Growing Up is Underrated

When I was a kid, I was hardly one to wish I was older.  I never dreamed of taking on the world at an age older than I was.  Life as it was seemed just enough.  Of course, the simplicity of childhood is like a dream that we spend most of our lives remembering fondly once responsibility has decided to take hold of us.  For me, the first step along that dreaded path was when I was nine.  The next, when I turned fourteen.  While it might be common practice to share everything on the internet, there are still parts of my life that I feel are private.  As such, the events that led me down a somber, responsible path will remain known to me and a select few people.  However, having spent more than enough time depressing my readers, I'll move on to the whole point of my latest ramblings.

For those of us who have shouldered responsibility for most of our lives, there is a time when one might start to feel like that is all we have.  I know for me, the years between turning fourteen and halfway to eighteen felt like the world had fallen upon my shoulders.  I lost almost all traces of the child I was.  I still read books, I have never not read books, but the spark within me that had once led at the young age of six to writing stories, was dimmed to the point of absence.  The only pleasure in writing to be found was in the assignments that were given out by my English teachers, mainly Mr. Canode.  Every once in awhile a story would pop in and consume me, but they were mere wisps of what could be, and they were easily enough satisfied.

The winter of my seventeenth year, I had an epiphany.  I cannot affix on the moment or the catalyst, but I realized in short succession that I had been burying myself for far too long.  I had to break free, to be able to embrace just what it was I could do.  That was the beginning of what would become this passion that now consumes me on a rather regular basis.  

However, the years of repression were not without their effects.  I started many stories that had been building in my mind, but until I was twenty, never finished.  Then, through sheer perseverance, an idea finally came to fruition in its entirety.  It was a ghost of what I had originally imagined, but it was complete, and that was the most important part.  When something like NaNoWriMo stresses to let your inner editor lie quiet while you just get that rough draft done, there is a very good reason for this.  After that, I finally found what had been missing, and I could embrace the wild side of me to let out story after story.  

This might sound dull, perhaps a little trite, but the single most important factor I have found to continue to write has been a new found love of childish things.  I buy My Little Pony toys (preferably those that still look like ponies), Disney Princess pencils, and I never miss an animated film with a happy ending.  But that was exactly what had been missing for so long, my inner child.  By embracing her proudly, I can now write the stories that fill my head, and I can smile about it all again.  After all, it's hard to take life too seriously when you're playing with your ponies.

For all those who have felt a need to break free from the day to day grind of life, try watching something quaint, colorful, and, most importantly, with a happy ending.  You might just find what you've been missing, too.  And always remember:

Until next time...

L.E. Gibler

Warm Fuzzies

In the realm of writers everywhere, we all know the feeling when a story just isn't going according to plan.  Some might call it writer's block.  I call it limbo. 

Now it is completely and totally reasonable to dislike and even fear writer's block. It's a crimp on stories begging to be written.  It sometimes feels like an itch you can't scratch.  But there is one silver lining to having it, and that is getting over it.  There is truly nothing more buoyant in my writing then when I had to gut out a tough section only to feel the story course through my veins and out through my fingertips once more.

There is no real, fail-safe cure for writer's block.  Most people who are writers, or read about writers, or just read, will tell those struggling to just write.  Write everyday.  As I've said in previous posts, I am a fan of letting things come to you.  If I am not feeling what I'm writing, it doesn't matter how many times I try and write to finish a thought, a sentence, an entire story.  If I'm not on the same page as my characters, I am wasting all our time on forcing issues.  Here are a few suggestions I have for anyone facing this problem that just feels like they've been banging their head against a brick wall for weeks.

1.  Write.  This may sound a bit hypocritical, but I am all for the idea that there is no ONE right answer.  There are many.  There can be wrong answers, but how we perceive the world will vary how we perceive an answer.  So, in the spirit of keeping an open mind, try to write.  It clearly works for a great many people.

2. Don't write.  Give up, put it in the bag, and tell your grandchildren that you once had a great idea for a novel.  This is, clearly, a terrible idea.  I don't recommend trying it.

3. Take a break.  But at the same time, keep your story close.  When I'm faced with an impasse, I like to jot down where I am in the story, where I think I'm going, and then I carry around a journal with me for however long it takes to get points a & b to meet.  Sometimes, I won't lie, this will take years.  Other times, it happens when I'm trying to go to sleep at night.  However, the point here is that it happens.

With NaNoWriMo half way over, it can be a time of severe writer's block followed by a touch of panic.  For this unique situation, I offer one more opportunity for those of us who are fiercely competitive.  We may be introverts, but that doesn't mean we still don't want to win at just about anything.  So try a NaNo word sprint.  And even if it crap, and you don't use it, set the goal that you're going to write more words than someone.  Doesn't matter who.  After all, this is a friendly competition.  Save all the rest of that pent up desire to crush opponents for the holidays shopping.  Spoiler: it's upon us now.

GOOD LUCK to everyone participating in NaNoWriMo this year.  I'm such a masochist that I'm working to finish story number two.  

Until next time...

Just Like Tea

Every writer has an opinion on how to write, and many who never put pen to paper to create stories have a few things to say as well.  The most common theme shared again and again is that you must write all the time, even if you don't feel like it.  Well, I'm here today to share my own opinion, which is to let your ideas percolate.

Very few people in this world are ever blessed with the opportunity to let their passion for the written word dictate their life.  Most of us have a plethora of ideas swirling around, but we must find time around the mundane world, to steal a phrase from the Society for Creative Anachronism.  For those of us who write when we can, the ideas don't stop coming just because we work.  They come to us at work, on the drive home, or even just before we fall asleep.  If we wrote every time an idea came to us we'd possibly lose our jobs, drive off the road, never sleep, or all of the above.  Now, I hate any sort of didactic statement.  If writing a little bit every day works for you, write a little bit every day!  I just want to put out the idea that sometimes writing can be like making a cup of tea.

For those participating in NaNoWriMo, you might have noticed that there is a badge if you manage to write for five days in a row.  I'm a highly competitive person.  Just last night, when I found someone in my region was beating me on the word count - something I was no accustomed to - I set about to go from roughly 3000 words to 10,000.  I came up with a rush of 7000 words last night, but that sort of explosion would not have been possible if I hadn't let the ideas of the day before seep.  Again, the competitive spirit means that I did put a few words into my story Monday night, but even I knew I was cheating a bit.  They were necessary words, and a scrap of conversation that would lead to a chapter, but I wasn't writing to create, I was writing to simply write.  However, I knew well enough that the trick was to let those few words set for a day.  Sure enough, as I was falling asleep that night, it came to me - how I needed to move the story forward.  For once, I was able to have a light bulb moment and go back to sleep.  But if i had continued to force the story from where it was, I would never have known just where I needed to go.  

So my one small conclusion is for those of you out there who find that writing everyday sometimes just feels a little bit wrong. That's okay too!  If the story feels forced, it will be forced.  Instead, think about it for a night.  Feel around like looking for a sore tooth.  What is wrong and what is right in a story will come to you, but it cannot always be forced.  For what it is worth, I support you fully if you decide not to write today.  But don't let your ideas die or wander off.  Keep them close, and they will become the perfect cup of tea.

Until next time...

So Life Goes...

I'm relatively positive that I am not alone in wanting to shoot a computer, throw it out a ten story building, run over it with a car, or all of the above.  I've often thought of taking annoying computers and putting a "Free to Good Home" sign on them, but there is far too much sensitive data floating around in the world to risk it.  However, late last night, I was more than happy to have let someone have my old woolly mammoth.  

(My ancient laptop, which has been with me since I graduated high school, was so obsolete that no one else would touch it.  I adopted it fully, called it a dinosaur, and used it to write stories - with Microsoft Word 2001 - and watch movies.  Then, sadly, it's charger died and I was left without my dinosaur.  Enter the woolly mammoth, again, a device no one wanted, but my needs are relatively minor when it comes to computers.  I need Microsoft Office, and that's about it.  The ability to listen to music is a bonus, but I am not so picky as to need the internet.)

Jackie (my good friend and constant motivator for all things book related) and I had decided that my first book about vampires HAD to be ready for release on Halloween.  Somehow, around a full time job, a part time job teaching therapeutic horseback riding and an even more part time job just teaching horseback lessons, owning an entire herd myself and trying to cram for NaNoWriMo, I had to push to get in an entire book worth of edits by October 29th.  I'd paced myself early in the day, managed five chapters before work, and was well over half way through my latest book when the woolly mammoth decided to fail me.  It not only failed to save changes, it lost the file completely.  An entire book was lost to the unknown void that is my old computer.  I won't lie, I was in tears.  I wanted to break something, tear out wires, and baseball bats were sounding appealing.  But, for once, I didn't want to give up.  I had set a deadline, and I was going to make that deadline.

Fast forward four hours and three computers later, and I had done what I needed to do.  At one in the morning, slightly woozy from a lack of sleep and the remnants of the 48 hour flu, I could safely say I'd accomplished what I set out to do.  I went to sleep, resting on my laurels.

At eight this morning, I received word that the formatting was approved, and I was in the clear.  All I had left to do was proof the bare necessities before clicking that fateful button that would allow me to share my hard work with the world.  I suppose I should be happy that I thought to check one last time, for there, right smack dab on the cover, was a change I had missed.  Bear in mind, I was noticing this after I got home from work, through a sleep deprivation induced headache.  Now, I'm left wondering if I'm too late.  If all that crazy scrambling with one lone goal was for naught.  And the worst part is, I now have five hours to think about it.  To think, wonder, hope and fear.  

I suppose the moral of this story might be to get a new computer.  It's a nice moral, but not what I had in mind.  Someday, as Jackie pointed out, I will look back and laugh at what I have to deal with, but for now, it is what it is.  I choose, instead, to see this as a lesson in perseverance.  If I had given up the first time a computer crashed on me, I would never have finished my senior research paper.  I would never have finished my first published novel, The Other Side of the Looking Glass, and I'd be left with an unfinished book and absolutely no chance of a Halloween release for First Bite.  I guess, then, I've given it everything I have.  For now, I'll just continue to wait.  And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a little bit of luck at the end of it all.

For what it's worth, I can hope that by knowing of my difficulties, others might find some solace in similarity.  With NaNoWriMo quite literally only a day and a half away, perseverance is one of the greatest qualities anyone can have.

Keep rambling on...

L.E. Gibler


P.S. A link to First Bite will appear if the writing world is kind tonight..