Tag Archives: Writing

Back in the Grind

Last night, I finished another round of edits on my favorite book.

I’m pretty stoked, friends. For a couple different reasons.

One: I got back into the writing routine. 

After a year where my writing output was pretty much shit, knowing I can get back into a routine and stick with it was refreshing (especially after I put a different project on hold in order to work on this one, when unleashed a slew of its own emotional problems). Yet for a couple of weeks, I sat down and went to work. Some days, I edited a page. Others, 25. Sometimes it was just line editing. Others, it was completely overhauling an entire chapter. But I sat down and put in the work, reminding myself that I can.

I’m really stoked about that.

Two: It was editing unlike anything else I’ve ever done.

I’ve edited books before, whether as a beta reader or my own work. Yet this was the first time I had to change a fundamental aspect of the plot, which mainly affected the beginning and the end, both which got complete rewrites as a result. I ended up opening a different document to copy and paste the scenes I cut, whether because they followed the old aspect of the plot that I changed, were repetitive or I thought I could do something stronger.

It ended up being 30 pages worth of work, single spaced.

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It may seem like a little thing, but I know myself. Two years ago, I probably wouldn’t have been able to cut all that. I would have been too attached to the words I’d already written, too hung up on the work I’d already put in. Now, I realize that revisions of that magnitude are sometimes necessary to improving your work that much more. It doesn’t mean any of the words you wrote before are suddenly worthless, even if they didn’t make the final cut. Those words needed to be there, in order for you to be where you are now.

I’m growing as a writer. I like to believe that I’m becoming a better one.

And that’s exciting, too.

Three: I have a vision for the future.

In order to fix some plot holes, I had to do some digging in regards to the series. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to happen, but I needed concrete ideas. I needed to know exactly what was going to happen at the end, exactly how my character arcs looked, what major plot points I wanted to hit in the narrative arc for the entire series. I figured it out and it made me fall in love with this series even more. I’m excited to figure out what happens in book two.

Four: I met my self-imposed deadline.

Early, in fact. I wanted to have edits done by December 15th. I got them done by December 5th. 10 days early. Hell to the yes. Does that mean I’m always going to meet every deadline put in front of me? Not necessarily (though that’s always the goal). But I know I can put in the work and I know it’s possible, and I’ve learned some important things while working on a deadline, so, the next time one comes around, I’m ready for it.

Five: My book is stronger than it was.

excited new girl GIF

And that?

Well, friends, that’s a really cool feeling.

Future wise, I may take the rest of December “off” of writing. I have a lot of books I want to get through, reading wise, and it feels like reading has been on my back burner for awhile, now. Thanks to the cold weather, my PS4 and I will also be getting some quality time together. Not to mention the rest of the holiday awesomeness to juggle through.

As far as writing goes, I’m not sure if I want to pick back up the sci-fi novel I was working on or attempt that urban fantasy I shelved earlier in the year. Or maybe I’ll start working on book two of Artemis’s series. There’s also that YA trilogy I want to edit, though talk about some work.

I dunno, there’s a lot of choices, floating around (not to mention the research required, looking at agents to query as I head back into the trenches). I’m excited to see where my muse takes me, come January (or perhaps earlier, if the calling is really there). Regardless, I’m going to enjoy the rest of December and try not to refresh my email too much.



Do More Than Dare to Dream

Have you ever had a dream for so long that you can’t remember a time when you weren’t wishing for it to come true? Where it reaches a point that, since you can’t remember never wanting that dream, that sometimes, you forget what exactly it is that you really want?

It’s not a surprise that I really want to an author, with my books out in the world and published, homed on the shelves of your local bookstore.

But what does that look like, exactly?

In my mind, it looks a little something like this:

If my dream came true, I’d know what it feels like to experience not only a request for a full manuscript, but also the infamous “Call” from an agent offering representation, where we squee about my book and our shared vision for it, and then I promptly go make a plethora of other phone calls to my parents and my siblings, best friends and my man, probably a crying mess of emotions, telling them that I’ve found my advocate, my partner in crime, who has the means and the methods to make my dream finally come true, and together, we’re going to make it happen.

I’d also eat a lot of celebratory ice cream.

I’d know work; hard work. I’d meet other individuals who believed in my book, like editors and publishing houses, who’d instruct me how to make my book reach that next level required before publication and I’d go back to the editing board. Again, as many times as necessary. I’d experience working under a deadline, sending frantic emails to my agent at 3am and then texting them the next morning and apologizing for my freakout, but could they please tell me that latest scene that’s been plaguing me since day one is finally there?

