Daylight Savings was this Sunday. I feel like I’m in some bizarro world where time has lost all meaning.
The changing of clocks somehow snuck up on me. I knew it would happen. Had it marked on my calendar even, but I’m still confused by everything. I woke up from my alarm yesterday, bleary-eyed, and wondering why the clocks were all wrong. I’m used to seeing the sun at six and found myself wondering why it was still dark at 7 this morning.
It doesn’t necessarily help that this is a ‘long week’ for me. Seven days of work, Saturday to this Friday. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll survive. I don’t even feel it yet but that may be because I woke up with coffee this morning and I’m always more hopeful on Mondays. Tuesday will be my real test.
Recently, I’ve been wanting to get back into history again. This is a noted change from the romance book binging I’ve indulged in for the last few weeks. The Noble Blood podcast has given me good doses of royal history and I began a book about the world of early Hollywood around the time Howard Hughes came on the scene in the late 1920s (also by another podcaster, Karina Longworth of You Must Remember This fame). I’ve queued up several books from my library to also feed this need. I find that learning about the past offers comfort in our present.
In other not-so-concrete news, I’ve been giving some thought about my blog here and the content I’d like to share with you all. I’m a planner (sometimes to a fault) but my blogging schedule has more of a frenzied pantser energy. I like to build a consistent habit out of it, but that requires talking about things.
Blogging forces me to be more thoughtful about what’s going on in my day to day. I don’t like looking back on the week and thinking that if I’m not writing then nothing was done. It’s good to celebrate the little things and the changes in season.
Historically, I’ve been really bad at talking about my stories. I’ve avoided proclaiming myself a writer in my daily life in fear of the question that comes after: What do you write?
The question is fraught with pitfalls. First, my mind goes blank. What do I write again?Do I write? My first thought is a little bit of everything. I like to experiment sometimes. My next ready answer is something vague like speculative fiction but that hardly encompasses everything.
In college, it was “real life” with a twist! Something that fell into an uncanny space dealing with disjointed perception or some existential horror a character couldn’t name. I’m still very much into these types of stories, especially for exploring interesting concepts. My biggest project of this era of writing was “Noise in the Room Upstairs” which was a story about an ordinary guy whose TV happens to talk to him, his upstairs neighbor’s noise drives him to homicide, and he’s not insane—no, definitely not insane! I’ve been thinking of revitalizing this project and actually finishing it in some capacity for several years now. First, that means coming up with an ending and doing some major edits.
Since 2017, I’ve been really drawn towards horror and fantasy writing starting with the Hollow Grove projects. These stories are about the fictional town of Hollow Grove, home to several supernatural creatures and a dark history. The contemporary Festival of Shadows story centered on the characters of a newspaper office who want to solve the mystery of strange disappearances that take place during the first week of the year. The Grim Hollow series is set in the 1850s, several years after the town’s founding when long-buried secrets start clawing their way to the surface. The latter of these stories deals more with the horror side of the fantasy than its contemporary cousin. There were other parts of the timeline I’ve been meaning to explore, but as of right now, this project has been benched in favor of the Divided Loyalties project.
Divided Loyalties is a spin-off of a sister project that’s been over a decade in the making. Back when I was a baby writer in middle school, I came up with “The Chronicles of Enishi.” It coincided with my introduction to anime and its influence is readily apparent in its construction. The basic plot was that a young boy named Haru, a prince of some faraway dragon dimension, after being imprisoned for the whole of his 12 years gets sprung from the joint by his absent father, Jalmekion. His father ditches him on earth, after which he meets Jamie, a hotheaded martial artist fighter (who is also 12) and her group of friends, who were a jumble of character tropes and comic relief.
I made two and a half books with these characters. They’re terrible, but I’m still proud of them for existing. Around high school, I started to revise the stories but tabled it quickly for moodier projects.
Last year, the stars must have aligned because I was able to approach this project again and write a draft for the first story. I ditched the title and now goes by the vague name of “Story 1.” I’ll go more in depth about this project once I take it off the backburner.
Right after finishing “Story 1,” I wanted to write something for NaNoWriMo and the idea came to me to write a story about Haru’s father, Jalmekion. It’s a fantasy romance about how he met Haru’s mom, Uraya, and from that humble premise, it exploded into an epic about family divisions, the consequences of colonialism, and the ultimate fall of Aerula, their home dimension. Right now, I’m in the middle of getting through the second draft of this project and it’s a long, tedious, fun, and exciting process.
I promise to go into more detail about the bigger projects as part of this series. It might get easier to talk about my stories if I talk about my stories. I’ve poured thousands—for Divided Loyalties, a good 100,000– into these projects.
