I just glanced over at my word counter on the right side of the page. I haven't updated it since June third. That's a long flippin' time. Not the longest I've gone without writing Thistleswitch, don't get me wrong. But it's the first time I've actually been keeping track.
It's sort of depressing.
Part of the problem is that I've been reading. And reading a good story makes me want to write, so badly that I can't quite decide if I'd rather finish the book or pull out my laptop.
"But, Jessica, isn't it helpful that reading makes you want to write?" you're probably thinking. And the answer, my friends, is NO. Not at all. Because when I read a fantasy story like Fire, my latest good read, it makes me want to write a story like Fire. Well, not like it in a copywright-infringement sort of way. Like it in a genre sort of way.
Thistleswitch and it's world are certainly not serious. There's alliteration bursting out of every sentence, and songs about toads dancing around blankets, and general mockery and tomfoolery. That's the way it's meant to be. It makes it a pleasure to write, don't get me wrong. Hopefully it will also make it a pleasure to read. But sometimes I'm just not in a mood for tomfoolery. At all. Sometimes I want to write something more romantic, or more bump-in-the-night, or more edgy. That's when I find myself working on other stories, even those that will never see the light of day, instead of the one that I actually plan to finish.
So, actually, I have written quite a lot since June third. I've written bits and pieces of at least three different stories that currently reside only in my head. I've written about characters like Audrey and Kella and Maddox, who it's possible that no one else will ever meet. I've written from the point of view of a doll, and the point of view of a teenage boy who cusses much more than I do. I've added two scenarios to my snippets Word document, full of random bits and pieces, odds and ends, plot possibilities and countless character traits.
Thistleswitch has been elusive, yes.
But it's been a productive month nonetheless.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
why I want to be shot
A part of me really wants to be shot.
Yes, shot. With a gun. Somewhere that won't do any lasting damage, or leave me dead.
What the heck is wrong with you, Jessica?, you're probably thinking right now. To which I reply that the only thing wrong with me is a love of literature.
You see, when I read stories, I picture what's going on. It's like a full length feature film playing in my head. I empathize with the characters, feeling what they're feeling as much as I can. But when a character is shot, I come up empty; I've never experienced it, so no matter how eloquently the author explains the shooting pain and burning sensations, I can't quite get a handle on it.
The same goes for when I'm writing. I can't write about a character being shot, with a gun or bow and arrow or slingshot or anything, because I've never experienced it for myself. I don't know what words to use to evoke the right response in a reader.
So when I say that I want to be shot, it has nothing to do with any psychotic tendencies or death wishes. I just want to know what it's like, so that I can picture it when I read about it and translate it when I write about it. It's the same reason that, even though it freaked me out, I'm glad that I passed out last year. Now I know just what it's like to pass out, so when a character loses consciousness in a book I'm reading, or when Merry loses consciousness in a book I'm writing, I know exactly what's what.
"Write what you know" isn't necessarily a motto I live by - I do write fantasy, after all - but knowing as much as you can is a major asset.
And, just for the record, I know at least one other avid reader who agrees with my reasoning and wants to be non-lethally shot as well. So at least I'm not the only crazy one.
Yes, shot. With a gun. Somewhere that won't do any lasting damage, or leave me dead.
What the heck is wrong with you, Jessica?, you're probably thinking right now. To which I reply that the only thing wrong with me is a love of literature.
You see, when I read stories, I picture what's going on. It's like a full length feature film playing in my head. I empathize with the characters, feeling what they're feeling as much as I can. But when a character is shot, I come up empty; I've never experienced it, so no matter how eloquently the author explains the shooting pain and burning sensations, I can't quite get a handle on it.
The same goes for when I'm writing. I can't write about a character being shot, with a gun or bow and arrow or slingshot or anything, because I've never experienced it for myself. I don't know what words to use to evoke the right response in a reader.
So when I say that I want to be shot, it has nothing to do with any psychotic tendencies or death wishes. I just want to know what it's like, so that I can picture it when I read about it and translate it when I write about it. It's the same reason that, even though it freaked me out, I'm glad that I passed out last year. Now I know just what it's like to pass out, so when a character loses consciousness in a book I'm reading, or when Merry loses consciousness in a book I'm writing, I know exactly what's what.
"Write what you know" isn't necessarily a motto I live by - I do write fantasy, after all - but knowing as much as you can is a major asset.
