In sunshine or in shadow

Random quote of the day:


“The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."

—Carlos Castaneda, Journey to Ixtlan




I've put the following behind a cut in case you'd rather take the quote as it is without listening to my thoughts on Castaneda.

( Unsolicited opinion. )

(Thanks to inkbabies for reminding me of this quote. It's true, no matter what else Castaneda may be.)




( Illustrated version. )

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

An anticipation of spring

The novel has been moving along since I allowed the POV shift. I knew Ramona, the character I shifted to late in the novel, would have a great deal to say, and she does. Getting her to shut up again so I can write the climax from the original narrators' points of view will be tough. As with everything she's ever been in, she wants to take over.

Which makes me worry that once again I'm writing two climaxes and dei ex machina are blooming all over the place. Because Ramona has escaped my leash and headed off across the landscape. I'm willing to let her run a bit because she might tell me something I need to know, but this novel already feels like a Mulligan stew. I don't need any more ingredients or it's going to wind up tasting vile.

At least I've reestablished regular, daily writing sessions. This block—or whatever I've been going through—has wreaked havoc with my routines. I used to be a regular writing machine, doing my daily count day after week after month after year. They were never huge word counts, an average of three pages a day, but they were steady. Brick by brick to git 'er done.

I recently came across an old journal (I'm slowly digitizing them as well as my old files). It happened to be the one I kept in the year following my dad's death, which was also (not coincidentally, I think) when my worst writers' block ended. That block went on for nearly five years and was excruciating, but there's nothing like a crisis to remind one of the shortness of life and need to get one off one's a**. Writing became my pressure value in that terrible year. My escape, too.

I began by dabbling in occult things: rune readings, tarot, etc., listening for answers that existed inside me but that I couldn't hear through the white noise of grief and confusion. Then I began writing poetry. Next came erratic spurts of writing fanfiction for X-Files and Forever Knight, which led to long discussions with fellow members of the X-Files and Forever Knight lists I belonged to regarding the nature of vampirism. And then came The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron which opened me up to a daily routine and to giving myself permission to be whatever I needed to be, artistically speaking. After that I began to apply the things I'd been learning and doing, and started making up my own characters and universes. Next came my first vampire novel, Blood Geek. I haven't had a bad case of writers' block since.

Well, until now. But this one wasn't nearly as severe as that and may have been fed by bad body chemistry. Whatever, it seems to be thawing. I see signs of spring. Although I'm a little superstitious about stating that openly, I think it's going to stick. No fanfiction or occult readings led me through this time, but there was poetry. It's either all uphill or downhill from there, depending on your perspective.