Why I Write: Part I

For the last few months, nearly a year in fact, I've been struggling like I never have before with my writing.  The months spent buried in my homework made sense.  I had to prioritize, and with three jobs and full time academics, my writing had to take a back seat.  However, I've had two months of "freedom" so to speak, and I have slowly come the realization that I am not making the progress I should be.  I've started three stories, finished none, and am currently staring at my open document in a desperate need to come up with a paltry 1,292 words to make my evening goal.  With my current struggles, I've had to open up a great many doors in my dark, twisted mind, and it hasn't been a comforting find.  This leads me to today: to the need to realign with why I write.  This is part one, and I've decided I'll just have to keep coming back until I can get myself back on track.

I remember the exact reason why I wrote my first story.  It was because I didn't like the way a series I had read ended, so I wrote similar characters, but of my own creation, and ended it the way I thought it should.  Oddly enough, that story has morphed over the years to deviate from my original intention, but that was truly what moved me out of the realm of a few short stories with more beginnings than endings, and into the world of a writer.  I was eleven.  Now, nearly twenty years later, I have a library full of stories - characters of my imagination inspired by a variety of reasons who insisted on having their stories told.  In a way, I echoed the words of Toni Morrison and started as a writer because I wanted to read the tales of my own characters.

For so long, writer and creations were separate.  In a way, my characters were like the monster and I was Dr. Frankenstein (no - it's pronounced Igor...but I digress).  But that all changed last September when I lost one of my dearest friends.  Suddenly, my outlets became personal.  I was no longer Frankenstein, but instead Dr. Jekyll and my Mr. Hydes have been less than cooperative.  I had to deal with decades of repressed emotions through the only outlet I had available - writing.  Creating Summer's Boys was painful, but beautiful - and taught me more about myself than I had known.  However, it's the middle of July now, and I find that I haven't moved on like I should have.  I still struggle to keep the bleeding of creator and creation separate.  Additional personal loss hasn't helped matters either.  I woke up, quite literally in the middle of night recently and realized that it didn't matter what happened to me personally with those I've loved, I owed it to my current character to finish her story.  She was not a part of me.  I was a part of her.  So here I sit, working up the long uphill battle towards finding that balance again.  I can only hope that my writing will benefit, but I know I have a long way yet to go.

In the end, I hope that anyone who might read this will understand the feeling - that maybe you might share a touch of my suffering - and possibly, we might start that slow slog up the steep slope together.  Until we meet again...

Write On
L.E.

Halfway there = Time for a detour

I was all prepared this year to actually suffer through a Camp NaNoWriMo. I had a great idea, even if it was just in its infancy.  I thought I had set my standards sufficiently low enough: just get to 10,000 words and call it good - just in time to finish college finals.  No one said it was a good idea, but it was mine, and I'll be the first to admit it failed.  I managed a little of 2000 words and then got lost.

I've discussed before how I feel that the obsession with "writing every day" is the best philosophy.  Trust me, I completely understand how the stress of life can eat at you from just about every direction.  However, I will say that the concept of editing a crappy page is easier than a blank one works wonders on research papers...

Anyway, I digress.  The fact of the matter is here it is May.  Finals are over.  Camp NaNoWriMo is over.  I didn't succeed, and somewhere in-between trying to start a new idea that I love and standing (or sitting) where I am now, I got lost on a detour of unfinished stories.

I've never been able to determine why some ideas stick with me like a nagging toothache - to where I can't put them aside until they are finished.  Then there are those that woke me in the middle of the night, forced me to pour out over 5000 words in a single sitting, and then sat in a corner waiting...and waiting.  With an entire summer break ahead of me, I had a plan, I was prepared to plot my way through the more completed ideas running amok in my head (even my characters are on summer break, apparently), but if there is one thing I've learned about writing, it is simply to never plan anything.  My characters all have minds of their own, and the sooner I realize that, the happier we will all be.  One can hope.  Let's hope this plan works out better than the last.

Anyone out there with a similar tale?  How many unfinished stories do you have haunting the cobwebs of your mind?  I think I'll count and get back to you.

-L.E.

Exaggeration as a Truth

So often, we say things that are only half truths, or based on a truth and then built upon.  We often say these things to convey a point or to share humor.  But sometimes, the point they convey makes them feel so very, very real.

It might be seen as some as an exaggeration to say that I would die if I couldn't write.  But as of late, I have begun to truly feel that way.  And it has nothing to do with actual death.  There has been enough of that in my life lately to not want to exaggerate in such a way.  At the same time, there are ways to die on the inside.  I have twice felt that way, where nothing else in this world mattered.  All emotions were shut down, there was nothing worth feeling.  As my farrier told me the second time it happened, my "give a damn" was broken.  

