Tag: editing

Worlds.

Trying to break into worlds is hard.

No, this isn’t about me trying to find a way into another galaxy or proving that there is life in space. What I’m stating, is facts, that when you try to break into worlds it’s hard.

The writing community is huge. A lot of book worms, writers, authors, agents, editors, etc. && trying to get welcomed into it is like trying to sit at the popular table in high school. Sadly, I was never invited.

I have never been good at popularity contests && I wasn’t part of the “in crowd” && thinking that the writing community makes me feel like that is a harsh reality. I honestly know it’s not a popularity contest… but I feel like that. I also feel if you don’t have the money to spend you’ll never be published.

I figured the best way for an unknown is to publish it myself. Which is totally fine – I don’t mind doing the hard work. But I really wanted a professional editor to read through it, find the errors but unless I can poop out nearly $3,000 that will never happen. &&& I know they are worth the money, I just don’t have it to spend.

Then I think ‘okay, let’s skip the professional editing.’ Knowing that it’s self published, “most” readers will look over a lot of them. I will just edit the crap out of it.

Next hurdle. To self-publish, you need extra money. Thousands. I found a company that helps self publish but as I began reading I realized that not only do they request thousands of dollars they also keep 80¢ on every dollar for themselves so I would only get 20¢ of every dollar sold. Whereas, if I do it all myself and use Amazon, I get 70% of the royalties.

But then I think about going with my other passion but breaking into the food world is just as hard – if not harder. I guess when they say “you need money to make money” they weren’t kidding. But sadly, here I am with no money.

I did upload a couple chapters of the book. I figured if it gets enough notice that either that company will want to publish it or it shows that if I was to save the money, step-by-step it, that people would be interested in purchasing the book.

Frost.

Mara Montgomery spends her days cooking and cleaning for her stepmother and two stepsisters.  But after an accident one night, Mara finds her life changing forever.  When she arrives back home and see’s that everything has changed, her anger turns into revenge, before taking off deciding her life isn’t what she always thought it would be.  Mara is only partially accepting with the reality she was facing when she is approached by the charming, rude, and egotistical Kristopher Plague. 

Kristopher Plague comes across to the public as the ordinary rich boy, not wanting for anything, living in the largest house on the West side of town.  He uses his notorious good looks and money to gratify his every need, but is secretly obsessed with Mara, the only girl he cannot have.  Once she appears in his yard in the middle of the night, almost as a knight in shining armor, he will do anything and everything in his power to make her his.  Until a guy, NiKlaus Cuttingham, appears out of the shadows and threatens to take everything that is his.

NiKlaus Cuttingham is Chief of Police and all-around terrific guy, and brother of Mara Montgomery’s best friend, Megan.  He finds himself hunting down the ‘bad guys’ and rescuing damsels in distress.  Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the girl-next-door would need some saving and he would find himself tangled in the middle of lies, deceit, and murder.

*********************************

I’m slowly finishing up the novel. I’m to the point where I have let someone have the first four chapters to read. I’m still scared to death – which of course, everything that the person says I overthink it && make it worse in my head.

The question is – from the blurb – would you read it?

I have had the blurb for the back of the book written for years, I’m not sure if I have ever shared it before, but here it is. I’m wanting to find one more person to edit it, start to finish, after I finish reading through it, but I’m not sure who to use. I know I can’t use an official editor, because I don’t have the money for it && I refuse to ask someone who does it for a living to do it for free. Because – that’s like asking me to go to work for a week && not get paid for it. I wouldn’t do it I don’t expect them to do it.

Anyhoo… I am up to chapter 19 of 29-ish. It’s either 28 or 29 chapters. Then I have to upload my changes once again && then hopefully find someone who…

I’m worried about giving it to someone who has been in my life for a long time because I fear they will tell me what they think I want to hear because they are afraid of hurting my feelings. It’s one of those, I’d rather them hurt my feelings because if they tell me it’s good, I go to get it published (whether I do it myself or through a company) the criticism will be worse than a friend/family telling me they didn’t like it.

Ya know?

I have my goal to finish is by Summer of 2022. Getting it published is a different story.