I’d know waiting. Waiting for my agent to read my manuscript and offer feedback. Waiting for editors and publishing reps to respond, after my manuscript is finally ready and sent out into the publishing world, hoping to be snatched up. I’d know rejection, when we have to cross a hopeful house off the list–potentially all of them, forcing me to go back to the drawing board. I’d know elation–alongside more tears and more ice cream–when a deal has been made between my agent and a publishing house, and my dream really becomes a reality, when a publication date is set. I’d know excitement, as I have to keep that news under wraps for weeks, if not longer, before it can be announced. I’d learn about every step in the process, taking a book from manuscript to print, and I’d make a lot of friends along the way.

writing GIF

Then, it will all be a whirlwind that takes ages to complete, but hopefully I don’t focus on the wait too much, because I’m too busy working on the next book, building my platform and meeting my agent in person for the first time to spend staring at a calendar, counting down to my book’s birthday (though we all know that’s going to happen anyway). My book will debut and I’ll get to do my first ever book signing, full of awkwardness, sweaty palms and blushing red nerves on my part (plus, a really shite signature). I’ll go on a book tour. I’ll be torn between looking up reviews on Goodreads and avoiding them like the plague. I’ll stay up late at night, crying both tears of happiness and tears of pain, when readers both love and hate my book.

I’ll keep writing.

I’ll no longer be a debut author. Now, working under deadlines and dealing with contracts will become more familiar than foreign. Maybe I’ll make enough to quit my day job so I can work part-time at something I really love, instead. I’ll get chances to meet agents, editors, authors and industry professionals I’ve always admired and, hopefully, turn some of those idols into friends. I’ll randomly sign books whenever I go to a bookstore and fill up my Instagram with too many shots of the same cover that I probably collapsed on the ground and cried over, when I first saw it and held my ARC copies of my own book in my hands. I’ll start speaking at book shops, after getting established, talking with readers and aspiring authors about my own journey, desperate to hear about theirs and hopefully, ideally, inspire them to go forward and write the next book that obsess over.

There’ll be fanmail, both with love and hate. When fan art appears, that’s when I’ll truly know I’ve made it (please, ship all my characters). Selling foreign or cinematic rights to any of my works would be incredible and beyond the scope of what I could imagine possible.

Yet, at the end of the day, I’d be doing the same thing I’ve been doing since before I can really remember: sitting down and writing word after word, attempting to tell the stories that somehow snuck into my head coherently onto paper.

But instead of hoping people will one day read them, I’ll look at my bookshelf, see an actual, physical copies of books I wrote sitting there, beside all my favorites; and I’ll know, that if I keep on putting in the work, readers can, and will, continue to read my stories.


PS: I just started revising the book (again) that I hope kicks off making this dream–every element of this dream, the good, the difficult, the surreal and the challenging–a reality. It’s been a struggle, so I just needed to remind myself the life I hope to live, one day. My stories will continue to get written, no matter if this dream comes true or not. But, for me, I want to do more than dare to dream this dream will become a reality.

I’m going to work to make it so.

My Most Recent Writing Mind Suck

Writing has been a…really interesting endeavor, recently.

A lot of battling back and forth with my own mind, trying to decide whether I’m actually shit or if I’m borderline brilliant (because my brain doesn’t have any go-between, apparently). A lot of questioning whether the story I’m writing is one I should be writing at all and if I’m ever going to make a career out of my passion. A lot of days where I only get 100 words written, only to be followed up the next day with 3,000.

This afternoon, I was introduced to an interesting complication to further complicate my mind suck, of sorts.

You see, I’ve been working on my rewrite of THE RESISTANCE, tentatively titled in this new draft as THE CLEANSING. I’ve never experienced so much back and forth with a book before, so much questioning surrounding it. There’s been plenty of times where I wanted to give it up all together, to work on something else, but I kept pushing. I’m on track to finish the first draft (if it falls in the 80,000 word range) by the end of December. I’d love to just get a draft done and then I can focus on, you know, actually making this story good in the next round. That’s what the first draft is for, right? Plus, this book is also meant to solidify my writing habits again, which is another reason I don’t want to table it.

Not to mention that I tabled a different project earlier this year and that was really hard. It made me feel like a failure (which I know isn’t true). If I were to table two projects in one year, what does that mean? My confidence as a writer has already been shaky enough, as late. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, especially as I’m just getting into the groove of rebuilding it.

And yet.

Let me describe that glorious complication.

