Selective Linear Thinking and Where I am on a Journey

I apologize for it being a while since my last post, but I'm going to get into why I've been out of the blogosphere for so long and then get into the main reason for this post; picking up where I left off with the status of Tempest Makers.

To be honest, I flaked out.

3 things happened.

One, I wanted to promote and self-publish by a certain date last year, and when that didn't happen I turned into a great big princess, took my toys and went home. I should have been looking at it from the perspective of an author and not attached to when and how it was published instead of purely (well, 98%) from the perspective of a tax write-off.

There's no passion in taxes.

All I had in my head were the words of the accountant. "If you have income from your writing, you can write off writing expenses." Writing income didn't show up and so no writing expenses to write off. After I stopped internally pouting and stomping I added up my writing expenses. They weren't really that high (Hell, they didn't even total $800).

So I got over myself.

Two, I reconnected with my writer friends at ConNooga this year. I have spent the last 3 years or so figuring out what I was going to do and how I was going to go about it. Between the 1^st year of recovering from the tons of information from the literary panels to finding a place within myself to do the work to be published, I appreciated that I understood the writers I admire had been where I am/was and were incredibly nice in answering my questions and giving advice. So this year I've recovered from my princess-drama wounds and I go to ConNooga. By the time the last day of Con rolls around I am reenergized and ready to self publish. Sitting in on panels and talking to a few writers, I have decided to speed up how I share this trilogy's universe to readers in simple and sincere ways.

The last thing that happened was during a conversation with my coaching accountability partner (I'm also a life and business coach). We were having a conversation about linear thinking. I felt rather boastful as I remarked how I just seem to not be stopped by things not happening a certain way because I've gotten use to things not happening in a 1-2-3 fashion. After the call, I realized I'd done the very thing I'd said I didn't do. But I don't come undone like that all the time.

I have selective linear thinking.

If I'm kind of neither-here-nor-there on something, and it's going 2-3-4-6 instead of 1-2-3-4-5, I'm not even fazed. But if it's something I've committed to, especially financially (I'm coming out of an ugly-bang phase with finances) or feel incredibly passionate about something and it take too long to get to 1 or the pace of going from 1 to 2 is "too slow" I tend to shut down.

I get it. I'm excited and I create this perfect scenario in my mind. But even I have to realize the Excitement Trains run on time to the Imagination Station of writing and not so much in the real world.

So after I got clear and re-energized, here we are.

And now to pick up where I left off.

The Apex Predatory Trilogy exists in an alternate-near-future universe. 

The first story, Tempest Makers, is set in the year 2030. Not only have we discovered we are not alone, but Earth has been inhabited by a race of beings known as Melovians for thousands of years. TM takes place after Earthlings and Melovians have discovered and returned to the Melovians' native planet. Think of Tempest Makers as if the characters and technology of James Cameron's Avatar landed on a less-hierarchical version of Arrakis (Frank Herbert's version of Dune not David Lynch's).

Michio Kaku's Physics of the Future heavily influenced what is going on technologically in trilogy. I also emailed my college Astronomy teacher, Physics professor Robert Marlowe at UT Chattanooga for questions on gravity, mass and other Astrophysics-type issues. I've never been committed to hard science, but I do want to have plausible suspension of disbelief with what I am writing.

Characters

I had a lot of fun coming up with names for my non-human characters. I have had the name "Ropo" on my brain since the 3^rd story in the trilogy was originally the 1^st story. As I began to flesh out TM as an anthology piece did Ropo (pronounced "Roh-poh") morph in Ropotoniskul ("Roh-poh-Tah-nish-kuhl) Mjodon (Myow-don).

Ropo was born and raised on Earth. Earth Melovian's physiology is different because of the difference in gravity, air quality and vegetation between the 2 planets (Melovia is a larger planet and has greater gravity). Ropo and his native Melovian kin have a reptilian appearance and both have 4 arms (Earth Melovians have hands. Native Melovians have claws.).

I would say that Ropo is learned but naïve.

Marcus Walkins is Ropo's human partner. Marcus is a little closer to being a warrior type to Ropo's paladin/knight. Marcus's fuse is shorter than Ropo's. The two have been on Melovia together for the past six months when the story begins.

I knew with a different world and how I wanted to pace the overall story arc, that this story would be relatively short. I've expanded it a little bit by adding 2 extra scenes (I'm working on the second one now).