With the loss of one of my best friends, and the very best human being I have ever known, there has been a wrenching sort of grief that continues to threaten to consume me.  I feel this consuming passion to put my agony in words, but life has been holding me back.  There is simply too much going on to take the time to let my heart bleed onto paper, and as a result, every day feels a little bit duller.  And yet the wrenching pain remains.  To start the healing process, I need to write, because to write is to start to heal my soul.  My heart will take longer, and for some reason the two are never on the same page.  But without one, the other is utterly miserable, and neither can start to find peace in the wrinkles thrown into life.

And so that brings me back to my point of the day.  Sometimes the words we say, like "I would die if I couldn't write" are not so much an exaggeration as a truth.  Sometimes our emotional well being is tied into one thing, in this case, the written word.  Sometimes, an exaggeration that might seem a bit ridiculous, speaks more than simple words ever could.

-L.E.

When a Passion Becomes a Curse

Most writers suffer writer's block at some point along the way.  While this isn't my greatest issue when it comes to writing, the feeling is the same.  We writers have a grand passion for the stories we want to share, and when we can't do what we love with all of our souls, we suffer.  The darkness that resides in the mind of most writers is often a source of inspiration.  We can draw upon that dark pit that would otherwise eat us from the inside when we need to evoke pain, loss, and sometimes even joy in our words.  We keep the darkness from spreading by writing - and it might be a delicate balance, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

What happens, then, if a writer can't write?  Does the black abyss slowly start to eat away at us, do we fall prey to the darkness that we also secretly crave?  

Well, I don't speak for everyone, only myself, but I can safely say that on a day-to-day basis, I survive.  It is only when I have a moment that I realize how massive the darkness become, how it has seeped into more than just one part of me.  My conundrum now is not only how to keep it in check, to feed the beast as it were, but also how to make it work to my advantage.  

Never, in all my thirty years, have I hated writing as much as I do right now.  This isn't to say I have started to hate my creations - I love them now more than ever.  The less time I am allowed to spend with my literary friends, the more dear they become.  No, my issue now is a horrid college class.  English taught by an engineer is an oxymoron, and torture to an artist.  Anytime I try to let my passion eke out and splash a page, I am eviscerated in the grading.  And yet...I cannot bring my wild, writer's soul in check for the whims of one narrow minded man.  I am now left trying to salvage the raw wounds left from too long spent from what I love, all the while weaving an essay of supreme effort that can satisfy me enough to move one.  Because I have to move on, and I don't mean passing the class.  A year from now, ten years from now, the class will be a memory, but I will still be a writer.  And that is why this grand passion can also be a curse.  It never truly leaves us, but at times, it can be overpowering, and there is nothing to be done but survive.

L.E.

Top 10 Things I Just Learned About My MacBook

This is the first entry in what will, no doubt, be along, winding path as I work to familiarize myself with my MacBook Pro.  Having never really worked with Macs (at least not since public schools), this will take awhile.  In the meantime, for those who are similarly struggling, here are the Top Ten facts I have learned this week.  They might seem incredibly simple, but for anyone who has similarly made the transition, you'd be surprised what becomes alien so quickly after a lifetime of learned behavior with the rest of the computer world.

#1. The internet screen can be minimized, closed, and enlarged by the three colored bubbles on the LEFT side of the window.  Mind blowing, honestly.

#2. CTRL C is no longer the way to copy something.  Instead, it's the key with the apple on it and then the same letters as before.  

#3. On the MacBook at least, the scroll bar was not available when the internet was open unless I hovered over it.  To fix this, I had to go the System Preferences (found either at the bottom with the gear icon or at the top under the Apple icon)

#4. That System Preferences will become your best friend on that first day.  The sound, the mouse control, etc are all found there.

#5.  Speaking of mouse control, there is no right click on this MacBook Pro.  The solution?  Apparently, if you hold two fingers on the mouse pad.  Who thinks of these things?  Thank goodness for Google.

#6. What can and cannot be moved to the trash is really trial and error - but mainly error.  There is a nifty additional option to see what you can do by holding the mouse down while over the icon.  If it doesn't want to leave the task bar, then it won't be an option.  Then System Preferences comes back to hold you hand.

#7. Nifty trick: If you save an image to your desktop, you can simply drag it into your blogs.  Like so:

#8. Chrome is incredibly picky about being closed.  On every other computer I've ever used, I just closed it out with the lovely little "x" in the right hand corner.  Now, it appears, that I have to close it with the left bubbles, but also to go to the top of the screen under Chrome and select Close.  

