I was wondering...is it possible for one, after he or she has fallen off the face of the earth, to crawl back up the other side?
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I'm a writer, aspiring to be an author.
My stories strive to keep up with my outlandish dreams and brilliant(?) ideas.
My dreams and ideas strive to keep up with my Muses... two rather small and bouncy ones, and one whose height will surpass my own by the coming spring.
My Adoring Other splendidly keeps up with me, and keeps me sane.
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We all know that creativity feeds off creativity ... everyone finds inspiration in some form or another ~ swinging movement can be a beautiful thing.
Someone told me (in so many words) that working with content which speaks to one's inner muse is genuine therapy; creative freedom built on mutual trust is paramount.
This connection is what classics are made of.
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There is a widespread refusal to let children know that the source of much that goes wrong in life is due to our very own natures--the propensity of all men for acting aggressively, asocially, selfishly, out of anger and anxiety. Instead, we want our children to believe that, inherently, all men are good. But children know that they are not always good; and often, even when they are, they would prefer not to be. This contradicts what they are told by their parents, and therefore makes the child a monster in his own eyes.
~Bruno Bettelheim, The Uses of Enchantment
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Um, so I guess I've been kind of out of commission.
Or something.
I could make up excuses...like, ...I live in Oklahoma -- you know, the place where they had the big ice storm? Yeah, and we were out of our house for nine days while we waited for our electricity to come back on! Talk about throwing things off, and all right before the holidays. This, while an entirely true statement, does not justify my absence from the literary world.
Perhaps the mad search for an improvement in my husband's employment [see: "finding a new job where he will be appreciated for keeping the world running 24/7"] has gotten me all wound up. This, indeed, requires an immense amount of time, energy, and -- is frustration a requirement? But now, he's landed a SysAdmin position with government benefits and 50% better pay. Scratch that excuse.
Dealing with middle school miscreants tends to take a lot out of you, too, especially when you have to watch your firstborn suffer at their hands. And words. I seriously cannot believe the kind of refuse that comes flying out of these little brats' mouths. It's quite an experience, mustering the composure to not shove a bar of soap down a 13 year old stranger's throat while slapping them silly. When the time comes, I've - perhaps unfortunately - compiled a wealth of informative material for a gritty real life YA novel.
How about this: I've felt a little [completely] overwhelmed [lately](?) At some point, I started feeling a little irrational, which, in a way, rationalizes my subsequent irrationality. Just a vicious cycle, you see.
Overwhelming: when you set out with a particular project with a clear path in mind, and then you are told that, while this path is fantastic, why not extend your road, oh, about eight times beyond your original plan? F it, why not just make it a highway? Interstate, you say? Great! Don't worry, we'll wait.
Which is wonderful, and very encouraging. Don't get me wrong, I'm all over it. Just let me think...
Maybe it's my parenting style that's partially to blame. I'm very hands on, involved, and attached (some of you will be familiar with what I'm talking about..the others, just go with it). This requires sleep.
Writers aren't supposed to sleep. Much.
And once I get going, it's especially difficult for me to stop - so I end up staying awake until four hours before I'm supposed to get up with the kids. Not good. At least not when they're 1 1/2, 3 1/2, and 12.
But this is all just rambling excuses. I created under the same circumstances over the past year, and I ought to be capable of doing it now. So I'll just shut up and stop whining.
I can warm up with the smaller projects, work in short bursts until I experience that gigantic saltwater wave of inspiration.
They say you can't drown on purpose.
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...and a stack of surveys, [mostly] completed by a bunch of 7th graders.
Let's see what these kids really want to read about...
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Question: You have this phenomenal idea for a picturebook story. You start writing. You get lost in your fanciful little world (which, by chance, looks a lot like Rackham's Wonderland) and get a bit carried away. "Picturebook" turns in to "almost chapter book, but not quite." An agent "loves" the language. You expand. You now have on your hands the workings of a chapter book with plenty of potential for becoming a fantastic middle grade novel.
But you intended to produce a picturebook all along.
What to do?
Peel away the skin and separate the pith from the juiciest bits? ..or leave it intact and ripen it all nice and plumpy?
Someone said "do both."
I am seeking professional help. Please.
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I told someone today that I have stories oozing out of my pores.
Gross, I know. I should probably see somebody about that.
But not so much of a bad thing...no, not at all. Just some solid direction is all I need.
The fairytale has queried a handful +2 agents, and one of those agents requested a full, adored the writing, yet wasn't sure of its length or its strength. Back to work.
The picture book stories.. well, I'm drowning in them. How can I not with a 2-piece set of creatures under the age of four living in my house? Meticulously building my little tower of publishers to prepare for the big Launch. Now, where to begin, and with which one......?
Then there are the guides. Ah, yes. Just wait.
And the middle-grade / YA novel just waiting to be written. Bits and pieces come together daily. That's a whole other project altogether, as is the middle-schooler himself. Long-----term.
And one of the creatures is now creeping up the hallway. I must investigate.
'night.
Oooooo... He's good. I hope you had a good Christmas and New Years.