Burnerblog

At work, I’m swamped today… all the stuff I’ve done all week long pales in comparison to the last-minute “gotta get my draft in for review” rush I always go through. As hard as it can be, these are my favorite days. Deadlines are hated by most writers, but for me, they’re the days when adrenaline surges through my body and I work at light speed to get everything done.

What I hate more than anything is when I have a great idea for a book or story and then I forget it when I wake up. Nothing is more annoying to a writer. I have this happen often enough; you’d think I’d have learned by now. But no. I’ve been told more than a few times by other writer friends of mine that I should keep a notebook or tape recorder next to my bed for when this happens. I think I’m probably going to begin to take this advice, because some of my most creative moments are just as I’m about to fall asleep and my brain is working in some weird post-sleep free-thinking mind-warp of sorts.

That’s what it feels like for me sometimes after I finish one project at work and begin on another. There is no momentum yet, and I have to get it all started with some procedural stuff that’s not quite as fun as the detective/writing part of the job. Next week, I finally get to start working with (an) engineer(s) on the guide, bulking up and updating sections of the guide I write that have not been updated since the initial release (six versions ago). I’m now working on the 7th version, so many of these updates are long overdue.

Later today, I will start scheduling the meetings, getting the material together, and compiling packets on the sections we’re going to cover in our meetings. Then, after the short meetings take place, I get to take the new information, insert it where applicable, take out the old information, then re-read and edit the entire section, and then re-re-read and re-edit the section once more before I move on to the next section. It’s a long process that involves a lot of time consuming effort, but I do enjoy it. Lots of my job is long-fuse, meaning that my deadlines don’t come too soon. I typically have months between releases, so I am able to get lots of information and spend time writing good content. Rarely do I have to rush.

So, it’s back to trudging for me.

Not a word. Well, not writing on my story, that is. I’ve got so much work to do, I’ve been at it for hours with no end in sight. I would love nothing more than to have a little bit of my time back to myself right now, but it’s not going to happen until sometime late tomorrow morning or early afternoon.

The good news is that I lied in the first paragraph of this post. There is an end in sight, and I know that I can do it. I know what I have to do, and I know that I’m good at what I do. I know I will get it done tomorrow. Had it not been for electrical outages and Internet interruptions today, I’d have already been done.

So… it’s back to work and then hopefully sometime tomorrow, back to writing!

During one of our discussions tonight about writers and the writing process, Sherry took note of the fact that I said that I didn’t think that I wrote that well. She said I was crazy to which I replied that most writers think that they’re not that good. It’s the one thing we all have in common; a certain degree of self-doubt or even a degree of self loathing. It’s that thing deep inside of us that keep us trying harder to write better. It’s quite possible that there are writers out there who believe their own press, so to speak, but most writers I know would say that they are “good” or “ok” at best, not excellent or brilliant (even when they are).

I bring this up because I’ve always considered myself a writer, but never really thought I’d take it any further than a few short stories and the technical documents and training courses that I write or have written. That is all about to change. I’m actually not only writing at quite a good pace, but the story I’m turning out (notice I didn’t say churning out) is actually pretty decent so far. Some of the elements have come as a surprise to me, as my mind just has this way of making things up on the fly, while other sections required some forethought before making their way onto the screen (my virtual paper).

What happens next is really anyone’s guess, but hopefully, I’ll send it off to someone who will want to represent me and my work, and who can hopefully get it published with me making some money from it. Then (even more hopefully), I can continue to write more novels and have them published as well. Like I told Sherry and Gelli earlier last night; I would like to be a part of the Dewey Decimal System.

I wrote ten more pages today. It was tougher going today than it has been in the past few days, but that’s because I’ve finally moved into the actual story, and away from character development. The characters are introduced sufficiently, their pasts explained, and now we’re working on the meat of the story itself. Sherry has been really good and patient with me, reading the early drafts as they’ve come off the printer. She’s had a few suggestions here and there, but she keeps saying that she really likes it, and that she thinks it’s on par with other commercial fiction she’s read. Hopefully, she’s not stroking the Edge Ego since she’s married to me. Then again, we’re pretty honest with each other; if it sucked, she’d say so.