I noticed him first on the desert sands of Arizona two years back. He was a dot on the horizon who shimmered like a mirage in the heat. I didn’t think he was real at first but his faceless shape became a constant in my life.
He followed me to my hometown. Across the long mall parking lots and the over-watered golf fields to the rooftops of my parents’ neighbors’ houses, he was standing there watching me. In the course of our long distanced staring contest, he gained a forgettable face that imprinted itself more sharply on my memory the further along it went.
He stood too casually. His hands deep in his pockets, hip and head cocked slightly to the side. His lips in a perpetual smirk.
Did I know him? Yearbook combing and Facebook searches yielded nothing. I tried walking towards him to get answers. Those were the only times he turned his back towards me. I continued to move in his direction but the gap between us never closed. But he hadn’t moved. Not a step, not even a lean. I called out to him but he didn’t acknowledge me.
I pointed him out to a few friends.
No one else saw him.
After a while and a few concerned whispers, I dropped it. Even as his presence began haunting my darkest dreams where I would wake suddenly and there he’d be looming, hands tightening around my throat.
Even as I grew to be afraid to be alone with him in a sea of people.
Even when my parents asked me why I was in a hurry to move away just to escape him.
But I should’ve known that even state lines couldn’t sever the distance between us.
His outline appeared in my rearview as I sped down the interstate. He was at the pit stops, the dive bars, the bones of Midwestern barns and the wide-open cornfields.
And he was getting closer.
When I moved into an apartment in the city’s beating heart, he was there. My first night there, I looked down at the streets below and he was there smirking.
I did the only thing I thought would bring me peace. I closed the curtains and refused to look at me. Refused to think about him and move on with my life.
The days rolled on uneventfully for a while. I woke up and he’s outside my window but I somehow forgot. He became another face to ignore and I was able to go on.
Until one night in front of my living room television where there was a knock on the door.
Talk to me ten years ago and I would tell you that out of all genres of literature, romance was my least favorite. High school me liked the dark, pretentious, and overall tragic elements of media–the more twisted the better. Romance was fluff and cute. High school me couldn’t stand that unless someone dies at the end. Or if it was an anime. Clannad was one of my favorite shows but if you know anything about Clannad, you know it gets pretty tragic, pretty quickly.
Talk to me five years ago and I’ll freely admit that I have soft spot for Victorian novels with sweeping romances (Wuthering Heights comes to mind) and Young Adult literature where a central theme is finding out who you are and the blossoming of first loves. But in the same breath, I would tell you that adult romances just weren’t for me. Have you seen those ridiculous book covers? You know, the ones with well-oiled bare-chested men embracing swooning damsels whose collars were suggestively askewed. How could you take those books seriously? I’ve never read one but I know what you’re about (I say as I eye the bookshelf and point accusingly). I don’t mind if romance is an element of literature, I says, it just can’t be the main thing.
These observations were so…wrong. Yes, wrong! I was wrong! These last two or three years especially have had me looking for comfort in my media. I like a good challenging novel, a thoughtful artistic movie, but lately, I’ve been craving media kinder on my nerves. Something that I could enjoy without thinking about themes or the implication of a narrative in a larger cultural conversation. Something that would just make me feel good.
And do you know what I turned to?
I turned to romance novels.
I turned to media about two people who fall in love and, by golly, may even get a happy ending.
Rereading Lore Olympus has done more to improve my serotonin levels than anything else these last two weeks. In between violent deaths in the Jenna Moreci Savior Series, I was rooting for those crazy kids to fall in love. I picked up Beverly Jenkin’s Rebel and saw how intricate and sexy a historical romance could be. Right now I’m reading Red, White and Royal Blue and wondering how Alex and Henry will make their romance work being two very high-profile and highly visible bachelors in the realm of US politics and the British monarchy. It’s the food I need. It’s giving!
My assumption about romance books was wrong. Assuming that all romance novels were just two people making out for a book’s entirety was spectacularly narrow-minded. I’m ashamed to admit that. Even though I grew more open to other genres once I started working at my library, I never thought to read a romance until about a year ago. I still ran on the thought that romances just weren’t for me after not bothering to read them.
Are there any genres you eventually came around to after being a naysayer for years? Let’s discuss!
What I’m doing is probably antithetical to the book’s thesis statement of not trying to wring every ounce of productivity/work out of every experience to feed the social media machine, but I wanted to share my thoughts. And by practicing self-compassion, I needn’t worry over this point.
