brightlotusmoon: (Asha)
I forgot to come back here after the new year. Sorry, journal. I was busy.

Today, and yesterday, and the day before, I've been... I guess it's ill with a cold, or a cold and allergies? It seems to vary. Obviously, a fibromyalgia flare has been set off. I've been dizzy, shaky, sore, with a scratchy throat, itchy eyes, runny or stuffy nose, yada yada. If it keeps going past a few days, I'll call allergies.

At the end of December, Adam and I began talking honestly about my Neuroweird, and he figured I might do well on an ADHD drug or similar, which made me consider SNRIs, which made me recall my first attempt at Cymbalta in 2002 that went wrong, which made me decide, after talks with three doctors and my insurance, to go back on Cymbalta in place of Zoloft, to see if an SNRI would do better at poking away at my Neuroweird. In combination with the personal therapy regime that will be slowly happening for probably ever, it is working. Most of my compulsive episodes have been very controlled. It is hard work, obviously. Everything is hard work. Sometimes we who have multiple intense chronic illnesses forget to mention how hard it is to just... be. Every day, all the time. Or people who don't understand might forget how hard it is. Not having episodes of... All The Issues, it's hard.
Maybe I just forget, because it's all happening to me all at once, constantly, in the background, and I'm so used to it that I wave it off and go "Meh, it's just Things, it's always been Things, whatever" even though my entire brain is screaming and full of storms. I don't listen to myself enough; I'm too used to me. That's part of an upcoming therapy session, too.

Very current parts of therapy have been literally watching comedy videos while exercising. The Nostalgia Critic videos on YouTube, for example, and Futurama on Netflix, and Cartoon Network during the day (Woo, Amazing World of Gumball, woo, and also the creator of Uncle Grandpa was in my high school class, heeyy).

I've been sleeping with plush animals again since childhood. It's fabulous. Ty makes lovely plush My Little Pony dolls.
brightlotusmoon: (Asha)
I had no idea this was a thing until my mom's novelist friend mentioned it. I'm going to apply and then look at other grants.

BTW, FYI, JSYK, etc: I'm happy. Nothing to do with cults of positive energy or what have you; although positive thinking plays a small part in a specific way, as well as negative thinking, which folds up into balanced thinking energy whatsit. Everyone is always saying "Find your happy." And I have. I'm still going to have low, bad, poor, ugly times, because that is life. People are going to criticise me for things and such, because that is life. Right now, the only thing that matters is how I feel. Good, bad, positive, negative. But I'm just happy. That's what matters. *slowly nibbles on a glazed honey bun*

First novel really is close to finished. I am struggling to figure out what's the better way to blow up everything before reforming. Exploding reality is haaard.
Second novel is flitting around my writerbrain. I think this is going to be all nonsequential. I'll assign chapters later.

LOL, my kitty. Callisto has taken over my leather task chair on which I use a Pillow Pet as a cushion. If I'm sitting, she jumps into my lap, walks behind me, curls around me, and suckles on my shirt while kneading.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Warrior)
I really must post more here.
I've been in a depressive episode, one that now includes a postitctal state.
Feeling truly alive and worthy can be difficult.
I'll work through it and past it. I always do.
Everything hurts. Pain is concentrated in my skull, my face, and my neck. It is hard to lie still with my eyes closed.
Luckily I have many different treatments, yay.
Maybe tomorrow I can really start the second novel as more than outlines. I still need a title. The title "Glass Lotus" is still among the top choices. I still need to research paranormal contemporary nontraditional urban fantasy novels featuring LGBTQU characters with disabilities and superpowers. (Good luck, Jo.)
At least I am eating.


Aug. 3rd, 2013 05:20 pm
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Warrior)
So, this entire week was spent in a hideous, horrid, horrific, vicious fog of pain and histamines and fatigue and weakness and etc. But right now it is slightly better. I finally managed to get some headway on the Amber/Clara story that will turn into a novel. I got officially rejected by TOR themselves. Hee. I've sent the main novel to other editors in the meantime. I will be changing the title, since Adam informed me that a new video game has that title. /shrug.