#9. There's intuition, and then there's learning a new computer.  This is not an intuitive experience.  This is a hunt and peck experience.  It's like watching someone try to type on a reverse keyboard. Only worse.

#10. Last thought of the day: Take it slow.  Nothing is going to make sense.  Nothing at all.  I'm having to get used to this, but it's actually kind of fun.  

I'll see what nifty tricks of the Mac universe I can pass on for next week.  Until then...


L.E.

Something New...

And what else would be new?  Over the course of this blog, I have written about horses, start up enterprises, writing, and even Smart Cars.  So, one might ask, what possible reason could I have to swtich strides yet again?

I've decided to stay pretty near to just writing on this blog from here on out.  I'll make detours (see the blog on off roading Smart Cars - literally a detour).  And with that in mind, the following posts will be geared from a writer's standpoint. 

I am a writer who has grown up on Microsoft Office, specifically Word.  I feel vaguely apprehensive when I have to work in different programs.  Word is what I know and what I'm comfortable.  Being a strong Microsoft person, I have had little interaction with anything Apple since I was in high school.  (For the great unknowing public, that was 12 years ago - I have officially hit 30).  Being back in school (nearly done with my AA - now exploring a Masters program after my BA...so basically two years down, three to go if I'm lucky), I found myself in a small conundrum.  I have a family computer, but I don't have a great deal of time to use it other than late at night and a laptop that doesn't always want to turn on.  I suppose this makes me sound a little bit shallow.  Here I have a computer and a laptop, but I'm embarrassed by how slow it moves.  Other people less fortunate than me don't have laptops, and rely on public computers.  I get that.  I do; I really, really do.  For me, however, it is an inconvenience that I had put on my radar to remedy.  My goal was to have a laptop that I could use once I started my Junior year at WSU.  

Playing on the fact that there are many without computers, I'm sure most of the world is well aware that they are not cheap.  A well functioning laptop that can last is even less so.  My parents looked for me right around my momentous birthday, but nothing worked out.  It had been pushed by my family to become a graduation present (graduation with my AA, not my BA).  Then something truly remarkable happened.

The general manager at my job quite literally came up to me this week and asked, point blank, "Do you want a laptop?"  He then handed me his MacBook Pro.  I was a little too startled to fully grasp what had happened, and then he showed me the battery that had completely imploded.  He told me it was still perfectly good to work with as long as it was plugged in, and that was an end to that.  I did, somewhat hesitantly, ask him a little later if this was to be for work only or if it was just mine.  The answer, well, let's just say this has been a week of miracles.

And so, let me pause to say a huge thank you to my manager, Tim.  This is amazing, and words don't really do justice.  I have a MacBook that looks to carry me through college.  Truly, three days later and I'm still a little bit speechless.

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, but as I mentioned, my experience with Apple products is severely limited.  Like any true child with a new toy, I powered on the laptop at work just to see if it functioned.  (A reasonable thing to do, right?)  It did, but I had not idea how to move around in it.  My coworker had to explain that the enlarge and minimize my screen, I needed to look on the LEFT side of the screen, not the right.  When I took my prize home, I spent my evening learning the bare essentials, like where the mute button was.

Now, to end all my rambling, I have given an overview of where I am going.  I am going to write, in the simplest form possible, how to survive a transition from Microsoft/Android based systems to Apple.  And I will dial it down to as short an answer as I am capable in the hopes that if anyone out there has a similar problem, they can check out a blog or two and find out that to right click your mouse, you have to put two fingers on the mouse pad.  Honestly, who thinks of this stuff?  

Anyway, I'm off to skim MacBook for Dummies and wrap my head around this wonderful, baffling addition to my life.  Stay tuned.

L.E.

(Just because no post is complete without a picture)

What If? (two of the most terrifying words imaginable)

Such a small word.  So simple in its appearance.  And yet so very, very daunting.

 What if I were to give up everything to pursue a passion?  
What if I were to tell a certain man how I feel? 
What if the world we create is simply a fantasy?

There are hundreds of writing prompts out there to jog the imagination down the marvelous paths and tunnels and waterfalls of the written world.  What exists with far less frequency are prompts to write nonfiction.  There is now a delightful phrase: creative nonfiction.  But for the life of me, I still struggle to grasp what it means.

For the longest time, I kept my passion for the written word to myself and my very, very closest friends and family.  Now, however, I am being asked to do something more.  I am being asked to share with others what I do, what I have, a time or two, been paid to do, and what, at times, I can be quite good at.

