It’s time to play my favorite game.

It’s called ‘the catch up game,’ and if you can’t tell that I’m being sarcastic (SOMEONE INVENT SARCASTIC FONT FOR ME, PLEASE), then I should go ahead and say, “I’m being sarcastic.”

That being said, I should also point out that it means I’ve finished this run-through of book 2 in the Reave series, which means B2 is out of my hands (meaning I can’t touch it again until my friend gets through revising it). This is good. B2 was my priority (obviously, as I’ve fallen off the face of the social-planet), and now I’ve reached the point I needed to reach with it. I don’t have to spend every waking moment working on 3 and 4, so I’ll have all that time to do the other things I need to do. It also means that I’ll get to at least pretend I have some sort of life, and that’s good.

I have to apologize for how far behind I’ve gotten on reading blogs and the like, but I will TRY to remedy that within the next few days. Don’t get mad if I don’t go a month back in archives to catch up, but I’ll do what I can. (And by that I mean, “I’ll do what I can without making my brain explode.”)

Charles Yallowitz, HOW DO YOU MANAGE THIS? I’ll admit I’ve been baffled over that many times.

I’ve been trying to come up with some sort of blogging schedule, but I should also say I’ve been trying to do that for a really long time now. I’m kind of at a loss as to how anyone can even stand reading my posts (they’re always talking about how much I suck at blogging, or at life in general), but hey.

I’m thinking what I might do is use Monday for an ‘update’ post (but I’m kind of at a loss as to what I could actually update) or something to do with ‘work’ or ‘writing’ or SOMETHING, use Wednesday as a ‘random’ post (along the lines of Friendship: The magic of THE CLICK or Hello World. I am a moron. Nice to meet you.), then Friday will get back to my Friday Music posts.

We’ll see how well that works out. I don’t have a clue about it as of now.

We’re going to count this as my Monday post, even though it’s Sunday (I might change my mind about that, but I might not). I need to spend a few days playing that game I was talking about and try not to get overwhelmed by it.

If anyone has some pointers for time-management, I’m all ears (eyes). O.o

(If any of those pointers involve making days 50 hours or inventing a way for people to function on absolutely no sleep . . . I’ve already thought those to death. But if you can figure out how to do either of those things . . . it would be helpful.)

I think I jinxed myself…

And I’ll say that’s what I get for making a statement about how I was managing to do something successfully. I should’ve known that no good would come of it.

Granted, this is a difficult time of the year to attempt a drastic schedule adjustment, especially with the intention of making it permanent. I should add right here that I’m missing my entirely nocturnal schedule VEEEEERY badly, but this is how things have fallen.

I feel like I’m getting pulled in about fifty different directions and don’t have a clue which way is up. Sometimes I can’t do much more than allow myself to get tugged along whichever way is necessary, then get back to doing other things when I have the time. Speaking of time…….

Does anyone know where to find some?

There aren’t enough hours in the day. There really aren’t.

I think I’m just realizing that I have to do a slight adjustment to the adjustment. I said in the last post that the time-splitting wasn’t even. I think I’m gonna have to split it a bit more evenly. If I don’t, this isn’t going to work. What good is doing the other half of things if I’m not coherent enough to do them? I dunno.

I’m gonna have to do that, and will also have to get over this ridiculous problem I have with interacting via Twitter. I don’t know what it is, but every time I interact with people on there…freaks me out. (I say that, but what I mean is that it freaks me out worse than interacting with people in most other ways – apart from in person, which is HORRIBLE – which truly isn’t saying much, given that I get lost when someone says ‘hello’.)

Damn my anxiety for being so bad. I’ve been getting really frustrated with it lately (my anxiety), but I suppose that’s neither here nor there.

Anyway, a few random things…

I’ve been a bit O.o (yes, that’s a way to describe it) over the positive feedback I’ve received on Reave. So that’s cool. I need to thank everybody who’s put up a review for it or in other ways said anything about it where it’s gotten back to me, or told people about it, or just even read it. So…….thank you.

Also, I’m planning on doing a GoodReads giveaway, probably next month or so. I’m a GoodReads moron, so it might take me a bit of time to figure it out (or to figure out the site in general), but I’ll get there. I think. Maybe. Possibly. But I will definitely post on here whenever I set that up.

That’s basically it, I think!

Hope everyone is doing well! 🙂

Overwhelmed by the new WIP

The title says it all, doesn’t it?

I somehow managed to fix my sleep schedule back to normal (nocturnal) after that first night of coming home from Florida. So, for the past several days, all I’ve been doing is WRITING. Time has slipped away from me. I’m not ashamed of it, and I feel only slightly guilty.

Things are going well with this second book (so far). I’m writing it from another character’s perspective. Interactive. The story rolls on.

