WhiteWashed, a Pitch Fest, and The Ooze Walk Into A Bar

My brain hurts.

I just finished an entire book run through of editing WhiteWashed. This is what my brain feels like:

Like a LOST plane crash.

I'm pretty sure it will all be ready for the Writeoncon pitchfest.

Right now? This is how I feel about my MS:

It's just so pretty. There are wonderful phrases. It makes me laugh. There's some intense emotional scenes. It has poem/song things. It's so gorgeous.

And I know tomorrow it won't be so beautiful anymore.

Instead I will be thinking: "What is this baby? This isn't mine." But then I'll learn to love it anyway, just like the Hunchback.

And then eventually an agent will get their hands on it.

"Noooooo!!"

And then an editor will get their hands on it.

Only, if I should ever faint, I hope some
creepy man doesn't appear out of nowhere.

But for now:

"It's mine. My own. My Precious."

Now I just have to figure out the pitch part.

An Old Love of My Life

I was eight years old. I had recently written my Brave Girl Series (very lame, trust me) and I came across a picture I had drawn. (Thanks to this picture -->)

Inspiration struck (not unlike a hammer) and I started writing a story about two islands, a heroic girl, and one evil man.

Then I stopped. Probably had something to do with the fact that I moved from Virginia up to New York. Stories got boxed up and I moved on. Worked on Brave Girl Series again. Then there was the Underground (with plot inconsistencies that would take your breath away).

Later, when I was about seventeen and had recently finished the Novel of Magnitude (which needs more editing than a raw piece of chicken) I started typing again at that old story. Slashed the beginning. Expanded a scene. Added intrigue and mystery.

Then I hit a massive black wall. You see, I don't have Writer's Block. Sometimes there are pebbles or very small rocks. Sometimes there are caverns I cannot get to the back of, or canyons I cannot jump over quite yet. But this was a giant black wall that I could not climb. Having learned something about the writing process since I was eight I knew what I had to do. I set the story aside.

I even moved the story from my Serious Folder (the books I know I will finish) on my computer to my Idea folder. It felt like giving up, but I knew that one day - - One Day - - I would finish it.

Then a few days ago at dinner I finished eating my taco (so unrelated to my story. They don't have tacos in that world. They don't even have cows.) and quickly descended into Zombie Mode. I went downstairs and had to search desperately until I found it, buried within file folders (I have an obsession with file folders). I opened it up and read some to figure out where I was and I wrote, and I wrote.

The black wall was gone.

There is re-writing to be done. The Protagonist will probably have to be made younger, as it's more of a middle grade story than a young adult one (though it has some content, like people dying, that makes me uncertain). The beginning needs more work than a hurricaned beach house. My one character (Zing) desperately needs a new name. My eight year old self thought Zing was a great name, but my twenty-one year old self is not impressed.

I hope to finish at least the first draft of the story this year. I've been wanting to write a middle grade novel, and after reading a few dozen this past year I feel more confident in my ability.

It is so strangely peaceful to finally work on this book again. I have been waiting years and I cannot wait to see how it will finish out.

How 'bout you? Ever Re-Fallen in Love with a Story Idea? Ever had to take a break from a story, even if you Absolutely Loved it?

New Ideas and Stuff Like That

SO...

My job recently ended, since it was only a summer job. Now, for most people this wouldn't be the end of the world, but when I'm not in college (which I'm not because of issues with money and stuff) and don't have a job I Shut Down. I have no idea why. It's stupidness incarcerated. Wait. Incarnate. Something like that.

You are silly, and for that crime you will be Imprisoned Forever!!

BUT... In the mean time I have had some time to look over story stuff and figure out some pretty excited Plotness...

1) For Pixie Princess:

I wrote a story about a girl who lives with Dwarves, for the purpose of writing about Dwarves. (And don't you dare steal this idea, because I love my little Dwarves. They are so crazy interesting! Ahem. Anyway. None of my LamNams are thieves as far as I know, so I'm not really worried.)

This is the face of someone who's not worried.

No.

I'm serious.

Google says so, and Google never lies.

Anyway! When the story was just getting interesting I kick the main character out of the Dwarf-Land and make her go away. That's Stupid! So I decided I shouldn't do such a ridiculous thing. Which means I have to write like, a whole bunch. I'll probably end up doubling it in size. Which is good, because it was too short. But it's a little bit sad, because I thought I was Done, and it's in my Done folder, and now it's not. Fortunately, I love the story so it's not that big of a deal. Plus, it will make the whole idea So Much Better! Which is good.

