Putting on the pressure

As a writer, I’m constantly grappling with an overwhelming urge to stop embarrassing myself by thinking I’m a real writer. I think a lot of writers do. We face a reality where pretty much every idea for a story that can possibly be written, has been written, rewritten, plagiarised, reworked, revamped, reorganised and renamed at least a few hundred times. How can I possibly come up with something new and fresh? How can I possibly create something more desirable than what is available already?

The funny thing is. Books come and books go. It’s just like music. Some music stays popular for a long time, some doesn’t. Even the really good songs generally have a shelf life when it comes to the market at large. That doesn’t stop Madonna and Miley Cyrus from making tonnes of money every year (even despite what we read and hear about them…heck maybe it’s because of what we read and hear about them).

What it really comes down to is this: If your dream is to write and you don’t ever put words to paper (…or an electronic document…um), you’ll never get to test yourself out there in the world. And what other test is there?

So, what I need is something that gets me to put aside all of my excuses…my doubts…my crippling fear and get going. That’s why I try to do NaNoWriMo every year. That’s why I subject myself to the humiliation of participating in competitions that don’t even cater to my genre. That’s why I’m taking on the My 500 Words challenge.

Without motivation, nothing will happen. If people are checking whether I’m doing what I set out to do, the sheer need not to disappoint anyone will drive me. I’m just that kind of person.

 

Aside: Ha ha ha ha haaaa! 295 words already done for the day. *beatific grin*

Also: A hat tip to Linzé Brandon for sharing Jeff Goins‘s challenge.

And then life happened

So, it appears that I wasn’t too far off with saying that I probably won’t make target this year. After the first four days’ fantastic progress, I was stoked. I suddenly had this moment where I thought I’d maybe be able to get to 50 000. Then, I had one of those days where everything just interferes…and the day after that I got a blasted stomach virus that had me in fetal position for three days. Looking at the normal NaNoWriMo target for today (20 000 words), I nearly choked.  I think I’m sitting on about 7500 at the moment.

Nothing like kicking them when they’re down, is there?

Well, at least I knew this year would work a little differently. My current target for the end of November is 20 000 words. I’m fairly sure I can make that. I just have to kick myself out of the pity-my-poor-cramping-self mode so I can get going. Who knows? If I get back up to speed, I may even kick my mommy-doing-NaNoWriMo target word count’s butt. What a happy thought. Just writing that has made me feel better.

As a side note: Remind me to write about my pole dancers vs zombies dream sometime…

NaNoWriMo already

Ack! NaNoWriMo is just around the corner! I have been watching it creeping closer, but somehow it still managed to ambush me in the middle of nowhere. This year, I am just a bit preoccupied trying to keep up with my little rugrat scuttling through the house at the speed of “just a moment”. It appears that my daughter has developed a new speed setting. If I take my eyes off her for the time it takes to type a few words or to cut up an apple, for instance, she manages to move from the spot where I put her down to a hidden corner somewhere down the hall or into the cat’s lair. 

Though I am sure you saw my NaNoWriMo counter on the right, I can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep up, even vaguely, with the daily quotas. Of course, I will participate. I still have quite a ways to go with my story. I took most of September and October writing up a short story that will be appearing in an anthology next year(!!!!). So, I’ve tried to get my daily word count up. Being a full-time mommy is just interfering a bit more than allows for productivity. *sigh*

Either way, may the month of November have mercy on us all! 

Dreams – Battling the gods

I dreamt a lot of stays-with-you dreams when I was in high school. One that has come back to me time and time again (as a memory, I never dreamt it again), was one I had when I was 17. It was a very vivid dream.

My parents and I were part of a large site-seeing group visiting a fantastically large cave. As we were going in, I remember getting a flash birds-eye view of the mountain peak rising above a lush green forest (funny how some dreams are kind of like movies, huh?).

As we gathered close to listen to our guide, I felt an ominous presence. It was something that touched my mind from deep within the mountain. The more I concentrated on it, the more I came to realise that I was not imagining it. A dark and powerful being was watching us, waiting for some kind of opportunity.

I tried to alert my parents, but they didn’t understand what I was on about. It was then that a sudden avalanche closed off the mouth of the cave. We were stuck in there…right where this presence – that I had by now decided was a god – could do what he pleased.

My awareness shifted out of my body and I moved through the stone body of the mountain. Not too far away from the cavern where our tourist group was huddled in the dark, I saw a woman descending a long and narrow set of stairs. She wore a beautiful full skirt with a ceremonial tabard over her cheesecloth shirt. Golden bangles glinted on her wrists and ankles. Her dark hair wafting behind her in a delicate arrangement of copper jewelry and curls was mesmerising, her dramatically outlined eyes alluring.