And, just for the record, I know at least one other avid reader who agrees with my reasoning and wants to be non-lethally shot as well. So at least I'm not the only crazy one.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
laughing gas
Today I got my wisdom teeth out. All four of them. They were all impacted, which is some fancy dentist way to say that they were growing sideways in my mouth, and had to be removed through invasive surgery that involved giving me laughing gas, knocking me out with anesthesia, and then going to town with novocaine in my mouth. Now my cheeks are swollen and kind of resemble a droopy chipmunk, I'm only allowed to eat cold liquids (which, granted, means lots of pudding cups and ice cream, but also means I can't eat any hot and yummy comfort foods) and I'm a bit loopy on Vicodin.
When I went in this morning, I was pretty nervous. Not about the actual surgery, because I knew that they were going to put me under - I was really anxious for them to just put me out, actually, so that I wouldn't have to think about it anymore and it could just be done. But, for whatever reason, I was kind of afraid of how I would react to the laughing gas.
Like, would I start chatting to the nurse about my (nonexistent) personal life, or showing off my (nonexistent) dance skills? I wasn't sure, and I was kind of doing that panicked-smiling thing...I don't know if you've ever been so nervous that you just started grinning like an idiot or giggling, and you know that it's NOT a time to be smiling but you can't help it? I get that way, mostly when I talk about the time I passed out. It's something unknown, which I don't particularly like, and so it makes me nervous.
Anyway, I was doing my little giggly freak out session, and then, sitting in the dentist chair and staring out the window at the waxy leaves of a magnolia tree, I decided to think about Thistleswitch. I told myself to make myself useful and brainstorm while I was sitting there waiting to get the drug-induced chuckles. And so, once again, Merry and Niko and Aries saved the day.
...you know, I'm kind of wondering if writing Thistleswitch right now, when I'm a bit hazy with a dizzying mixture of pain and painkillers, would make for a perfectly odd chapter. Heck, maybe all of this writers' block will be magically fixed by dentistry and drugs.
I can always hope.
When I went in this morning, I was pretty nervous. Not about the actual surgery, because I knew that they were going to put me under - I was really anxious for them to just put me out, actually, so that I wouldn't have to think about it anymore and it could just be done. But, for whatever reason, I was kind of afraid of how I would react to the laughing gas.
Like, would I start chatting to the nurse about my (nonexistent) personal life, or showing off my (nonexistent) dance skills? I wasn't sure, and I was kind of doing that panicked-smiling thing...I don't know if you've ever been so nervous that you just started grinning like an idiot or giggling, and you know that it's NOT a time to be smiling but you can't help it? I get that way, mostly when I talk about the time I passed out. It's something unknown, which I don't particularly like, and so it makes me nervous.
Anyway, I was doing my little giggly freak out session, and then, sitting in the dentist chair and staring out the window at the waxy leaves of a magnolia tree, I decided to think about Thistleswitch. I told myself to make myself useful and brainstorm while I was sitting there waiting to get the drug-induced chuckles. And so, once again, Merry and Niko and Aries saved the day.
...you know, I'm kind of wondering if writing Thistleswitch right now, when I'm a bit hazy with a dizzying mixture of pain and painkillers, would make for a perfectly odd chapter. Heck, maybe all of this writers' block will be magically fixed by dentistry and drugs.
I can always hope.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
master plan, my butt
Ha, did I really think I was going to finish this by June 30th?
Summer is a double-edged sword, my friends. On the one hand: FREE TIME. Full DAYS of NOTHING...nothing except writing, I tell myself in the morning. I can wake up at 11 and sit in bed working on the story, only stopping to pee and eat junk food. I can stay up until 3 working on the story, because I can sleep until 11. There is no school eating up eight valuable hours of my life every weekday.
On the other hand: NO FREE TIME. Because summer = vacations. Lots of 'em. I've been home for three of the past nine days or so, and I've spent over 24 hours driving. Besides all of the issues I have with that butt-wise, it's also really unhelpful for writing.
Though I did just get a new Gateway computer that is NOT a netbook because it has a full keyboard (HUZZAH!) but is still a dinky little 6-hour-battery (supposedly) machine. Hopefully I can bring it in the car and get at least a bit of writing in, buuuut...
All of this vacationing is pretty distracting. Which means each time I wake up at 11 and sit down to write Thistleswitch, I can't focus on the story. So if I try to write it, I end up spewing a bunch of really awful word barf all over the page, which I just have to delete. Which means I haven't even been trying to write for the past two weeks. Which is, for obvious reasons, not part of The Almighty Master Plan.
Since I'm leaving at 7:00 A.M. for another eight hour car drive tomorrow morning, I can hopefully write some tonight. And some in the car tomorrow. Maybe. Possibly.
Inspiration, I'm ready when you are.