Otherwise, it’s nice to have something progressing along as far as it is. Of course, there are more and more things to think about now that the story is moving along, and I can see now how writing slows down as it takes time to think about the plot, the twists, the minor characters, secondary plot lines, and the list goes on. At least I’m producing, though. That’s the most important part. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere when I’m done, I’ll at least have successfully completed one full novel. Moving on from that point will be much easier.

I’m 1/10th complete with this novel. If I set a goal of around 200 pages or so, then I’m 1/10th complete. I’m past the main character development and now moving into the actual story itself. Here is where the writing gets a little tougher, but at the same time, here is where the story finally starts moving. I think the characters I’ve created are likable an interesting, and the reader will really care for them.

I’ve been mulling what kind of danger I will put them into, and what situations they will find themselves in, but more importantly, what twists I can throw in. I try not to think about it too much, but sometimes, a little brainstorming goes a long way. The names of the characters go through this process: some come naturally, while others take some thought. Finding a famous person that one of the characters has a passing similarity to was actually one of the more daunting tasks. Now that I got that out of the way, it’s almost comical how little it plays into the story compared to how long it took me to come up with a viable celebrity.

Anyway, I just got done with a conference call. I’ve got some work-related stuff to do, and then it’s back to writing.

I keep starting new projects. I’m on the third one in as many nights. I don’t know why that is. It’s not as if I’m losing interest or getting bored in the subjects. To the contrary, it seems to me that I have so many things to write about, so many stories, so many tales. Some are based on my life, while others are complete fiction that only borrow from my experiences as inspiration. The latest story I began was about a guy sitting on a cliff with a bottle of whiskey and some memories he’s trying to forget. I’m enjoying writing about it, because it’s something I can relate to. I’ve been the sad guy, sitting in the dark with some sort of alcoholic beverage, thinking about lost love, knowing full and well that the alcohol isn’t going to make things better. But somehow, knowing that it’s not going to get better makes it okay, because at the same time, there’s the knowledge that the next morning holds the promise of a new day, a new lease on sanity, and new love. It’s as if the wage of getting this fresh start is going through a night of hell paid in part through the shedding of tears, through the self-pity, and the pain.

Of course, self-pity is indulgent. It’s allowing one’s self to wallow in an emotion that is completely selfish and unproductive. It’s a strange emotion, because while no-one likes to be sad (or admit that they like to be sad), self-pity has an odd comfort to it. It’s the ultimate solo attention whore emotion: someone pays attention to your every problem, your every shortcoming, and everything ever done wrong to you. That person, of course, is you, and self-pity is the manifestation of that attention you give yourself. The story I’m writing begins with a guy going through this very deep, almost spiritual sort of self-pity. He hasn’t hit the self-loathing yet, and I’m not quite sure if he will go there, but so far, the story is interesting to me, and that’s a good sign.

I write stream of consciousnes, and the stories flow from my mind through my fingers and onto the keyboard. Sometimes I don’t like where a story is going so I guide it along, but for the most part, it’s almost as if my fingers are possessed and I’m along for the ride when I write. It’s kind of creepy, but at the same time, it’s all me. I recognize every word and phrase, and it’s obviously coming from within me, but the flow is very fast and effortless. Almost too much so.

Anyway… I am going to get some sleep now. I’ve stayed up entirely too late writing tonight, but I think I have a good start to what may be a story I actually enjoy writing. Only time will tell.

I’ve gotten off my proverbial (and not quite so proverbial) ass and started writing something. Or many things. More like many things, actually. If I seem a bit scatterbrained, it’s because I’m a bit scatterbrained. Too much thinking makes Edge a dull boy. The bacon smells good, but the Porsche is faster on Thursdays than a winking dog is fluffy.

Sleep sounds good about now.