My intention is to give you something to think about and I've always been a fan of thinking.

Have you had a "selective linear thinking" moment? What did you learn from it? Please leave a comment below.

A Call to Action, Or, The Phone Book Fairies

An interesting thing has occurred for me. Well, a couple of interesting things.

I've heard back from 2 of my beta readers about Tempest Makers. Some of the observations they've made have me thinking, "Huh. I hadn't thought of that." Which, one, is part of the point of having beta readers, and, two, helps me understand the hundreds of plays and stories discussed in classrooms where the author had a certain set of ideas in mind and the reader "found" a few more, new ideas.

I hadn't really thought of Tempest Makers as being "subtle." I just write what comes to my head and sort it all out until it makes sense. Maybe I'm not adding enough emotional meaning to get worked up over it, or maybe I'm tired of freaking out over writing and so I'm effortlessly channeling any anxiety into writing. <shrugs> I dunno.

As I got over the hump of putting Tempest Makers out into the light, more ideas keep knocking at my consciousness, as if they are the people who come to your house to deliver your phone book. You open your door and there sits a phone book [esoteric trivia about ancient customs deleted].

This morning, I woke up to an idea that wasn't words but imagines, and for the most part continues to be images. I run them back through my memory to make sure I remember enough to jot them down in my notebook or draw a picture. When my brain is happy the images and pictures are enough, the mute button is switched off and I can hear some dialog; some of it "coherent," some of it not, yet.

It reminds me of an essay Neil Gaiman wrote about being asked where he gets his ideas. The essay is in Writers Workshop of Science Fiction & Fantasy.

He says, "'I make them up,' I tell [people who ask]. 'Out of my head.'" He explains, "I don't know myself where the ideas come from, what makes them come, or whether one day they'll stop."

And you know, I think that makes absolute sense. I think if you have a spark of an idea, for me, it is the idea of Justice, and with a little bit of "glue and construction paper," and not stress over creating "something", your brain will have the space and power to come up with some pretty creative stuff.

I think the moral of this story is don't rush it. Have patience. A phone book will show up on your doorstep soon enough.

The Written Word, Or, Punctuation, Or, Unconscious Marketing

This post is quick.

I don't wish to point out a particular company (because that's not my point), but one commercial makes my husband laugh every time he sees it. Sure what's going on visually adds to the humor, but what really seals the deal on the guaranteed laugh is the speaker's inflection on a particular word. The emphasis of one word can turn a grown man into Pavlov's hyena.

My point is, to me, there is a certain level of immersion in commercials so subtle and unconscious, you don't realize you're drawn in until you're already in the middle (or at least somewhere off to the side). The same goes, I think, with great fiction, especially great dialog. The function of a word or phrase in italics, or a comma versus a period, or (Oh, dear, sweet baby Jesus) em dashes can convey who a character is and isn't and what a character says and doesn't say, are bigger deals than you may think. They border on the magical.

Great punctuation in dialog is like the Ninja Illuminati of Show/Don't Tell.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate and acknowledge Place and Time. I know Frodo can't travel a shopping mall in 1066 Europe to kiss Rapunzel and kill the dragon.* I think Dialog is the corset** that keeps the story from sagging to its knees while the strings of Setting keep the corset on.

See people. I can do descriptions.

*With the exception of fan fiction or a gaming mod.

**French for, "Great posture, but not allowed to breathe."

Reaching for Traction, Or, Red Staplers? I Didn't Get Any Memo about Red Staplers! Or, Catharsis

So this morning I happen to stumble upon an online discussion about the best way to blog (e.g., Blogger, WordPress, etc.). Many authors gave their 2 cents. I think the part that still continues to poke at my brain is the fact that there are SO MANY options with caveats. And while I am grateful for the choices (I consider myself progressive), I really just want to say, "You know what, people? I just want to freakin' write, okay? I just want to write my stories, publish them, so I can get them out of my head. I already feel like I'm in high heels* dancing backward and NOW you want me to wear a blindfold while wrestling a Komodo dragon?"** PFFT!

Freaking awesome.

My inner nonconformist is cheering me on and encouraging me to drink more coffee.

But I didn't go all ranty during the discussion. I shared my 2 cents and was grateful for all the new information.

