Inspiration in the oddest places

I always enjoy talking to other writers about how they get themselves in the mood to write. Is it a special pen, a place, a time? A ritual?

For me, the absolute biggest trigger to get me into writing-mode is scent. Which is weird, because my mother is deathly allergic to all perfumes, so I grew up in a scentless household. Now, though, the right perfume or incense hits a trigger in my mind and I can escape the everyday and move into writing-space.

Of course, this isn't a cheap hobby. And, more's the pity, perfume isn't a tax-deductible business expense. (what do they know?) But the joy of having my mind flip into writing-space from a little dab of scent is absolutely worth the price. (and, since I like *weird* perfumes, I've been spending my time and money at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. ooh, do I have a wish-list!)

How do you find inspiration?

Man, I get a little distracted ..

and I forget all about this blog! oops. *blush*

Well, to all my loyal readers: I'm planning, in August, to release a paperback copy of the first year of Warriors of the Sun God, with a few extra goodies in there.

Other projects I'm working on: my religious blog, the novel I'm writing, the novel I'm editing, the novel I'm plotting out. The novella I'm working on. The Neverwinter Nights module I'm creating with my husband.

And now I'm looking at city-builder games and thinking that I've got a great setup for one, and I'm going to work out as much of it as I can and hopefully find a buyer.

Oh yeah. and in my "spare" time, I mother my wee widdle one. What, me, an overachiever? :D

Can't stop giggling!

I've been feeling down because I haven't had a lot of readers for Warriors of the Sun God. I work hard, after all. I want people to actually see it!

So I posted an ad. And I've already gotten tons of hits!

Any new readers, welcome, welcome! I'm so very happy to see you!

and yes, I'm giggling gleefully. FANS!!!!!!

Obsession of ideas

Why is it that the more I shouldn't write, the more my mind spits up ideas and plots? I live in a seething volcano of ideas, new ones being spat out in ever-increasing numbers to boil around my feet when I'm least able to dance on top of them.

I started a new story today. One for the Death Machine anthology, which means I have to write it fairly quickly. I have until the end of April to finish it and submit it. Normally, no real problem .. but what to do now? Do I work through the pain? Do I do my best to take care of myself, and the hell with the opportunity?

I want to write. It calls to me, sings to me, whispers sweet seductions of miracles and insanity in my ear. It is what I am, all else stripped away. I will always be a teller of stories.

But when they say an artist has to suffer, did they mean so literally?

Carpal Tunnel Sucks

Yes, there's a certain irony in typing about why typing hurts. I'm being careful. And, this is a lot shorter than my actual work.

But it HURTS not being able to get work done. I want to write. I love to write. I spent all weekend wanting to write and not being able to.

I have to be good. I have to limit myself. I have to be responsible and be the grownup and take care of myself.

And it sucks.

How much work?

How much work is "enough" to do in a day? I find myself struggling with that. On really good days, I get "done" before noon. But then I feel like a slacker if I don't work in the afternoon - when my son is dragging me off to take a walk, and everything I had planned is finished.

So what's enough? What's doing a good day's of work?

If I push too hard, I make myself miserable. I get obsessed by output and trying to do more than I can. There's only so much mental energy I have during a day. And, let's face it, when you're a SAHM, once naptime's over there's not a lot of free time.

So. The smartest thing to do, then, is cut back. It's easy to give myself too much to do and then berate myself for not doing it. But I already produce an astonishing amount of copy a day for a writer. I don't need to do more. More won't get me published faster if it makes me miserable. More won't get me happier. More won't even be any good. It'll just be more.

It's hard, because I can see what it is that I want, and I'm not there. But I won't get there if I burn out now, either.

So I guess I have to be gentle with myself.

Weirdnesses of Motherhood

I took my son for a walk today. Or at least, I meant to. I was having a really good day and had all my writing-work done for the day, and it was actually warm outside. (50s. my standards of warm are really low this time of year).

So I put on his little shoes and out we go. And he drags me to the garage. When I finally convince him to stop trying to open it for me (we don't have a powered door) he drags me back to the front door. And then repeat.

What ever happened to going for a walk?

Rejection

It's the flip side of wanting publication, of course: rejection. I got yet another rejection letter yesterday. *sigh* (no, I'm not saying from where. That's not what's important)

What matters is how one handles it. It's far too easy to think that rejection of a story means you can't write, that the story is awful, that you just shouldn't be allowed out in public. That it's time to quit. But that's not true. It doesn't even mean the story is bad. It means that it wasn't right for that place at that time.

Doesn't mean I didn't spend last night thinking nasty things about the person that rejected me. It still hurts. But it does mean that the important thing is to move forwards and find a way to do better the next time. Every successful author has a pile of rejection letters somewhere.

It never stops hurting. But it has to also motivate me to write more, better, and try to sell more. Or I'll fall apart.

Writing and Publication

I was talking with my mother over the weekend about seeking publication. And she had a good point: pinning my hopes on what other people do with my writing is a good way to get disappointed.

