Shot of Pen-icillin (It’s punny)

First let me say I have re-written this a few times, because I don’t know how to cover this topic without alienating myself. Second,  It’s long.  I ran out of time to perfect it since I wanted this out by the 1st, sorry.

I haven’t been in the whole official writing gig thing for very long, and maybe that’s why this particular topic sticks out so much with me. Or maybe I will be torn to shreds for even thinking I could have a say in this which is precisely the reason I’m doing this. Our community is sick. Now I don’t mean in the depraved way I mean in the doctor’s office sick way. It’s nothing terminal or anything, because it’s not too late to fix it. We just need a shot, a shot of compassion and humility.

Back-story time. I have been writing for a long time, but not like what I have been doing the past year or so. Like many others I wrote by myself behind a closed door with the lights off and the covers over my head for good measure. I was embarrassed. My work felt so fragile and raw. If people ever knew of its existence they would surely mock and insult me. After all, I’m CJ the jock or CJ the gamer not CJ the writer. At least that’s how it felt. I think this is a common feeling for most of us at first. When I found out another one of my friends wrote too I mocked him. It was wrong. I was wrong. I was jealous because he could do something I didn’t have the courage to do. I apologized, he pushed me to be more involved in the community, and eventually I relented with NaNoWriMo. I immediately broke the rules like I do, but I still did it. For the most part everyone seemed friendly and nice….that is, until I went into the show your work forums (and, most recently, the forum discussing this year’s rule change which is sort of what clinched my need to write this.)

Keep in mind these are paragraphs written at lightning speed by people who are doing this to have a good time many for the first time. Yet some of the so called veterans would rip at the cadence, the passive voice, and the spelling like they would a George Martin final draft. A few even resorting to insults and cries of just quit now. The mods took down the hateful things as fast as they could, but you could still see it from time to time. On the positive side, most people were helpful and decried those few mean spirits. This pushed me to get more involved.

I started to go to classes and seminars, popped into a few write-ins, continued to help and participate in Camp NaNo, subscribed to Reddit Writing Prompts and Writing, and even drove to other towns to see my favorite writers speak. The more I dug into this world of words the more I saw it. The dark side of us all. Being new I seemed to get a good brunt of it. Everyone telling me my methods and ideas are wrong and juvenile. Things only neophytes would do. These things I know. I’m still looking for my voice and I only have a rough draft.

Probably the worst thing I see is people tearing apart other ideas for the sole reason of getting their own more visibility. (A crime most often seen and admitted to by people using sites with an up vote/down vote system.) One down vote on a new submission will push theirs to the bottom of the pile to be forgotten and keep your own submission closer to the top. It’s tempting I know, but it’s wrong. Another thing tempting is to not up vote things that are good because it will put theirs higher than yours. This is a community, and although it feels great to be praised and recognized it is just as important and vital to praise others.

Instead of encouraging others to join we tend to overload them with rules and tales of woe. If I had a dollar for every time I see: “Why write at all, you aren’t good enough to publish.” I would probably be able to open my own freaking publishing company.

Before I’m accused of just complaining for my own short comings please understand this isn’t coming from a place of anger. I’m a full grown dirt of my shoulders adult. I don’t really care what people say, and I don’t care that my work will never be world famous. That’s not why I do this (again something for another day). I do care, however, when I hear these stories coming from the teenagers at these seminars. So young with a confidence so frail. I have seen people giving up completely, because they felt so discouraged after sharing their work with the world which is a crime. Our crime. Of course it’s not perfect and of course we should give pointers, but we also need to be positive. Everyone likes to know that they are on the right track. We need to be able to push people in the right direction not push them away. Who knows, that young man you just ripped a new one could have been the next Dean Koontz had he been given the time to learn and grow. It’s easy to be misunderstood when our chief medium is text on a page; this is the internet after all.

Rant over I guess. As of tonight I start NaNoWriMo so my already poor updating skills will probably be even poorer this month. My bad. I will do my best though considering this blog is pretty much my therapy. I can’t wait to get back together with the old group for those weekly coffee shop nights, and the bar write-ins I’m trying to host for us older kids. Till next time I guess. Sign up if you haven’t.


My Thoughts on the NaNoWriMo Debacle

Initially I had a blog planned out that I was attempting to write, but in my procrastination I finally visited the NaNoWriMo site.  I do it every year and participate in some of the camps as well.  If you haven’t heard of it check it out.  However, I noticed something disheartening this year.  A minor rule change, no not even a rule change really, has caused a ridiculously petty uproar.  After reading 14 plus pages on everyone else’s opinions I felt the need to throw in mine.  Yet with my sickly mind, literally I am sick, I thought writing a poem would be a great idea.  I will probably touch more on this at a later date.

Since the topic sort of kind of loosely applies to the blog I’m working on I figured I would share it:

1.) becuase I took the time to write it,

2.) because I need to stall for time before I get the next piece out.  Don’t judge me.