Here’s the thing . . .

I write a LOT of characters over the course of a series. I’m not even going to tell you how many were in S2. It seems natural to me. People meet other people. I guess it’s enough to be confusing if you have a difficult time remembering names. Normally, I don’t.

And you see . . . it’s not that there are a crapton of characters being introduced in these new books. There really isn’t. It’s everything else.

EVERYTHING.

I made up a new world in S2. Cities, small towns, etc. But it seems so . . . my god, I’m going to hate saying this, but it seems so basic in comparison.

Now I’ve got magic to deal with. Who can do what most efficiently. What it looks like when each of them use it (and its differences).

I’ve got creatures.

I’ve got dragons with names.

Ties. Families. Wars. Lineage. Kingdoms. Villages. Armies. Generals. Units. Laws. Punishments. More ties. Marriages. Kids. Taverns. Weapons. Soldiers. Secrets. More magic. SO MUCH MORE MAGIC. HAVE I USED THAT NAME? WHICH DRAGON IS WHICH? HOLY JESUS, WHAT COLOR DID I MAKE THEM AGAIN? WHAT’S THAT ABOUT REPRODUCTION? WHAT WAS THAT NAME? WTF IS GOING ON HERE?!

I uhm . . . I’m going to have to map this stuff out.

This will be a first, minus my little lists for sh . . . er . . uhm . . . craps and giggles. Lists of names, usually. Gotta make sure they’re not too similar (as I tend to do that occasionally). Lists of chapter titles. Lists of word counts for each chapter after each editing. Tallies of each cuss word and how many times they’re each used. Yes, I’ve got a bit of OCD. I like lists. And apparently the word each when writing the past few sentences.

But now I’m going to have to make detailed sheets, like . . . for each thing. It’s new. It’s made my eyes twitch a few times, thinking about it.

Anyway. What I’m trying to say here is, “Hey. I’m a little busy right now.”

I know I try to post every three days. I think I’m a day off right now. I might have to extend that a little.

Here comes the guilt.

We’ll say I’ll try to give an update and say hello every four days or so. I’m usually pretty good at responding to comments, but I’ve even fallen off on that. I’m just feeling very overwhelmed at the moment. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, but honestly? I’m looking forward to it. This will be a new experience. New experiences – yaaaaaay.

So that’s what I’ve been doing. That’s what I’ll be doing. That’s what’s going on.

Hope all of you out there in the vast expanses of internetdom are having wonderful days and all that good stuff.

I sure am, despite the eye twitching.

I shall wave the shame fan in my own face for being such a horrible person and neglecting my social networking stuff.

What am I doing?

It’s kind of surprising to realize that I’ve been blogging more frequently, now that I have so much less time to spend on it. And I’m realizing . . . I’m running out of things to talk about.

One of my friends very recently hit 500 posts, which blows my mind.

Now, if you know me at all, you would likely know that – introvert aside – I ramble incessantly. I ramble to my friends. I ramble to strangers when they speak to me (nervous-rambling). How in the world could I be running out of things to talk about?

Here’s the issue. Or, well, the issueS.

1) I’m not quite ready to talk about my book(s), past information about what’s going on with them. It’s weird, I know. Counterproductive, for sure. But that’s where I’m at. Once the progress has . . . er . . . progressed a bit further, that will change. But right now? I’m waiting with the big one, and working on new ones. That’s all there is to say.

2) Okay, so I’m following a lot of blogs. A LOT. More of them every day that I sit down here for more than ten minutes at a time. I’m following a LOT of author blogs, and I read them. You should give me a hug for it, really, because I’m awesome. Just kidding.

A little.

Anyway, so, I see a lot of things that authors write about. Mostly, we write about writing, I’ve noticed. Not all of us, and not all the time, but majority? Yes. We write about our books and we write about writing. That’s cool. I always find it EXTREMELY interesting to read the thoughts and methods of my fellow authors (whether they be established or aspiring [like me] – it makes zero difference to me). The thing about those sorts of blogs is that the writers of them . . . Well . . . they write well.

My brain just doesn’t work in a . . .

Let me start again because that was going to sound HORRIBLE.

I’m not fantastic at drawing people in with blogging. To me, blogging is, “Hey, this is what I think.” So I write blogs the way that I think, or speak. I don’t write blogs the way that I write. I could probably train myself out of it, but why would I want to? You just get a big dose of ME here. Lots of ellipses and parenthetical asides. Lots of two word sentences and general trailing off. Lots of ADD moments. That’s me. I know how I write (on here, with books, in general) and that’s just the way it is.

OH MY GOD, WHEN AM I GOING TO STOP THROWING THE SAME BRUCE HORNSBY LYRIC INTO MY BLOGS?

That is what you get from me. Bruce Hornsby. Am I THE ONLY person in the world that loves him? I digress.

