Writing's Role in My Life

I was a writing machine for two weeks.  I finished my second novel.  I need to re-work the ending a bit, but otherwise I think it's pretty good.  Time to send it out and have friends and family edit it for me.  The subject matter is tough, and as such it is not a commercial book.  Literary fiction is not commercial.  Chick lit, like my first novel, or women's fiction, or whatever you want to call it: that's what sells.

I was thinking about women's fiction yesterday, and I thought about how we're all just inherently hopeless romantics. We're all looking for a knight on a white horse: something that doesn't exist in real life.  We all put unrealistic expectations on the people in our lives, mostly out of our own expectations for ourselves and how we expect our life to look. 

I'm currently addicted to the Pink song featuring Nate Reuss (from Fun) called Just Give Me a Reason.  I was thinking about this song, as I listened to it over and over again, and Pink's voice is so heartbreaking.  Relationships are hard.  They make great fodder for television, music and books, because they are such a big part of our life, and because everyone can relate to a failing relationship, a wonderful relationship, and the oh so unrealistic romantic notion of the TV/movie relationship. 

My first novel touches on relationships, mostly with bits and pieces from my own real-life experiences.  I used the idea of unrequited love, because I struggled with this for years in my own life.  As an author, I use my novels to work through struggles I'm having or for concepts I can't grasp.  I use my characters as pawns to work through the problems, or the thoughts that continually go around and around in my head.  Sometimes I finish a work, like Semi-Detached, and I feel completely done with it--time to move on.  Sometimes I finish a work, like my second novel, The Devil Within, and it keeps haunting me.  I think of the unfinished business in the book--I want to go back and tie up all the pieces, make it complete and be able to walk away, but it just doesn't work out that way--very much like a failed relationship without closure. 

I had to step away from the Devil Within, because the subject matter was painful.  The idea of a nine year old being subjected to horrific abuse with a father who spouts it off as the will of God horrified me.  Even in the end, the boy grows up "unsaved."  I've struggled with religion my whole life.  I've struggled with relationships.  I'm one of those people who questions everything, and I seemingly find no answers, except through my writing, and sometimes the answer is unjust, like real life, where things are seldom fair.  I just have to keep on searching, like all the other people in this world who are thrown here together to make an impression and then move on.  That's just life.

The End of the World As We Know It

I couldn't sleep this morning.  I woke up in my bed, stared at the ceiling, cuddled with a little girl who won't stay in her own bed, then I set one foot on the ground and resigned myself to the fact that today is going to be a very long day.  I don't feel well. I went to bed early, which is why I woke up at 3 AM.  I had my coffee, but I want another cup. 

I'm having writer's block this week.  I don't think I'm necessarily getting discouraged, but maybe that's what it is.  Maybe I'm depressed since I can't run or do Taekwondo.  I don't know.  I am cycling, so at least I'm getting some exercise. 

I'm reading too.  A LOT.  I'm almost done with I Am Legend, which I started on Sunday.  The book reads fast, and you can just imagine Neville's solitude as he is the only person left alive in the world, fighting against something he doesn't quite understand.  I realized why reading it yesterday that I love end of the world books.  I loved The Road.  I loved On the Beach.  These are my favorite kind of books, and I wonder why?  Maybe because usually it is one person trying to triumph over a seemingly lost cause.  The underdog becoming the hero.  Naturally, humans are concerned with the end of the world, things as we know it changing completely, and our habitat becoming uninhabitable.  These thoughts and ideas bring up all sorts of questions, such as: what happens when you die, who or what will inhabit the world after we're gone, and then all the questions about how mankind will most likely be the master of their own demise.  Almost all of the end of the world books occur because of some war, some bomb, some human-made nightmare inflicting pain and hurt on others, as well as ourselves.  Human nature.

My Dad told me this joke this week, I guess he saw it in magazine or something, so I had to look it up.  Here it is:

 



 

It made me laugh, because it's so true!  Humans have a tendency to think they are invincible.  They are the strongest, the most powerful, but the truth is: if we destroy the earth, then we destroy ourselves.  Maybe there is a rhyme behind the reason though.  Maybe mankind is meant to make the world unlivable for themselves, thus making it livable for other species to come.  The dinosaurs died off to make room for the humans.  Maybe we're supposed to die off to make room for something else.  Hopefully not vampires, like in I Am Legend.  That would just be plain scary...

 

My thoughts at 4 in the morning are apparently pretty dark, but I do think this is something we need to think about.  It makes me sad that mankind, so much of the time, has so little regard for their habitat.  It makes me sad there are people out there who are killing themselves and others in the name of religion.  It makes me sad there are megalomaniacs in power who "get off" on touting they will nuke their neighbor, just to have some ego power trip.  Sometimes humans' minds are too powerful for their own good.  Sometimes I think it would be better if we were in a less-complicated world or time...

 

 



Procrastination

I am tired today.  So tired.  My allergies are acting up, and Alabama has been a pit of rain for two, going on three days.  I stumbled down to my coffee, sat down, put on my ear buds and Pandora, and opened up Facebook.  It took me almost all the way through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to realize that my Pandora was on the kid's Lullaby station.  Wow. My mind at work. 

I have always been a procrastinator.  I've always been one of those people who'd rather do one thing over another, putting off the "other" thing eternally because I just don't want to do it.  I am still that way, because procrastination goes hand in hand with perfectionism, and I'm that too: a perfectionist.

Every day there is something I put off: making dinner, signing papers, CLEANING, a project at work, Yearbook: any number of things.  Procrastination doesn't help though: it makes it worse.  When you procrastinate, and it is something that absolutely has to be done, you end up rushing and this leads to stress and anxiety.  I used to think that I worked best under a close deadline, but as I've gotten older I've realized if I plot my time out, and I have enough time to do what I need to get done then I feel better about the accomplishment.

I still procrastinate CLEANING.  A part of my brain says, "Why bother doing that?  Those kids who live with you are just going to mess it up again."  A part of my brain says, "Why can't we just hire a maid?"  Excuses to not do what I'm supposed to be doing.  There is a reason inside for every single thing you procrastinate.  You just have to explore that reason, find out what it is, and then address the issue. 

I know what it is about cleaning that bothers me.  It makes me feel obsessive compulsive.  Once I start, I have a hard time stopping.  I want it to be PERFECT (and we all know there is no such thing as perfect).  I don't like the way it feels while I'm doing it, but I do like the outcome.  Because of this, an unfair burden of housework falls on my husband.  Plus, I am ALWAYS procrastinating doing the housework, but he makes a list daily and generally crosses items off his list.  These are his daily goals, and they keep the house clean, the kids fed and dressed, and the household moving forward.  As he says, "Well, someone has to do it," and by that he means, "It sure as hell isn't going to be you!"

I've learned this year how to stop procrastinating (a little bit, and obviously not in the cleaning arena yet).  Routine helps procrastination end.  I don't procrastinate writing anymore, because my routine calls for me to work on my novel from 5:30 AM to 6:15 AM every morning.  I don't procrastinate at work, because I don't have time to put anything off.  Mostly, it's just an at home thing now.

It's something I'll probably need to work on the rest of my life, but not now: I think I'll read right now, or write, maybe play a game on the computer, or watch television...