherhood. (I have to admit, my daughter can take an hour to eat a sandwich so sneaking in a few lines while she’s being fussy is great advice) But I don’t see anything on how to keep the house clean, the family fed, your boss happy, and feed your muse so he doesn’t drive you batty!
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Lenni! Why don’t YOU write that book!?” I have no idea what the hell I’m doing and “I don’t sleep” is not good advice. :p
Do I write on my breaks? Yes. I put the kid to bed early and write while on the treadmill (sometimes). I viciously guard my Friday and Saturday nights like a rabid dog so I can write or type as long as I want. I am not ashamed to admit that I’ve barricaded myself in the bathroom just to write one more freaking page without someone whining at me!
And even then, it takes me years to finish a novel. Sad, isn’t it?
So what to do, what to do… @_@
Truth is, I can’t give up either so I work all day, come home, and write. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. 🙂 I may try and re-institute my “Mommy Monday” posts so I can gripe about it. Aren’t you excited? XD
While I was on bereavement leave from work, I sorta took leave from everything else as well. I mean, I cleaned, I wrote, I typed, but I needed alone time to process everything and get the ball rolling on all the legal crap that needs doing. Shit, being an adult sucks sometimes. :p
Please believe me when I say, in all honesty, I am doing ok. In fact, I dare say ‘fine.’ Ma was sick for a long time and now she is with her mother and her mother before her in peace.
The most harrowing part of this was having to deal with my family. I love them but I felt I was being babysat. I am not spun glass, I can take care of myself. I am the type who recharges with time alone and having them looking at me waiting for me to say something/cry/scream or what have you was making me manic. I love them, thanked them, then flat out BEGGED to be allowed to process the death of my mother in peace.
While I was home alone, I did a lot of reading and typing. I have a typed rough draft of Grey City ready for editing. 🙂
For those who may not follow my Twitter feed, Ma passed on August 2; about 6 in the morning. She was 66 years old.
If a book is so disgusting you cringe to touch it to put it in a bag? Don’t bother to donate it to a library. Please. Your friendly neighborhood librarian is tired of getting rashes from old, dirty, moldy books. I know you feel bad throwing them away, I understand that feeling, but if you can barely touch it, how is anybody else supposed to read it?
And I’m tired of getting rashes from these things. It’s just gross.
I love, love, LOVE my job! Especially on days where I am approached by young patrons (not so young but younger than me) whose jaws just hit the floor when they see the graphic novel collection I’ve built and say “You’ve got the coolest job in the world!”
I am both revered and reviled by the general pubic. I have been made to smile and made to cry.
But today was a first: I was asked out on a date. I’ve been hit on before (one guy still comes in and checks to see if I’m still married) but flat being asked on a date was very new. I very diplomatically told the nice man I usually go to lunch with my husband.
Gosh it’s so hard being so hawt! XD
It really makes me wonder where the librarian fantasy came from. There really aren’t many writer fantasies. "Secret Window" does NOT count… Even though I could stare at Johnny Depp forever, his character is the quintessential writer stereotype: Unwashed, nap driven, chip eating, couch lumps who sit at the computer every so often to churn out a few pages to line the shelves of your Barnes and Noble.
While I work out how librarians got to be smexy, I also need to see if we can make writing sexy. Something other than a relationship or sex advice columnist for a magazine. I must have seen that plot on the back of a dozen romance/erotica/there-is-a-thin-plot-between-sex-scenes books. How do we change the image of the quintessential writer?
Aaahhh, and I see Epic Fail has not given up yet. I am seriously considering launching a campaign to take every one of Shyamalan’s ideas and re-write them. When I was active on Twilight Sucks, they had a Twilight series re-write. I see no reason not to do the same here. >}
I am eevviill… Maybe that’s why I keep getting hit on. XD
I really need to stop thinking that having a day off will allow me to get more writing done. 9_9 If anything, the reverse is true. If I’m at Dayjob, I’m able to write on my breaks. If I’m at home, there are no breaks. In fact, the moment I decide to pick up a pen because Monkey-girl has her attentions elsewhere, Mommy is suddenly a hot commodity and life cannot go on without my complete and utter attention to what she’s doing. Sweet? Of course. But not writer friendly.
So, it’s back to the tried and true method of cramming as many words as possible in between her bedtime and mine. I’ll still be taking my goal down to 500 a day so I feel less horrid about myself. 9_9
On the upside, me and the child have never been closer. 😉 That may not get Greenhouse done as fast as I’d like, but a better goal in the long run. ^_^