So this is where I’m at.

Do I think the saint-like people following me want to hear about potato salad?

No. I’m not sorry about that. It was like . . . four lines.

Do I think that all of you glorious people out there want to see pictures of my dog?

No. I’ve thought about it . . .

Do I think all of you MAGNIFICENT people who waste your time reading the nonsense that I have to say want to read about how I – FOR SOME REASON – cannot stop typing the third letter in don’t and then clicking Don on the auto-word of my phone?

Certainly not. But it happens. Pretty much every time. Don’t is on the left with the second letter, and the right with the third. Don is left on the third. Don it is.

EVERY TIME. >.<

So . . . I sometimes wonder what I’m doing on here. Here is a place, chock full of people who have a trillion interesting things to say.

I’m thinking about asking for guest bloggers – mostly because that’s how I’ve found a lot of the people I’m following (through other people’s blogs that I’m following).

I’ll probably write up another entry (probably tomorrow) doing the asking for that very thing. This is already my second for the day and I don’t want to overkill feeds.

 

That’s all.

No, really. That’s all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . For now. *cue evil laugh*

Peace, Small Breaks, and More Editing

So here we are at the beginning of that second break in time.

I’ve finished with the editing (yes, I know that was fast, but I didn’t have to do much to it, apart from the suggested changes and a few minor things here and there), and have sent it off. I reckon the next few days will give a clear indication of how that whole thing will pan out. I’ve gotten about ten different earfuls from my mom about it, but that’s neither here nor there. My mom likes to give earfuls.

Anywho, as I said – break in time. I was supposed to have my normal computer chair when this point of time was happening, but alas . . . I do not. Our things got pushed back two days, meaning that it will all get here tomorrow. Tomorrow is much better than another week or something, so I’m happy. I’m contemplating not sleeping at all (so I can avoid that air mattress),  but I’m a big fan of sleep and don’t know if I could manage it. Probably couldn’t.

Either way, I will finally get caught up with some reading of blogs on here tonight. So yaaay. I’ll just be having at least one of my legs go numb in abooooout . . . I’d give it five minutes or so, if that.

I’ll be super busy again starting tomorrow, due to all of our belongings getting here – setting up rooms and the like. Then I promised to do some hanging out with a couple of friends this weekend and I’ve already flaked out once in the past week (due to working, which is just about the most legitimate reason to flake out there). I’m curious to see how much stuff I can actually get done over the next few days.

Does anyone else out there feel like the things that other people consider ‘taking breaks’ are more stressful than continuing on with things? I know that I always stress about how many other things I should be doing when I’m having fun and whatnot. Of course, I’m weird, so that might be why. Just an errant thought.

At least all of this will keep me occupied while I’m waiting to hear back from the editor, so that’s good news.

I hoped for sunshine and good feelings for everyone in my last entry.  I’ll hope for peaceful and stress-free days for everyone in this one.

🙂

 

Making Time for Security Blankets

I began typing up a new entry earlier today (it will technically be yesterday by the time this is posted), and was interrupted and asked to come downstairs at precisely the same moment that I realized…I shouldn’t have been writing it with intent to share in the first place.

Blogging is difficult for me.  When I do it, I can feel the little tug from the past saying, “Hey, You…You used to enjoy me.  Remember?  You used to tell me everything.  What happened to You?”

I’m a different person now; that’s not a bad thing.  I enjoy taking my personal steps back from my writing.  I enjoy my life being mine.  I enjoy my stories being their own.  My life and my writing coexisting so closely?  Well…it’s just not as appealing to me as it once was.  Sure, I put little bits and pieces of myself into everything that I write.  It’s completely different.  If you write books about characters that have their own lives and experiences – where those lives and experiences do not coincide with your own – you will understand what I mean when I say that it’s different.  I prefer it that way.  I enjoy my privacy – or having as much privacy as I want to allow myself. 

The point of this being that it’s so funny how things seem to happen at precisely the right time.

Is that our own mind adapting to circumstances and situations, growing from them and MAKING any time the right time?  Or is it something simpler, yet indescribably more difficult to explain?  Do we make the right time, or is the right time made for us?  Hmm…It’s definitely something to ponder over.

That question is more relevant to my life at the moment than I can fully explain.

I’ve spoken of headspaces before, but I will say that during the past week or more, I’ve been stuck inside of a worse one than any I’ve been stuck inside of for a very long time.  I’d forgotten what it was like.  It was something I never thought I’d forget; I believe that alone speaks wonders towards the natural progression of life.

Headspace.  Right.

Finally though, after everything had seemed so dark…a little light of hope appeared.  It sounds lame, I know, but it’s true.  It was unexpected, but what was more unexpected was the massive amount of clarity gained from that tiny light’s illumination.  I’d been so focused on the negatives that I didn’t realize all of the other things connecting themselves inside of my head – working themselves out naturally.