Good - Like the Good Stuff

2) My friend is editing my book and got me back notes for the first 8 pages and I added another 1200 words or so, because I needed to add in a couple more scenes with Scotch at school. Plus, I might've killed someone. (Oh, yes. I was telling someone that and said "If you have a problem, just kill someone," and realized I forgot to qualify that statement. Only kill people if they're Not Real). It was all very exciting! And I think my story is so much better now. :) Yay!

And...

Loglines

The other day I was thinking about loglines for my story.

Yes, yes, I know I don't even have an agent yet. What's that? I'm not even published. Pshah. Whatever. I have way too much of Amarilla's personality running through me right now to worry about that. (No, she's not another personality of mine, she's a character so shut up. See?! I tell you, she's all over the place. I would never normally tell you to shut up, but there I did. Blah.)

So instead of trying to edit my book so I can query it. (Which, by the way, I am dying to do, because I just found the most amazing literary agency ever, and I am dying to query the one dude because he is awesomesauce, and I'm hoping desperately that he'll actually like my book. No. LOVE my book, and want to publish it all over the world, but I'm not ready yet, and I'm cursing that fact. Of course, I shouldn't be blogging, so that I can fix that problem, but, ah, well.)

Oh. I wrote a fragment up there, didn't I? Sorry about that. As I was saying, instead of trying to edit I was trying to come up with loglines. Most were stupid and pathetic, like this:

If you think being stalked is a fantastical dream of floating gossamer strands, try being followed by Obadiah spake-man, and you'll change your mind faster than it takes a potato to rot on a windowsill.

Or...

Scotch is a person, not an alcohol, and she does not like being stalked by Spakes, even if she needs on particular Spakes help, and even if without that one particular Spakes help, her two best friends will surely died a horrible, horrible DEATH!

Or...

Scotch and Obadiah are not in love, you freaks! ( <-- Scotch wrote that one herself. Or at least, she would've if she was real.)

Or...

Once upon a time there was a Spake, then Scotch came along, and the world ended. (Not only is this one awful, it's a lie)

Or...

Forget about peanut butter, Scotch and Obadiah end up in situations much stickier, and much less yummilicious.

Or...

Vampires are over-rated, and Spakes have never been written about, how many people can I offend in a one sentence, run-on, fragmentary, logline that doesn't make.

Or...

(my personal fav, as well as Amarilla's)

Scotch is being stalked (creep!) by a mythologically real creature (a Spake) and she needs to learn to trust him (yeah, right) before her friends are brutally wounded.

They are so much fun! But now I feel bad, because I really need to edit. *sigh* Fine, I'll go be boring. Have loads of fun without me, okay?

*scampers off*

*scampers back*

Here's PIE!

It's Pecan Pie CAKE! :D

*is famished*

*must eat*

Unicorn's and Feedback

So the other day for the first time in my life (kinda') someone other than family members read one of my stories and gave detailed feedback. It was actually kinda' funny, because he was so worried about offending me. I kept saying "it's okay, this is helpful, you're not being harsh, stop worrying or I'll slap you with a fish."

Fish slapped!

Most of the time when I give someone something I've mine to read they look at it, smile, and give it back saying "this is good." This is not helpful and will NOT help me become a better writer. In fact, it will just make me think I am a terrible writer, because I can only elicit that tiny amount of a response to you. It is #-5 on the excite-o-meter. For reals.

So when I gave my short story, Unicorn, to my friend I was expecting the same ol' "This is good" tripe. So I told him repeatedly: "Make marks! Tell me what's wrong! Please, please, please." And hallelujah, he did. I could have kissed a spork.

Mwah!

Even an evil spork with glowing blue eyes eating cookies.

Okay, so there's no cookies, but it wasn't my fault

Anyway, so it was really my first experience having someone tear apart my work line by line, showing me where I had succeeded, where I had completely failed, and where I could do better. I think that was the most interesting comment: "I know you can do better," and probably the most encouraging. Because this dude doesn't know me that well, but he could tell enough from my good part of the story that I could do better. Win! Hurrah! Hoorah! Huzzah!

And can I just say what a rush that was? I mean, afterwards when I actually had to start editing wasn't the greatest of excitement (#), but it wasn't the worst in the world. It kinda' gave me hope, because one of the things I worry about the most is having an editor tear my work apart, but there's a strange rush I got from having that done to my work. Knowing that before I was "uh, this is good" to "Man! My socks were knocked right off I think I'm going to pass out from sheer exhaustion of its super amazingness." Ahem. Or something along those lines.

Woo! Slap my foot, that's a good idea!