I am a writer.

Unfortunately, the caveat that comes with that bold statement is that I am a fiction writer.  As an only child, I was creating stories in my head long before I ever put them to paper, but for all that, now I must figure out how to turn a grand passion into a tool to be used at work.  Rarely have I felt so ill adept to the task at hand.  Now I must learn a new task, a new trade, and one I have very little experience in.  Now I must learn to write what is fact, with only the faint flourish of an artist's touch to help me along.

If I must first walk before I can run, then the problem becomes: how on earth do I learn to walk?  I am a writer, but my preferred medium is fantasy, with the occasional historical piece.  How on earth am I supposed to take that and turn it into something completely different?  I look at the task before me and feel that I am being tasked to turn straw into gold.

For anyone else out there who has faced a similar road, please share any insights.  I feel that I'm walking this road alone for a time, and while I am anticipating new opportunities to stretch my own limits, it does not mean I won't long for my comfort zone.  In the meantime, what insights I find, I will happily share, in the hopes that maybe someone might do the same for me.

Having expressed enough to feel a small burden relived, I shall now go back to homework, with the barest hint of contemplation for the daunting road ahead.

Rambling, but with a new direction now...
L.E.

Life 1: Writing 0

Writing is so much more than simply putting pen to paper or typing up a document.  It comes from our hearts and our souls.  But sometimes life steps in and we simply cannot express what we hold within.

I have found from a personal stand point that when I am stressed, I can't write.  Well, I can, but even when I'm with my characters, all I can dwell on is what could go wrong around me.  This is for those situations where there is no right answer.  When I'm stressed about issues that there is a set ending, I can still write.  In fact, my characters offer me shelter from the world around, but not this time.


Being a full time employee, a full time student, a writer (which, for those of you who write know it never really shuts off), and a part time riding instructor doesn't leave much time to do anything other than pack in a full schedule.  This week, with a statistics exam, I knew my ability to write was going to be limited, and I had a mental countdown for when it would all be over and I could write again.  That countdown was over Thursday night, but here it is Saturday morning and the only things I've written is this blog and a handful of necessary emails.  

By now, the creativity in my brain should be fit to burst.  The story that sits just behind my every conscious thought should be ready to come flying out, but I have the sinking feeling that if the starting gates were to open now, I'd be left standing.

And so we circle back to stress, that horrible thing that never really leaves us.  Stress about work, stress about money, stress about the current state of the economy or the potential presidential candidates.  Stress is everywhere.  This week's edition, though, is one instance that I cannot rationalize a way around, and I know full well that I cannot solve it in a way to make everyone happy.  That, to me, is the very worst.

One of my many commitments is to a therapeutic riding organization, where every spring and fall I work with kids with disabilities to introduce the wonder of horses to them.  This year, with the aforementioned schedule, I cannot carry through on all of my commitments and the stability of maintaining my job has to have precedence over everything else.  If, say, Monday morning I received a wonderful book offer, I might be able to have more flexibility, but let's be honest... And so I'm stuck here, knowing that what I have decided is the best for me, and, by extension, the least painful solution for everyone involved.  At the same time, however, no one can be happy.  And until there is some resolution, my stories will stay trapped within, waiting for this storm to finish.  Only then can we all come back to play.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I feel that this week's blog needs to start with that thought, because it has been a defining one for me this week.  

When comparing my two great passions in life, horses and writing, I once foolishly thought that horses would win every single time.  My thinking went something like: I don't have to write my stories to know how they end.  Right...

Now in the past, I have been a firm advocate for writing your own way.  Don't write my way (why would you?  It's a recipe for insanity), don't write the exact way Stephen King or J.K. Rowling write.  Write the way that you feel most comfortable.  If that is laboring over the proper placement of the furniture in a room for weeks before moving on with the dialogue, do that.  If it is writing all the dialogue and then belatedly recalling that there should have been furniture, do that.  Do what makes you feel free.  There is simply no other way to write.  We writers are both at liberty with our passion and controlled by it.  

This week, it became "life and death" imperative that I be able to write.  I felt a little like the Shining in my brain, and Thursday, on my way to my cellular biology exam, I was hit with blazing insight on just where my current story needed to go.  Talk about terrible timing.  However, I completed class, hurried home, and wrote until nearly midnight.  That was therapeutic.  Unfortunately, it left me a little too depleted the next day, and as the day wound down at work, I was increasingly out of sorts.  I knew my cure, and that was to write, but as soon as I finished more requirements (i.e. stats homework), I was left with nothing.  NOTHING.  This rarely happens to me.  Usually when it does, I'm okay with walking away for a day or so and letting my characters catch a breather as well.  This time, though, I couldn't.  I NEEDED them to speak to me, to soothe me, to make me whole again.  

