Friday Fundamentals

I just read this over on Rebecca Emrich's Blog Living a Life of Writing http://www.rebeccasbook.blogspot.com/. Apparently, someone had sent her an email regarding her thoughts on what makes a writer able to call themselves a writer. The email disturbed me enough to write a rebuttal that I feel deserves it's own spot on my blog that I would like to open up for conversation.

"To suggest to such a degree that writers are anyone who writes is absurd. The only possible way to prove oneself as a writer is to make enough money to be self sustaining. Otherwise, there is no hope for the "writing career" of said writer. Only jokers are willing to sacrifice themselves for a dream. To many people fancy themselves writers and spend time poking at a computer. They don;t have a job to refer to, other than their dream. I say again it is a dream... no money they are not a writer, they are a dreamer. Dreamers need to come down from their clouds and get a real job. I suspect that writers who don't make money have someone who backs their delusions up.... I repeat again all writers without money are dreamers."


So unless I missed the jist here, the emailer is trying to say that the only way you can call yourself, and expect to be recognized, as a writer, is by the amount of money you make? I disagree, for numerous reasons.

There are plenty of writers that do so only for the pure joy and love of writing. They have other financial means of sustaining themselves. The author of the email was quick to say that they believe someone else often supports them. This may be true in some cases, but it is also equally likely they support themselves with another, or even, multiple jobs and should also be acknowledged.

Personally, I know more than one writer that I would classify as a writing hobbyist, as they are not writing for means of an income but means of personal entertainment. Alot of times they may submit their work to magazines that do not pay or use it for other purposes. The simple fact alone that they are not making money with their writing, does not invalidate it by any means, and such a statement, I must say, is absurd.

I could go on and on about the many publishers in existance that do not pay when they publish submitted work. Yet they have no trouble getting submissions. Obviously publishing in itself is a form of recognition for any writer.

I could also write a small novel talking about the snowball effect that Rebecca mentioned, but I'll just say, everyone has to start somewhere.

It is sad for me to read this person's comment and see that some people have such a narrow point of view. Sadder still, is that they feel so strongly about it they must write discouraging and harsh words to portray their feelings. But the real issue here is the fact that the emailer, who is certainly entitled to his/her opinion, is a bit ignorant on the topic and should have educated themselves on it before portraying personal opinion as fact.

As I wrote before in my guest blog for Rebecca, back in June, if you are writing just for money you and your work alike will both show for it. And more likely than not the work will be terrible.

Above all else the main reason authors succeed is because of their passion to write and not their desire to become rich. Look at some statistics, unless you are a select few writers as a majority are not wealthy.

So I ask you, if you aren't writing for money alone, how is it logical that money can be the only measure to which you can mark your success?

If you aren't familiar with Rebecca Emrich's work or her blog, go check it out. Here's a link: Living a Life of Writing

Thought of the Moment

Since tomorrow I will be leaving for a week and can't guarantee I'll have much blogging time if any at all; I thought today would be a good time to share with you something that has been weighing heavily on my mind for several days now.

Though I haven't been sharing any of this particular project, I have been hard at work on a fantasy novel for some time now. If pressed to express my feelings on this novel, I would say it is my love child. While working on it there has been numerous ups and downs. There have been times where I just could not put my thoughts and ideas into words, and there have been times when the story wrote itself and felt like I was not creating, but merely dictating someone else's actions. I'm not sure if that's common for all writers, but it is certainly part of the writing experience for me. Rough waters or smooth sailing, I'm dedicated to finishing this novel.

Now, as some of you may know, Carrie Eckles very recently gave me a spot on her blog Prompt Romp where I gave some of my thoughts on writing prompts and shared a small scene of a science-fiction story that I had come up with after reading one of Carrie's prompts.

That prompt, and the small scene I wrote opened the door to an entire universe of story ideas I had never considered before. In fact, since writing that scene, I've come up with several different short story ideas for what could very well be an ongoing series with these characters and in this world.

I've been working on it everyday, and it's been a very enjoyable experience. However, I haven't spent one moment sitting down and actually writing my other novel. I feel like I am betraying myself and betraying my story.

Like an adulterer every time I sit down and work on this other series, no matter how smoothly it flows and natural it feels, I feel guilty. Which brings me to my questions:

How do we as writer's balance multiple projects? Am I really betraying one project for another? Is this guilt and self-loathing justified?

I want to finish both projects as soon as possible. I can divide brain power and spend time thinking about both stories, but unless I mutate and suddenly grow two brains and another pair of arms, however, I know it is physically impossible for me to work on both projects at once. Are my feelings of betrayal natural?

