Subliminal Tuesday: WRITING BREAK! [Not!]

My parents are in town visiting me in my new place, and I couldn't be happier! [Nervous as hell. Will they love it? Hate it? Will they crave a different brand of coffee than the one I went to three stores to buy especially for them? Will they expect me to get up before 9AM to hunt down said coffee?] Their visit means, WRITING BREAK!

Of course, the minute I decided this, was the same minute I got bombarded with fascinating ideas for my current wip. Isn't my muse AWESOME? [Masochistic lunatic.] As a conscientious writer, I'll make sure my 'idea notebook' is with me at all times so as not to miss a single nugget [golden, not chicken-fried] from my brilliant muse whenever she sees fit. [Like while I'm on a roller coaster ride or being pulled over by one of Philadelphia's finest for speeding on Route 422]. Gosh, I love my thoughtful muse! [Cruel, slave-driving maniac.]

 

So, dear friends, I'll be back after the visit from my lovely parents [who, as I write this,  are requesting a different brand of coffee] refreshed and ready to spread my wisdom and joy to the masses. [My muse forced me at gunpoint to write that last bit.]

Keep it classy, y'all!

SUBLIMINAL MONDAY: Stevie Nicks is Stalking Me (Again)

Stevie Nicks visited me in my dream last night. Again. It's kind of annoying, actually. I've considered contacting the authorities to report a stalker, but fear they'd take her word over mine. [Good call.]

I've had numerous dreams involving Stevie over the past few years. [Few? You call more than 30 "few?"] We're usually singing together and, I humbly confess, my vocal prowess is way better than hers. [Oh, look! A pink elephant is flying across the room! Whee!]

Which brings me to my point. [Seriously? It's that time of the decade?] What dreams do we have percolating within us that, no matter how we ignore them, just won't die? I've got a couple of big ones. [What does chest size have to do with anything?]

1) Rock Princess
As some of you know, this was my biggest dream. I took voice lessons, wrote songs, practiced guitar until I had calluses, and helped form a kick-ass rock band. [Must you use profanity? Oh, wait, yes. You're talking about rock and roll for f*ck's sake.] We performed, recorded, had our music played on the radio, won songwriting awards, and became one of the best original rock bands in Denver. But, over time, I stopped pursuing my greatest passion.

An acoustic guitar sits by my bed taunting me; willing me to joyfully create. [You do realize guitars are inanimate objects, right?] Sometimes I strum the steel strings, but more often, I don't. I still love singing and writing songs, but there's a sadness around it for me. I gave up on the 'big dream,' and hate that I gave up. [Don't be a hater. It's bad karma.]

2) Famous Painter
This may come as a surprise, since I haven't picked up a paintbrush since I was four, but I've daydreamed about painting beautiful masterpieces (think a cross between Monet and DaVinci) for most of my life. [Oh, look! Now a PURPLE elephant is playing with the pink one. How cute!] Alas, this dream dies a quick, painless death each time I choose not to do anything about it.

Then there are the dreams that refuse to die.

My writing is at the top of this list. Since I write full-time, one could say I've already achieved this dream. [BWAHAHAHA! Oh, wait. That wasn't a joke?] My muse, Lenora Esmeralda Cecelia Isabella Alexandria, or Lecia for short, [Your therapist has an opening in an hour. You should snag it.] dances freely through my mind, and with the exception of her waking me up in the middle of the night to write, "You simply must not forget dees, dahlink!" (her words, not mine), I love her with all my writerly heart. [You really are a fruit loop.]

Another dream I have is to turn my new town home (moving in mid-May) into a dwelling deserving of being featured in Architectural Digest. I love interior decorating and long to create unforgettable designs. [And I long to marry George Clooney and live on my own private island, but only one of us is smart enough to realize THAT AIN'T EVER GONNA HAPPEN!] Even if AD never comes calling, the pure joy of creating a living space that reflects my passions, personality, and artistic sensibility will be a gloriously manifested dream. [Oy, just oy.]

What about you? Do you have dreams that won't die? Dreams that pluck at your heart strings like a love-struck harpist? Do you have passions you've left in the dust only to be swept away like a tumbleweed in a whipping, western wind storm?

[Okay, that's it. I've got to stop you right here. You call yourself a writer? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT LAST PARAGRAPH ABOUT? This literary rubbish is humiliating to you, your parents, family, friends, strangers within a thousand miles, and most importantly, me, your [beloved, precious, beguiling] subconscious. Cut it out or I'll beat Lecia to death with an imaginary wet noodle, and leave you with nothing more than your worthless drivel and worn-out cliches. Don't cross me. I'm warning you! You need to stop this nonsense now. RIGHT NOW!]

I'm not sure why I feel the sudden need to end this post, but I do. So, please, friends, share your dreams. I'd love to hear them all.

SUBLIMINAL MONDAY: "The End" is just The Beginning

When writing, do you trust yourself to make the right decisions or do you bypass your instincts for the more "reasonable" solution? Do you question your character's motives or worry about where the plot is headed? [NEWS FLASH: Your characters can only do/say/think what you tell them. They're not real. Sorry, I'm just the messenger.] Do you change things in your wip because of something a crit partner says, even if you don't fully agree?

One of the best things you can do as a writer is trust your instincts. Keep your fingers typing. and trust your muse to push you forward. [There's no such thing as a muse. It's imaginary. Again, just the messenger.] But remember, the finished draft is nothing more than a place to start, a jumping off point, an extremely rough sketch. [Think five-year old with crayons.]

As incredible as it is to "birth" a story, the more amazing part - and where the real work begins - is immediately after typing, "The End." In other words, the end is just the beginning. [So, what's really the point? Like so totally existential, dude!]

When we complete our first draft, we feel a sense of well-earned euphoria. [Legal, drug-free high = SCORE!] After that accomplishment, the [dark, dismal] reality known as editing begins. The carefree rush of getting [pretty much any] words down on paper is replaced with the deliberate anguish of dissecting every letter of every word on every page. This is where the deeper writing begins; where your seasoned skills come into play. [Don't be shy. You know you've got 'em.]

This is all well and good, except for people like me who are impatient, perfectionist, control freaks. I want everything done perfectly yesterday. [Hmm, wonder why I'm never satisfied...] Unfortunately, the publishing biz is known for moving at a very tired snail's pace. Fortunately, I've mellowed a lot with age, and now enjoy the journey as much as the destination. Crafting words as perfectly as I can is fun, challenging, and satisfying. [This is one example of the BS I tell myself when inches away from pulling my hair out by its [graying] roots.] Yes that was a SM within a SM. Pretty cool, huh? No? Oh, well, never mind, then.

So, next time you write, "The End" know you've really just reached the beginning. Writing is a never-ending roller coaster ride. Pat yourself on the back, take a day or two off, and get your butt back in that chair. [Insert sound of whip cracking.] Trust your instincts and let your passion guide you and your talent explode on the pages. [Don't worry about the mess. Writing should always be a bit messy, or at least seem that way. If you don't know what I mean, ask your muse. ;-)]

Painting is called, Kiss of the Muse or The Dream of the Poet by Paul Cezanne painted 1859-1860.