That said, it seems to be the common desire of those that write, whether it be a weekend hobby or a full-time commitment, to seek publication. It gives our time and effort and sweat legitimacy, something that most hobbies/callings don't seem to require the same way. Asking someone to interact with your writing is to ask them to commit their time and their effort to your story. Publication is a way of saying to people that yes, it's a decent story and it's worth the time and effort. It's not someone pressing a handful of grubby manuscript on you. It's a published novel, glossy cover, fancy font. It's "real".

It hurts to feel so incomplete without publication. It hurts to work so hard to try and get other people to accept my writing as "real" and "good enough". But to give up would be to say that I'm not good enough, and that's simply not an option at all.

The Next Great American Novel

I've been asked sometimes why I write easy fiction instead of trying to go for something "important", something "meaningful". There's two reasons, really. One: most attempts to make something meaningful out of the box end up being awful stories. The story has to carry the idea, not the idea carrying the story. And two: I just like writing too much.

What do I mean by I just like writing too much? Great novels aren't something you can just write. To do on purpose takes time, angst, probably a sordid lifestyle involving hookers and alcohol. It doesn't involve giggling at your keyboard as you land your character in yet another scrape. It doesn't involve playing silly music while watching your baby and typing without ever looking at the screen. (why, no, that's not what I'm doing now, why do you ask? *grin*). They involve misery and Great Themes. Probably a war, or at least a war background.

It's possible to just sit down and write a Great Novel, probably. People do. But I'd much rather write things that are entertaining. If they end up having meaning for people, that's great. If they end up being assigned in an English class somewhere, I'll be happy as heck. (so many copies to sell!). But does that mean I'm going to write with that in mind? No.

Because I want people to enjoy my writing. And even more, *I* want to enjoy my writing. It's not something I'm doing to suffer for my art's sake. It's something I do because I love it and because it's what I want to do. (and now all I need is to get paid for it, and I have the perfect job!) If I was trying to write Great Fiction, I'd hate it. And what's the point of that?

Questions for Pixie

Anything you've ever wanted to know about writing? Stories? Warriors of the Sun God?

Ask me the questions here, and if I can, I'll answer them in later posts. :)

What I want

I've been having this question echo in my head the past few days. "What do you want?" And I'm having a hell of a time coming up with an answer.

Almost everything that I could want, I have. I have good friends, a loving husband, an adorable child. I have a good house and the other material things I need. (maybe not everything I want, but certainly everything I need.) But that doesn't make me happy.

I think I've come up with an answer. I want my words to be meaningful, and I want them to be remembered. I want to make the world better from having gone through it. I want to make a difference.

Words have meaning. I hope the meaning of the words I give matters.

Climbing Critters

Well, my son has learned to climb on the couch. can I have my heart attack now?

He's been trying to climb over the side and the back for at least a half-hour. I finally gave up and dumped him in the playpen, because I just can't handle this. I can't do anything but wait for the thump, and it's driving me crazy.

I know people survive this. I've seen children older than two. I've even seen adults that were once children!

But gods, how do the parents survive?

Husbands and nervous wives

I only recently got my driver's license. I have never driven in really bad weather. It's snowing here.

Hubby's not feeling well and wants me to drive to the grocery store. I'm fine with this. He then says, "it's okay, you shouldn't hit any black ice, and if you do, you're cautious enough you'll be okay."

Erm. Well, I WAS confident. Now, not so much.

So what does he do? He starts telling me about the black ice he had to deal with yesterday. Including almost getting rear-ended (or almost rear-ending someone else, I'm trying to NOT listen, but he's still going!)

Well. I *thought* I could do it. Now?

*whimper* this little Pixie's gonna go hide!

Pixieing it up

Why am I calling myself a pixie? It's not because I think I'm otherkin. (don't know what I mean? Google it!) I'm full-human, and I have no problem with that. But I'm mischievous, inquisitive, and (gods I hope) intelligent. I may well be up to no good, and you never know. I'm Other, and I'm only visiting for the food.

This is where I get to let out my lighter side. I'm not here to be serious, to be calm, or even necessarily to make sense. I'm here to bounce off the walls and let out the strange ideas in my head that I'm not saving for my novels. (what novels? Warriors of the Sun God is a good place to start!) And while I may say something insightful, that's not my main goal.

Though you never know what you'll find, following the pixie path. Sometimes there's a lot to find when you let yourself wander and trust in the pixies. *grins*

Follow me. Dance and skip and sing. Real life returns far too quickly as it is.

Finishing a Story

You know what? I hate coming to the ending of a novel.

I was writing yesterday, minding my own business, when I ran out of story. Just *boom* full tilt into the ending. Who ever hears of these things happening to people?

I'm here to tell you the truth. Some authors just keep writing until the ending jumps up and bites their nose off. That's why all author pics are retouched. Just think about it.

Pixie's Tail

This blog is about what it is to be a mother and a full-time writer. I'm not published yet, so I can't talk about what it is at the published business end. (though I'm working on it!) But I can talk about what it is to be a mom and what it is to work on stories, and what it is to be an overgrown kid in an adult's world.

This is my tail. And my tale. Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference.