Bored, tired, and burnt out.
Sep. 20th, 2011 09:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shamanicshayminI spend a lot of my time sleeping lately. I don't feel like doing anything, which in turn, makes me feel stressed anyway.
Wrote a small passage of my novel a couple days ago, I think, but it's crap and ugh. It's not plot and characters I'm constantly having Writer's Block on as much as the goddamn setting. Where the fuck do my characters go now? Why is writing about a toy museum so fucking hard? If I could succumb to alien geometry, I totally would. The museum's supposed to be whacked as hell and it takes a day or two for a toy to explore a single room, and the quest is supposed to take 1-3 months, and I doubt it's possible for a toy museum to be THAT much of a labyrinth IRL. (Except I want it to be a labyrinth, godfucking dammit) There's the pressure to show this whimsical world of strange and beautiful and creepy, like in Dahl's books such as his chocolate factory, while keeping it grounded in realism and whatnot with EXPLAIN BOOK EXPLAIIIIIN!!1!1
Anyway,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amandaink inspired me to go check out the summary I left for my novel when I started it at NaNo'10.
Geez, the third sentence makes it sound like a cheap exploitation flick. What's funny is my novel isn't nearly as graphic as it was initially supposed to be. It's still disturbing as fuck, but it's very subtle about it (and hey, just how I prefer it), and from the way it's going, it could technically be a children's book with an occasional swear or two. But yeah, considering what later happens... NO. It could be YA since YA is known for darker subjects, but I feel more comfortable writing the book for adults (aka people in their early 20s like me). Isn't that the point of my story, that it's for people who are "grown up"/lost/nostalgic?
As much as I want to stab my NaNo draft into shape with my editing pen, I envy its ability to just let go and do whatever the hell it wants no matter how cheesy and melodramatic. Now I fret over filling plot holes, characterization and trying to have everything make sense and I'm not making much progress at all. Fuck. I just gotta accept it's gonna take me a few years to finish the first draft alone. If I finish... no, I want to finish. I want this published and read. I will finish. I'm sick of not following my dream. I'm constantly abandoning projects and I always feel guilty. I'm seeing this book through to the fucking end. Fuck. If I was in Madokaverse, I'd be so vulnerable. I'd be a witch already.
At least Marius is no longer a yandere psychopath like his prototype.
brb, starting American Psycho in hopes of taking my mind off things. Probably won't help, but hey, at least I'm reading something!
Wrote a small passage of my novel a couple days ago, I think, but it's crap and ugh. It's not plot and characters I'm constantly having Writer's Block on as much as the goddamn setting. Where the fuck do my characters go now? Why is writing about a toy museum so fucking hard? If I could succumb to alien geometry, I totally would. The museum's supposed to be whacked as hell and it takes a day or two for a toy to explore a single room, and the quest is supposed to take 1-3 months, and I doubt it's possible for a toy museum to be THAT much of a labyrinth IRL. (Except I want it to be a labyrinth, godfucking dammit) There's the pressure to show this whimsical world of strange and beautiful and creepy, like in Dahl's books such as his chocolate factory, while keeping it grounded in realism and whatnot with EXPLAIN BOOK EXPLAIIIIIN!!1!1
Anyway,
amandaink inspired me to go check out the summary I left for my novel when I started it at NaNo'10.Novel: Howl: A Song For The Raggedies*
Genre: Horror & Supernatural
Words: 20,184
By night, when the museum keeper locks the door, the toys come to life. But this is not your usual fairy-tale. Like us, the dolls and figurines you've known as children have their own society, capable of committing unspeakable acts of violence and sex towards each other. Wondering if it is possible for a toy to "create" other toys, a madman kidnaps a "donor", Raggedy Ann, in hopes of using her candy heart to awaken a Frankenstein monster. It's up to Ann's brother, Raggedy Andy, to journey through the forbidden corners of the museum--and make new allies along the way--in order to save her, restore faith in society, and prevent a horrible experiment from going completely out of control.
*Technically, that should be "Raggedys" as that was how Johnny Gruelle spelled it in his books. :P Even then, I still get in the bad habit of using "ies" instead of "ys." Augh.
I still don't know the title of my book yet, so "Howl" is something I've been used to calling it when I don't refer to it as "my novel." It was ganked off the title of my favorite poem, "Howl" (for Carl Solomon) by Allen Ginsberg. Ginsberg's love and concern for Carl particularly touched me, hitting a high point with the "I'm with you in Rockland" segments. In a weird way, I learned who my protagonists were; Carl became Raggedy Ann, and Allen became Raggedy Andy. I thought of Ann as the reason Andy kept going in an insane world, and Ann was locked up somewhere and slowly losing her mind, and Andy telling her to hang on because he loved her and was thinking of her and trying to get her back. Only vaguely connected to the poem itself, but inspiration comes from weird places, so. /Kanye shrug
Genre: Horror & Supernatural
Words: 20,184
By night, when the museum keeper locks the door, the toys come to life. But this is not your usual fairy-tale. Like us, the dolls and figurines you've known as children have their own society, capable of committing unspeakable acts of violence and sex towards each other. Wondering if it is possible for a toy to "create" other toys, a madman kidnaps a "donor", Raggedy Ann, in hopes of using her candy heart to awaken a Frankenstein monster. It's up to Ann's brother, Raggedy Andy, to journey through the forbidden corners of the museum--and make new allies along the way--in order to save her, restore faith in society, and prevent a horrible experiment from going completely out of control.
*Technically, that should be "Raggedys" as that was how Johnny Gruelle spelled it in his books. :P Even then, I still get in the bad habit of using "ies" instead of "ys." Augh.
I still don't know the title of my book yet, so "Howl" is something I've been used to calling it when I don't refer to it as "my novel." It was ganked off the title of my favorite poem, "Howl" (for Carl Solomon) by Allen Ginsberg. Ginsberg's love and concern for Carl particularly touched me, hitting a high point with the "I'm with you in Rockland" segments. In a weird way, I learned who my protagonists were; Carl became Raggedy Ann, and Allen became Raggedy Andy. I thought of Ann as the reason Andy kept going in an insane world, and Ann was locked up somewhere and slowly losing her mind, and Andy telling her to hang on because he loved her and was thinking of her and trying to get her back. Only vaguely connected to the poem itself, but inspiration comes from weird places, so. /Kanye shrug
Geez, the third sentence makes it sound like a cheap exploitation flick. What's funny is my novel isn't nearly as graphic as it was initially supposed to be. It's still disturbing as fuck, but it's very subtle about it (and hey, just how I prefer it), and from the way it's going, it could technically be a children's book with an occasional swear or two. But yeah, considering what later happens... NO. It could be YA since YA is known for darker subjects, but I feel more comfortable writing the book for adults (aka people in their early 20s like me). Isn't that the point of my story, that it's for people who are "grown up"/lost/nostalgic?
As much as I want to stab my NaNo draft into shape with my editing pen, I envy its ability to just let go and do whatever the hell it wants no matter how cheesy and melodramatic. Now I fret over filling plot holes, characterization and trying to have everything make sense and I'm not making much progress at all. Fuck. I just gotta accept it's gonna take me a few years to finish the first draft alone. If I finish... no, I want to finish. I want this published and read. I will finish. I'm sick of not following my dream. I'm constantly abandoning projects and I always feel guilty. I'm seeing this book through to the fucking end. Fuck. If I was in Madokaverse, I'd be so vulnerable. I'd be a witch already.
At least Marius is no longer a yandere psychopath like his prototype.
brb, starting American Psycho in hopes of taking my mind off things. Probably won't help, but hey, at least I'm reading something!
