It's Just Like Math

So there are always threads on Scribophile that look a little like this:

I'm a new writer working on my first novel, and I really want to do an epic military fantasy drama that covers six different characters: a colonel from Team Blue, the colonel's wife, a deserter from Team Blue, a grunt from Team Red, the grunt's girlfriend, and the girlfriend's cat as a kind of stream-of-consciousness thing. I want to do half in 1st person and half in 3rd person, and I want the tenses to change from past to present, and the cat will only narrate in future tense. How would you suggest I go about doing this?

To which I reply, "No. Don't. This is already an abomination."

And then I get yelled at for being negative and not supportive.

But the fact is, folks, writing isn't something you can just do. You wouldn't expect someone with no mathematical abilities to be able to pick up a Linear Algebra book and be like, "Oh totally, makes perfect sense." Maybe some kind of genius could do that, but he also probably lives in his mother's basement and has named his shoes.

My point is, you need to learn to crawl before you can soar with the eagles *cue patriotic, uplifting music*. You have to learn to count before you can add, then multiply, then perform complex differential equations. You can't skip around, or the stuff at the end will be shitty and incomplete.

Just. Like. Writing.

I don't care how great your grasp of language is. You can be the most Englishy person ever, but that still doesn't mean you know jack about developing a character over the course of 50k+ words. You can spell great? Neat. How are you at not writing passive sentences? Can you create an interesting plot with captivating characters and lots of drama? Awesome! But you can't put two words together properly, and your prose makes me want to stab out my own frontal lobe.

Writing a novel isn't just about slapping some words onto paper and calling it a day. It's about becoming your characters, living their problems, shouldering their burdens, and being able to let your reader do the same thing. And that's not easy to do. You don't just do that. You have to practice, hone the craft.

People who think they can just write their first novel and have it be a masterpiece on the first go around make me want to punch a baby dolphin in the face. It's pretty insulting, really. I've spent years - dear God, years - of my life trying to improve as a writer. I sit at my computer for hours. I've lost weight because I forget to eat. If my bills weren't all automatic, I'd probably be in a lot of trouble with collections agencies right now. I spend hours reading books, scouring the Internet, trying to learn all I can about writing a truly great story.

And then some ass clown waltzes up to me and says, "lol I could right a really grate novel rite now, ur such a nerd, when was the last time you took a shower?"

And I say, "Shut up, ass clown." And punch a baby dolphin in the face.

The Most Ridiculous Erotica Ever

Someone on Scribophile posted this masterpiece. Read it. Do it now. You'll thank me when you're done.




Are you all finished?

Are you laughing your ass off?

If not, there's no hope for you. Just give up on life right now.

If so, congratulations! You are a normal person!

Now get ready to cry. This excerpt was not actually from the book. It's a spoof on it. However, the real writing is just as bad. I went through and critiqued this piece how I crit for others on Scribophile, and seriously had to give up halfway through because I couldn't stomach the prose anymore.

Then I found out this book is apparently a bestseller.

A WHAT?!

A New York Times Best Seller. Hayzooz Kreesto!

Between this abomination and 50 Shades of Grey, it's becoming clear to me that all you need to be successful is the ability to write copious amounts of smutty smut smut smut. So I've come up with a ridiculous erotica novel that I will write... someday!

It will be the tale of Ali, a totally ripped, sexy fireman who is actually a magical djinni from 7th Century Arabia, who is hanging on to life so he can get revenge on the evil sorcerer who murdered his true love all those centuries ago. Then, he meets Stella, a beautiful, nubile, virginal young art dealer who is the daughter of the evil sorcerer!

Dun dun dunnnn!

Ali is going to fall madly in love with Stella, and he torn over whether to complete his mission of revenge, or just bone Stella all night long.

Spoiler alert: he chooses boning.

See ya on the NYT Best Seller list, suckas!!

Hallelujah, Interweb!

We have Internet in the new place! Hooray!

I was having to drive to the college and borrow theirs. And by borrow, I mean steal shamelessly.

But it's okay because now I have my own Internet. I can surf the Web sans pants once more!

Moving Sucks

A lot.

But it's almost over now!

I think we left stuff in the dishwasher in the old house, and I need to clean up a little bit. I think I'm going to do that when I'm done at school today. Although maybe I should go study EMT stuff, instead. I don't have class in the morning tomorrow, so I'll have all day to clean if I just do it all tomorrow...

Okay, now I'm just thinking out loud in type.

Bollocks, I Has Them

How hard is it to click a mouse button?

Not hard.

Except when the cursor is hovering over the send button of your e-mail, and the particular e-mail you just composed says this:

Okay y'all, you're on this list because you expressed at some point interest in reading my novel. If you've changed your mind since, no problem, just toss it in the trash and carry on. I know people are busy, so I'm not expecting you to drop everything and read it RIGHT NOW. So take your time, blah blah blah.

I'm not looking for anything in particular, just honesty. If you like it, say so. If you don't, say that, too. You won't make me cry. Much. ;)

Thanks in advance!

