Eight Months Later...

It's been eight months since I last blogged. I stopped because I didn't have anything to say. I felt like anything I could possibly put into words here would be mere internet noise, not contributing anything to anyone, and certainly not worth anyone's time.

And in those eight months, I think I've realized something. Maybe that's not necessarily the point of writing, of blogging. Certainly a lot of people blog and write to help someone else, to contribute something. But maybe there's a whole other group out there who write for another reason.

Because they have to. Because they have words inside them that they have to put down, whether or not someone actually reads them and values them. I feel like this sometimes. I want to be a writer, although I can't quite figure out why. I've always kept a journal, albeit not always consistently. I've blogged for a few years now, also not consistently.

So what do I want to achieve with this renewed blogging effort? I'm still not quite sure. Perhaps it's more discipline in my writing, making more of an effort to write at all, even if it is just relaying my boring life to all seven of you who are actually interested.

This blog, like my life is a work in progress. I don't have my shit together, so bear with me, friends. I'll do my best to keep you entertained.

Promises you don't intend to keep...

Source

I feel this way about New Year's resolutions. People make promises to do things, lose weight, go to church, read books, do X, Y, and Z, most of the time with good intentions. Often times people make resolutions because everyone else is doing it, because it's expected, etc. Not because they actually want to change. 

Resolutions at New Year's are one of those things that I'm opposed to on principle, like pet names and Twilight. But still, every year, I find myself making a mental list of things I want to change, things I want to do better at, more of. This year is no different, and this year, this blog is on the list.

I want to be a better blogger. I really do. I want to post more regularly, more often, about better topics. I want to be more involved in the blogging community. I want a better design for my blog, because, well, yeah... I want to care about this.

So bloggy friends, any tips for me on how to be a better blogger? I feel as though I could use all the help I could get.

Can't I just sleep forever?

It's difficult for me to want to do much of anything these days. I work two jobs, I'm involved with church, and I can never seem to get enough sleep. It takes an excruciating amount of effort to get out of bed for work in the morning.

So when all of my effort is concentrated on being an adult and not calling in sick because I'd rather stay in bed, it's hard to want to do anything else. Including write. It's partly why I gave up on NaNoWriMo last month about two weeks in. And it's also why I haven't been posting lately.

I don't know what to do when this happens, when apathy this strong sets in. I want to care about things. I want to care about my blog, about work, about friends. But I don't.

I just seem to have this insatiable desire to crawl into bed and sleep until the second coming of Christ.

Any tips for me, friends? Any advice on how I get interested in life again?

This is supposed to be fun.

 I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist. I want to do something right. And if it isn't exactly right, I kind of stress out about it.

But I've decided. I'm not going to stress out about NaNoWriMo anymore.

No more getting worried about being a few thousand words behind the daily goal.

No more getting worried I won't finish.

No more beating myself up if things aren't going the way I expected.

I'm going to write what I write, and I'm going to enjoy it. I'm not even going to think about the 50,000 words.

Because isn't the whole point of NaNoWriMo to just write and have fun?

Hey, writers. Give me advice.

I'll be perfectly honest. I'm procrastinating right now.

I've been trying to be good this weekend. I've been trying write and write like a good little NaNoWriMo-er. I even drove down to visit Emily, so we could write together.

But friends, I am a couple thousand words short of where I should be. I'm so far from being on track.

I am so discouraged right now.

I want to win so badly this year, mostly because I lost last year.

Here are some of my problems:

• I am so incredibly unfocused. I have complete ADD. 
• I am not emotionally connected to my characters. I haven't discovered why I care about their story. (This is a big one.)
• I don't really like my main character. I think she's kind of a brat who has no sense of familial duty. (This is another big one.)
• I can't decide on a narration technique.

So, friends, this is where I ask for advice. Any tricks I should try to get back on track? Any tips on focusing?

This is what you get.

NaNoWriMo starts today. National Novel Writing Month. Crazies like me and Emily attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

I'm trying to get a jump start on my novel today. So instead of a post, you get some David Tennant. Happy Thursday, and Happy NaNoWriMo!

No post today guys...

...because I'm too busy working and seeing Snow White and the Huntsman, and watching the TONY AWARDS! Try back Thursday.

I love you all, you're all brilliant!

When Good Writers Go Bad

Think of a book.

Any book.
Maybe it's your favorite book.
Think of the characters
the plot
the ending.
It's perfect, isn't it?

But now imagine the exact same book

with a different ending.

A BAD ending.

Doesn't it just make you want to EXPLODE?!

This week's Why Wednesday is about books with bad endings. One of my pet peeves is when a book I'm reading has a bad ending. The rest of the plot works out just fine, so do the characters, etc. But the ending SUCKS. When this happens, I have a tendency to throw the book on the floor in frustration.

These are all books I've read lately that have left me wondering "Why?"

Why?

WHY?!

Jodi Piccoult's Handle with Care, Gregory Maguire's Mirror Mirror and another book of his, Lost.

The ending for Handle with Care was significantly more frustrating than the others, for reasons I won't reveal, in case you want to read it. The plot, the characters and their relationships were extremely compelling. I was emotionally invested in this book. That's why the horrible ending was all the more devastating. I threw this book on the ground when I finished.

Mirror Mirror and Lost however, are a different story. The books themselves were just okay. They were books to pass the time. And then on top if it, both of the books sort of have "non endings." The stories just kind of fade into oblivion. You don't even care what happens afterward. And worse? You don't even care that it was a bad ending. It was so bad, you don't even care.

And on a different note....

I had to do it. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

(I'm going to talk in specifics about the ending. If you haven't read it yet or seen the movies, you've been living under a rock.)

Cedric Diggory.
He's handsome
friendly
outgoing
PERFECT.

And J.K. Rowling kills him off.
He dies.
He dies?
HE DIES!

While we're on the subject of Harry Potter let me just say....

Sirius Black
Dumbledore
Lupin
Tonks
Fred

(As a side note, let me clarify that I LOVE the Harry Potter series.
While the things I listed above definitely made me say "Why?" at the time,
I think the overall finished product was excellent.)

But that's beside the point. Kind of.

My point IS...

If you're going to write a book....

MAKE SURE YOU CAN WRITE A GOOD ENDING.

Or else people will throw your books on the floor.

I am a night owl. This may, however, come as a surprise to my family. When I was a kid, I would wake up at the crack of dawn wanting to play and watch cartoons. (I still blame an early bedtime.)

But lately, combined with two months of unemployment and Starbucks scheduling me with closing shifts has turned me into a certifiable night owl. I can wake up early. I just prefer not to. And I'm really so much happier when I wake up around noon.

But none of this is the point.

The point is, when I'm up this late, when the rest of the world is sleeping and silent, I get the urge to write, something, anything. I feel this burst of creativity in me. But my brain is several steps behind my heart, as usual. I'm always without words, without subject matter.

I have a writer's heart, but not the mind.

I know what you'll say. All seven of you who read my blog and actually enjoy it will disagree, saying I write wonderfully here. (Especially you, mom. Thanks. ;) ) But I'm really just relaying real-life information, and not even very creatively, either. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to demean blogging. My life just isn't all that exciting.

And the truth is, I long to create something original, to tell a story that means something, a story that no one has ever told before.

And so, in the late night/early morning hours, I open up my word processor and stare at the blank page, until depression or tiredness force me to give up and finally go to sleep, which is probably what I'll do tonight.




I have a writer's heart, but not the mind.