Here We Go!

November 2012 – First got the idea of Frost
November 2012 – Began writing.-The first few months was probably the easiest. The words just came to me. Flew out without having to think about it. Came across Chapter Three && the words just stopped. For some weird reason, every odd chapter was hard to write.
January 25, 2015 – I finished writing the full story.
January 26, 2015 – Began editing the story.
January 27, 2015 – Began the LONG fight with the story that lasted seven years.
January 25, 2022 – Finished – completely – the first round of edits. Yes, you read that correctly, I have finished editing the book. Do I think it’s great? No, I still think it needs a lot of work. But this is right direction.

My next plan is to print it out, start to finish, && read it. Make sure it flows, make notes throughout it. Make sure I didn’t take something out that I referenced before. It began with one idea && became something completely different as I finished writing it. But I think most writers say that about their stories.

I have given myself a goal. The goal of finishing this completely before the end of this year. Although, I think I say this every year, I mean it a little more now. The last year has been weird, hard, and stupid – && I know that I may not have forever and if I keep putting it off, my forever is going to be something I don’t enjoy as much as I should. I preach to people all the time to do the stuff in life that makes them happy. So why am I not listening to myself when it comes to my own happiness? I don’t want to be doing what I’m doing for the rest of my life. I want to write. I want that to be my living. &&& I will NEVER know for sure if I have what it takes if I never finish the book.

So here I am. My life is fine – but it would be so much better if I could put as my job title “Author”. Be able to say that my life is writing. Writing is my life.

But then again, I have decided to do a lot of things that scare me. That I’m afraid to do. && no, it’s not one of those “I’m going to die so I’m going to do everything on my bucket list.” I am not planning my death. I’m not ready to die. I’m just going to do && try to do the things that I have wanted to but afraid to try. Maybe I’ll go bungee jumping? Go down a water slide? Learn to swim?

I’ve been struggling lately with my sugar numbers. They’ve been high – not last year high, but high. 300’s. All the time. Morning. Afternoon. Night. My phone was been waking me up beeping because it hits 300 between 2AM & 7AM. Then it’ll go down to about 250 && stay there all day. I have been waiting to go see my endocrinologist about it && see what she says, however, when my appointment came up I found out they dropped my insurance – yay. So I was unable to do that. Instead I made an appointment with my primary && had the conversation. After discussing medicine & such she mentioned that it’s probably because I have been taking one of my shots. Why? Because I ran out of it – then tried to get it refilled. The endocrinologist I was seeing doesn’t, for any reason, answer their phone. So I was unable to get it refilled. So my primary refilled it – three months worth – &&& I began taking it again. I’m back on it for two weeks. The last two days I haven’t hit 300. It has been ranging between 150 – 200. Still high, but it’s a lot better than it was.

Weight loss. That’s my goal. I don’t know if I will be able to do it myself. Back of my mind has been weight loss surgery. I feel like that’s me giving up. But at the same time, I also think, it might benefit me. I will have a higher chance of not being diabetic, have high blood pressure && I may, just may get my heart function back.

My check up this month with my primary – she said I had a little fluid build up again. Nothing scary. She didn’t hospitalize me. She said my numbers are better. I take a water pill – I’m allotted two of them a day – I have only been taking one. This last few days I have been taking two. I can’t have the build up – a heart attack is not in my plans.

&&& I was like, “whatever bitches”…

Angel reruns, a banana popsicle and making tator tot casserole for dinner made my brain rumble. Actually, no, what made my brain a rumble would be me reading Gabriel’s Inferno again – for like the, 1,000th time. (So many times a friend asked if my book was still together: which it is, by the way.)

What makes a writer a writer?

I have been asking this question to myself a lot lately. Not because I doubt what and who I feel – but because – am I allowed to call myself a writer? Are you only considered a writer if you have published a book? If so, are actors who write autobiography’s writers? Are chefs who have twenty cook BOOKS, writers? But can you consider a person who is always thinking about writing, but doesn’t write daily; who stares at blank word documents and sighs because they words won’t flow out of her fingertips? Someone who can read book after book and get so many ideas for a novel, but cannot seem to get passed the first sentence to make anything happen? How about the girl who has actually written a novel, but can’t seem to finish editing out the crap parts without dousing it in gasoline and lighting it on fire?

