Wow! It’s Wednesday! Doing it Anyway [Eye of Em-Effin Tiger]

So I’m almost done with my first-reader pass on my rogue sci-fi novel and I’m about to send it off to a manuscript editor. Really? An editor? you ask. Aren’t manuscript editors for people who can’t write or for people whose novels have so many problems that they need someone to come in and fix it for them? Well, I would argue that even if you’re one of those writers who thinks her novel is perfect after your third draft (which I’m not), that novel can still stand a pass from someone whose job it is to evaluate manuscripts. I don’t ever think any of my stuff is perfect. However, I do have a threshold for tinkering with things. I do my long rough draft, my longer make-it-readable draft, and my short-by-comparison, chapter-a-day first reader draft. Then I pass it on an editor. And having seen a lot of good writers in need of stronger editing, I hope to write novels this way until the day I die. From what I understand a lot of writers wait until they’ve been rejected a bunch before they send their novel into a manuscript editor. But IMO, you might as well do that upfront, that way you know for sure that what you’re sending out is your absolute best effort. +++++ On other notes, you know how a few weeks ago, I was all like, “Meet my new love, THE AWESOME GIRL’S GUIDE TO DATING EXTRAORDINARY MEN?” Well, that was before I actually started the process of writing it and now I’m absolutely terrified of this new novel. I’ve been trying to write the outline since Friday, and every time I sit down to do so, I suddenly become very interested in answering email or commenting on...

Wow! It’s Wednesday! I’m Having A Hard Time Staying Faithful...

Writing is like exercise. You know you should be doing it, you feel better after you do it, yet … somehow it often just doesn’t get done. I just realized yesterday after spending three hours reading other authors’ blogs that I might not be doing online marketing research as I had told myself, but indeed procrastinating. And the sad thing is that I’m really, really excited about writing my next new book — right after I finish rewriting Supersonic, the book I was working on when 32 Candles sold. However, 32 Candles sold back in April and I’m still not done with this Supersonic rewrite. Guys, I’m not even halfway done with this rewrite, and I don’t even know if the book will sell, since being sci-fi adventure, it’s way outside my original genre and I’ll probably have to rock a pseudonym so that I don’t turn off my potential women’s fiction audience. Meanwhile, the next book is singing a serious siren song. “Come cheat with me,” it says. “I’m much hotter than Supersonic. People will LURVE me, and I promise that writing me will be super-duper easy, not like that book you’re working on now, which is too different to ever sell anyway. So instead of setting yourself up for disappointment, why don’t you hook up with me, baby?” Mighty tempting. The only thing is that’s EXACTLY what¬†Supersonic said when it was trying to lure me away from ¬†32 Candles, so I’m not sure the next book is telling me the truth. Why do novels always start knocking on your door and calling your incessantly before you’re ready to write them? Anyway, the point is that I’m hoping to finish the Supersonic rewrite over winter break, since Fierce and Nerdy will be on...

Philosophical Monday: Is the Need to Be a Good Friend a Procrastination Daemon?...

So last week I had an epic, epic fight with the finishing demons. Like most epic demon fights, this mostly involved me feeling too tired and overwhelmed with work and other responsibilities to write on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. Suddenly it was very important that I finish every script that I had been given to read, return every call, send friends long and involved emails — last Monday I got a fortune cookie that basically said that I needed to work on being a better friend. Also, another friend sent me a chain email about connecting with friends more, so I figured this was a sign from the universe to get back on the better friend bus. But now that I look back on it, I wonder if it wasn’t the procrastination demons in disguise. As I get older, I can look back on my life a little more frankly, and I realize that during the the times when I was at my most social, I got the least amount of dream work done. I’d go to my job, dates, brunches galore, attend every party I was invited too — and at the end of the day, I was still a starving artist with a crappy day job who wasn’t actually writing towards her goals. So now I’m rather boring. But I get stuff done. I miss my friends very much. But I get stuff done. I would love to have brunch with so-in-so in Santa Monica. But I get stuff done. And conveniently enough, I only feel massively guilty about not being as available as I used to be when I’m trying to finish something without a deadline. (A deadline is a writer’s best friend, but unfortunately we rarely get them on...

Wow! It’s Wednesday! The Demons Are Back In Town

So for the first time in weeks, I actually went through with a Weekly Habit and both exercised and re-started work on my new novel yesterday. Walking for 30 minutes was both fun and invigorating and I’ve scheduled flossing into my morning routine — finally just admitting that I was too tired to attempt it at night. But the writing bit was a lot more horrible than expected. When I think about starting a huge new project, I always imagine myself in a sunny room, writing away with a chipper tap-tap-tap to my typing rhythm. I don’t know how, but I always manage to forget about the writing demons, which go especially big at the beginning of any project. Working on Molly Ringwald Ending for so long I had gotten used to the wheedling demons. These guys were my buds. They wanted me to watch TV with them. Go to the movies. Read a book. Hangout with friends — anything but finish MRE. They made a lot of convincing arguments about how the quality of my life was actually going down, because I spent too much time writing. And they’re undermining was subtle. They’d ask questions like, “What if you spend all of this time writing a novel, and it doesn’t sell? It’s a terrible, terrible market right now. Think about all the time you wasted on writing when you could have been enjoying your life.” That’s the nice version of the demons. When I start something new they get downright brutal. Yesterday they informed me that 1) I am a shit writer in a shitty market 2) No one wants to read an adventure novel with morally ambiguous women as the main characters — that’s why they’re aren’t any novels like that out...