I don't have any answers of my own, but I'm really curious how other authors handle working on multiple projects. Am I alone in feeling like this? Do you just pick one project and dedicate yourself to it until completed, or do you flip from one project to the next as the muse strikes?

Guest Blog!

As the headline states today’s update is my much talked about Guest Blog. Rebecca Emrich, the mastermind behind the great blog Living a Life of Writing, and I recently exchanged posts for one another’s blogs.
As some of you may have seen she has been doing several different inspirational series and currently she has been tackling the topic of Writing Retreats and Mentoring. Be sure to head over there and check out her stuff, personally, I’ve found the things she has to say to be really inspirational. It was such a good experience for me to contribute to her blog, and I am really quite thankful that she took the time to contribute to mine as well.
For those that have been following, I have not been keeping any set structure to this blog, so when Rebecca asked what I wanted her to talk about my answer was simple: anything.
Imagine my surprise when she picked a topic that I myself am very guilty of more often than I want to admit. Procrastination
So without further ado I present Rebecca Emrich:


What's challenging when you write?

That's the question I've always had to ask myself, how does one person get about 3,000 words done in a day and I'm happy if I get 750? It wasn't until recently that I looked over my answer. Because I'm happy?? no, no I'm not! but that doesn't make me want to write more.

For me it's the art of procrastination, the fine art, which I'm sure everyone has. You can plan and plan and dream out what you’re going to do. Really all this means is that you're thinking. While thinking and planning are good, and I do this often, the commitment part is harder. It's not as if we can't, but we make excuses. One of my friends, over an evening of discussing writing, (This is a guy thing... so the effect didn't work as well on me) said to drop the "pro" "ination" add a couple of letters and you get: Castrate.

Every guy in the room looked sick. The point is that when you're happy with "just" you are doing exactly that. I think it's because we want to do better that we get angry at the ones who won't let anything get in their way. Yes, I know, you have kids, you only have twenty-four hours in a day, you need to work, you need... Do you need to write?

Gotcha. See, many of us find a million excuses not to write, or edit or do something we all dislike. But we in the end lose; it's not easy to think of what we can do, when we're finding things not to do. I love writing, and it comes first, well second, I have two girls under the age of five. I still find time to work around this. Coffee is great. So is not going to the latest movie, or reading the new bestseller. I have work to do. Each day I'll work about 6 hours on my book. It's in the second edit. Still it should be done soon. My editor also thinks like a reader, and thank goodness for that.

Writing can be challenging, but it's also fun. There are ups and downs, but if you're committed to being a writer, this will be the most important thing you can do for yourself. Commit to write.

I'll need to say thanks to Andrew for allowing me to guest blog here. I hope to see you on my blog. Enjoy Andrew's as well.
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Thank you, Rebecca, for such a thought provoking post! There is just no easy way around it, no matter how you want to excuse not writing; by procrastinating we all are really castrating our work. I know when I take too long away from a project it can be very difficult to get back into it, to get back into my characters heads and remember the way it is that they think.
How many projects have we all set aside unfinished? Personally, I can’t even answer that question there has been so many, but as Rebecca said the key is to stay committed.
Please take a moment to share your thoughts on this topic. Although we have been discussing writing specifically it really applies to everyone, even people outside of the artistic fields. How often do we find it a lot easier to set aside what we really want to accomplish for a simple and short lived distraction?

Original Work Update---Jaccen's Story part 3

So it's Tuesday, and as promised for the original work update I'm continuing with the next scene in the installment I have been sharing. If you missed the first two parts and want to catch up check my blog archive and you'll find them under the name Jaccen's Story. This might be the last one of this story I post for a little while, I'd love to know what you guys think. So as always, please leave comments.


On a different note, something that may be old news to some of you, but is totally worth another mention for me tomorrow morning I will be posting up a guest blog by Rebecca Emrich from the blog Living a Life of Writing. www.rebeccasbook.blogspot.com Be sure to check out her blog when you have the time she has alot of great things to say.

And now for the (drum roll please) ORIGINAL WORK UPDATE!