Finally, after stepping away for half an hour, I realized that what I needed to do was step even further back.  Sometimes I write very sequentially, Chapter 1 is directly followed by Chapter 2, etc.  Other times, the plot twists and bits of dialogue come from all over the place.  This would be one of those times.  After finally taking the time to gather my thoughts, I decided that a session of story-boarding was in order.  I did manage to glimpse a tiny snippet of conversation between my characters before they left me for the evening, so the night was not a complete waste for writing in general, but, more importantly, after writing down all the twists and points I am hoping to accomplish with this story, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders.  I might not have been able to charge on ahead at full speed last night, but I was able to plan where to go from here.  It might have seemed like I was going backwards, but the path ahead is so much more clear because of it.

My advice then is simple: never assume one way is the right way to write.  Play around with your own ideas until they work for YOU, not for famous authors or your friend who likes to blog.  After all, we are not here to write for their amusement but for our own sanity.

I hope that in my rambling way, I can empathize with my fellow writers out there who similarly share the agonies of a full time life and the passion for writing.  It's not a fun road to lead, but we wouldn't have it any other way.  As always, feel free to share your own thoughts on the matter.  We writers are also solitary creatures, yet secretly desperate to know we are not alone. 

Queries Again? (I must be a masochist)

Alright then, I've realized that in my absolute need to write about how incredibly expensive even writing a query has become, I left out a few important details.  Before I delve into said details, let me point out one small, rather pertinent fact:

I have never been accepted for publication by any major agents and/or publishing houses.  

As much as it may pain me to admit, that fact is true.  I have had a few queries garner a second look, but then nothing.  NOTHING.  Sad emptiness that makes me want to curl up in a small ball and feel absolutely worthless.  I am here today to try and make certain that anyone who stumbles upon this blog realizes that we are not worthless, not even a little bit.

Having said that, I now want to offer a tiny ray of hope in the query process as well.  After the first round of mindless "seminars" that you can pay to attend and receive pointers, there are still the tried and true basics of querying.  I'll be sharing the main points, and if I ever (fingers crossed) have a query accepted and then the manuscript accepted (a key caveat), I will share every painstaking detail for those who are interested.

Here are the bare bones (as far as I can tell).  My theory is that every little bit helps.

1. Start with a hook (the ideas for hooks are wide ranging, but a similar theme does seem to be something that strikes the reader's imagination and also give a tiny trace of the character to come - there were dozens of options, but other sites said "you must introduce the character here" - that seems to me to be code for do both)  

2. Introduce the dreaded synopsis (It is brutal, beyond words, to take a 50,000+ word piece of our souls and condense it to usually 250 words, but we have to at least try.  My best advice is to write everything you want to say, and would say if someone would but listen, then go back and rewrite the whole bloody thing, taking out superlative adjectives and any overabundance of plot points.  Stick to the basics, but make it interesting - I did read that it was important to show true plot, not just emotional baggage, and I liked that point - a lot) 

3. The less that is said, the better (this is particularly true in light of the word constraint, but also about yourself.  If you haven't been a well published or over-educated person in a minute field that over qualifies you - sorry, personal baggage decided to drop by - then don't point out that you have little to no experience - instead, give what audience the book might appeal to instead) 

4. Revise, revise, revise (Those 250 words - or 500, you might get lucky - will come a lot sooner than you think.  When in doubt, edit it until you are crying from the emotional toil.  Chances are that if you're like me, you'll have finally cut back on the superfluous words by that point) 

 5. And finally, edit (This might seem a bit obvious, but I am sure I'm not the only one out there who has sent an email and then realized - too late!- that the type font was different at the top or that a name was spelled wrong. Unfortunately, we can never get back what we've sent, so make absolutely certain it is as good as it can get - CAREFUL! though, don't overthink it, that will no doubt nix any chance of you ever sending it.  I personally would rather send something and have a small typo than never send it.  After all, if you never ask, the answer is always no)

And so we conclude my thoughts on the dreaded query.  I truly hope some day soon I'll be coming back to this page and editing it to give my personal experience in acceptance not rejection, but until then:

Down a Rabbit Hole Part 1

Oh my.  If I were being less than politically correct, there would probably be a few inappropriate adjectives as well.  Why, one might ask?  Well, let me share today's newest journey down the Rabbit Hole.  (I foresee this being an ongoing theme in the weeks and months to come, so it will be serialized.)