It's those things you don't ever give up on, no matter how much you want to, until you breathe and meditate and take Klonopin.

Lammas was lovely, and now it is raining once again. August is going to be weird.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
You guys, I amaze myself. I've been writing helter skelter all over the place: Novel, stories, novellas, blogs, facebook, notebooks with various pens, everywhere... in the middle of a postictal migraine and insanely horrific agonizing chronic pain flare-up following recovery from a panic attack. If I didn't have a computer or paper I might write on the walls. I hurt so badly I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel half fire and half water. Wild and raging, and all I want is a crackling bonfire and a rushing river.
I doctored up a photo of myself and it came out half gold light and half blue light. It looks inhuman. But part of me adores it so much. My face is two different parts. I am two entities in one. When I burn, I am cool. When I am cool, I burn. It is ying yang, dragon phoenix, up and down, left and right, I don't even know. I don't speak out loud except to my cats, I just speak through Story. So much Story inside me.
That rock. That rock that my husband gave me, the rock that he held while standing in Room 217 of the Stanley Hotel, in which Stephen King wrote "The Stand" and used as an inspiration for "The Shining". That rock is still next to my laptop. I am covered in words. I am filled up with Words. I may disappear into Story. I may not even see the world until I have to.
Is this what it is like to live in the land of the Fae and then come back to the land of humans?


Maybe it was the super moon. Maybe it is the heat from the sun now. Maybe it is anything.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
Hey, [ profile] naamah_darling. I couldn't find that old post with Amber's original origin story, so I'm just copying it as a new post. This Amber is kind of the same Amber, and she was supposed to go on to meet Clara and they would save the world, etc. I'm cherry picking right now.
Also, the vampires are not exactly the vampires we think of when we think of vampires. They have sharp teeth because they are predatory, not really because they need blood to survive.

Blood And Soul )
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
So, I found this meme. And I started trying to answer the questions. And then suddenly I froze and started crying. I'm attributing that to the depressive episode borne out of that postictal state. Or something. Maybe the migraine too.
I may try again tomorrow.


What is the working title for your book?


Where did the idea for the book come from?

During my third year in college (SUNY Purchase), I was at my best friend's house; we were sitting on her bed reading books quietly. Suddenly, very randomly, I fell asleep (I now realize this was an epileptic seizure) and had... a vision. A dream. Something. Crawling naked through the woods away from a burning building. Moving through a cave in a psychic vision. Actually being psychic and doing psychic things. When I woke up, feeling exhausted and funny, I said, "I just had this amazing dream" and my friend looked at me with this very knowing look. Because, you know, she and I had been having psychic dreams and such for a while. I described the dream And I turned it into several scenes in the first chapter. And the rest of the chapter formed around that vision. And suddenly I was writing more chapters, and then I had a novel happening.

What genre does your book fall under?

Future fantasy. Or is it futuristic fantasy now? A sort of science fantasy. It takes place almost two centuries from now, close enough to have streamlined versions of current technologies, far enough to not be anywhere near now. But there is more magic than science, magic in the form of psychic powers, psionics. Lots of it. Very character driven, to the point where I barely have the world around the characters really built.

What is the synopsis or blurb for this book?

Oh gods, I hate trying to do this.
[*deep breath*] In a future world where mild psychic powers have become common, four of the most powerful psychics in the world will test the limits of their powers and the bonds of their love when a fifth powerful psionic seeks to destroy and rebuild reality - but he needs the help of one of the four to do so. When she refuses and he captures her, she finds herself fighting for her life, her friends, and for all existence.