It was only sometime later, after the room had been more or less abandoned, that Jaccen felt like he could move again. He had listened to the heavy footfalls of the giant returning and his loud snores overpowering the woman’s soft breaths beside him long enough. He forced his eyes open.
“How do you feel?” Kathraan purred beside him.
He looked down at his stomach and watched as the last traces of his wounds disappeared before his eyes. Even the black substance marring his pants began to vanish.
“Lost.” He said at length. He fumbled in his pants and found the pack of cigarettes that he had been carrying. Taking one he put it to his lips and searched for the lighter. “And I’m getting really damn sick of passing out.” he added.
“The transition is hard.” She said, and placed her finger to the end of the cigarette as he was bringing the lighter from his pocket. He froze as the end suddenly flared beneath her finger. “It gets easier though. It really does.”
“I wish I knew what the hell you were talking about.” He said, turning his wide blue eyes to stare at her. He coughed as he breathed in the toxic fumes.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said. “You’ll get your answers.” She stood up, leaned over him, and kissed him hard upon his lips. He felt his hand reaching to her side, but she pulled away just as his fingers met the thin fabric of her shirt. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.” With that, she began to walk away. “Hey,” she said stopping and looking back, “I don’t know what to call you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He muttered.
She shrugged and disappeared into the hallway.
Jaccen sat back and turned to his left where the giant was snoring loudly on the other couch. He sighed, dropped the cigarette on the floor and crushed it beneath his bare foot without thinking. Grimacing he reached for his socks and shoes with the idea of leaving clearly in his mind and every intention to do so. It was when he moved, however, that he realized just how tired his body was. He stretched out and lay back on the couch. His body crumbled, his eyes closed, and his mind became more restless than the rain beating upon the roof.

“WAKE UP!” The sense of urgency behind the male’s voice snapped Jaccen to attention.
I’m awake. He thought, then, I’ve been awake. He realized that he had not gotten even a moment of sleep, since his body collapsed his mind was traveling the rainy streets of the night, tirelessly.
“Get everybody in here. NOW!”
Jaccen’s eyes shot open. The woman was gliding down the hallway quickly. Her eyes locked with his briefly, and he watched as she dropped her gaze and shook her head with a slight sigh. He wondered what that look was for.
“What’s going on?” Kathraan asked.
“Dunno, yet.” Grim was standing by the wall next to the window. His hand grasped the heavy, black curtain and he pulled it slightly to the side. Bright light flooded into Jaccen’s eyes and he blinked to adjust them while standing up. “Summin’s goin’ on out dere. Thas fir shir.” He dropped the curtain.
Jaccen decided now would be a good time to don his clothing. As he did so, he noticed Fritz’s eyes intensely upon him.
Hedrick appeared in the room and Rithain came out from down the hallway, straightening his black hair with a hand. “The Rabanaur’s?” He asked. “Looking for some vengeance, perhaps?”
“I doubt that.” Hedrick said. “What can you see, Grim?”
“Bloody-damned-nuffin’s wud Uh see, boss.”
Everyone turned and looked at Hedrick, Jaccen felt himself included. Just then a piercing note split the air persistently like the highest note of an organ whose musician fell asleep with his finger to the key.
“What did I tell you?!” Fritz snapped facing Hedrick. “It’s them!”
“Be quiet.” Hedrick said quickly. “We have no choice but to vanish.”
“And I was starting to get acquainted with this dump too.” Rithain said.
Hedrick ignored him. “Grim, can you provide a distraction and not get carried away?”
“Shir thing, boss.”
The next few seconds flashed so quickly Jaccen had a hard time following. At the same moment he heard Kathraan’s voice speaking, “Alright, people, we’re goin’ underground.” Grim vanished and the front door was sent flying into a thousand splinters of wood. His eyes were drawn outside the vacant opening to the three figures standing in a perfect triangle on the lawn. They were tall, humanoid figures, as tall as Grim, and their faces were lost in the light that seemed to radiate from them. In each of their hands they clasped a flame that flickered and danced and came to a point as sharp as a sword. He noticed the pure white, wings protruding from each of the three’s backs, like shards of glass. It seemed that in the very instant the door had shattered Grim was attacking the nearest one as the other two swarmed around him. Everyone was shouting in a mad sea of voices.
“Those are Thrones!”
“This is his fault! He brought them on us!”
“Grim, get outta there!”
“Look at how many there are!”
“He’s going down.”
“They’re gonna kill him.”
“Forget it, just run!”
Everyone was out the door as the three figures converged upon Grim bearing their weapons of flame. As Jaccen found himself on the lawn he could see at least a dozen nondescript shapes of light circling around them. The giant that wanted to kill him the night before was in a fight for his life against three figures that seemed to have no intention of losing. He could not fathom why he cared and before he knew what he was doing, Jaccen stepped into the fray to try and drive the winged creatures back.
Driven on instinct alone he dashed forward, struck one in the back with his knee, and leapt over its flailing wings to kick it into one of the others. Grim was face down in the grass. A flame came towards his legs, without a thought he kicked at it and was surprised to see, from the corner of his eye, it sail through the air, and dissipate into nothing. He noticed Kathraan was getting Grim to his feet as another figure attacked from behind; he spun, grabbed its arms and, ignoring a searing pain that shot through his hands, tossed it away. The things were relentless. Two more were beside him and he kicked, swiped and danced, just to keep them away. Somehow he managed to notice that Hedrick, Fritz, and Rithain were doing something to keep some circular balls of light at bay at the edge of the lawn. He felt like he was dreaming. Kathraan and Grim were reaching them. Then he heard her voice shouting towards him.
“C’MON!”
Something pierced his sides and he found one of the creatures had dug both of his hands into him. Shaking violently he broke free and tossed it into one of the others, then, as quickly as he could manage, which was actually much faster than he could imagine, he joined the others and together the six ran behind the house and through an alley.
They jumped walls and twisted through back streets never once bothering to look behind them at the bright figures in constant pursuit.
“Fritz, get us underground. We need a portal now.” Hedrick hissed as they continued to run.
“I’ve been trying, but I can’t here.” He said never breaking step. “Just keep running.”
Jaccen felt as if he would collapse at any moment. His sides were gasping in pain. Determination kept him just behind Grim and Kathraan who, helping each other, were a just little faster than he could manage. It was obvious, though, even in their flight, that Grim was having a hard time. Just then Fritz stopped suddenly drawing Jaccen to a panting halt. Fritz, leaning over to one side, spread his arms as wide as he could and between his open hands sprouted a thick dark substance impenetrable by any light. It look like an oil spill floating in the air.
“Everybody in.” Fritz shouted. Hedrick and Rithain ran straight into it and disappeared without ever slowing. Grim and Kathraan followed. Jaccen took a step forward naturally.
“Forget it, kid,” He said his face set in a hard scowl. He straightened himself and pulled the pitch-black, ovular mass behind him. “But this is as far as you go.” Without waiting for a response he stepped into it and instantly both he and the portal vanished leaving Jaccen alone in the alley with the flaming-white creatures closing in.