So, to begin:  I have mentioned that I am working with the new website Pronoun for an online only platform for my book, Death's End.  I went to that site today to update a few things, and down one hole I went.

Who knew that newsletters were a thing? I certainly didn't.  But having emerged on the other side, no doubt now in Wonderland, I have officially signed up for an account to now write newsletters to send to my readers (who I'm still trying to figure out who, what, where, when, even why they are).  Anyway, in case anyone is interested, here is a link. https://tinyletter.com/legibler.  For those wondering about newsletter's as I was, may I recommend the following website: https://writersinthestorm.wordpress.com/2013/07/05/the-how-and-why-of-author-newsletters/.  As for the rest of us, shall we see how far this rabbit hole goes?

After I emerged from that particular hole (and I'm not entirely certain I actually have), I went down another: my personal website and Facebook page.  I don't know about the majority of the population, but I am not a fan of Facebook.  I don't like sharing my "relationship status", and the amount of oversharing is truly staggering. That being said, I am well aware that there is a benefit to it form a business standpoint.  Having updated that as well as my author page courtesy of Wix.com, well...

Somewhere in the middle of my day, I stumbled upon Medium.  This does, for all intents and purposes, appear to be a website just for writing and reading.  On the surface, it sounds like a lovely idea.  (But let me not forget the very best such site, Writers Carnival).  As I do need to wrap up in order to complete my weekend without stressing over upcoming exams, I did not take the time to start down yet another rabbit hole and create from scratch works.  Instead, I thought it best to share a friend of the feline variety. (Secret Agent Cat Volume 1)

Now, having updated my personal website, my author's Facebook page, created a new account on Medium and a newsletter on TinyLetter, what is left?  Well, I think that would be for me to return to the mundane world and finish up my homework. Anything more, and there's no telling where this Alice might end up.

Queries, the horror, the horror

Well, let's just start this off by saying query letters will be the making or breaking of me. I'm fairly certain I am not alone in this belief. 

Having said that, and having also gone on record as saying that I publish for my own purposes, not to make money, I think I might need to clarify why, if self publishing is what I do, queries should even matter.

Anyone who has ever written a story and believes it to be worth publishing knows the agony that follows. First there is the challenge of sifting through the mountains of rather erroneous information on the web for anyone willing to accept un-published authors. Honestly, publishing industry, how is anyone supposed to start if you won't even let us submit without an agent, most of whom are unwilling to accept unpublished authors? Does this seem like a Catch-22/ Kobayashi Maru situation to anyone besides me? 

I digress. 

Why, then, the renewed interest in that horrid exercise of query letters? I blame NaNoWriMo. Yes, November is that wonderfully awful month where writers churn out tens of thousands of words and I was no exception. I managed to "wins", and wrapped up another just as the month began. But then comes the "Now What" phase.  It just so happens that this year, the "Now What" is Pitchapalooza, where we silly writers have to cram down our pride and joy into a measly 250 words and, really, hope for the best. 

About a decade ago, I worked long and hard to get my book, First Bite, out into the publishing world. I was rejected by several agents and most simply never responded.  I'm not sure which is worse, but it left a bitter taste in my psyche that made me never want to go that route again. I opted instead to publish my own works, because, really, that was all I really wanted. I've been relatively content with CreateSpace and I'm trying out Pronoun (eBooks only). I do promise to post updates as I get the hang of it all. 
And here we are, circling back to the point at hand. Ten years ago, there were dozens of sites about how to write the "perfect pitch". Now, there are dozens of sites about paying money to be told how to write the perfect pitch. No offense, but I highly doubt shelling out hundreds of dollars is going to turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. Regardless, for those who, like me, have tried in vain to find a site that just helps us WRITE the pitch, might I suggest the following?http://thewritepractice.com/dreaded-query/ (This link is not done with any sort of benefit in mind, or endorsement, or whatever leagal paraphrasing should be here. This is just me, a struggling writer, directing fellow struggling writers to a site that actually gave some information about the query itself, not about how to pay to be told to write a query.)

And so concludes my foray into the world of writing queries. It's brutal work for an author. It truly terrifies me to have to condense my entire written work into such a tiny word constraint. I feel as if my characters and I will slowly suffocate, but there you have it. When Pitchapalooza goes live, I'll share my pitch here, and maybe some kind souls will vote for me, give feedback, or just say hello. I'm not picky.

Good luck to all struggling artists out there. Know that tonight especially, I feel your pain.

