I gotta admit, guys; I haven’t been writing much. Not for lack of inspiration but with my new temporary schedule, I’ve been spending more time reading books to review and playing with the kiddo. 🙂 I’ve been teaching her to knit and we are currently reading Alice in Wonderland. 🙂
Don’t worry, book  2 in the First Brood series will be out before fall. I haven’t forgotten about it.
I guess I’m a bad Pagan in that I don’t have a super regular practice. I make up my rituals on the fly, communing with deity whenever I can in whatever manner seems best at the time. I do the same thing with my writing, rarely using a plan or an outline for my stories. I have a general idea and flesh it out as I go along.
Honestly, I feel this connects me more to my spirituality and my work than if I had a formal plan. The creation is visceral, like a lightening strike to my senses and it’s very invigorating. Nothing beats the sudden wave of words flying from my mouth or flooding through my soul. I truly believe nothing makes me feel more alive than the feeling of pure inspiration.
Sometimes, inspiration needs a kick in the pants. That’s why I enjoy feeding it with massive amounts of books, movies, anime, and comics. XD I’m not afraid of bad movies because that can be a great way to spur it on. The moment I mentally check out of a movie with the list of things I could have changed, I feel invigorated and justified in the time I spent watching it.
I also inadvertently serve as inspiration to others. Or so they tell me. It always shocks me when friends and family somehow believe I know anything about anything. XD But hey, if I am one of the things that inspire you? Go for it.
I had a few hours to myself today where I was able to brain storm. There is something about walking to music that loosens up the muse even if I am all dur hurr from lack of sleep. So, I cranked up the MP3 player as I walked to get my kiddo from school and I have three more little stories in the works. All non-erotica related, too! 😀 Remember Djinn? Get ready to hear more from them in the near future.
The only drawback? It was effing cold. >_< Warmer hoodie next time. :p
Most of the time, I think I should be spending my time writing rather than reading about writing. Wouldn’t my time be better spent honing my craft than reading the words of someone who’s already done it? In this case it’s a good thing I ignored my own advice because I would have been denied the mental TNT that is Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury.
I plan to buy a copy of my own to deface with a highlighter, but wow… I was alternately cowed and inspired. While I don’t care much for word association, what I took away from this book is:
1: I am not alone in my fierce need to write. It’s write or die a miserable, uncreative death choking on the words which should have been put to paper.
and 2: I will never, EVER be anywhere as good as Bradbury; who wrote most of these inspiring essays before I was even born. 0.0
After giving it a great deal of thought, I’ve decided that in all honesty, I shouldn’t try to be like Bradbury. I shouldn’t try to be like anyone and in doing so, I would have missed the entire point of Bradbury’s book.
Bradbury went into great detail about how, when he was young, his "friends" would try and talk him out of his favorite comics and I can recall getting the same treatment. Especially since I was a girl. "Girls are not supposed to read X-Men." "Comics are for boys. Here, take this Barbie instead."
You know what I did with those Barbies? I played X-Men with them. Endless visits to the Hellfire Club got repetitive (what else was I supposed to do with all those gowns!?) and Cyclops was now a Black woman (not many "Ken" dolls) but I didn’t care. I LOVED it. I loved comics, I loved fantasy, I thought the Crypt Keeper was a genius, and that the Twilight Zone was a temple in which Rod Sterling should be worshiped. As a teenager, Lady Death and Evil Ernie taught me that you can do any damn thing you want when you write and draw and to tell those girls who called you a lesbian for drawing women in superhero uniforms to fucking suck it. Yes, that really happened. The lesbian part, not the actual telling them to suck it. I just looked at them like they were morons and went on with my life.
What does all that senseless rambling mean? I don’t need to try and be like Bradbury. I already am by virtue of being myself and having no fear. You can’t write if you have fear. Am I scared that someone will come up to me and say my book sucked so hard, they wanted to pour bleach in their eyes? Sure. But in that moment when you put pen to paper and you are at the mercy of characters, pouring your soul out on to the page, you are making magic. Let it take you.
I was watching… Ok "watching" is a loose term. I was trying to sleep while hubbykins was watching the 2009 Spike Scream Awards show, thing… whatever. It reminded me of why I went the route I did rather than just post my stories online to begin with. It was when I was watching Romero speak and Depp walk out on stage. Its the point where an idea turns into hordes of people being glad you made what you made and can you please make more.
And that, friends, is why I frigging don’t watch award shows.