Thoughts on Getting Out There.

There is nothing as scary to me, then rejection.

Ok, fine, there are two other things - failure (which is just another form of rejection, right?) and vermin-like-animals (like hampsters ... and rats ... and squirrels).

The point is that sending out query letters, full of hope that someone will see that light that is shining under a bushel (i.e. me and my ever so apparent genius, right?) - and then getting LOADS of rejections is ... well it's like going to law school all over again, I think.

And on that note - even though at the moment, I hate law school as much as I fear squirrels - I sent out those applications, and I withstood the rejections I did get, and ended up in law school.

So I suppose, what I am saying is that I should stop procrastinating - I should stop allowing myself to be cowed by my own fear, and I should get out there and send in those queries!

Because hell, I may just get a million rejection letters - but at least I am allowing for the chance that one response will be "Hey - you're halfway decent. Send more?"

What are your thoughts?
Sorry, mine are a bit erratic, aren't they?

2011 in Writing

Happy new year and welcome to 2011 ...

*confetti*

Now onto writing.

Truth is - I have been stuck at 70k words for about two weeks or so now. And I know the ending, I know where all my characters will be and how they get there ... but I need some bridge to get me to the "there".

And more music. Loads more, please - anyone have any suggestions?

Editors ...

Currently, my second book - sequel to the as-yet unpublished first book, and precursor to the as-yet unfinished third book I am procrastinating on at this very moment - is being edited by my Mother and her artillery of purple hilighters.

To say that I am scared is beyond reasonable.

However there is something to be said about in-house (har har, literally) editors. She asks questions where I took things for granted, she pushes me to write "better" - and even when she bitches about the swearing, sex and violence, she does it with a literary take in mind.

Just thought I would mention that.

Writing to a Soundtrack

Yeah, I do that. And as soon as a song pops up that is not like the others ... I can't help it, I stop writing ... weird, right?

And then you have this conundrum:

I am writing, say, a fight scene. DMX and then Cauterize and then some Linkin Park is blasting through my ear drums, my blood is pumping and I am like, "Oh, now I will kick this character in the head and deal them a near fatal concussion!" or somesuch.

Then, suddenly due to the weird properties of "Shuffle Randomize" on Winamp, I suddenly get something that is not fight music. Like Six Pence None the Richer or Rihanna. And then the character gets a pass. No near fatal head blow.

Does this ever happen to you? Does music effect the way you write to the point where your scenes change to accommodate the new sounds?

Nearing the End and Inspiration Rant.

Yeah, I am wiped.
So wiped.

I gave myself an hour today to write for fun.
I wrote ... nothing.

Man, I cannot wait for these exams to be over ...

We Interrupt Exam Studying for ...

CONGRATS TO SMITHY!

My friend, Smithy (who better remember me when she's all famous and stuff) has made it to the next round of an Agent contest - so she is this close (imagine I am holding up a forefinger and a thumb, they are very close) to achieving all her dreams - and I couldn't be happy for her!

And this in the midst of the worst exam season ever!

Congrats, girl - you deserve it! And I will b3 right there with the balloons and the I-told-you-so! :)

The Little Writing Demon ...

There once was a philosophy tutorial I was in. It was my first year at the UofT, my first philosophy class and it was quite intimidating: there were plenty of people older then me, lots of richer kids too, with their Macs and their faraway looks. Needless to say, I walked in with my three year old bag, jeans and old Catholic school uniform sweater, and I about died from nerves - though I was also intrigued. All these people had a story, after all. James - the only Oriental in the room (trust, if you knew UofT you would know how rare that is), with his dyed red hair and green contacts; Rick, the typical ginormous WASP with his blowy blonde hair and lashes and these sick looking blue eyes; Benjamin, with his spectacles, briefcase and top hat. The list goes on.


Loren was our TA. She quickly put me at ease when in the first ten minutes, she responded to Rick (who apparently was trying to assert that he was The Awesome) that "Not all of us have little black turtle wearing existentialists on their shoulders telling them all they need to know about the universe."


We all laughed that off then, but over the years, it has become, in my warped
way of thinking, near true. I have two crowded shoulders.

I have the little Historian with her smudged spectacles and unruly hair that sits on one side of me, gently prodding me with a nail bitten hand to look around and appreciate the history of life - the colour that abounded in the past.


Then there's that existentialist - to be honest, my only "Him" - not sure why, maybe because whenever I think of existentialists, I think of Jean-Paul Sartre (aka JPS) with his awkward momma's boy body, and round glasses and balding head. Every time I come to the facts of life - the inevitability of my own existence, he kicks me. Literally, right near where my collarbone meets my shoulder, the little trenchcoat wearing, pipe smoking existentialist kicks me into action.


Of course, I have Tellulah - that's the name of my inner hippy. She sits to the left of my inner go-getter (I call her Beth), and they argue over whether that fiver in my pocket ought to save the whales or buy a blackberry (as if a fiver was ever enough to do either ...)


And then I have my little writing demon. Sometimes she's Ammy Belle - all sorts of bouncy sugar sweet cuddly goodness and support. Other times, her face changes and she becomes A. Isabel - and then she's dark and broody and into highly erotocized steam scenes. And then at other times, she's sleeping and she's just me - out of ideas for the moment, but sure to rock back into action soon.


And that's the thing, I guess. It's like that saying about wearing many hats, or that all the world's a stage - at times, there is always a need for one of my little demons - and I have tonnes more then the ones I just talked about, but all they do is reflect an aspect of me, and I think there is something scary and interesting in that.


Anyways, what do you all think?
Have I made a profound statement on the existence of personality? Or, are these exams getting to me? :P

Ammy