I'm going to apply some advice that worked really well in another life:
Don't take yourself too damn seriously.
I can get stuck for hours, evenings, days, on a single adjective. The perfect sequence of scenes. Whether a character's backstory is deep enough. Things have been going a lot more smoothly since I've been just getting the hell over it. So, in the interest of accountability Sunday: Definitely hit the writing and editing goals this week. Logged at least five days of straight writing, and three of them included some pretty heavy editing. Three chapters of 3862 w, 5482 w, and 3781 w, respectively. Ok, so that middle one's a monster. Maybe it's two chapters. I'll put that on the editing to-do list. I finally (wince) picked my haunted house novella back up, but it made me sad. It's going to take a lot of work. But it's due out in April, and it's very close to finished, and I know I can salvage it if I apply myself. Then something really strange happened. I've been making jokes about the public's seemingly bottomless appetite for vampire novels, and how I should just force myself to crank out a vampire novel. Friends and family, of course, are like, "Well, duh. Why didn't you do that first thing? I mean, fallen angels? Seriously." I forgo explaining that I can't write something if I don't have an idea for a plot and have nothing but scorn in my heart for the subject. But then, the unthinkable happened: I actually thought of a vampire series I could stand to write. In fact, I got downright excited about it. Even worse, I actually have a half-finished series that's pretty much a ready-made shell for this thing.
*___* Bangs head on keyboard *___*
I feel kind of sick now. I have a scarlet V on me somewhere. I will be answering to the name Vampire Whore for the next few days. Go ahead, play along; it will help assuage my guilt.
But what I really want to talk about are these amazing books I read. J.L. Bryan's Tommy Nightmare, the second book in the Jenny Pox series, seriously rocks, people. He's got such an intriguing aesthetic- a mix of Gothic, horror, pathos, acerbic wit, polymorality, love, a distinct sense of place, all blenderized into some kind of contemporary, somethings-under-the-bed but it stole your PS3 first and just might kick your ass at Killzone before it eats you kind of thing. He's about to hit it really big. Deservedly so.
Then there's Tabitha Suzuma's Forbidden. An amazing love story containing graphic, consensual sex between a brother and sister who've spent their young lives trying to keep their family of five out of foster care after being abandoned by their parents. I actually wrote Tabitha this on Goodreads, a first for me:
I finished Forbidden two days ago. I keep trying to talk about it. I start sentences and leave them unfinished because I don't have an adequate adjective...I am only beginning to process the impact it has had on me as both a human being and a writer.
So if any of you get the chance, read this book. Full review to come later this week, I hope. I've never had such a hard time finding language for a book as I have for this one, so I'll pull a Hemingway and just say it's damn fine.
March 15th is The Ides of March, an obviously important day around here. Just a head's up that I'll be having an Ides Week Celebration, with prizes, special musical guests, and maybe even a disco ball! No shamrocks, though. Shamrocks are completely and utterly forbidden. They have their own holiday, and all my best to them and theirs. Mark it down, the Ides will rock, beware beware! I just know I'm forgetting some other important ROW80 thing. Oh well, sorry! I hope everyone is having an excellent week full of smooth writing, fluffy plot bunnies, and pie. Pie makes everything better.