What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I have no clue. Since it will probably be years and years before a film gets made ... maybe Dana could be played by a red-haired Chloe Moretz or Elle Fanning or Ariana Grande or Tiffany Thornton or Sara Paxton or Alexa Vega or Bella Thorne, with hazel contact lenses? Maybe Kara could be played by Selena Gomez or Victoria Justice or Camilla Belle or Ashley Greene or Elizabeth Gillies or Ariel Winter or Jodelle Ferland, with light blue contact lenses? For Ian and Alex, since they are fraternal twins and have different coloring, perhaps Dave Franco or Jeremy Sumpter or Cody Linley or Drew Roy or Max Theriot or Sean Faris or Johnny Pacar or Nicholas Hoult, with blue-green contact lenses and brown contact lenses? Jeremy could be played by one of those guys, with dark blue contact lenses. *shrug*

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Agency, I hope. If they like me enough.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

First draft? I finished that after college, then ripped apart the whole thing. The ending has been missing for ten years while I put the rest back together. I mean, I have the ending. It's just not put in yet.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I've had such a lifelong love and obsession with psionic/psychic powers and superhumans that I'd been writing such stories since my pre-teens. I suppose that has come out of my being born disabled and wishing I could be more than I was. And also really really loving superhero/superhuman stories. I've loved Marvel's X-Men comics since childhood. Perhaps all the stories I write are allegories for being born with disabilities. Just something you live with. What you choose to do with it is your choice and yours alone. It can boost you and cripple you at the same time.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Um. Any book where the main characters have really strong psychic powers? I guess? Like, telekinesis and telepathy and all the subcategories thereof?

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Fuck, I don't know. The superpowers? The future world? The fact that all my characters are pagan, that polytheism is really really common and running neck and neck with monotheism? Psychic abilities of various levels? Character interaction? A villian who isn't truly a villian but a person who feels wronged and wants to make things right in his own way by destroying the world? A main female character who is disabled but it isn't made obvious? Three other main characters who have mental illnesses that are not made obvious?

(Also, I feel bad that I don't have many POC characters (Kara has heritage that is Navajo, Korean, Welsh. Dana's heritage is Russian, Columbian, Gaelic, Greek. Ian and Alex have heritage that is Celtic, Welsh, Greek. Jeremy has heritage that is Italian, Spanish, Scottish, Belgian)... and many POC characters are tertiary. But, you know, the main characters that came into my head were Caucasian. I don't want to alter their races just to appease social justice warrior readers.)
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red 3)
I'm leaving this here just so I remember.

Also, this:
Benefits and Healing properties of Baltic Amber:
*Alleviates pain and symptoms associated with teething
*Reduces arthritis pain
*Reduces and prevents migraine headaches
*Reduces acid reflux, heartburn
*Reduces and eliminates eczema, psoriasis, and acne
*Balances digestive system and GI tract
*Improves sleep cycles
*Lifts overall mood and feelings of depression
*Amber prevents the aging of human cells, which use succinic acid as an inhibitor (an agent slowing down or totally stopping the loss of) of potassium ions and an antioxidant.
*Amber changes ionization, positively influencing our frame of mind and rebuilding the disturbed electrostatic field due to electrical devices which affect our organisms.
*There are so many ways in which you can benefit from Baltic amber. It has a substance – or ingredient – called succinic acid. A powerful antioxidant that helps fight toxic free radicals and disruptions of the cardiac rhythm, succinic acid has been shown to stimulate neural system recovery and bolster the immune system, and help compensate for energy drain in the body and brain, boosting awareness, concentration and reflexes, and reducing stress.

The magical things 3 mg Klonopin can do when combined with 350 mg Soma.
My almost nervous breakdown, and my hypertonic insanity, has eased considerably.
You see. Apparently, a Thing may be happening that has me more terrified than excited when I should be insanely happy and excited.
And in the meantime, I have to finish something that has eluded me for a very long time, which I cannot seem to convey to anyone without frustration.
So, Klonopin and desperation it is.

If you are a published writer, especially regarding urban fantasy or science fantasy, please please message me privately. Particularly if you have written novels and novellas.

I am writing the final chapter of the novel, just to see if I can fill things in and tie things up. Oh, I hope this works.

