I can’t see the lines but I’m pretty sure I’m crossing them,
There were no clear boundary marks, so I kept driving, and no one said stop.
I didn’t feel the rumble strips, heaven knows I might already be a goner,
But there’s no guard at the border,
So I’ll keep driving ’round the corner,
And I’ll either drive to glory or smoke out on the way,
But that’s the drive,
And it’s better than it is to stay.
Let me start by saying I’m afraid to make this post, but it’s been a few weeks, and I owe you guys an update.
There are several reasons making this post scares me:
For starters, I’m afraid you’ll judge me for jumping ship on Awake for the next few weeks. I’m about halfway-ish through it, and I’m going to finish the rough draft at least by the end of January, you can hold me to that.
But more than that, I’m afraid to write this post because I have some kind of performance anxiety. As soon as I tell people “I’m doing [X]” I start to panic about doing X, even if I’ve been doing it well up until that point.
That’s the case with this year’s NaNoWriMo. I’m a few thousand words behind where I’d like to be at the moment (though technically I’m still on target!), but I’ve written every day so far and I fully intend to finish with 50,000 words at the end of the month if it kills me.
Anyway, Arrival is in full swing, and as much as I want to bang my head off my coffee table (because I don’t work at a desk) and scream, there’s also a huge sense of pride that I’m creating something new again.
The feeling of writing a novel is slightly intoxicating to me, and that’s why I write.
NaNo’s been difficult this year because I’m working 35-40 hours a week, and so I’m trying to keep up with that, plus trying to keep up my relationship (thank goodness she’s ALSO doing NaNoWriMo this year, so she understands) is kind of exhausting, but it’s been good. I haven’t felt this Alive (pun intended) in a long while.
NaNoWriMo is always kinda hard, though. You’re writing an entire novel in 30 days, for heaven’s sake! But it’s totally possible with a few key things to help you along the way:
GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE
Up ’til this year I’ve always novelled at home, but this year my fiancee and I have decided to get out as much as possible, and it’s helping SO MUCH.
I was always against the idea of novelling anywhere else, thinking it would be distracting or I’d feel too much pressure, but honestly, just finding a Starbucks and settling down with a caramel brulee frappucino and some good music in your earbuds is where it’s at, my friends. I wrote 2000 words in a McDonald’s yesterday, too. So it doesn’t necessarily have to be anything fancy, it just has to be somewhere outside of your house that you can sit down and focus.
CAFFEINE
I understand that caffeine isn’t for everyone, but for ME, caffeine is a lifesaver. Like I said earlier, I’m working 35-40 hours a week, which isn’t really that much, but it’s enough to make me want to come home and nap for eight hours, and then go to bed for another eight hours. (I guess the depression doesn’t help here, but that’s another story for another day!) So anyway, my caffeine consumption has at least DOUBLED since I started NaNo eleven days ago. Whoops.
SLEEP
On the other side of caffeine there is my other best friend: sleep. I already mentioned that it’s something I want to do far too much of, but human beings really do need to sleep to repair our bodies and refresh our minds, so during NaNoWriMo, allow yourself to get some sleep. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but try to make sure you’re getting at least 6 hours of sleep. I’d recommend more, but then I’d be a hypocrite.
HARD WORK
This is the one most people don’t like, but it’s important. The fact is, you won’t succeed in anything, especially not NaNoWriMo without putting the effort in. If you think participating in NaNo will be a cake walk, it won’t. But I promise you, it will be worth it in the end.
And this is not something you ‘need’ per se, but something you need to DO, rather: ditch your inner editor.
Of the 2000 words I wrote yesterday, I’ve already decided I’ll probably cut 1250 of them in editing later, but is that stopping me from continuing the story? No. Am I cutting those words out now? No. Because I still know where my story’s going, and I’m pretending those scenes/words don’t exist for now, and I still wrote those words, and they’ll be part of this story until the editing process, so I think it counts.
Because I’m working in Scrivener it’s really easy to just separate the scenes I don’t like and label them SEMI PERMANENT or [DELETE LATER] but if you’re working in Docs or Word or any other writing program that doesn’t separate your novel scene-by-scene, just use something to separate it for yourself like highlighting or [!]’s at the start and end of the paragraphs/scenes/whatever you want to delete and you can worry about it later.
If you get hung up on fixing and editing and tweaking right now, you won’t finish NaNoWriMo.
Anyway, that’s my ‘advice’ for finishing NaNoWriMo, do you have anything to add? Let me know in the comments!
Hey everybody, it’s been a while since I made a post here, and I’m sorry for that, but! I have some exciting stuff going on that I hope makes up for it.
I think that’s all the major stuff. I’m going to go work on Awake for now, and I’ll talk to you guys again soon, I promise.
Hello hello, friends!
It’s been far too long since I made a post, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to make this one either, because that means Coming Back, and I’m not very good at keeping up with this blog anymore, but y’know what? I’m gonna try my best.
And my best may not be very good, but it will be my best.
Today I have exciting news! I finally published Alive: A Journey To Redemption!
After five freaking years of writing and rewriting, it’s finally done and ready for public consumption!
It feels a little surreal, to be honest. I feel like I should still be fussing over describing Riley in the diner, and nitpicking at words in the end scenes, but I’m not.
Instead I’m working on Awake: A Work In Progress, and it feels good.
