Crawling Out

I finally feel like a writer again.

That’s something I haven’t been able to say in a long time. I honestly haven’t felt like much of anything lately. Ever have one of those bouts where it feels like the whole world is crashing down around you and you can’t do anything to stop it? Yeah, that’s how things have been. Between the real job (because “starving artist” is great but it doesn’t pay the bills), the financial chaos, and the all-out shitstorm that has been the last seven months, I’m probably lucky to be crawling out of this as soon as I have.

I haven’t been writing much, and it has really hurt the balance in my mind. It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to write… it’s that I haven’t been able to. Whether it’s writer’s block (and the know-it-alls from various conventions can bite my butt on that “It’s another term for being lazy” argument) or the simple fact that there aren’t enough hours in the day, I haven’t gotten many words on paper at all.

Plus the two short stories I finished have been rejected at every turn. That doesn’t help.

In the last seven months I have been to five funerals. There have been eight deaths close to me. It hasn’t been fun.

Losing my Dad in April really screwed up my world. Things haven’t been right since then, and I don’t think they’ll ever be right again, truth be told. I miss him a lot, and I really don’t know how to cope with the fact that he’s gone. Everything reminds me of him, and I still find myself crying on almost a daily basis. Logically I know he wouldn’t want that, but it’s not something I can help. It’s a reaction to the situation and to multiple levels of grief, guilt and resentment toward the general nature of life. I wasn’t ready for that. We didn’t have time to prepare and in all honesty we really didn’t have the opportunity to say good-bye.

The grief has been eating away at me a little at a time for months now, and several weeks ago it got to the point where I completely stopped functioning.  My body shut down, and it was one of the scariest nights of my life.

All of that having been said, it’s probably obvious by now that I’ve been battling serious depression. It never got to the point where I couldn’t function and wanted to hurt myself, but it got pretty bad. I threw myself headfirst into the real job – not that I particularly wanted to, mind you. A coworker passed away under very unusual circumstances and it turns out that I was the only person in the building that knew his job, so guess who inherited it? That’s right… me. That was at the beginning of July. I just dug out of that mess this week.

The cooking and cleaning and general childcare duties have eaten up the rest of my time, leaving the writer-part of me out in the cold and starving.

Well, not anymore.

The fog is finally starting to lift and the world has a little bit of color in it today. Turns out I didn’t lose as much of a story as I thought when my flash drive went missing. My mind is full of thoughts and ideas and characters and situations, and I have enough in the “in progress” folder to keep me writing for years. I have family that cares and great friends who are behind me all the way. My girls are both healthy and my husband and I both have jobs. Yes, there are aspects of this picture that could be better, but over all I think I’ve got it pretty damn good. I’m thankful for what I have (and with Thanksgiving right around the corner, what better time to discover that?), and it’s nice to finally be able to see that silver lining again.

I’m not one-hundred percent back yet, but I’m getting there. Bear with me guys, because I still have a very long road ahead of me.

Padded Rooms and Flaming Weapons

Seems like a good combination, yes? I thought so. Catchy…and yes, somewhat relevant.

I think I said this before, but someone wise said to me not long ago that to be a writer, you have to be a little bit insane. That is a very true statement. Being a writer is somewhat like being schizophrenic… you always have voices in your head, there are always people talking to you who aren’t really there, and you never know what thoughts are yours and what belongs to someone else. I don’t say it to be funny… I say it because it’s true. There are days when I really don’t know who’s in control in my mind.

My point… the voices tend to come out of nowhere, and they like to attack when you least expect it. There was an episode of The Big Bang Theory that outlines the concept well.  Sheldon got stuck on something, and after multiple failed experiments decided that the best way to solve the problem would be to occupy himself with mundane tasks which would free up the more detailed portions of his mind (I’m not a theoretical physicist or a genius by any measure, so I can’t tell you the exact wording, but you get my point) to concentrate on the issue.

That really does work.

Because of it and for the first time in a very long time, I’m really, truly excited about a project. This one is very near and dear to my heart and with any luck I’ll be able to find a home for it very soon. I know, I know… I need to stop gushing and talk about it.

Ten years ago I started writing a story. We’re talking high fantasy with royalty and warriors and wizards and magic and all manner of fantasy goodies. At the time I thought I was brilliant. I had all of these characters and I knew exactly who they were and how they were going to accomplish their goals and…and… no.

Just…no.

The more I wrote, the more I realized that it was too cliche, that the characters were flat, and that everything was far too simple. I grew very discouraged. At one point I even threw away an entire manuscript.  Not really…I kept a backup copy. But I did delete one file and throw away what was printed out.

For years this thing has haunted me. I’ve tried over and over to revamp it and make it work. And for years, it sat there.

Then all of a sudden, I found myself in the kitchen working at my mundane task of chopping salad vegetables and BAM… inspiration strikes.

Just like that I know how to repair ten years of damage. I know how to strengthen my characters and stabilize my plot, all while continuing to use all of the kitschy little fantasy cliches that I love so much, including the flaming sword. I sat down and started making notes. And yesterday, I finished an outline. Eighteen chapters plus prologue and epilogue. Four pages of outline. I’m estimating 90,000 words.

Now I just need a title.

Getting The Words Out

The last six months have been… let’s say…trying. Real life has come down on the top of my head in a big, nasty way and for a very, very long portion of those months, I wasn’t doing anything at all but playing mommy, driving all over Hell and half of Georgia, and trying to sleep when I could. In the past six months I’ve had a baby, lost my father, buried two cats (one of mine and one of my mother-in-law’s), attended the funeral of my husband’s best friend’s grandmother, and lost two other friends, one under extremely suspicious circumstances.  It hasn’t been easy.

The good news?

I’m finally writing again. FINALLY.

I’ve told you already about Devil’s Daughter, scheduled to hit eShelves in September and Rock N’ Roll Angel, scheduled for the Splatterpunk Anthology Release sometime in October, right?

Well hold on to your hats, kids.  There’s more.

Something about Fandom Fest really inspired me to get off my duff and do what I love again. I have been, and it feels great. In the last 30 days, I have submitted three stories:

 

1. Easy as Pie went to Necro Publications’ Into the Darkness Anthology Call

2. Wolfy went to John Hartness and Kerlak Publishing for the Big Bad Anthology Call

3. Skippin’ Stoneswas just packed up and sent to the Deep Cuts Anthology Call. I did it ten minutes ago.

 

They’re done, filed, and off my writing plate. It feels fabulous.  Pushing those off on someone else has opened up my writing world to all these other crazy projects. So here’s what’s next on my plate:

 

1. James R. Tuck’s Sword & Sorcery Anthology Call through Seventh Star Press. I have two ideas for this and they’re battling like mad in my head.

2. My Soul Collectors Series. Devil’s Daughter is the first taste of that series, and I can’t wait to really get going on it.

3. The Steampunk Horror Novel. I’m 30,000 words into it, have no title, and don’t have a clue exactly how I’m going to end it… but I’m having fun with it. Over the last few months it has turned into a bit of an homage to Frankenstein, which is hands-down my favorite horror novel of all time.

 

There are all manner of other fringe projects, but those are my three priorities. If I can get them done and out of the way my IN PROGRESS folder will shrink considerably.

I guess that means I should stop stalling on the internet and get back to work, huh?