I got some feedback on my novel, ARTEMIS SMITH AND THE VIRTUOUS MARRIAGE QUEST. A novel that I wrote last year and have slowly been editing away. The novel that I really want to query, after this latest rounds of revisions. I’ve just been waiting on some feedback from my latest round of beta readers before I started the next round of edits. So far, ARTEMIS has received the same type of feedback, but always with the same problem.

A problem that, based on a discussion with my critique partner this afternoon, I might–finally–have a solution for.

She also might have told me that Angry Robots put out an open call for unsolicited SFF manuscripts, due by December 31st.

And my book fits exactly into what they want (I hope).

*cue glorious excitement and utter terror*

So, now I have a choice: do I switch to editing this novel and getting it ready to send to Angry Robot, as well as to query agents when most of them reopen in January (thus tabling the sci-fi novel that’s been giving me so much trouble and not meeting that self-given deadline and “not winning” NaNoWriMo)? Do I continue to work on the sci-fi manuscript and edit ARTEMIS when I get done? Or do I try to work on both projects at once, meeting my self-set deadline and not (albeit falsely) feel like a failure for tabling two books in one year, while also meeting the Angry Robot deadline?


After writing those choices out, my gut leans towards working on Artemis and making it shine for Angry Robots and agents.

Sure, I’d be setting aside my sci-fi novel, for now, and that makes my insides twist for reasons I’m not really sure I understand, i.e., why do I equate tabling a project to work on later as failure?* It’s something I’ve been struggling to write, beyond the point of just your typical writing struggles, I think. Whereas Artemis…Artemis, I’m passionate about. I’m excited about that story and I’m so excited to finally have a potential solution to this problem that’s been nagging at me for almost a year.

So why does switching to work on my passion project, my project that’s *just this close* to querying, make me feel so guilty?

I’m not entirely sure, at the moment, where that guilt comes from. I’m sure another blog post will show up, sometime, to try and flesh this mindset out. But I do know this: I’m excited about Artemis and where this story is heading and I’m really damn hopeful about his future. I’m ready to put in the work and see what happens next.


* I’d really love to get some feedback from you, if you have some time, on your thoughts about this idea. Do you have similar struggles? What are your opinions of this mindset? Any advice you have to combat it?

Finally: A Writing Update

I started writing a new book last week.

I was both really excited and really nervous about it. Excited because working on the outline for the novel helped me figure out a lot of details and really understand the story that I want to tell, not to mention the characters who are going to be living through it. I think this is a controversial story, as far as how well people might like it (it’s a tragedy, after all). but it’s still an idea that’s been stuck in my head for a while, so I want to give it a shot. Nervous because it’s been almost a year since I’ve written anything that’s a novel-length work. After being in a rut for so long, it’s been hard to get back into the swing of things again.

Which became even more evident after I started writing again.

I wrote twice last week. Once, last Monday, I believe. I had mapped out some time–two hours each day–where I would dedicate to writing. The goal being at least an hour, but having two mapped out, in case something got in the way and I couldn’t write or I was on a roll and wanted to write longer. So I sat down and started writing.

After roughly an hour and a half, I got 400 words written.

Not bad, really. But I wasn’t feeling it, afterwards. I felt like the words were shit and everything I was doing was wrong. As such, the rest of the week, I kept finding other things to do during the time I blocked out to write, whether it was blogging or reading or emails or figuring out what I want to buy everyone for Christmas. It was obvious I was avoiding opening up that document, because it just felt like shit.

Then, on Thursday, I forced myself to continue working (with a little help from an empty To-Do list).

By the end of the night, I had almost 4,000 words.

Granted, about half of those were recycled from the project that I scrapped that this one is being fleshed out from; same generally premise, only a lot better and more detailed, with different characters and conflict. But I was trying to rewrite a scene that I had the general bone structure for in a previous book. So, I decided to copy that scene over and see if it still fit, with a little more fine tuning.

It took a lot of fine tuning, but I cannot describe how great that felt, writing that night. Not only did I get the first chapter written, but I also discovered that my character has a little bit of snark to him that I wasn’t expecting. And that’s going to have some interesting consequences for the novel and how it plays out.

Writing like that? It was like waking up after a really long nap. Or stretching out and preparing to go for a run after not being able to for months. The muscles I used to hone daily were sore and a little out of shape, but they were still there. They still worked. They just needed a little more encouragement, is all.

How interesting, then, that after a busy weekend, when I finally have time to write again this week, that I’m suddenly apprehensive again; that I’m looking through my fresh To-Do List and trying to decide what I can do first, instead of writing. Those nerves have crept up again, that doubt always lingering attempting to make itself cozy in the forefront of my mind.