As I watched her in fascination, I became aware that I too possessed some sort of power and with this the ability to help the group of people trapped in the cave. Sadly, I had absolutely no idea how to use it. I hadn’t been trained, I had no guidance – I had no idea what to do or how to go about it.

The priestess was still going down and down and down. The air was becoming very hot, though I could not feel it. I saw her skin go red and then start blistering. The fact that she didn’t turn around and retreat caught me by surprise. But then I saw the look of zealous ecstasy on her face. The very fact that the air was burning her was a sign of her faith being rewarded.

In increasing horror, I watched her clothes and hair charring to ash. Her skin bubbled and flaked and wafted up in the heat. I could hardly believe she was still alive.

At the very bottom of the stairs there was a bright orange and yellow pool of magma, hissing and bubbling with primal heat. The priestess’s face split and tore as she grinned and clambered over the rail. She didn’t even scream as the molten earth claimed her. (This part still sets my skin crawling today.)

As she disappeared in a gout of steam and flame, I felt the ancient evil god’s power increasing to overwhelming proportions. His malevolent glee made a cold weight settle into my body. The last thing I saw before my presence returned to my body was the magma inexorably rising up the stairwell.

I knew it was my responsibility to save the tour group. I had to get them out. I had to stop the volcano from erupting. I tried reaching for my power, but I simply didn’t understand how and no one else would be able to help me. The feeling of hopelessness was crippling.

Finally, the deadly glowing magma started creeping into the cavern. The air filled with screams of pain and fear. I had failed.

When you realise your inner editor is killing everything

I have made many discoveries in the past year and a bit. One has been a bit of a roller coaster ride for me and I sometimes wonder whether I’m too brutally honest.

Ever since I picked up my first book, I’ve been hooked on reading. I’ve read a lot and I’ve reread a lot as well. Some of the books on my, now wall-to-wall-ceiling-to-floor, bookshelf have been read 12 times. I obviously love those books and something in them must appeal to me quite a bit.

But, after three years of literary analysis at university and two courses specifically aimed at novel writing, I have become just a little too aware of the flaws in stories and story writing. After recently rereading some of my old-time favourites, I was appalled at the terrible prose and sometimes massive, gaping plot holes. For the past year, all my favourite authors’ work just didn’t meet my apparently vastly elevated standards. You can understand my distress.

On the one side, it certainly did give me hope. If I could see all these mistakes made by people who have written best sellers, then certainly I could avoid at least some of them. It also meant that my chances weren’t that bad after all. On the other side, just who is the best selling writer: The person sitting on piles of money from book sales? Or is it the woman waiting to hear back from the first publishers she’s ever approached?

Then, a personal revelation broke through a couple of days ago: Nobody’s perfect. Everyone will make mistakes. The more you do, the more mistakes you will make. It’s as simple as that. And, you know what, it is in the human nature to appreciate the good things. And, even more importantly, what one person hates, the next person loves.

Now, I approach my favourites with a brand new attitude. I read them and appreciate them for what they are, for however they have touched my life. Not every writer writes charming characters. Not every writer has spell-binding plot lines. Not every writer creates believable situations or settings. But each and every writer has a talent for at least one aspect of story writing that makes his or her readers want more.

Dreams – Psycho on the road to nowhere

When I was in high school, I dreamt a whole variety of vampire dreams. They came in all shapes and sizes (including one where I became a vampiric lily that slowly killed all the plants that grew near me).

In this dream, I was running from a psychotic woman and a vampire that travelled with her. I remember being deathly afraid of the woman and just wanting to escape.

Eventually, I was running, and sometimes gliding, down a highway. It was just after dusk, when it’s not yet dark enough not to be able to see. There was pale grass growing next to the road and, at the time, I remember not wanting to go off the road because I was afraid there might be snakes.

Eventually, I just became too tired to run anymore. I realised that there was just no way I’d ever be able to keep running forever. Giving in to the feeling of despair, I stopped and turned around, waiting for her to catch up to me. For a brief moment, I felt a little stronger. Maybe I would be able to survive the encounter.

As she came closer and I could make out her face in the near dark, I first noticed how ragged and disheveled she looked. Her hair was stringy and matted here and there. Her eyes had dark rings under them. Her clothes were stained and creased. And she had a look of maniacal glee on her face as she got closer.