Note to self: Sale at CVS.
brightlotusmoon: (Peaceful Dragon Model 2)
I put Amazon Kindle on this phone and downloaded the books from my Kindle For PC. I'm doomed. I'll need a stronger battery for this thing; I've already set all the battery power saving settings I could think of.
Oh, Samsung Galaxy, you know my weaknesses well.
Also, I got a refurbished Samsung Galaxy S 3 smartphone at the start of January. It's white. AT&T gave me an early upgrade. Did I mention I got the phone? I don't remember.
I've been saying for years that I don't want a Kindle or Nook, and mostly it was because I didn't want to cram it in my purse. But this phone is a phone too and stays in the front section of the purse, whichever purse it is at any time, and reading is fun and good, and I'm fine with that. I'll never give up actual paper books. But I'm much better about ereader tablets than I was.

Also, migraine and fibromyalgia and spastic hypertonia like crazy and Raynaud's flares and knee problems and everything still hurts and mutter grumble mutter. But I have my box of Petite Ecolier chocolate biscuits and my Brookside Dark Chocolate Acai Blueberry Pieces and it is all good. And also Charlotte came over for the afternoon and brought sandwiches and Munchos chips, and that is all good. And I have my shelled pistachios and I have my yogurt smoothies and my sea buckthorn juice and really all is well.

So many books to read, still. Piles. Physical and digital. And to write. All these Stories. Stories galloping across my writerbrain until I grab a few bits here and there, and some of those bits get transferred to the Novel because they fit well.

I'm so tired and wrung out, but thank Apollo and Gaia that it doesn't go as deeply as it could. Argh, disabilities, etc.

Last night I dreamed of a library, my Library, the one that exists in multiple story worlds in the Storyland Multiverse. I was many librarians at once, I was so full of magic and power and Knowledge that I was brimming with light and energy. And today, I had a fantastic FB discussion that made the dream feel real in some ways...
I am the most disorganized, disorderly, random, crazy, wild home librarian you might meet; but that is part of my charm and my irritation. I have ways and secrets and methods that will make you exhausted and thrilled simultaneously.
brightlotusmoon: (Fae Dragon Alien)
I have astounded myself by realizing how many of these tips I have NOT been following. And that realization has now crystallized in my skull and now I know so much better and now I know everything I want to do.
Dude. Whoa.

However, endings are easier than middles for me. I have the worst problems getting from Start to End. I've had my novel's ending in my head for years, but the problem with writing a novel is that there has to be that Middle so other people know why the End happens.
Characters are easy. My college thesis was the first three chapters of that novel, on which I got the highest grade, and I was praised for how the story centered so much around characters in a future world where some technologies needed explaining, although at this point not really, because every single 22nd century technology I wrote about in 2001 has already happened, except the cars that drive automatically, although I'm waiting. Also, the fact that my story's 22nd century science is already happening means I am not creative in the least with science fiction. Which is why I never like to write about brand new technology, which is why I would be shuffled into a future fantasy subgenre and also a slipstream speculative subgenre, even though most the stories would always take place after the end of the 21st century and there would always be psionics involved which is still considered a trope of science over fantasy fiction.
brightlotusmoon: (Fae Dragon Alien)
Holy Gaia's Eyes, you guys, I finally figured out how to move the novel along more quickly. I finally wrote that one sentence - just one sentence - that broke through that blank wall of "Well, fuck, now what happens?" that many writers struggle with.
And now I'm several paragraphs past that. This is the first time I've managed to do that since summer. This is such an insanely massive personal breakthrough that I want to celebrate. But we already have cake and ice cream, so I'll just mark the day and I'll just keep on writing until fatigue begs me to stop.

And to think, all it took was for me to make the antagonist notice the main female protagonist's purple tourmaline engagement ring, which should have helped psychically protect her but didn't, because they're all powerful psychics there and can do what they want. Now to make her fiance suffer that broken neck a little more.

Seriously, though, I want to hug myself and cry a little.

Funny thing? I am in a violent amount of pain today, so severe that I really cannot to much other than type and type and pour my frustration and mood out into documents. Well, then.

