Archive for March, 2009
March 23rd, 2009
Ever since NaNo, I’ve been debating in the back of my mind what genre I would call myself, because none of them fit quite right. (Which would either translate into a book that has very broad appeal, or a marketing nightmare) It’s too involved for chick-lit, but the main character is a chick. It’s not romance, but love is the driving element here. It’s not historical, but it’s meant to be gothic. It’s not fantasy, but it’s in my own world. You get the picture. A lot of my story ideas are like that – not easily labeled, I guess.
So I was wondering if maybe that stems from what I read – which is just about everything. Off the top of my head, some of my favorite books include Crime & Punishment, Revolutionary Road, Wuthering Heights, Pride & Prejudice, Something Borrowed/Blue, & Dracula.With the exception of mystery and western, I read just about everything…which makes for pretty long trips to the book store. Not like Stan, he beelines for the fantasy section, periodically I catch him in the computer reference, and we meet at the bargain books.
What do you think? As writers, do you find yourself particularly drawn to a specific genre’ when you write? If so, is it different than what you read? Please tell me I’m not the only literary mutt!
March 20th, 2009
An unpolished snippet of what I wrote this week. I’m just dropping you in the middle of the story – sorry!
Anxiously, she walked toward the front of the manor. Had he seen her arrive? Was he waiting for her? Then Roselyn noticed that the door of the manor was open. As she got closer to the manor she realized that there was no door. She stood still in shock. Clearly something very bad had happened here.
She forced herself to take a step forward, though her legs wobbled beneath her. Her breathing was shallow as she stepped inside the doorway. There was no sign of activity, but the destruction at her feet put her on edge. Chairs had been knocked over, one now lay across the room from where it had always been – had it been thrown in a struggle? She made her way further back into the house. The chaos didn’t appear to have an end. Books torn from a bookshelf, candles lay broken on the floor, glass shattered.
Roselyn gasped. Next to the back door, which had been ripped from its hinges, was a large hole in the wall. Whatever caused the hole had to have had force behind it – brick didn’t give way easily. She stepped closer and traced the hole with her fingers. The hole was rimmed with blood. She yanked her hand away. The door to the cellar was in shards as well. Roselyn pulled the larger chunks away and took a cautious step down. Then the smell hit her nose, and Roselyn’s hand flew to cover her mouth. Though she had never before smelled it, Roselyn knew what the smell was – decay. Her eyes began to well, and her stomach convulsed. Did she dare take another step? What if it was him? She quickly shook her head. It was too late. She was already here, and if she didn’t find out for sure, what was down there, it would haunt her for the rest of her life. Roselyn shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. She moved quickly down the rest of the stairs and looked around. Her eyes began to adjust to the dim light and she could make out what looked to be a slumped figure in the corner. She grimly hoped that her eyes were playing tricks on her. The humidity wrapped around her like a thick blanket. Roselyn swallowed hard and stepped forward. It was a figure, certainly, and a male. Horror began to swell in her and her knees buckled.
March 19th, 2009
I grew up in a few different places, but they all had more sunshine and less snow than Michigan. I might have better luck adjusting, but my 18 year old car no longer tolerates cold very well, and that leaves me housebound much of the time. Consequently, I wind up bouncing between stir-crazy and catatonic all winter.
This week, something changed. It’s been warmer, but most importantly, there has been sunshine. My productivity level has gone up exponentially. It’s like someone changed my batteries, or gave popeye a can of spinach. It’s been great, my house is much cleaner (thanks in part to a new vacuum that actually sucks and retains dirt), I’m getting things done, and I’m writing again. I think I wrote about 200 words between December and March. This week alone, I’ve written 3,000. I realize that isn’t much, but I’m fictionally undisciplined, remember? I have to start somewhere. My tentative goal is to write 1,000 words a day over the next four weeks. At 5,000 words a week, I hope to finish the first draft of my novel within the next six weeks.
So, do you get a ‘burst of energy’ when spring comes? Are you one of those lucky people who has boundless energy? Do you live in a climate where there is lots of sunshine? I wonder if climate is proven to affect people. Someone look that up for me and report back. 
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