For a moment, I was struck by the fact that the sallow-faced, tired-looking vampire just a little behind her looked unnerved by her presence more than he looked interested in me. But, then she was close enough and I could see that she was me. I hardly recognised myself, but there I was.

I had been running away from myself. I had been chasing myself. I woke up a moment later, feeling chilled to the bone.

Just a quick update

I just sent in my first submission for my self-help book. Hovering the cursor over the “Send” button was one of the scariest things I’ve done in the past few years. Hitting “Send” is the first step in the journey that really means I’m living my dream. There’s no turning back now. I’m actually trying. I’m not making excuses because I’m afraid anymore.

To everybody who ever told me (or anyone else) that following your dream is silly: I challenge you to do what makes you happy, to walk the path less travelled, to truly live!

Each and every one of us have the potential to do something that will be remembered, to do the thing that makes us truly happy, to succeed where others have failed. And I’ll never find true contentment until I try.

Rejection letters

Rejection letters

As a writer, who has never even finished a full-length story, I dread the day when my manuscript is ready and I need to find an editor. The fact is that I will encounter a lot of resistance, a whole pile of rejection letters. Over the years, the one constant I found when reading about my favourite authors’ journeys to becoming published was this: They got rejected close to or over a hundred times before they got accepted. The fact that the authors I admire struggled that badly means that I will definitely struggle as well. But, this gives me hope in a strange (maybe tortured) kind of way.

Fantasy vs Science Fiction

Fantasy in all its forms

So. In my string of posts about Fantasy as an overarching genre that covers all things magic and not yet technologically possible, I pose that Science Fiction is but a subgenre of Fantasy.  Oh dear! What has happened? How could I possibly say that?!? Well, it really depends on your point of view and how you define certain things.

If you argue that Science Fiction covers fictive narratives that have a possibility of becoming possible in our reality of experience, and that Fantasy covers fictive narratives that have no possibility of becoming possible in our reality of experience…then, I guess it really depends on what you, as an individual, find plausibly possible.

All in all, I see it like this: The real difference between pure Science Fiction and pure Fantasy is magic. In Science Fiction, there is no magic. In Fantasy, there is magic.

But, like I have said in other posts, these genres just won’t stay in their own play pens.  Does Steampunk fall under Science Fiction or Fantasy? A lot of the gadgets in Steampunk are actually possible to manufacture right now…so, is it still Science Fiction? It certainly isn’t factual history. I guess it could depart these shores and head off to become Historical Fiction…but, you can ask almost any Steampunk fan and they would tell you that Steampunk falls under the Science Fiction/Fantasy banner. Sooooo….

This is why I put all the piggies in one pen. Sometimes they want to play  together, sometimes they don’t.

 

What do you guys think?

Cyberpunk

So, we finally get to the subgenre I know the very least about. I have a few friends and acquaintances who are in love with it, but I honestly never got the bug.

The most important thing I have learned (the hard way) about Cyberpunk is: It is NOT Steampunk. The technology that is the main theme of Steampunk is steam-driven technology. The technology that is the main theme of Cyberpunk is computer technology and cybernetics.

Cyberpunk is usually set in the nearby future, but certainly does appear in far-future settings as well. Here and there cyberpunk even crosses the technology/magic boundary to include races like elves and dwarves and so on (Shadowrun, a role playing system and computer game).

Society is often run by large, heartless corporations (I immediately see Zorg Enterprises from The Fifth Element in my head). Computer technology and cybernetics is a source of power for the establishment  and, hence, the resistance often comprises of hackers and the like. Moral values and humane treatment of others are no longer the rule most live by.

Common features of this setting:

  • Bionic (i.e. electromechanical) and cybernetic limbs or other implants
  • Society has become dominated by computer technology and cybernetics
  • The protagonists are often part of a subversive anticulture
  • Human life has become as expendable as money
  • Post-apocalyptic setting
  • Robots (may) rule humans
  • Giant corporations rule society
  • Breakdown of moral values

Examples:

  • Ghost in the Shell (animé movie)
  • The Ship Who Sang – Anne McCaffrey
  • Battle Angel Alita (animé and manga)
  • The Matrix (movie and comic books) – though, apparently, it’s not considered Cyberpunk by all
  • Neuromancer – Tom de Haven and Bruce Jensen
  • Blade Runner (movie)

Honestly, just like any of the other subgenres I have discussed, there is much dispute about the true definition and true examples. I’d love some comments and discussions on this one.

Disclaimer:

Yes, yes, I know. But I don’t have any of the more “pure” cyberpunk stories out there in my collection just yet. I’ll fix it later if I can.