To writing! *whiskey shot*
brightlotusmoon: (Pixie Model 2)
 So, I finally, finally, noticed that link thing that tells me to switch to the "new" Friends pages, which a noticed many people complaining about and being angry about and writing rather long posts about how much they dislike it and why and comparing it to sites I've never been to.
And then I scrolled through it.
And so... what's the problem, again?
It's bigger. It's clearer. I can read it more easily. It's... how do I put this... more stretched along the page? With fewer distractions? Is that sense making? I don't know. I honestly an unable to find the problems.
You guys, what are the problems with the New LIveJournal Friends Pages?

Also, my writer block... stagntation? issues? make me cry. I am so stuck at the end of of this one chapter (20? 21? Fuck, I forget) in which the sympathetic villain and the central heroine are in a stalemate and I the writer want the villain to come across as Mentally Interesting Person Who Just Wants To Do The Right Thing And Needs The Help Of The Heroine Except That What He Wants Is To Destroy, Delete, And Reset Reality To His Liking. And a big big important note is that ALL my characters are Mentally Interesting. This is my substitute word for Crazy and Mentally Ill and Disabled. Something is... Not Typical about anyone in my novel. I do not actually come out and name any diagnosis because this is, what, the 2100s, and the DSM has probably evolved into a beast of a book that bites your hand if you get things wrong. Really, the only characters who are most fleshed out as Mentally Interesting/Crazy/Disabled are the Sympathetic Villain and the Central Heroine. Except there's a lot with the Sympathetic Villain. He is quite Delusional and psychotic... but is he a sociopath? A schizophrenic? A schizo-type? Obsessive-Compulsive Personality? Bipolar? Oh, who the fuck cares. He is who he is. And maybe that is part of why I am blocked? Must I give him a Thing with a Name? My Heroine has Severe General Anxiety and Major Depression and PTSD and Epilepsy and Obsessive-Compulsive and Sensory Processing Disorder, Attachment Issues, and and extremely mild Attachment Disorder conflicting with extremely mild Avoidant Disorder.
And now we come to the Why? Why, Joanna the Author, do you have to do this? Why do you want to do this? Why does this matter? What is the point?
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Adam is home. At least until Saturday, when he may be off to Chicago for another job. Ahh, the life of a field computer technician and IT/AVproject manager. On Friday, we go back to his Kaiser Permanente doctors for follow-up appointments, and then... who knows. A couple of days off is lovely, though. Now that I'm on Disability, there might be more opportunities for me to come with him on jobs in the future. That would be sweet. Charlotte would happily look after the cats, which will always be my concern when we're away.

Exhaustion levels are still very high. Appetite is still poor. I did eat three small pieces of Adam's pizza made completely from scratch, and they were delicious, but my stomach is now crying over how full it is. Maybe it shrank. At least I am eating something, right? At least the anorexia scars haven't opened, right?

So many books that still need reading. I got distracted from John Scalzi's "Redshirts" when Charlotte insisted I read the newest Sookie Stackhouse book that she'd bought. I hadn't realized how little of "Redshirts" I had read. I am still trying to finish "Trance" by Kelly Medig and the long-awaited "Ashes Of Honor" by the awesome Seanan McGuire. And then there is the "Shadow Falls" series by CC Hunter, "Endlessly" by Kiersten White, "Bloodlines" by Richelle Mead, a few HP Lovecraft books, "The Folded World" by the wonderful Catherynne M. Valente, and the "Clarity" series by Kim Harrington. Not to mention "Sex, Drugs, Einstein, & Elves" by Cliff Pickover and "The Untethered Soul" by Michael A. Singer. And the Kindle For PC books, like "Team Human" by Justine Larbalestier and Sarah Rees Brennan.
Oh, my beloved books. So many of them. And my own speculative futuristic paranormal fantasy novel, which is almost finished, if I could just get past the lesser scenes to the larger scenes. The lesser scenes are always important to provide just enough information, since this is such a big book and I am not writing any direct sequels.

Ah, the Baclofen is working. My left arm has blissfully stopped spasming. And I'm not even tired, not even as a side effect. I love you, Baclofen, almost as much as Soma the great pain killing muscle relaxer.

