Friday, August 31, 2012

This is what's happening.

You shut up! You come here and let me kiss you and just shut up! You come here right now! I need love and that is what you are here for!

That was me, to my cat, in the Turner household, just now. I inflicted my love upon a reluctant feline. That is how hard this week has been.

I hit a serious skid. I hit a chapter while editing the fantasy mish/mash and just thought... what the fuck where you thinking? Why did you write this? Long story short, I have a very important character, and for all my attempts at staying away from traditional fantasy, she sounds like Galadriel after she'd eaten a whole bucket of fried Tinkerbell. Dipped in ranch dressing. In other words, too much like fantasy comfort food. And I can just imagine the look on the face of fellow-fantasy fans.

All confidence and faith in myself was flushed down the toilet of my soul. I don't know if it's because of the project, which was something I imagined more than ten years ago, and see as my Dark Tower (as in Stephen King. Not comparing the story to that, but the story reaches into other worlds like the Dark Tower did). My opus. Movie stars. Hollywood. The type of fame were you get to eat a Hot Pocket, whenever you want to eat a Hot Pocket. And now I think it's shit.

I can't remember the last time writing got me this low. I am a bit obsessive, I get moody and all artisty and stuff, but I actually cried on the drive home Thursday. That's how low I feel. The words "quitting" floated through the transom of my mind. Usually even when those words float past, I watch and wave and go, "Uh uh, not me. This dream ain't gonna die!" This time, I stopped in the middle of the muck and stared at the words. Six feet tall. Bright red. Floating by on a tentacle-driven conveyance. The quitting forms are on the back of the conveyance. I thought about taking one.

I didn't.

But I thought about it.

Instead of filling out the quitting forms, I started reading my gothic romance, which I've been DYING to get back into. It's in very rough shape and needs a lot of work. I wrote a boo-hoo email to my friend Heather, who let me boo hoo. Told me to take it easier on myself. Then I got a beta response back on another book and though there are things that need fixing, there was a lot of good stuff in it. I'm not back at feeling like Loki walking down the street in New York yet....

but I did get the pen I told you about a little while ago. It didn't come with a converter, so I pulled out the converter from my old Cross pen and it fit! Now it's like the heart of my Victoria Cross pen beats within the Beverly pen. So things are looking up. I might still eat all the ice cream in the fridge, but I'd do that anyway. 


  1. Keep at it. And remember, the jerky doubtful thoughts are something we all have. Push through, even if it means concentrating on another project. *hugs*

  2. Thank you for the hugs, my friend. I really need them.

  3. Sorry, sweetie.

    I've been dealing with this the last week or so. Three interviews for permanent jobs, one definite NO, one "we're converting the perm to a 3 month contract which MIGHT lead to perm" for a creepy guy's company (he made me seriously uncomfortable), and one perfect job that I'm perfect for, still waiting to hear. Over a long weekend. And now, an extra day. And probably tomorrow too.

    I've been paralyzed and unable to write a word while everything else is so up in the air. I'll try to work past it if you do. Deal?