Summer is a double-edged sword, my friends. On the one hand: FREE TIME. Full DAYS of NOTHING...nothing except writing, I tell myself in the morning. I can wake up at 11 and sit in bed working on the story, only stopping to pee and eat junk food. I can stay up until 3 working on the story, because I can sleep until 11. There is no school eating up eight valuable hours of my life every weekday.
On the other hand: NO FREE TIME. Because summer = vacations. Lots of 'em. I've been home for three of the past nine days or so, and I've spent over 24 hours driving. Besides all of the issues I have with that butt-wise, it's also really unhelpful for writing.
Though I did just get a new Gateway computer that is NOT a netbook because it has a full keyboard (HUZZAH!) but is still a dinky little 6-hour-battery (supposedly) machine. Hopefully I can bring it in the car and get at least a bit of writing in, buuuut...
All of this vacationing is pretty distracting. Which means each time I wake up at 11 and sit down to write Thistleswitch, I can't focus on the story. So if I try to write it, I end up spewing a bunch of really awful word barf all over the page, which I just have to delete. Which means I haven't even been trying to write for the past two weeks. Which is, for obvious reasons, not part of The Almighty Master Plan.
Since I'm leaving at 7:00 A.M. for another eight hour car drive tomorrow morning, I can hopefully write some tonight. And some in the car tomorrow. Maybe. Possibly.
Inspiration, I'm ready when you are.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
surprise, surprise
As predicted, I'm completely rewriting the battle chapter. Except for the end, which I knew about well before I tried to write the dang thing in the first place.
Also, as is to be expected, I got about half a dozen ideas to make the fight particularly Thistleswitch-y while, you guessed it, in the shower. I really should figure out some sort of pen that I can use to write on the shower wall, so that I don't have to try to rush my otherwise lengthy showers and get to the computer before I forget all the ideas that are swimming around in my head.
Anyway, here's how it went down. When I finished singing the mandatory showtune or two that accompanies all showers, I told myself, Alright. Niko gathers firewood. Then what happens? At which point, Terrence and Jovie (the characters from the barely-formed sequel, who are already dancing around in my head like they own the place) started clamoring for me to work on their story. I calmly informed them that this wasn't an option at the moment, and told them to go make out in the back of my brain so that I could think about the fight scene. At which point Niko complained that he would much rather go have a make out session than battle a dragon. I told him that there would be no making out until the dragon was defeated, and then told the whole lot of characters in my brain to get their ideas churning, because I sure as heck have no clue how to defeat a dragon.
And then, of course, they told me bit by bit exactly what had to happen, making all of my former plans look a bit like smeared bird crap on a windshield.
And that's pretty much what it's like to have characters living in your brain at any given moment. They're usually only distracting and unhelpful (for instance, when you really have to sit down and do your calculus homework, they'll start to whine like heck that you aren't paying enough attention to them) but then, when you really need them to come through for you and tell you what on earth is supposed to happen to them next, they've usually got the perfect solution for you.
If you think that I sound slightly schizophrenic with all this "characters living in my head and talking to me" stuff...I'm really not sure what to tell you. That's just how it is when you're dealing with someone like Merry Songchaser. When they know that they only exist in your mind until you get them out onto paper, they're pretty annoying.
Anyway, hopefully The Chapter in Which Pretty Much Everyone is Defeated seems to be suitably Thistleswitchified now. Hopefully it stays that way.
Also, as is to be expected, I got about half a dozen ideas to make the fight particularly Thistleswitch-y while, you guessed it, in the shower. I really should figure out some sort of pen that I can use to write on the shower wall, so that I don't have to try to rush my otherwise lengthy showers and get to the computer before I forget all the ideas that are swimming around in my head.
Anyway, here's how it went down. When I finished singing the mandatory showtune or two that accompanies all showers, I told myself, Alright. Niko gathers firewood. Then what happens? At which point, Terrence and Jovie (the characters from the barely-formed sequel, who are already dancing around in my head like they own the place) started clamoring for me to work on their story. I calmly informed them that this wasn't an option at the moment, and told them to go make out in the back of my brain so that I could think about the fight scene. At which point Niko complained that he would much rather go have a make out session than battle a dragon. I told him that there would be no making out until the dragon was defeated, and then told the whole lot of characters in my brain to get their ideas churning, because I sure as heck have no clue how to defeat a dragon.
And then, of course, they told me bit by bit exactly what had to happen, making all of my former plans look a bit like smeared bird crap on a windshield.
And that's pretty much what it's like to have characters living in your brain at any given moment. They're usually only distracting and unhelpful (for instance, when you really have to sit down and do your calculus homework, they'll start to whine like heck that you aren't paying enough attention to them) but then, when you really need them to come through for you and tell you what on earth is supposed to happen to them next, they've usually got the perfect solution for you.