Adam is downstairs in the living room, on the awesome couch, playing Playstation 3, and it's all good. As long as we are in this little townhouse together, as long as I can limp downstairs and see him and touch him, it is all right.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Dear Friends:
Do not tell me I will be a great author. Do not tell me I will finish this novel in record time and go on to land a major publisher and become so popular I will win awards. Do not tell me I will succeed. Tell me I will fail. Tell me I have no chance. Tell me I will be terrible.
My fear comes from the fear of failure, of success, of fear itself. I fear being bad, I fear being great. My motivation will be the intention of failure, not success.
I know this seems strange and awful. Don't worry. This will urge me on. This will make my writerbrain say, "Oh yeah? I'll show you! I'll make this great. I'll make this beautiful."
And I will. But don't tell me that.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
So, I have been a fan of Tangerine Dream since I was very young. I don't remember when I first started listening to their music, but I remember being pleasantly surprised to hear them during the film "Firestarter" (I loved the book and was amused by the movie). I watched it as a preteen and then as a teenager, and I was convinced that Drew Barrymore would go on to do great things (I was right, yay) and that shooting fire with your brain while also moving everything with your brain was one of the best superpowers ever. In fact, the book and movie helped awaken my love for the idea of paranormal powers in humans.

When I was 18, in 1997, I found a cassette tape (you remember those, right?) of The Dream Mixes One. This instantly became my favorite album out of the one hundred plus albums that the group had put out throughout the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s (they started in 1967 and they're still at it, with at least a thousand songs). I instantly fell in love with the songs "Little Blond In The Park Of Attractions" and "Change Of The Gods" because of the fantastic danceability and the way both songs blew my writerbrain wide open so words would spill out and my levels of serotonin, dopamine, norepinephrine, and endorphins would skyrocket and go dancing and it was marvelous.

After all the CDs came out, I bought as many as I could from secondhand shops, because when I was in my late teens and very early twenties, there weren't very many internet stores; Ebay, Amazon, and SSL encryption were just babies. I personally had Hotmail and AIM and that was all (which helped me keep my long distance with Adam as close as possible beyond phone calls). Yahoo had only been out for a scant few years, and I only used for backup email. Google barely existed and and Wikipedia didn't happen until after I graduated college. We even did all our studying with, like, real books and floppy disks video tapes and stuff. Ah, the late 1990s, how little we had.

Anyway. "The Dream Mixes One" was one of the dozens of CDs I bought and listened to while writing my short stories for my college writing courses, since my major was Creative Writing and I had to be Creative. The songs on that album helped me craft what would become the dark futuristic supernatural fantasy novel that I'm still working on.
So, guess what I found on YouTube after looking up Tangerine Dream's gorgeous rendition of the William Blake's "Tyger Tyger" poem?


I. Am. So. Ecstatically. Happy. I just listened to the whole album and I want to fly. Those neurotransmitters are now spinning and dancing and raving like dancing ravers at a dance rave. I think I can kill this migraine I'm having just by laughing at it, I swear. I'm going to go WRITE. Because I am made of WORDS.

Granted, I am still in pain all over, but it's okay. Because music will help soothe it all.

Music really can heal. It just has to be the right music for you, the music you love, the music that you personally cherish. This is mine.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Whenever I'm starting a new scene, a new chapter, or a new story, I shall play this.

brightlotusmoon: (Default)
fan·tas·tic   [fan-tas-tik]
1. conceived or appearing as if conceived by an unrestrained imagination; odd and remarkable; bizarre; grotesque.
2. fanciful or capricious, as persons or their ideas or actions.
3. imaginary or groundless in not being based on reality; foolish or irrational.
4. extravagantly fanciful; marvelous.
5. incredibly great or extreme; exorbitant.

So, my favorite Young Adult series is Kiersten White's Paranormalcy trilogy. The third book, 'Endlessly' will be out soon, and eventually there will be at least one movie. I've been reading Kiersten White's blog, and she is one of the most awesome people in the world - she's also my height, heh.