I need to do two things:

  1. Stop thinking about publishing. I keep thinking, as I’m writing, about this book’s future. Is it marketable? Will agents like it? How will reader’s response? Is it good enough to query? Yet the plain truth is, none of those questions matter–hell, none of the answers to those questions matter–if the book itself doesn’t get written. I can’t do anything with a blank page. I can’t sell a story that hasn’t been written yet.
  2. Just write. I just need to write the damn thing. If this draft sucks? So what? If this story never gets published? So what? If no one ever reads it but me? Yeah, so what? Even if this story “goes nowhere,” I’ll still learn a lot by writing it. It’s still a story I really want to tell. It’s probably the most challenging thing I’ve written so far and something I really want to figure out. So I’m going to write it and, if it gets published in the future, fantastic. If it doesn’t, it’s still not a waste of my time and right now, the only audience that matters is me.

*tries to think of a clever way to end this post, but fails, so decides to do this instead, so she can actually go write and try and meet her word count goal for the day*


The Musings Behind “The Start of the World”

I had a lot of fun writing the latest short story for the Muses, which you can read here. I’d love to hear your thoughts and see what you thought about it. But not only that story, but also the stories from the rest of the Muses from this prompt, if you have the time and the inclination. We’d all really appreciate it.

I’m not sure if this is ironic, technically, but I fell into the same trap that I did with the previous prompt. As soon as I saw the prompt–the last entry in an explorer’s journal–I knew exactly what I was going to write about. I knew I wanted to do a sort of bookend effect with a previous story I’d written, for the prompt “you were born with the ability to feel what’s underneath the ground and for the first time, you say, “We should not dig here.”

That story might be my favorite out of the ones I’ve written since the Muses first began. The narrator has a lot of spunk and is a bit questionable in his character, which created a mix of responses from readers regarding their sympathy towards him. I loved the premise, too–not to mention that my Dad helped me come up with it, a collaboration that meant a lot. It was written like a journal entry, where my narrator described how he might have been the catalyst to triggering the beginning of the end of the world. So when I saw this month’s prompt, I knew it would be really fun to write the last journal entry from his story.

Yet, like I said, I fell into the same trap as the last prompt, where I immediately knew what I was going to write about and then ended up not writing the piece until a few days before it was due. It actually worked out, for the last prompt. I’m not so sure about this one. Don’t get me wrong–I still like the story I wrote. However, I was hoping to have more of the in-between fleshed out inside my head, so I could give this “last” entry more substance. You know, so the entry would be my narrator reminiscing about the adventures he’s had saving the world, dropping hints and making references to events that, theoretically, we as the readers would have already read, since it was all recorded in his journal. Yet, in reality, we haven’t, since we’ve only gotten the first and last page as two separate stories. I was hoping to create some suspense, making readers wonder how the same man that triggered the end of the world managed to save it.

But, because I waited so last minute, I didn’t have the time to flesh out the in-between events, so the last journal entry felt a little…flat, to me. I still had a good time writing it and trying to get back into that snarky voice with a narrator who is likable to some while disliked by many, but I definitely think I could have done better. Hopefully, for my next story, I’ll actually put in the time it deserves, instead of letting life get in the way. But until then, thanks, as always, for supporting both me and my fellow Muses as we continue to write, grow and learn.

Your support means everything.


Breakthrough or Bust

Whoa, friends.

I may be jumping ahead of myself, considering I’m still riding a holy-shit-I-think-I-figured-out-this-plot writer’s high after spending the past two hours outlining, but friends, I really do think I might have figured out the plot for my rewrite.

If you know me, I bet it’s come to no surprise that my standalone sci-fi tragedy has now expanded into a tragic trilogy, with the first two books completely mapped out–not half bad, considering what I had this morning, which was filled with holes, lacking in conflict and making me want to bang my head against the wall. Now, I have a steady base to go forward, a clear understanding of what’s happening, a closeness with my characters that makes me confident I can write them and make their motives clear, plus a revised plot that threads throughout the trilogy that makes my heart accelerate with giddy anticipation and excitement.

Sure, I still have no idea how to wrap up this trilogy, which might seem like a red flag to everyone, because yeah, usually the writer knows the end goal before she’s going to get there. And yep, I have no idea how this one is going to end. It’s set up so there is a lot of opportunity, but at the moment, I couldn’t tell you what will happen. Sure, there is still a lot that might change and maybe I’ll talk to my man about it and he’ll be like, “Babe, that’s actually worse than what you started with originally.” Or maybe I’ll write it and realize that it is complete shit and I’m in over my head and, even though it felt like a breakthrough, it actually was a bust.