Laziness Does Not Exist shifted my perspective on laziness. When I first read the title, I was skeptical. Shelved firmly in the personal development section of my library’s Dewey Decimal system (158.1 if you’re at all curious), my initial observation on first reading the title was that this would be another screed on how to kick unproductive habits in the teeth. That laziness was a lie with a pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps emphasis.
I see some value in these books–talks, podcasts, what have you–but I’m also burnt out on the hustle lifestyle that this media tends to advocate for.
But the book does the exact opposite.
Though I tell myself that my constant need to strive is a symptom of America’s unique capitalism, I still find myself criticizing my perceived lack of productivity. Sometimes after work, I veg out and watch Youtube all the while thinking I could be reading or writing or making better use of my time. I’ve bought in. I thought laziness was bad.
Price makes the argument that laziness is necessary. It’s our body’s way of regulating our mental exhaustion and clueing us into impending burnout. Ignoring these signals only hurts you in the long run and could also bleed into your physical health. Rather than combat it to be more productive, they argue that laziness should be embraced. We shouldn’t feel guilty if we take a whole day to sleep in our beds or do nothing but watch movies.
Admittingly, the book can be repetitive and could benefit from being more concise in its points. I often found the author made the same point over and over again in different portions of the same chapter. The first few especially were a bit difficult to get through but Price sprinkles in enough anecdotes to make it engaging.
I wanted to spread the word about an event that I learned about this morning!
ProWritingAid is hosting a week long Webinar series for Fantasy writers from February 28th to March 3rd. Two of my favorite authors, Tomi Adeyemi and Jenna Moreci, are participating in it and I’m so excited to learn about the craft from them!
I’m not quite sure if this is necessary (seeing as I’m small potatoes in the blogosphere and this isn’t Instagram or YouTube) but this isn’t sponsored. I’m just a fantasy writing nerd trying to reach out to other fantasy writing nerds!
I love writing. It’s an essential part of my daily life and my life would be incomplete without it.
At the same time, it burns me out.
Starting in late September, I’ve experienced a writing high that I haven’t experienced in years. I had my mojo back. In between then and January, I completed two novel-length projects and started revisions on one.
That hasn’t been the case these last few weeks. There’s a frenetic energy that accompanies a first draft. You get caught up in a story first written, get excited by its potential, and it’s a precious thing that gives you purpose every day. The initial drafting is one of my favorite parts of the writing process.
With a revision, however, you’re forced to examine the flaws of the first draft up close and correct them. My process is rewriting whole chapters: expanding scenes, questioning dialogue and character motivation, throwing in more flashbacks, putting a little more effort in worldbuilding, and the like. It’s fun at times, soul-crushing at others.
And these last two weeks, I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle with motivation. My work has taken a toll on my energy after an extra-long week and, with the news being the news, my emotional reserves have been uniquely depleted as well. I have a schedule I’m trying to keep to maintain momentum but I’ve fallen behind. But I’m trying to be gracious with myself. I’ve learned that burnout is the mind’s way of telling you that it needs a breather.
Rather than force the issue, I take a break. I try to relax.
It’s easier said than done though. I fear not being able to pick up the pen again. I fear losing the momentum. I haven’t written like this in years (plural with an s!). That fear is always there. Even though I know from experience that a break is the best thing I can do for my creativity. Even though I know some of my best ideas come when I’m not thinking about my story. I recently read a Joan Didion quote that an author’s greatest fear after writing their first book is that they can’t write another and that this fear remains after the second, third, or fortieth book. It was more talking about ideas but I think it’s applicable here as well.
Regardless of my mood, I still try to write. Even on days I wake up and think that writing is the absolute last thing I want to do that day.
So here is what I do. I stick to my routine. I get up to dedicate my weekend mornings to writing. I open my story and see where I left off. I tentatively start writing something, give myself 25 minutes to find a groove. If I get into a rhythm (like on Saturday), I write until 1 and manage to crank out 2000 words (a win!). If I find myself unable to concentrate and looking for distraction (like on Sunday), I put the story away and promise myself I will try a little later after giving my head a rest.
The important thing is I never try to force it anymore. It shows in the work when I’m writing on empty. It’s painful to read and a nightmare to edit.
I’m trying to emphasize being kind to yourself when you lack the motivation or stamina to do things, especially when it comes to things you love. Breaks are a necessary component of the creative process. Never be afraid to indulge in them.
I spent some time contemplating voice. More specifically, I spent a lot of time contemplating my own voice in writing.
Writing through characters has always been easy for me. When coming up with a story, a character’s voice is the first that comes, then the premise, then how that premise might be executed. It develops the more I write it and evolves in ways I don’t expect. It’s very involved play-acting. The characters are my costumes and I interact with the world as they do.
