Tag Archives: Fiction

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.

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.

How to get past the narrator.

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As I said in the last post: when it comes to the narrator’s voice I have a fear of it.

On the surface this fear was founded on show don’t tell and info dumping. In hindsight, there’s more to it and it’s about me personally.

I’ve always had a fear of giving too much away about myself. This led to problems with parents and my wife.

I didn’t want to let a side of me out. We are the narrator of our lives and if we don’t control the narrative others will through lies.

I had this fear of people not understanding who I was, what I wanted out of life or whether I was the type of person who would do horrible things. Then I realized, people will judge me no matter what I say.

When it came to narrating a story, I began to look at it similarly.

If I control the narrative of my life and people think what they want anyway, why should I care what they say? Why should the narrator in my novels and short stories be any different?

I shouldn’t!

Before, I would write a story worried about what someone thought about it. Now, after dealing with the narrator issues, I understood I can’t make someone like what I wrote so I should enjoy the process more.

I began to write better.

I put in better detail and stopped caring whether what someone would think about it.

My writing flourished and I started a new novel in the beginning of December 2018. I destroyed my word count because the fear I had vanished.

How has your writing flourished in the past year? What did you do different to improve? Tell me in the comments.

Things…etc.

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When you feel life slipping and your goals trying, you have to understand that the world is difficult.

The difficulty of this life is that we have to get through it in any way possible.

Our any way possible can be whatever but our decisions along the road to our goals determines longevity.

I don’t usually think about these decisions but something changed. I’m not sure of the content of the change, but I do know it’s effects.

I’m aware of where my writing is going but there are times I’m unsure. I believe it’s impossible to be completely sure of our course. It’s not something we plan; only what we create.

I’ve written stories which were difficult to write and others I had no idea whether I’d come out the other side intact.

We get to where we need to be by working. There is nothing else.