So let it be written, so let it be done

Most times when I’m living out my day-to-day life I imagine I’m somewhere else doing awesome things. When I snap out of my fantasy I get sad so I go back in my head where I’m sitting on a panel at a convention looking at people dressed up as characters I invented.  Sometimes I’m on the set of the new movie being filmed about a book I wrote. Sometimes I’m sitting in my office where my desk faces the window that looks out into the large garden in the back of my New England style house. Basically, anywhere but here.

This means that I end up doing a whole lot of nothing but working and then going home to read myself into somewhere other than my life. Or as my BFF hinted (in his mix-tape selection gift to me) in his astute observation “now real life has no appeal. It has no appeal” (Marina & the Diamonds).

And sometimes I think to myself that I when I get home I am going to edit those books I’ve written and the short stories too. But I never do. It’s about to hit August and I haven’t even looked at my last years NaNo more than once to change the order of the chapters.  And I think, well if I get on it now then maybe in a few months I can send it out to a publisher and then… well it’ll take like a year to publish best case scenario… and then even if it did become popular I probably wouldn’t be on a panel at any convention for at least five years.  That’s a long time. I could have been there by now if I’d started years ago when I first did NaNo. But I didn’t. I’m a loser.

It’s a big cycle of negativity in my head only broken up by brief moments of escapism.

I’m at a point in my life where I think this might be it.  I’m happy in my job. I love it. I can afford to take care of myself and my daughter without stressing the numbers too much. Overall, things are good. So today I thought to myself, why don’t I just self-publish then.  Why give myself more of a headache trying to send stuff out and getting rejected for years while giving no one even a possibility of reading my work.  Even having two readers would be an ego boost.

I think I’m going to aim for that then.  I want to write like Kilgore Trout and just throw my stuff up online in self-published e-books. I’ll just edit, maybe convince a couple of my friends who read in genre to look it over for comments and copy-editing and then just throw it on there. Let the internet fairies do what they will.   Like my stuff on Zazzle.  I’ve actually made $35 from that.  Also, it’s kind of cool knowing someone liked it enough to buy it.  Right now there are a handful of people walking around the world with a poster, iphone case, or necktie that I designed. Neat.

For NaNo this year, I’m thinking of writing an Epic poem.  I hate poetry, and a few months ago I was drinking and claimed that anyone could write a book of poetry. It’s not difficult. Perhaps it’s difficult to write good poetry, but since I can’t stand about 90% of poems I’ve come across, I really can’t judge the good from the bad.  So I’m going to write one big long badly-written Epic poem just for the challenge.  I love a writing challenge.

Today I was looking into my dump all hotmail account and I found a review for a fanfiction I wrote perhaps 10 years ago. I’m like seriously people are still finding this story? It’s been 10 years in a popular fandom, how is it not buried underneath thousands of new stories?  Sometimes I want to take down all the fanfiction stories I’ve written, but I hate when other writers do that to me and then I can’t find a fic I loved.  So I leave them up for anyone who read them and liked it enough to bookmark.  And because, you know what, I did it. I wrote it. It’s done. I’m going to own up to it.




Midlife Crisis

“I’m a perfectionist And perfect is a skinned knee…”

Midlife Crisis, Faith No More

So I just turned 35. Fuck.

I’ve been making a big deal and badgering myself for the last couple of months with this looming in the distance.  35 is middle-aged. The point where perhaps the years ahead of you are not so many as the years behind you. When it’s impossible to be cool. When you are no longer the future of this world.  You are the status quo and soon you will be the antiquated. This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.*

It feels bad. Mind you, my current status quo is pretty sweet.  I am here and it feels like a good place to be. But I wanted more.  Didn’t I always?  Like I mentioned in my New Year’s Resolutions, I think there’s still this huge space available in my life where I should be making new memories. I have these stories of my youth and I really don’t want to live the rest of my life without having more stories.  So one day when I’m 45 I can sit around with my friends and talk about the stories from our thirties.

Last night at my birthday party we were running horoscope natal charts on each other and something from mine stuck out with me: “your private fantasies are more appealing than the reality around you and it is difficult for you to leave them.”  Truer words about me are rarely uttered.  This needs to stop. Seriously.

I’m buying myself a new laptop. I’m going to edit my novels.  I’m going to write my short stories.  My late twenties will be when I practiced and got to know myself as a writer.  My early thirties will be the time I got used to writing my own original work.  My late thirties will be when I really put myself out there.


“Because the plot thickens every day
And the pieces of my puzzle keep crumblin’ away
But I know, there’s a picture beneath”

Falling to Pieces, Faith No More

* from  the film Fight Club

24 Hour Comic Day – A Challenge!

A new writing challenge! Well, new to me anyway. I think I remember hearing about this before, but paid it no mind. But this year, oh, I am so there.  Now, I’m not exactly an artist, but I think sometimes the story can carry mediocre drawing skills.  It’s going to have to in my case.

How I Got Fired From Hollywood

I got an idea a couple of days ago as I was ranting about the plot holes in the Dark Knight Rises. It’s a comic called “How I Got Fired From Hollywood” .  The idea is that if I ever worked in Hollywood and had any input with the movie makers about the scripts, I would be promptly fired.  So here’s the first, perhaps only, comic I made.

Confessions of a FanFiction writer

I had an idea awhile ago about writing a blog about how writing fan fiction helps you improve as a writer.  I haven’t written it up yet because I realized I could write an entire series on the idea. I’ll get to that eventually.  I suppose this could be the prologue.

For now I want to bring up the view some have that writing fan fiction is the bottom of the barrel.  Look at this flowchart to see what I’m talking about.  I’m in the “erotic fanfic writers” category.  It’s not all I’ve written, but it’s my work with the highest hit count on websites.  I’m not sure if being the writer of multiple erotic fanfiction is something I should be embarrassed about, but let’s just say it’s not something I advertise to the people around me.  Ultimately, I was embarrassed and in the past couple of years I decided to stop writing fan fiction.  Then I wrote two fanfic stories anyway, and have not been able to write anything else unless it’s a challenge from NaNoWriMo. I even dropped out of Script Frenzy this year.

This is a problem. I swore to stop writing fanficiton so I could concentrate on original fiction with the new lessons I had learned along the way.  Instead I screeched to a halt and I’m not sure why. Somewhere between writing about the web of relationships between characters that normally lead to some heated erotic encounters and trying to write what I imagine is real honest fiction instead, I lost my motivation. The most obvious answer to me is that I’m a pervert and I should try writing original stories about the relationships between people that leads to detailed sexcapades.  I’m going to try that for NaNoWriMo this year.

More Confessions