I’m back!
The holiday season is officially here. It’s an interesting time. It’s fun. All sorts of Thanksgiving food, families coming together. Party tonight. Party tomorrow night. Time to get the Christmas tree up. Time to have a Christmas tree party.
I’ve been having a blast. Thanksgiving was a lot of fun. I had a few of them, depending on the side of the family we’re talking about. And then another at my girlfriend’s house. This coming week I’m going to Disneyland for four days for my dad’s birthday. Then I have to shop for Christmas presents. The worst thing about this season is that it’s likely to cost me a few hundred dollars, but even as far as that goes I’ve been careful to plan for.
So my personal life is awesome during the holiday season. Awesome. My professional life is slow, though. Of course it’s slow, though. I’ve been busy with my personal life, and the professions have been busy with their holiday schedules. That doesn’t mean nothing is happening. Out of frustration that I’m not getting call backs for more of my applications, I spent a lot of time recently rewriting and honing my cover letter template, making my resume more aesthetically available, and adjusting my approach (from attitude to routine). I am still submitting applications. I’m still probably being too picky and I’m still figuring out how a lot of this process works.
But for the first time in a while, my confidence is growing. I know that my biggest obstacle is that I’m underqualified on paper to be an Editorial Assistant. But the more jobs that I see and the more people I talk to, the more I discover I am only underqualified on paper. With the normal amount of training, I already possess all of the skills to succeed at these jobs. And somebody is going to look at the paper, and then look at me, and make a really good decision.
So I’m still frustrated. But I’m feeling ok about it.
And I can’t wait for Disneyland. And I can’t wait for Christmas.
Happy Holidays!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Leaving Stasis
Here’s what I’ve come to. And this has something to do with the Writer’s Block I was talking about before. See, I keep thinking about practicing this and practicing that by doing short-shorts or by editing some old piece of junk, and even when I’m getting myself to make progress, when I’m beating the block, I’ve been feeling like I kind of don’t care.
And it’s not that I don’t care about writing. That’s blasphemy. It’s terrible. It’s the kind of thought that leaves me cold inside if I keep it in my head for too long. No, I’m not not caring about writing. Hell no, I’m not doing that. I’m just not caring about what I’m writing.
I’ve run into this before. It’s usually happened when I’m trying to force a character type or turn a plot point that I’m not naturally inclined to turn, and it usually happens because when I do that, I’m actually forcing myself to write something I’m not interested in. I have written a story where I said “this guy is a jerk” and then followed that mission statement, letting it override every other inclination I have. And then I don’t care about the guy. Because he’s a jerk. Because he’s not redeemable. Because I’ve strayed so far from what I care about that there is nothing in that character for me. I’ve done that, and when I edit I always end up changing it, because a whole hell of a lot of the joy of writing is knowing that you’re writing something you would buy if somebody else’s name was on the spine. And I wouldn’t buy a story about that jerk.
This isn’t that, though. I keep trying to do something new. I keep trying to add to my pile. I have stories. I have documents that need to be edited. That need to be finished. And lately, more and more strongly, I don’t want to leave them alone.
I think that it might have to do with the fact that the rest of my life is in stasis. The Holiday season is sucking the opportunities out from under me. I got another rejection e-mail today. I want something to go somewhere. And the one thing I have the most direct control over is my own writing. So I can write new things and watch the pile grow, or I can finish an older thing and try to get published.
And I really feel like finishing something right now.
So I’m going to do that. There is a story that I care about enormously. It is about a fictional version of myself (pretentious, no?). It is probably the best thing I’ve written to date, and I desperately want people to see it. I desperately want people to see it finished. In print. I’m going to work on that.
And I’ll care about what I’m writing. Which will be a nice change.
And it’s not that I don’t care about writing. That’s blasphemy. It’s terrible. It’s the kind of thought that leaves me cold inside if I keep it in my head for too long. No, I’m not not caring about writing. Hell no, I’m not doing that. I’m just not caring about what I’m writing.
I’ve run into this before. It’s usually happened when I’m trying to force a character type or turn a plot point that I’m not naturally inclined to turn, and it usually happens because when I do that, I’m actually forcing myself to write something I’m not interested in. I have written a story where I said “this guy is a jerk” and then followed that mission statement, letting it override every other inclination I have. And then I don’t care about the guy. Because he’s a jerk. Because he’s not redeemable. Because I’ve strayed so far from what I care about that there is nothing in that character for me. I’ve done that, and when I edit I always end up changing it, because a whole hell of a lot of the joy of writing is knowing that you’re writing something you would buy if somebody else’s name was on the spine. And I wouldn’t buy a story about that jerk.
This isn’t that, though. I keep trying to do something new. I keep trying to add to my pile. I have stories. I have documents that need to be edited. That need to be finished. And lately, more and more strongly, I don’t want to leave them alone.