L.E. Gibler

One Quick Thought

This is literally just a few seconds to clarify a simple thought:

My blog is titled "Ramblings" for a reason.  Rather like a stream of consciousness blog, this is here to help unwind.  I do try to add in helpful and humorous bits about the life of being an author who doesn't really get paid, but there are dozens, if not hundreds, of blogs out there that will go far more into depth about such topics than I ever will.  However, if you are a struggling artist out there in the world and you do happen to stumble across my blog, know that I will always try to add a touch of wry humor to the writing process in my, well, random way.


Good luck to all writers out there.  We are all just a little bit crazy, but that's a good thing.  (Also, please note, as my mother will point out, I tend to take twice as long to say something as was absolutely necessary.  I think that's half the fun.)

Writing for the Sake of the Writer

Last weekend, I made a point of just writing.  I carved out a part of my Sunday and dedicated it to simply letting a few of my characters breathe.  Unfortunately, as Sherlock would say:

And so for the next three days, I had to battle through my own characters desperate for life and the constant responsibility that most of us are faced with.  Once, long ago, I suffocated a character.  He still hasn't forgiven me, and when I find myself in such a desperate place, I can feel him back there, tantalizingly close, but never to be fully realized.  If ever a character haunted me, it would be him.

However, having learned my lesson, I know better this weekend.  I won't be trying to let a few characters out with an exam on Monday and another on Thursday.  But it isn't like the soul of a writer can stay so repressed.  Something has to give, and rather than have it be my sanity, I found a way to feel at one with a touch of myself again.  And so we come to the point of this week's title.

When I first branched out in self publishing, it was because I had won my first NaNoWriMo, and it seemed such a waste of the opportunity to continue to let my stories sit in my bookshelf as binders and 8.5"x11" editions.  So I took the plunge.  There was never any real great drive to self publish and somehow, miraculously, become wealthy through it.  All that mattered was that I had shifted from being simply a writer into being an author, and that was enough for me.

I won't lie.  I still dream about being a well paid author, but I have to just hope that day will come when I can give a little more time to the endeavor.  For now, and just for me, I will continue to write as the stories come and the time allows.  But for the sake of my sanity, I found an outlet that should last me until the exams are over.  I've been writing and completing full stories for nearly a decade.  One memorable year, I wrote four novels.  I have a pletheora and for now, with not thought to any profit in the future, I will turn a few stories into books.  The only purpose is for me, and me alone.  And that, fellow writers and readers, is what should be our driving force.  If we cannot love what we write, why write at all?

A Break in Search of Sanity

For all those who, like me, are not full time writers, I hope the following can help you in some tiny way, not give up.


I have said before that I disagree with the edict that a writer must write every single day.  The adage of "even if it's a little".  My brain simply doesn't work like that.  I need to write as a release, and sometimes, the downtime required for that simply doesn't exist in a busy day.

A quick detour into my personal feelings on continuing education.  When I was in high school, I was the very top of my class. I had scholarships to every college I applied to, but never enough to have covered living expenses, and certainly not enough to help find a way to balance my other great passion: my horses.  As such, I made the decision when I was eighteen that my horses were my family, and they would come first.  In the interim, I have only found the prospect of college far too expensive to entertain.  For someone who is not wealthy, does not come from wealthy parents, and has no hidden relative willing to foot any bills, college was simply never an option.  Well, for the first time in over a decade, it finally is, thanks in large part to a realization of circumstances (i.e. financial aid) and a dependable, if not high paying job to cover my horses.  

While I could go on for quite awhile about my opinions about the college system and how it marginalizes those of us who do not fit into the well to do or top financial aid categories, that's not the purpose of my morning.  Indeed, the purpose of my morning is to finally have a tiny window of opportunity to WRITE.

Full time job, full time school, part time job, and volunteering doesn't tend to lend much chance of anything else.  So far this year, I've spent my tiny windows of freedom with my horses.  However, I have an entire morning, and so I am going to write as if my life depended on it.  My life might not, but at times it feels as if my soul does.

And so, in typical Rambling fashion, I have come to my conclusion and the very point of this narrative.  For those who have a million other things on their plate, don't feel like just because you missed a day, that writing is ruined.  This isn't a twelve step program.  If you don't make it to your Writers Anonymous meeting a few times, they won't kick you out.  Instead, think about what keeps you going on a day to day basis.  Do you still see stories in everyday threads of life?  Do you still wake up and hear your characters say a few words of greeting?  If any of this is true, or a hundred other ways you feel the creativity of being a writer, hold on to it.  There will come a quiet morning, and you can remember what it is to put thoughts to paper and let your spirit fly.  