This afternoon, I pulled up my outline and then closed it half a dozen times, at a loss of where this story needed to go next or what I was meant to do with it. I went and did some other things, but I hated wasting so much time I had available to write and I wanted to figure this shit out. So I opened it again and kept trying. Half an hour went by without anything to show for it, but I kept going. I kept pushing, challenging myself and writing any idea that came to mind, erasing most of it by the end.

Until I had it.

It’s the closest feeling to an epiphany moment I can describe personally experiencing. One moment, I  was banging my head against the wall and the next, I had a plot twist that suddenly, helped everything else make sense. Reorder a few events in the first book and there the tension I was missing was; there, the opportunity to heighten it and make the first book feel like a real story, even if that cliffhanger ending might want to make readers, if I pull this off right, want to bang their own heads into a wall.

It may amount to nothing, but at the moment, hot damn, it’s a start. And a start is exactly what I’ll take, right now. Because I can run with this. I can create a story around this and, through a shit-ton of work, make this story work. 

So let’s get started, shall we?


Well, Shit

Oh, you gotta love the rollercoaster ride that is being a writer who overthinks (which begs the question of if there is any writer who doesn’t struggle with overthinking and questioning their work).

Let me tell you a story.

Peruse through this blog the past, eh, year or so, and you’ll find a plethora of posts discussing my writing rut and my struggle with it. You’ll also find a few posts discuss my revelation and decision to scrap a novel previously titled THE RESISTANCE and start over from square one.

Last week, I started working on a rough outline, writing out the history of the events that happened before the story I wanted to tell and the basic plot, mapping out the beats I wanted to happen in each chapter. This week, I began fleshing out a few plots holes that still remained and did a little more research, even putting a few books on hold at the library that might make me a bit more knowledgeable over some of the topics I wanted to include. Though I struggled last night to start working on a personality sketch of my main character, I was excited. I was sticking to the routine I’d made for myself and this story seemed to be forming in front of my eyes. I was getting excited once more, that feeling I’d missed for so long during that rut.

So, I decided to tell my man about the plot. I didn’t do the best job describing it, but I pushed through.

And then he said, “You know I really like you, but–”

And my heart dropped.

In the famous words of the brilliant writer Varric Tethras: “Well, shit.”

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted his honest opinion. And it means the world to me that he willingly gave it and didn’t beat around the bush about it, yet was also sweet. It could have been worse. Basically, he said he felt like I was cramming too many elements from sci-fi into one novel and I should try and space it out more, so readers don’t feel overwhelmed and I take the proper time to actually flesh out every aspect and detail. That’s not a bad suggestion, not at all. I’m still wracking my brain about how to exactly do that, plot and story wise, but it definitely could have been worse feedback.

Yet it still didn’t stop me from feeling a little…defeated, in a sense. Here I am, finally taking the steps to get back into the writing game, and I’m already stumbling. Not to mention I just sent ARTEMIS out for (hopefully) it’s last round of beta edits before I can go query, so all around, I’m feeling a little nervous and unconfident about my strength as a writer, especially since it feels like I’ve been out of the game for so long. Plus, considering these ideas were meant to be improvements on a story that was already lacking in every respect and yet they are still lacking…

Yeah, I woke up this morning and just felt, disappointed, in myself. As I struggled to get a few more hours of sleep, my brain wouldn’t turn off, thinking about this story. As I ran, I struggled to figure out how to tell the story I wanted to tell and contemplated–just for a moment–giving up on this story entirely. Obviously it was way too out of my league to attempt to even write. Obviously it’s too bleak, too depressing, too intricate, too alien, for be worth trying. Obviously–

Obviously, I just needed to have mini pity party for myself. Now, I need to shove all those doubts into a place I immediately forget about and then get back to work.

Yeah, this story I’m trying to write isn’t the easiest. It’s complicated, it’s out of my usual realm, it’s a tragedy and it isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea. And I have some decisions to make. More outlining to do. Plus, I have to write the entire thing. Then rewrite it. Draft after draft after draft, which, personally, I think is when the core part of the story is actually discovered and truly written (during the rewrites), so even if I don’t follow my man’s advice and decide to write it the way it’s outlined now–or if I follow it and break this story into multiple books–I know it’s going to change during the editing process. It’s going to constantly evolve and grow and dare I believe it, improve.

But it’s never going to have that chance if I don’t write it because I’m feeling fragile at the moment and have, in a sense, lost my confidence as a writer.

So, if you don’t mind, I have some more outlining and brainstorming to do.