And in the address line are your mother, your father, your younger sister, some sluts who are going to love all the sex, one of your most faithful readers to date, and a couple other people who a) know good writing when they see it and b) aren't afraid to tell you if you suck.

So now I wait for feedback. And I'm scared, guys. Real scared. I didn't even edit out any of the "fucks" I counted yesterday. Oy. I need a drink.

Anxiety Attax!

Okay, not a real anxiety attack. I haven't had one of those in years.

So, a few months ago, I was bitching about discussing Twilight with Husband. And he got tired of the... discussion, and says, "Well if you hate it so much, write something better."

And I said, "Fine."

So I did.

Well, maybe not better. But I wrote my very own vampire romance. And there's no angsty teenagers, or sparkling, or stupid hairdos, or vampires, or romance.

Wait, what?

That's right, folks. I got about 20 words into a real vampire romance and my fingers started rebelling against me. "We won't write this drivel!" they seemed to say as they stuttered over my keyboard. "We demand robots and FTL drives!"

I placated them with a story about vampire-esque things called Vorator, that are really more like just plain old monsters than actual vampires. They don't suck blood. They eat flesh. They're not afraid of sunlight, garlic, or religion. And they most certainly do not sparkle.

There are some romantic undertones, but it's definitely not a romance in the traditional sense. I call it my vampire romance, but I guess technically it would be classified as a supernatural thriller.

So about that anxiety attack...

I hooted and hollered about writing this thing, and when I finally finished it, I realized people had actually been paying attention to my hootings and hollerings. I posted on Facebook, "OMG finished with my stupid novel LOLOLOLOLOL" and all of a sudden, a dozen people were like, "Can I read it? Here's my e-mail!"

Lola Pro-Tip #1: Never tell a writer you'll read their novel unless you really mean it. Because they will give it to you, and a short story they wrote, and an outline they've been mulling over, and their grocery list just please for the love of God, read my stuff, I just want someone besides me to read my writing and tell me that I'm not the most horriblest writer they've ever encountered.

Ahem.

So now I have a list of people who want to read my novel, which is awesome, don't get me wrong. Any artist wants people to see their art, and more importantly, like their art. Maybe that's why I'm having such a freak attack about it.

I counted how many times I typed the word "fuck" or one of its conjugations.

54 times. I use "fuck" 54 times in 61,575 words.

I also include not one, not two, but three explicit sex scenes. There are multiple instances of extreme violence (not coinciding with the sex scenes; it's not one of those novels), and did I mention I swear a lot?

Well, I don't swear a lot. Connor and Brian swear a lot. Those little potty mouths. But I guess they can. They're adults, after all.

My mother wants to read this.

And my dad.

And... others. Who would probably never pick up a book like this if they were in the bookstore. I know they're only going to read it (or pretend they read it) because I wrote it and they want to support me. Which is freakin' awesome! But still scary. Next time I Skype with my mom, is she going to be like, "So I got to page 56. You're a sick fuck, you know that? Where did I go wrong!? You better not be teaching Chameleon any of this stuff!"

I should have sent this thing a couple of weeks ago, but I'm scared. I am. Total chickenshit. How am I supposed to submit this to publishers if I can't send it to my own mom?

Oh wait, because publishers don't say stuff like, "Hey did you get those old home videos I sent you? Of you and your sister dressed up like princesses and singing Christmas carols?"

Yeah.

Development Shmevelopment

So someone made a good point in a critique of the very first chapter of the 13th House. They said, "Your protagonist is very put together and cool. I wonder how she's going to develop over the course of the story."

And I thought, "SHIT! She's not!"

Well, I guess she could turn into some super awesome mega-cool person, but I don't think I want that.

So now I need to come up with a way to make her flawed without taking too much away. I don't want to make her a coward, or a bitch, or something like that, not right off the bat. That would be weaksauce.

I think I've got a solution, but it IS late, and I AM functioning mostly on cookies right now. I think I'm going to go to bed and let this marinate, then come back tomorrow and see if it still sounds good.

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Sleep!

Maybe the Best Thing Ever

Just kidding. Chocolate is the best thing ever. Duh.

But this might be the best writing-related thing ever.

Writing Class with Brandon Sanderson

I've watched this thing about a million times. It's awesome! I definitely recommend it to anyone who writes, even if it's not fantasy or SF like he does. There are some really great things to consider regardless of genre. So check it out!

The Postest with the Mostest

The first post is the best, isn't it? So much to say, so much promise to be had, so much... stuff. To be stuffed.

This is the beginning of something new and spifftastic. I've just completed my final semester of chemical engineering. No, not because I graduated with a degree in chemical engineering, but because I realized I would not like being a chemical engineer.

What would I like to be, you ask?

Thanks for asking, Internet.

I've always wanted to be a writer, and now I think I have the guts to pursue it for reals. But I'm kind of a wimp and I get hurt feelings easily (which then leads to discouragement), so it's going to be a helluva ride.

I just finished my first novel (wahooo!), which was really, utterly, and completely not my style or genre. I'll get into that in another post. I don't want to go wasting all my good ideas in one post!