I’d already worked out my plan for my books, but I hadn’t worked out my plan for my life.  The realization that it had worked itself out somewhere in the back of my head – without my knowledge or permission, mind you – hit me slowly.  I don’t really feel comfortable with anything unless I have a plan for it.  Yes, I’m aware that you can plan and prepare for as long as you like and, more often than not, it won’t work out the way you thought or intended.  That’s not why I do it.  I do it for the structure and the security.  In fact, you really could compare the feeling of it to a security blanket for my head.  It makes me feel better.  Safer.

Right now?  I feel better.

I’ve been sitting here staring down at the keyboard for several minutes with a little grin on my face.

I have always, always been a mess.  Until I started writing books, I had absolutely no feeling of purpose in life – no direction or motivation; I was just going through the motions, enjoying what I could and getting through the things that I couldn’t.  I was 22 years old when I discovered what I wanted to do with the rest of my life – the thing that I couldn’t live without.  Earlier than some, later than others.  Enough time to get me the experience at life that would make me good enough at writing about it.  I’ve made enough mistakes to learn from them, and I’m at the appropriate distance from those things that I’m capable of looking at them objectively and turning them into positives.  But even after discovering that – my love in life – everything else was an endless question mark.  Wants and don’t-wants traded spots on their respective lists periodically, depending on the circumstances and the time.

Now, at 25…in this moment?  I think I’ve got it.

Happy late birthday to me.

It was worth the lateness.

Suddenly, being closer to 30 than 20…Well…It doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

Failing Words and Suds

I didn’t sleep well yesterday.

At this point, I’m not sure if I should blame it on the windows letting too much light in, the fact that I should’ve known better than trying to fall asleep after the sun came up (without the windows covered), or all of the thoughts and ideas swirling around like little smoke clouds inside of my head.

I’m going to do this tomorrow.  That’s something to do.  There’s a new bit of something to add to the game plan.

I’m sure it was a combination of all those things.  So forgive me (in advance); I’m far too tired to have the sense of what I do and don’t want to say.

While walking upstairs from my last cigarette break, I was thinking about bubbles.  Not the pretty sort with the little rainbows on them, floating around easily before they burst apart in a spray of tiny suds.  I’m talking about the kind of bubbles that we find ourselves trapped inside of periodically throughout life – or that we step into willingly.

My life is a life of bubbles, I realize.  It sounds ridiculous; I’m coherent enough to know as much.  I’m trying to find the words to explain it correctly and I’m failing.  I hate feeling like I’m failing words.  I can’t express how much I hate it.

I lived in whatever bubbles suited me best at whatever time when I was growing up.  Varying colors, varying opacity, varying space.

I’m not sure that I really knew what that meant until now, thinking about the way they’ve changed for me…or the way that I’ve changed for them.  I’m not sure.

When I was writing my books, I was stuck inside of these impermeable bubbles.  I couldn’t see out of them.  I don’t think that anyone could see inside of them.  Maybe they could a little and I was too busy admiring the beauty of it alone from the inside.  They were so beautiful.

I’m inside of a new one now – one that I can see out of clearly.  I can see all the beauty outside while it passes by me.  Life.  Life is beautiful, no matter how much bad we experience throughout the course of each of our own.

Right now?  I feel like I’m stuck here, waiting for that damn bubble to pop.

I think we’ve all had our moments where we felt like life – in all its intricacies, and roads, and deceptions, and potholes – was passing us by.  I think we’ve all felt stuck before.

My problem right now is I can’t explain the difference in that feeling and what I’m actually feeling at this moment.  They are two COMPLETELY different things.  And I’m failing words again.

I’m so sorry that I can’t do you better justice.

Taking a step back.

Those moments of feeling stuck while you were watching life…I know that every time I’ve experienced it, I always felt that some force was holding me back from what I wanted to do – whether it was myself, situations, or another person.  THAT is how this moment is different.  There’s nothing at all holding me back, but there I am, still trapped and watching.

It’s new.  Almost equally unpleasant.  Possibly more so because I can’t really understand it.  Possibly more so because I’ve allowed myself to be open to the endless possibilities.  Possibly more so because I finally have a dream.

It will happen.  I know that it will.  I don’t care if it’s my own determination, some talent that I can’t actually see, or just the natural way that bubbles disintegrate and disappear when exposed to the air.  It will happen.

I need to work on my patience.  With myself.

I know this was way deeper/emotional/ridiculous than my usual entries.  Sorry.

I just figured I’d try that thing where getting stuff out makes you feel better.

Nah.

I’d rather write a book.

I don’t fail words so easily when I’m doing that.