Today was supposed to be a day off from writing. Whoops. I started my day with a ‘naughty breakfast.’ Not naughty like a lot of calories, and not naughty like sexy. Or naughty like the actual meaning of the word. It was naughty because it was non-breakfast-like. Pasta and sun-dried tomatoes and the like.
Again, I blame the fast.
It is a cold cold day here on the North Shore. The perfect day for a little Zombie Spaceship Wasteland by Patton Oswalt. It is as hilarious as you imagine. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to take breaks for fits of laughter during a book. Not the “lol” kind, but honest-to-God, tears-streaming-from-my-eyes guffaws.
A lot of the reviews call it “vulnerable.” I think that’s a really nice compliment to a writer. One of the biggest tasks for a writer is to convey emotion. It doesn’t matter how cool your plot is, if you can’t convey real feeling–why write it?
Says the amateur writer.
I wonder who the first critic was that called Oswalt’s writing vulnerable, and how many just latched onto the word for their review?
I feel like I should write a memoir. Probably don’t need to, but reading one makes me want to write one. Then I realize my blog is pretty much a day-to-day, instantly-self-publishing memoir and I don’t see the point. I’ll stick to my fake memoir. Is a ‘fictional memoir’ an actual genre? Either way, that’s what I’m writing.
Speaking of, revising Coming of Mage has proven less daunting than I thought it would be. In fact, it’s–dare I say–fun. What I had in the first novella was a very stripped-down, concise outline of the action of the main plot. Which, for me anyway, is the hardest part. The beginning, middle, and end. The mystery and the action. But now I get to go back and inject all the little subtleties, the drama; the human side of the fantasy.
There will be plenty of new stuff. Another side plot, more magic, and more 80s. A new ending.
I will deliver.
I checked last night to make sure CoM was officially off the e-market. It is. Feels strange. If it doesn’t lead to a book deal–then what was the point of pulling it? That’s my only concern. I know it’s a lot to ask for a first-timer, but it was all I had. And believe it or not, I liked having my name out there.
Stay positive. That’s the new thing.
But I feel like bad luck still looms over me. Although last night, a fellow server said something very insightful to me. It all began with my fear of getting glasses. I fret that I will go in and they will discover some inoperable brain tumor or incurable disease just from an eye exam and then this will lead to a downward spiral as I try and enjoy my last few months of life. I realize it’s a stretch, but nobody said I was perfectly sound upstairs.
Anyway, in a rare moment of honesty, I told this to her. She said I was crazy. I replied, “Yeah, but with my luck…”
Then she asked:
“How many bones have you broken?”
“How many surgeries have you had?”
“How many painkillers have you had prescribed?”
“How many potentially deadly disorders have you incurred?”
The answer to all these was none. Have I been thinking I have bad luck this whole time for no reason? I’ve skated by pretty well so–what? Has my scope of ‘tragedy’ become horribly narrow? The very thing I accuse people of might now be my biggest pitfall.
So….stay positive. Or rather, stay staying positive. And try not to assume the jinx is coming. I think the greatest thing that has held me back in life has been assuming things won’t pan out, or that my plans will never work.
I guess, in short, that my biggest roadblock is my fear.
“Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”
That was Yoda outlining the path to the Dark Side. I don’t want to join the Dark Side. I don’t care whether or not they have cookies, Bumper Sticker.
Stay positive. Stay focused. Do or do not, there is no try.
Be fearless. Well…have less fear than before.