If you think that I sound slightly schizophrenic with all this "characters living in my head and talking to me" stuff...I'm really not sure what to tell you. That's just how it is when you're dealing with someone like Merry Songchaser. When they know that they only exist in your mind until you get them out onto paper, they're pretty annoying.
Anyway, hopefully The Chapter in Which Pretty Much Everyone is Defeated seems to be suitably Thistleswitchified now. Hopefully it stays that way.
them's fighting words
I hate writing battle scenes. H. A. T. E.
When the action is unfolding at a mile a minute in my mind, like there's an action movie being projected in my brain, it's especially difficult to find the words to relate exactly what's going on. If there are four things happening simultaneously, or even just two, I need to take the time to explain each one in enough detail that the reader gets a sense of it; but those explanations take time to read, which slows down the action and makes everything seem slower than it is. Even with all the practice attempts I've made, writing battle scenes is still that elusive skill.
So now I'm trying to write a battle scene in Thistleswitch. They're fighting a dragon, for goodness' sake. There needs to be action.
But then, maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. This whole chapter has that rank, icky feeling of wrongness that usually means I'm trying to force something that just isn't supposed to happen. Which probably means I should ditch this particular plan and figure out what the story actually wants to happen. Which means finishing up the end isn't going to be quite as easy as I expected. Sigh.
When the action is unfolding at a mile a minute in my mind, like there's an action movie being projected in my brain, it's especially difficult to find the words to relate exactly what's going on. If there are four things happening simultaneously, or even just two, I need to take the time to explain each one in enough detail that the reader gets a sense of it; but those explanations take time to read, which slows down the action and makes everything seem slower than it is. Even with all the practice attempts I've made, writing battle scenes is still that elusive skill.
So now I'm trying to write a battle scene in Thistleswitch. They're fighting a dragon, for goodness' sake. There needs to be action.
But then, maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. This whole chapter has that rank, icky feeling of wrongness that usually means I'm trying to force something that just isn't supposed to happen. Which probably means I should ditch this particular plan and figure out what the story actually wants to happen. Which means finishing up the end isn't going to be quite as easy as I expected. Sigh.
the end stretch
I think (let me emphasize that, because I never really know with this story: think) that I know how the rest of Thistleswitch is going to work out. I mean, I think I've got an idea of every chapter and scene that happens from here to The End. That's...a weird sensation, I have to admit. This story is all about unexpected stuff, both for the reader and for yours truly. For me to have an idea of what's happening three chapters from now, rather than just going with the flow, is strange.
This isn't to say that I really planned anything out. I've gotten bits and pieces of what's coming up at different times and written them down, just kind of knowing that they had to come at the end at some point. And actually, I've known the actual end itself for quite a while. But to know how everything fits together - like I planned it from the beginning, which I definitely didn't - is pretty strange.
Actually, I take that back...there's one bit that I'm not too certain of. And that's how our heroes are reunited with good old Quicken and Kaye and their noble steeds. That's a dang important bit of story right there, but I'm not sure what happens to lead up to it. Basically, I'm not sure of the whole bit where they travel back to Grandma Anine. So I guess there is one part of the story where the unexpected could happen.
And, in all honesty, the unexpected could happen at any time. Just because I think I have it planned out doesn't mean I really do. If I'm typing merrily along and somehow my fingers decide to add in that Aries needs to go and do his fourth quest, I guess I'm just along for the ride.
But, at least tentatively, I know where I'm going with this. Which is pretty great, if only because it means I can type up 3000 words in two hours, no problem. Funny how the words just flow when you know what the destination is.
This isn't to say that I really planned anything out. I've gotten bits and pieces of what's coming up at different times and written them down, just kind of knowing that they had to come at the end at some point. And actually, I've known the actual end itself for quite a while. But to know how everything fits together - like I planned it from the beginning, which I definitely didn't - is pretty strange.
Actually, I take that back...there's one bit that I'm not too certain of. And that's how our heroes are reunited with good old Quicken and Kaye and their noble steeds. That's a dang important bit of story right there, but I'm not sure what happens to lead up to it. Basically, I'm not sure of the whole bit where they travel back to Grandma Anine. So I guess there is one part of the story where the unexpected could happen.
And, in all honesty, the unexpected could happen at any time. Just because I think I have it planned out doesn't mean I really do. If I'm typing merrily along and somehow my fingers decide to add in that Aries needs to go and do his fourth quest, I guess I'm just along for the ride.
But, at least tentatively, I know where I'm going with this. Which is pretty great, if only because it means I can type up 3000 words in two hours, no problem. Funny how the words just flow when you know what the destination is.
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