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I guess my big question is, as readers do you feel like you relate enough to Jaccen in that short period to be concerned about the cliffhanger he was left at? Or is more development needed prior to that? Of course if you want to comment about something else entirely, that's always good too. See you all tomorrow!

There's always something...

Ahh, Saturday in South Florida... the sky is a beautiful, pristine blue. The clouds like wisps of fresh cotton caught in the wind. Birds are chirping outside my window, and I just watched a young squirrel chewing on a macadamia nut not six feet away from my face.

So why am I so miserable?

It seems like lately I've been adding more and more to my to do list without really crossing anything off. Hopefully, you'll forgive my griping while I gather my thoughts.

So, over the last couple days I've been thinking. This blog really hasn't had any structure, I just checked it every day and posted when I felt like it. Well, I've decided that is going to change.
Starting Monday I'll be keeping a schedule. Tuesdays and Fridays will be original piece updates where I'll be posting up something new of my own work. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are going to be reserved for random news and rants and anything else not related to my writing work. I may not post something every single Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, but I will promise regular updates on Tuesdays and Fridays.

I'm pretty new to this whole blogging community and I must say... wow. There are so many great blogs out there a lot more deserving than mine. I really am thrilled to be a part of this world and wonder how I went so long without knowing about it. I'd really like to start doing more with other bloggers.

This coming week I'll be having an extra special guest blogger and I'm really excited about the idea and opportunity. I guess this is my call for all the other bloggers out there. If anyone else would be interested in exchanging guest blogs or collaborating on something in the future please do not hesitate to let me know. I'm really all about the idea or working with other writers.

On another note, I'm going to try to stop being so web-dumb and look into spicing up the layout of this blog a bit in the future. More on that later.

Before I go, and completely unrelated to everything previously mentioned, I thought I'd leave you all with a little bit of an artistic challenge. This is pretty much only for all those gamers out there (I admit it, I'm guilty!) I recently purchased the Sims 3. Which is where my challenge comes in for all you writers out there. If you play the Sims, take one of your favorite characters from something you've written and recreate them in the digital Sims world. Try to only allow behaviours and activities that would be completely in character for her/him. I've been doing this with my self-proclaimed most complicated character ever, and thus far the game has really impressed me with it's ability to portray all the intricacies of her character.

Okay that's enough outta me. I have to pry myself away and go accomplish something. What are your plans for writing this weekend?