And so now, without further ado, I leave the internet world behind in search of my sanity.  I'm only hoping that by the end of my morning, I will have found it somewhere.  Anywhere...

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...

A Mind of Their Own

So I know that last time I did promise a tale of why Smart Cars are not meant for off-roading.  Trust me, I haven't forgotten, but in the theme of my title, I feel compelled to share a few observations about writing.  To help summarize what I'll be covering in personal experience, fellow writers, please enjoy the following:

One of my favorite authors of all time, Elizabeth Peters, remarked on how a character she had meant for one book became a 20+ book series.  Love her or hate her, there was no denying that Amelia Peabody had a mind of her own.  Anyone who has ever put characters to paper knows just how opinionated they can become.  My own experience with such a character was in a novella I was working on.  I managed to get so far as the 3/4 mark and then I hit a wall.  I am not a typical sufferer of writer's block, but on that particular story, I just could not get the story going again.  Then, the very opinionated, very proper mother-in-law shared with me that if I would stop trying to make her the wicked witch in the story, I could finish it.  Low and behold (is that how you spell that?) the story was finished in less than a day after Matilda and I came to terms.  And to this day, when I think of Elizabeth Peter's comments about Amelia, I am reminded of Matilda.

Anyway, fast forward to NaNoWriMo 2015.  I have dedicated an entire series to be written only during November, and I'll admit to some trepidation this year as my main characters were twin boys, not exactly a subject I have a ton of expertise in.  However, they were the characters I had created, and they were where the story was headed.  I couldn't avoid that.  

This has been one of the trickier stories I've written in awhile, though, for while the tale centers on the twins, I had not realized how very different they were until I started.  And, having completed the first five chapters, it occurred to me that while the flippant twin, Patrick, and I got along just fine, I hadn't taken the time to truly get to know Peter.  I struggled for a few days trying to figure out how to get all the pieces to line up, but then the idea occurred to me that they were two different characters and it was time I treated them as such.  And so, yesterday, I wrote what was easy.  I wrote the chapters that were Patrick's, and Pat's alone.  Today, I dedicated my time and energy to getting to know Peter better.  The problem is that Pete's a bit shy, and harder to get out of his shell, but deep down, he's as much a part of me as his brother.  Maybe the true talent here will be in showing the world through this story my own insecurities.  Maybe that's what Pete has been trying to tell me all along, but I've been too afraid to notice. 

My advice to all writers out there, based on my own experience, is to give your characters that chance to tell you what you've been missing.  I can promise you you won't regret it. And those that take the most time to get to know are often the ones most worth knowing because they will change the story in ways you never saw coming.  And please, I would love to hear from fellow writers and/or NaNoWriMo participants.  Writers are not necessarily the most gregarious of people, but sometimes it can be wonderful to connect with another soul who understands and doesn't just think I'm crazy.

Next time, I promise, tales of Smart Cars.

P.S. I just realized that all of yesterday, when I was working on the separate chapters of my outgoing twin, I was super competitive about NaNoWriMo word sprints...oddly enough, when I separated the story completely to focus on my introvert, I haven't competed in one...I promise I'm not crazy, I'm just a writer.

In the Spirit of Giving

I am typically not one who embraces Christmas before Thanksgiving.  I've worked in the retail industry for most of my life, and if there is one thing that retail can ruin, it's the holiday season.  However, the true spirit of the holidays, the spirit of giving, has been something that inspires me year round.

Today is Double Up Donation Day with NaNoWriMo.  They have created incentives and prizes, and there's an entire online community getting into the spirit of giving.  And I have to imagine that while a few are like me, and happily take the prizes, we are still there for the real reason.  We are there to help others and to keep this wonderful tradition going strong.



To keep with the spirit, I decided to just treat today as a Donation Day.  In that spirit, I donated to the World Wildlife Foundation for no other reason than that it was a good thing to do.  I'm also a fan of matching donations, and so I will henceforth dedicate the proceeds from my NaNoWriMo winning book Caitiff Academy: The Tigress to the process that helped create it.  

When the holidays get closer, I know I'll be one to drop dollars into the Salvation Army bins, buy a toy or two for children, and otherwise do what I can.  I am not so financially lush that I can give enormous amounts, but I know that if we could all just give a little, a few lives can be made that much easier.  Whether that is a struggling student or an endangered species, here's hoping that we can all remember the spirit of giving, no matter what time of year it is.


In the spirit of the randomness that started this blog, tomorrow I will recap why Smart Cars are not meant to go off-roading.  

Until then:

Keep on, keeping on...
L.E. Gibler

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...