Let me a tell you my story of woe
Of how I almost didn’t NaNoWriMo

On a dark stormy night late 2012
Into my mind I started to delve
I found a story I’d toyed with for years
Yet had not begun thanks to silly fears
I meticulously wrote each line and each scene
Ignoring the fact I was totally green

I heard tales of a boy who lived down the street
Who would attempt a truly ridiculous feat
50,000 words in a month! How naïve, how insane
A craptastic novel is all he could gain
I looked at my screen and at my perfection
I didn’t need some gimmicky goal to find my direction

I restarted, rewrote, meandered, and dragged
With every misstep my inner editor nagged
With every word a chore and my confidence shattered
Months flitted on by leaving me feeling quite battered

The boy who tried fell just short of his goal
Just as expected with a concept so droll
I wanted to gloat, boast, and beam to the brim
But in the nine months since I had yet to match him
I rushed to the site. What was his secret?
I’d hit a roadblock and needed to beat it

I glanced at the rules alas twas not for me
Why start a game when a cheater I’d be
I loved my characters with foundations so strong
Forsaking the finished felt backwards and wrong
A forum was made for committers of crime
But the rules proclaimed it would be a miserable time

Conflicted, into the community I lurked
In many a thread the argument tumbled and jerked.
A rebel was fine for the seasoned and ready
Their victories earned and their paces rock steady
Fresh blood, however, should never remiss
Without a beginning the spirit they’d miss *

Why even bother with a victory hollow
No, alone in my failure I was doomed to wallow
Maybe one day when this story was done
Happily ever after with evil undone
For now I could only continue alone
Creaking on forward with a sigh and a groan

The boy heard tales of my tormented soul
And came to my door with one alike in goal
Another newbie with a tale of old
Struggling to find the words to be told
That night we took to the site
Together we could overcome our plight

I finished my chapter a month prior to start
And spent the last weeks reworking the heart
The eve of the first I eagerly wait
New ideas lunged through the starting gate
Like a flash they flowed from my head to my hand
All ranked and filed just as I planned

After a week my poor enthusiasm waned
My outline fell through and I had been shamed
My inner demon pled me to give up the fight
With the battle too hard the rule must have been right
But forward I marched under the tick and the tock
A goal I had set; I would conquer the clock

In the days that followed strange words leapt to the page
A new villain emerged full of malice and rage
My hooligans struggled, bled, scraped, and clawed
My hands wrote a story while my brain oohed and ahhed

The story took twists and turns unexpected
Ideas spilled forth that I would have rejected
Characters shifted; I laughed and I cried
Some rose in ranks, some surprisingly died

The 30th came as I blew past the line
A victory earned; I committed no crime
50000 new soldiers all bold and all valid
Not just some worthless, jumbled word salad
My demon reduced to the size of a pebble
On it’s wreckage I stood a NaNoWriMo Rebel.

*Cheap rhyme I know, but I’m tired

Overcoming Fear Pt. 1

Once again sorry for the delay but this is the post I have been dreading. Like I said in the first blog my biggest fear is getting my ideas out there. I fret over if they are rejected or taken, but the point of this page is to get over that so here goes nothing. What’s the point of creating something if you hide it? I have three projects in the works right now: my main, my mini-story, and my micro-story. (I have never tried to sum this up before so be gentle in your judgments good strangers.)

Whenever something is tough I’m always told to go in head first, balls to the wall so to speak. For my first trick let’s go straight to the main project, Blood and Whiskey, the very project this page is named for. It is the working title for the first book in the series I started actually writing down a bit over a year and a half ago. It took severe insanity and boredom to actually do that but that is a rant for another day. I say write down because the world and characters have been dogging me since I was but a young lass in high school. To put things bluntly I got sick of supernatural and fantasy creatures essentially being written as if every single creature has been stuck in stasis for the past century or two. One lonely afternoon I started to rewrite creatures as I would have actually seen them evolve through history. Every single historical path and goal designed around one rule, one truth: Assimilate, Hide, or Die. Once I finished that I created a few new ones, because…why not?

Gone are the days of vamps “From another time.” Orcs have broken off into tribes after a disagreement of which path to take leading to completely different modern results. Some species have flourished in the shadows; others have been hunted into non-existence.  An entirely new species emerged through fear and experimentation. No matter where they pull their energy from no species is inherently good or evil. In this world a demon could be your hero, an elf your nightmare, a gargoyle your neighbor, and a gremlin your tech support.

Book 1, which I finished the first draft in April :-D, centers around a small, local gang that goes by the Fenians of Erin. They have enjoyed a few years of peace in their little underworld, but run into a snag when a rival gang gets new management. Strangers start to arrive offering their services to the highest bidder forcing the already tenuous treaty to crumble.

In a town a few states away a species only know as hunter tries to reign in a war brewing under the surface as tensions rise in the increasingly frustrated meta* community only to be distracted by a serial killer targeting Meta sapiens*.


*Subject to change as soon as I redo my research. I lost my cheat sheet of each species’ genus and epithet (>_<)   Meta was the working name; I’m not a fan of it. On the other hand I wasn’t a fan of the name Max being one of the narrator’s names but that grew on me.