Tag Archives: Belief

Editing break

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I’ve been thinking about taking a break for a while.

Now that I’m staring at a self-imposed deadline for the current novel, I realized in order to get it where it needs to be, I have to focus on one thing.

This will be my last post for a while.

I plan on taking at least two months to get the novel where I want it, though it may take longer.

If something amazing happens, I’ll drop in, but after this post, I’ll be working to finish the horror novel I wrote in August.

I hope you all have a pleasant and productive spring and early summer and hopefully I’ll see you in the summer.

Finishing books.

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Last summer I queried a book to 13 agents.

It was the first book I’d ever queried. I’ve submitted stories to magazines, receiving rejections on all of them.

I may have figured out why last year’s queries failed.

I spent time working on the novel, but I didn’t get it as good as I think I could have.

I wrote 2 rewrites and revision for it but I don’t think I learned how to dial in a draft, or what it takes to do so until the past couple of months.

The writing group showed me this as well as the improvements I’ve witnessed.

I don’t know what changed, maybe I’ve become less fearful of editing.

I used to look at it as something I knew I should be doing, but also as a thing I dreaded. Agents should just love it it’s current form, right?

That’s what I believed. Why should I change my story? They should adjust to what I’m writing.

Now, I’m looking at my writing and I see what needs to change. I’ve also read a lot in the past year. That changed my thoughts as well.

I’m putting away new projects to work on making this one book the best it can be.

I will either get an agent this year or publish it myself.

I’m hoping for the former.

Happy writing.

Realizations and Breakthroughs.

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This past weekend I went to a birthday party for my nephews little girl.

I got to see my sister and my dad.

This weekend I also went to see my brother. He passed away a year and a half ago from an aneurysm.

It was the first time I’d been to his grave since the headstone was placed.

We live four hours away from his grave. I wanted to put it off as long as I could.

While I knelt at his grave, talking to him about things that are going on I thought about all that has happened since he passed.

I queried a book, written four others and I’ll be querying a new book this summer. If it’s not accepted, I’ll publish it anyway.

The realization came after I left his grave, wiped away the tears, and kissed my wife.

I’ve done so much since he passed but not as much as I’ve wanted to. I’ve slacked on a few things, quit on others.

Then there was the breakthrough:

Late Saturday night, while I was laying in bed, trying to sleep. I thought about what I’ve written since he passed.

There are a lot of short horror stories. And a couple of horror themed novels. But if I enjoy the writing and finish the story it has a horror element.

Whether it’s a sci-fi story about shadows on a deserted planet or dark fantasy; it always has those horror elements that I love.

I used to fight those elements. I wanted to write things that people would talk about.

Then I thought of all the horror books I’ve read that stuck with me. Then came the thoughts of the movies that always stuck with me. They’ve always been horror.

I fought for a long time to not have fantastical elements in my writing but I guess they always popped up for a reason.

Anyway, enjoy your week and happy writing.

Sick, depression, and lack of focus.

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The story I’d been writing took a turn and I no longer feel I can finish it.

It may have to do with the cold I’ve been fighting for the last week.

It may also have to do with a bit of depression I’ve been dealing with because of not being able to write this story.

It took a turn sometime last week in a direction I don’t like and I thought I’d let it go, however, since then it’s become a boondoggle.

The boondoggle was exasperated when I started watching A Discovery of Witches this past week. It’s too much like my story and may toss it in the bin because of that.

Anyway, happy writing.

What fiction is to me.

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The thought of what fiction is to me and what it means to me has been on my mind this week.

It’s the little spaces in between paragraphs when I’m considering what to write next. The moments when I write something well and amaze my self.

Most of all it’s freedom.

Freedom from distractions. Freedom to find purpose in the lives of the characters I create and the ability to try and scare them.

I used to write to impress people. I thought it would but most people don’t care.

When I write it’s to scare myself and maybe my wife. She’s my first reader and if I can scare both of us, I feel accomplished.

I gave up writing for others. There’s no satisfaction in it. There’s no reward in it. They won’t come to you frightened. Most of them won’t read what you write anyway so what’s the use.

Fiction to me is being myself. Finding purpose within the words and trying to make something memorable.

I may not be published but writing for myself is rewarding as hell.