As I describe this, my mind is brought back to the childhood stories I acted out with my sister. We spent countless hours in the day playing as our favorite Disney characters and inventing wacky scenarios that they had to puzzle their way out of. Writing helped fill that gap when we both grew out of it.
Writing as myself has always been a struggle. I’m a (near) daily diarist but when I push that voice to the public eye, it sounds awkward…not quite right. I’m not used to talking as me or the invented, highly polished version of me that I want to present to the world. Hence, why blogging is such a struggle. The voice stutters and falls flat.
I’ve had the idea, not for the first time, that I should come up with a character for this version of me. Surely, putting some artifice between myself and my writing persona would help me write as myself. It’s already there. After the retooling and editing, it’s baked in. The very act of effortless articulation a façade in its own right. You see that sentence before. I would never say that in real life.
It’s also possible I’m overthinking this like I do with most things. But a fair bit of practice goes into crafting a voice. It’s a patient endeavor. Historically, I’m not a very patient person but I can learn!
I wrote a lot in the last few months of 2021. I finished the first draft of a very old project given new life and nearly completed another. As of writing this, I’ll be finishing up the last chapter of the latter. Needless to say, I’ve been a writing speed demon. I’ve scared myself in how many words I’ve managed to throw on a page compared to the creative nadir that was 2019-2020. Guess I was storing it up.
But I’ll be honest. First drafts are easy for me, second only to the initial outlining phases. It’s during the revision process where writing projects lose a lot of steam. I’m determined to be more thoughtful in how to approach it this time around so that doesn’t happen. To do that, I’m putting the infrastructure in place to keep my mind focused on the task.
There are three major writing projects in the works and they’re all related to each other. The first is the still vaguely titled “Story 1” which is a young adult urban? fantasy novel and it is supposed to be the first in a series of indeterminate length. The latter is called “Divided Loyalties” (a better title than the former but I still kind of hate it) which is a dark fantasy that’s more adult in its leanings. It’s a prequel to Story 1. “Divided Loyalties” is getting two parts. I’m nearly finished with the first draft of part 1 and I want to begin the initial drafting stages of part 2. It’s the project that I’m focusing on currently.
I made a list of what I hope to tackle before my March 31st deadline. Not all of them are novel-related. I won’t finish all of these in 3 months but I hope to make significant progress. This will hopefully keep me on track!
Finishing Part 1 of Divided Loyalties and begin drafting Part 2
Starting the first round of revisions for both Story 1 and Divided Loyalties Part 1
Come up with a better book title than Story 1
Make a Wordbuilding rag for Divided Loyalties.
Some sort of outline for Story 1 Part 2
Having a consistent schedule of 2 blog posts per week (1 for writing, 1 for fun!)
Maintaining an active social media presence for WordPress and Twitter
Come up with 1 short story every 2 months
Study your favorite books for why you like them and research writing genres
I hope the New Year has been treating you all well! On my end, it’s already had its fair share of twists and turns thanks to that ol’ pandemic strain that’s been plaguing us these last 2 years. A lot of people close to me have come down with it but they’ve all been mild cases luckily. I’ve been extremely lucky to dodge it (so far).
Every turn of the year makes me thoughtful. I reflect back on 2021 as a year that I grew more into myself; a year where I became more conscious of my needs and became a better advocate for them. It’s an ongoing process that I’m still learning each day.
I have mixed feelings about New Year’s resolutions. I’m more of the opinion that an intention can be made whenever you want to make it: at every change of the season, every morning after breakfast, whenever. Yet still, I make plans, I set goals and they’ll change and evolve as time marches forward. I used the great flip of the calendar year to solidify and write some personal goals I want to carry over from last year.
Here are a few taken from the journal:
Listen to your body uncritically and nurture accordingly. If you’re upset, listen without judgment. If you’re hungry, eat. If you feel sluggish, move around.
Laziness is a blessing. It is the feeling that comes over you when your mind needs a break. Listen to it. Indulge in some unproductivity so you can better tackle the things you want to do.
Being social is really hard right now. It’s okay if you feel drained from your efforts. More okay if you make mistakes. Trying is what matters most and you shouldn’t be afraid to be seen trying.
Be conscious of your impulse food purchases. Be conscious of anything you’re tempted to buy on impulse for that temporary dopamine hit.
Creativity can’t thrive if you aren’t kind to yourself. Moments of growth and productivity need rest to nurture your mind. You can’t have one without the other. Burning yourself out will only make you hate the end result, whether or not it’s good. (Anything you put the time in is good. Tending to it makes it great).