I don’t really have much else to say in this post, but I promise I’ll try to be here more over the next little while.
Thank you for your patience.
I wish we didn’t feel the need to make God into the Wizard of Oohs and Ahhhs, because He is great, and He is powerful without the shiny bells and whistles of the Emerald Church.
We curtain Him off and project an unnecessary image to the rest of the world, like He’s not enough on His own.
We play songs about how big and mighty He is, but never allow Him to show it.
Music is used to tug at the heart strings; we rock the drums, raise our hands and sing, but God doesn’t need our smoke and mirrors! He is enough as He is!
Why do we treat Him as if He used to be a great God, but now we’re unsure? Why do we feel we have to dress Him up with bright red rugs, chandeliers, and paper coffee mugs to convince people that He’s a good, good Father? We catch people by the emotions, with the projection of a floating head, but God is already a full being and we’re only subtracting from His majesty by trying to add to it.
God doesn’t need facades, parades or charades, and He doesn’t need the munchkins putting on displays; He just needs our open hearts and our willingness to let Him show up, without covering Him up.
When the world inevitably pulls our curtain down; we’ll realize we didn’t need any of this, because God is not the Wizard of Oohs and Ahhs, He is every bit as great and powerful as He ever was.
Today is arguably the most important holiday in the Christian faith because today is the day that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, conquered sin, and saved us!
Growing up in a Christian home has been a blessing for so many reasons, but also not, because growing up around Christianity makes it easier to grow complacent with Christ, and to take Him for granted when that should never happen.
Every single day we wake up and take a breath, we have a new reason to thank God because it’s a new day that we don’t have to pay for because it’s already done, and we don’t have to be the same people we were before we knew Him. That’s so exciting to me! Even though I often think I am a terrible Christian (and human being, if I’m being honest) it’s mind-boggling to think that God still wants me as I am, and I can still turn my life around because of what Jesus did on the cross for me.
And He did it for you, too. You don’t have to stay the same anymore.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. – 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NKJV)
Now I know it was only infatuation,
It wasn’t love.
I was lured by his good looks, and promise of better tomorrows,
But I placed too much faith in his facade.
He was a cardboard cutout of a prince that couldn’t break into my castle and save me from my fiery captor.
He burned up and faded away, while I stood up and saved myself.
He came into my life like fireworks on a week night.
He was loud and unexpected, but not completely unwelcome.
I knew from the moment I saw him that he’d be temporary, but I was captivated by his brightness and beauty, so I stayed.
Everyone wanted to be around him, and I was lucky enough to find a spot in his crowd.
I told myself not to get too attached because fireworks never last, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he could be different.
I thought maybe he’d continue to light up my skies, against all odds and expectations.
He was a rebel, after all, so I had some hope he’d defy everything I knew up to that point by sticking around.
But he didn’t.
He was gone too soon, leaving only a trail of smoke in his wake.
The rest of his audience scattered quickly. Running off to live their lives again, or maybe find another firework show to watch.
But I continued to stare at the dark sky, at the memories he left behind, at the hypothetical situations I’d created for us, as they faded to black in front of my eyes.
If only I knew exactly how soon he’d be gone, I might’ve stayed inside my house, to save myself the heartache of watching him disappear,
But like fireworks, I’m glad I got to watch his display while it was here.
It’s Monday,
No, maybe it’s Tuesday,
Scratch that, it has to be Friday by now.
I don’t know anymore, and if I’m being really honest, I don’t care.
I can’t keep track of my days.
Everything blurs together. Everything is the same.
What is the point?
Why do I open my eyes every MondayTuesdayFriday?
To eat Cheerios and attempt to fight the inevitable death I will face in time?
To smile at the air, at the ground, at strangers whose mouths turn up and down robotically?
To type letters in sequence we declare “words”?
Are they supposed to mean something?
If you say a word enough, your brain realizes you’re not making sense.
Word.
Word.
Word.
Does it still look okay to you?
Word.
Word.
Word.
How about now?
It’s lost its meaning to me.
Everything has lost its meaning to me.
Do I open my eyes every MondayTuesdayFriday to do sit ups in hope for a “summer body”?
To impress you?
To impress me?
To impress God?
I know by that look of disdain, you could not care less.
I, myself, am unimpressed,
And nobody can impress God.
So what is the point?
I live in this state of uncertainty, of blurriness, of never knowing what day it is, and I feel ill in this MondayTuesdayFriday place in which I reside.
Sometimes I see people and I know I have to write them down on paper somewhere. You were one of those people from the first time I saw you, but I couldn’t find the words to write you out until now.
You see, I often thought I hated you, but still I empathized with you; the dark grey boy in a superhero hat, smoking like a chimney by the brick building, matching the weather with your bitter mood. You never looked happy out there, or inside, or anywhere.
You always waited until the last second to get out of your car, to light up your smoke, to enter the doors. You stood on the sidewalk with your back turned to the rest of us, to protect yourself, I think.
I had this thought that maybe you wouldn’t smoke if people would talk to you, instead of about you.
I wondered if you’d be less mean if you weren’t stuck playing defence; but the whispers started as soon as you walked in, and I understood why you’d raise your voice to silence them.
You weren’t as bad as everyone said.
Just a declawed kitten with a lion’s roar, and a soft heart with an electric fence around its core.
A Rambler In Bloom 