More options. Noigitot.***

I don't consider myself a luddite, and even if I did, my husband's love of all things electronic would balance it out (He has a tablet I call "Second Wife." He's got a Kindle Paperwhite he occasionally sees on the side. I'm cool with it.)

Now that my "ranty" seems to have exhausted itself, I really have to acknowledge that adding social media to the mix pulls me out of my writing closet and exposes me to the sun. I see the logic in having a human presence as oppose to being "faceless" and hoping my disembodied awesomeness will draw worldwide readership. No. No, Ma'am. That dog don't hunt.

Noigitot, the hamster wheel that is my brain.

In the end this is really me struggling with feeling comfortable using social media to display my wares. I understand it on a lazy level (just enough to get by). I need to up my A-game so I don't feel like a freak when I post something. Weird form of self-therapy? Yep, I think so.

So this is your warning that you will "see" more of me in the future. It's fun working out my anxiety for all to see.

Maybe I am into exhibitionism after all.

*I do not own high heel shoes. My chiropractor would probably quit me.

**I wouldn't bet Vegas odds on me winning at Komodo dragon wrestling.

***Pronounced "Noy-gee-tot." I think it's a curse word I remember from watching "The Pirates of Dark Water." If "twerking" exists, I think "noigitot" should too. Just puttin' it out there, people. Don’t shoot the messenger. Also, as a child I slipped on black ice and hit my head so take that information for what you will.

Exposed (or Yes, that IS a trench coat and, Yes, I am dressed underneath)

I'm waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

I'm learning to be okay with my fears in regard to letting people other than people I know read my work.
The thought of that feels like standing naked in a spotlight, at night, in a cold, wet drizzle, with a slight breeze, in front of an old brown brick wall (No, I don't know why a brown brick wall, I'm just going with what my brain is projecting)... and it's muddy. Not standing-in-puddles muddy, but that kind of muddy where you think to yourself, "Hey, that look like the consistency of face-mask mud." Instead of rifles just out of line of sight, there are people (with my face, I'm sure of it) waiting to jeer in all the colorful ways people jeer when they read bad fiction.

Defensive humor, don't fail me now.

It feels like I'm running from a saber-tooth tiger.
When I read the critiques from my writing group I was grateful for the points they made, but it felt like a rabid woolly mammoth, foaming at the mouth, joined the chase (I like to be chronologically correct when I'm half-wake and over exaggerating.)

Most of my waking life I've been an editor, so I'm usually at the receiving end (how appropriate) of manuscripts that (hopefully) have been through all of this; The plot holes mostly filled, grammar and punctuation have been sorted out, adverbs and passive voice have been kept to a minimum, consistencies are consistent, etc. But there is something to be said when you've been immersed so much in your own story, that even though you're grateful for another set or 3 of eyes pointing out the obvious abysses in your story, there is an irrational bit of your brain that thinks, "I really wish humans were more in tune with this whole mind-meld thing. It'd make my life easier." But that's lazy and not really a lot of fun.

So as the coffee begins to take effect and my humorous nature throws a house coat in my general muddy direction, I will pull up my big-girl panties (comfy working undies), turn on some writing music, and get to work.

Avalanche

I'm going to publish my first manuscript early next year. So you're maybe thinking to yourself, "So. Yeah. That's great." For me and many other 1^st-time publishing writers, that's a really big deal.

I remember transcribing for a project and the interviewee talked about how after he wrote and published his first book, the other dozen books just flew out of his head (Okay, he may have said half a dozen books and he may have also said something a little less poetic than "flew out of his head.").

If I was taking the coward's way out, I'd have quite a list of reasons not to write at all (especially with everything going on this year), much less actually have the gall to think I'm going to publish anything. But to be perfectly honest, I'm done being a coward, or more specifically, I'm done creating and living off excuse after excuse as to why I can't do or be or have ____________. I have all around me personal, professional, and spiritual examples of pressing on in the face of less-than-ideal circumstances and not only did they survive and thrive, but their contributions are an avalanche of inspiration for so many.

I've had a lot of fun sharing my stories with the writing group helping me polish my works. I appreciate their input and I am glad when I recognize my ego being an Ego. I'm grateful for the surge of energy that comes from feeling unstuck after I get back a critique.

So my Avalanche of Appreciation is to all who are not perfect and know they are not perfect, and embrace their imperfections. We still trudge on anyway.