Monthly Archives of: July 2009


Dear self: you’re an idiot

Leave a reply

(Also known as: I use sentence case in titles because I don’t always know what to title in title case, what’s it to you?)

I’m pretty sure everyone who writes or creates – or thinks they’re way more awesome than other people do – spends a bunch of time wallowing around in their own head. According to my mum, I gave up sleeping at age five to free up more me-time. She’s always thought I spent my nights going over the events of the day, little brain tick-tick-ticking back over the contents of my sandpit or the Barbies I made my brother play.

Fuck that noise, I couldn’t have cared less about my day: I was preoccupied with working out the mechanics of my future life as a Lost Boy, or making sure I was prepared in case I happened to wake up with a tail or be captured by pirates. I’ve always enjoyed walks and bedtime and showers as opportunities to hang out inside my own head. Reality, like stinky cheese and early nights, is something I only developed an appreciation for as an adult.

But man, sometimes I have to stop thinking. I have to stop thinking about blogging, because… well, hi. Trying to be clever just isn’t. I want to punch myself in the face right now. And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself, much like I can’t seem to stop over-analysing everything I think is wrong with my novel.

Last night, after days of bitching and moaning to anyone who’d listen, pages of red pen flow diagrams packed with aggressively-punctuated URGENT CAPS!!, and a constant state of near-hysteria that I’m pretty sure has actually raised my metabolism, I re-wrote all my scene summaries from my first draft. I got myself so worked up about my story structure it took me DAYS to think of this. I’m so obsessed with everything that’s wrong or not perfect or de-scopes my future fanfic writers, I somehow forgot I already have a freaking story. I’m not fixing this plot in a vacuum: I have 320 pages of it sitting beside my bed.

A couple of hours and a glass of wine later, I had an updated outline from those scene summaries, and my red pen could go to work IN CONTEXT. The shortest distance between two points is to stop being a motherfucking idiot. Occam and/or his razor might also have some shit to say. I get so buried under the big picture and the end result and my insecurities and what-ifs and views on Zac Efron’s haircut that I lose my grip on my story. It all seems too big to fix and too terrible to bother.

Dear self: Relax. Stay small. Find the next step and take it. Zac Efron probably knows what he’s doing – trust that you do too.

And then I spend the morning reading Agents’ and industry blogs and think it might be more fun to die in a fire than finish this thing and have to do something with it anyway.


Hey there drawing board, what up?

Leave a reply

My first two weeks of editing have produced a collection of red margin-doodles and a stunner of a tension headache. Talking to Heidi, I think I’m jumping the gun. I’m trying to get in and tackle the meat of the scenes I know need to change, but I haven’t properly figured out what they’re changing to. It might be time to back up the truck and lock down who these people are and what, exactly, they’re all trying to do. Maybe make my outline match the story again, so I can look at the structure and actually see the wood for the trees.
In the meantime, my One Tree Hill marathon continues apace. Dan’s good! Dan’s bad! Dan’s murdered his brother! But he feels kind of bad about it! I woke up one morning and Lucas’s douchebaggy Squint of Faux-Sincerity had gone from making me slightly uncomfortable (at best) to making me sort of wish CMM was aiming it at me. Which basically means the end is motherfucking nigh, as far as I can tell.
Last night Peyton declared her love (again) and Luke rejected her (again) for no logical reason other than Mark Schwahn needs to get another 18 episodes’ mileage out of their pain or he’d have to think up another reason for their lives to suck. And since between them they already have 400 dead parents (Peyton has TWO dead mothers!), a stalker and a heart condition, there’s not a lot left on the table. GOD, this is quality programming! Swear to God, when I run out of episodes, I’m going to cry myself to sleep for a WEEK. The scene where Dan gets drunk and sets Keith’s grave on fire redefined awesome. Like, in the freaking dictionary. Go ahead, look it up.