Recently, Kiersten wrote a post about how hard writing is, how it makes you bleed and sob and lose your mind some days. And I commented because I was so touched that she put it so well:

"Kiersten, thank you so, so, so so so so much for this post. It's what I needed. See, I've been working on this futuristic urban fantasy pagan polytheistic supernatural psychic power novel since I was 20 (I just turned 33) and I've almost finished it, but many, many things have derailed me. Illness and disability, mostly (I have a disability hearing in July and I'm so nervous I can't brain straight), and also growing up, because when you write, you always grow with your characters. And my characters have had over twelve years to grow, and dear gods, that feels like forever, doesn't it? Why can't I just finish it? Whhyyyyy? *cough*
There were many, many people who told me that I was writing a great book and that it would sell very well (lots of pagan readers out there, people getting tired of sexy vampires, whatever). But I have this shatteringly fragile sense of self that often rears up (especially after an epileptic seizure or a fibromyalgia flare) and points and laughs, "Ha, ha, you suck, your brain sucks, your book sucks, you will never be published, mwa ha ha..." And it takes me a while to do battle. I have a very pretty and deadly mental sword, though. I call her Phoenix.
So. Erm. Yes, well. I think I've said more than I'd expected to. Anyway.
Erm. Thank you. Yes! That's what I wanted to say. Also, that I pre-ordered Endlessly and am now clawing the couch the way my cat Luna does when she gets excited (get off the couch, Luna)."

The characters in this book are finally starting to yell again, so loudly that I can actually hear them, and I've been writing as hard as I can before the blocks rise again. Pulling myself away to work on the short stories has been also fantastic.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Really mostly just because I felt like posting something, and sort of because I wouldn't mind some constructive criticism.

Read more... )
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
Augh, fatigue. Oh, fatigue, Oh. I would rather have the pain.
Wait. No. Maybe. I don't know.
A secret: I am terrified. I have been writing short stories. I plan to submit them to online magazines. I have finished Chapter Twenty in the book, and now I'm struggling to make the words come out the way they need to. I want to beg every writer I know to tell me how they do it, how they make the imaginary people in their heads talk enough. Asking for help feels strange. It always feels strange.

Adam is going to be home Saturday morning, so my mind is consumed by that. Perhaps I can twist and transform that into something between Dana and Ian. It's just the words, the words. I see everything like a film in my head, but I've never written a screenplay, and novels are about words. That sounds too easy. Dear writers: Help?

I am just so tired right now.
brightlotusmoon: (Default)
In therapy today, I realized some very extreme revelations about why I've been stalled in my writing, and my therapist was able to help me see through it and separate my writing self from my physical self. The classic phrase "Writing is part of me, writing is in my blood" was a very literal thing for me. It was like a blood vessel or an artery. The way I was feeling about my damaged body was badly reflecting on how I was feeling about my writing skills. So we worked it out, and I slowly began to understand that I did not need to actually become my writing the way my chronic conditions were overtaking my body. I needed to separate it all.
In that process, I suddenly had a realization that had eluded me for ten years regarding my novel in progress. That led to a realization that I could easily write short stories again, if I followed my heart and nothing else. It was so monumental and powerful that I fell back against the couch, began laughing, gripped my head in my hands, and gasped, "My gods, what the fuck have I been doing?"
Dr. Jen was grinning from ear to ear. "I can feel your energy from here!" she said excitedly. "Here, write it down." She gave me a pen and a pad of paper, and I quickly scribbled just a few lines -- just enough to remind me of what I had to do. Dr. Jen proclaimed that this was one of our best sessions. There is a weight lifted. Relief is falling all around me and consuming me. My mantra for this is "I am doing this." Not "I will do it" or "I will try to do it."
"I will do this."

I'm off to MS Word now.
Ten years. Ten fucking years...

There is more. There is so much more, but this is all I can remember right now.
I haven't felt this confident about my writing in a fucking decade.
Oh my gods.


brightlotusmoon: (Default)

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