I think that it might have to do with the fact that the rest of my life is in stasis. The Holiday season is sucking the opportunities out from under me. I got another rejection e-mail today. I want something to go somewhere. And the one thing I have the most direct control over is my own writing. So I can write new things and watch the pile grow, or I can finish an older thing and try to get published.
And I really feel like finishing something right now.
So I’m going to do that. There is a story that I care about enormously. It is about a fictional version of myself (pretentious, no?). It is probably the best thing I’ve written to date, and I desperately want people to see it. I desperately want people to see it finished. In print. I’m going to work on that.
And I’ll care about what I’m writing. Which will be a nice change.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Writer's Block
Holy Moly am I suffering from the worst case of writer’s block I can remember. I sit to write stories, they die on me. I sit to write blog entries, they die on me. I sit to write e-mails, nothing doing. Nothing comes out, and when something does it feels like the crappiest crap that’s ever been put down to type. Writer’s block, like editing, is a son of a bitch.
It makes you want to punch things.
But usually it’s not really anything more than a total psych out. Don’t get me wrong, it is a real doozy of a psych out, but most of the time it’s still just head games. And we’re playing with ourselves. And I’ve been thinking about why. I guess I think there are three reasons, and I’ll list them in the order of likelihood from least to greatest.
1) You actually don’t have anything to write. This makes up about 1% of cases of writer’s block, by my estimation. Your imagination is always working, and it always wants to do something. Given the chance, it will take advantage about 99% of the time. The other 1% is probably a good time for a nap.
2) You’re scared. I talked about fear before and it’s a real problem for writers. Even real, popular ones. You get scared. You get scared that you’ve already written the best parts of something, that you’ll make the wrong choice with character x, that if you finish you’ll have to show it to somebody. You’re scared about something, and it makes you hesitate at some point during the process. It would be easy for me to blame block primarily on fear, but I think that fails to give credit to a bigger problem. Fear is probably about 39% of cases, I’d think.
3) You’re self-critical. Every author is self critical. You’re your own worst critic, and that critic is your own worst enemy. And I’m not talking about being critical of your own talent, or critical of what you think you’re going to write. That’s fear. What I’m talking about is actually looking at the words you have written and being disgusted by them. Starting a story with a few sentences, paragraphs even, and dumping the whole thing because reading it over you feel like it was written by a hack. This is what’s been getting me, and according to my math about 60% of other cases out there.
But it stops you. It stops you to read your own words and think “this is bad.” I must have gone through five stories and three blogs last week because I felt like a hack reading it. During stretches like that I forget that nobody is more critical of my words than I am. I forget that I’m only writing a first draft. I forget that if I just keep writing, no matter how bad the beginning is, my imagination will get over it and do some really good things a few pages later.
I forgot all that. I’m starting to remember. Just write. Then rewrite. Every story looks like crap the first time around. I have to keep that in mind.
It makes you want to punch things.
But usually it’s not really anything more than a total psych out. Don’t get me wrong, it is a real doozy of a psych out, but most of the time it’s still just head games. And we’re playing with ourselves. And I’ve been thinking about why. I guess I think there are three reasons, and I’ll list them in the order of likelihood from least to greatest.
1) You actually don’t have anything to write. This makes up about 1% of cases of writer’s block, by my estimation. Your imagination is always working, and it always wants to do something. Given the chance, it will take advantage about 99% of the time. The other 1% is probably a good time for a nap.
2) You’re scared. I talked about fear before and it’s a real problem for writers. Even real, popular ones. You get scared. You get scared that you’ve already written the best parts of something, that you’ll make the wrong choice with character x, that if you finish you’ll have to show it to somebody. You’re scared about something, and it makes you hesitate at some point during the process. It would be easy for me to blame block primarily on fear, but I think that fails to give credit to a bigger problem. Fear is probably about 39% of cases, I’d think.
3) You’re self-critical. Every author is self critical. You’re your own worst critic, and that critic is your own worst enemy. And I’m not talking about being critical of your own talent, or critical of what you think you’re going to write. That’s fear. What I’m talking about is actually looking at the words you have written and being disgusted by them. Starting a story with a few sentences, paragraphs even, and dumping the whole thing because reading it over you feel like it was written by a hack. This is what’s been getting me, and according to my math about 60% of other cases out there.
But it stops you. It stops you to read your own words and think “this is bad.” I must have gone through five stories and three blogs last week because I felt like a hack reading it. During stretches like that I forget that nobody is more critical of my words than I am. I forget that I’m only writing a first draft. I forget that if I just keep writing, no matter how bad the beginning is, my imagination will get over it and do some really good things a few pages later.
I forgot all that. I’m starting to remember. Just write. Then rewrite. Every story looks like crap the first time around. I have to keep that in mind.
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