Am I considered a writer or am I a wanna-be writer who dreams of it, but won’t let herself have it because she can’t center her brain enough to do it? But in the same sense, how can I consider myself a writer but not the girl next to me who writes poetry in her basement wearing all black with candles lit and Nightwish playing in the background? What makes me a writer and not her? Are we both considered writers?

I feel like a fraud at times. I’m probably just overthinking things – like usual – but how can I be something if I won’t allow myself to be it? I feel like a fraud because I only think about doing something. I did it, once, but now I’m stuck and afraid. I’m afraid because what if my story that I wrote is as bad as I feel? I mean, it cannot be too good if I can’t bring myself to read it to edit it – can I? &&& I don’t want to ask someone else to edit it, right now, because I know how bad it is.

I bought a indie writers book – she self-published &&& one of the authors I enjoy reading was promoting it. So I bought it, why not? It was only 1$. As I was sitting at work reading it on my Kindle all I saw were errors. Spelling errors. Sentence errors. Run ons, and paragraphs that made no sense. I even read through a part that sounded like the character in the book was a pedophile. I eventually stopped reading it because it went on && on &&& on &&&& on about absolutely nothing. At one point I couldn’t figure out what was happening. That’s what I fear. &&& I know for a fact that a part of my story is exactly that. It’s rambles. It’s nothing. It’s pure crap.

When I started writing Frost, I read how long people think romance novels should be and I went with that. So instead of going for content I wrote for numbers. Page numbers. Word numbers. I was trying to reach 100,000 words without realizing just how much garble I had. So now, when I edit it, I’m trying to take out the garble and leave the story. The content. The thing that will bring readers back. But when I sit to edit the garble I get sad because of how much there really is.

I swear I have a chapter where one of the characters is making dinner. I wrote paragraph after paragraph him making dinner and their thoughts and their crap. It LITERALLY has no place in the story. No one cares that the character likes spaghetti or that they know how to make it. I could have simply wrote “before she arrived he busied himself in the kitchen, making the only dish he really knows: spaghetti.” But no, I wrote how he put the water in the pot and salted the water, and how he boiled the noodles to perfection and made the sauce and poured the wine and she watched. The other character just watched him do it without them ever saying a single word to each other. Instead I could have wrote “he pulled out her chair and poured a glass of wine, living in a small town he doesn’t know much about fine wines, but the lady at the store recommended this one. She took a drink and smiled, showing her affection for the wine choice. She has never been a fan, but knowing that he picked and offered it, today – she loves wine.” I went on to say how he made the plates, put down the spoon and fork, sat in front of her, and then went on to talk about how they ate it. HOW THEY ATE IT! When I could have said “he was no chef, but when it came to spaghetti, he felt it. He gently sat a plate down in front of her. ‘Do you want some cheese?’ Her nerves collided with her brain, but nodded and smiled. He smiled, thinking it was cute every time she blushed, and grated some parmesan on top. Not a lot, but enough to top it right off. She looked around the table at the spread and felt like a queen. It had been a long time since she was offered so much and was allowed to sit at the table and enjoy it with someone. He is going to spoil her, was the only thing she was thinking.”

But here I am. My story isn’t written like that. Maybe I should stop complaining. Complaining doesn’t get me anywhere or do anyone any good. It doesn’t get the story edited or completed. It doesn’t help me in publishing it or allowing someone to read it. What I NEED to do is just get back to it – open the story back up and finish it.

But how do I get passed my irritation I have with the story to actually finish it? I still love the idea, the concept, but a part of me doesn’t like the characters. That’s the problem – I think – I don’t like the characters I built &&& that’s something a writer must do. When I read interviews or listen to authors talk – the one thing they all say, “I love the characters and I loved watched them grow and build into something great!” I have changed and rearranged and renamed and rebuilt my characters so many times – that I am just fed up with them and all they are about. I keep thinking about things I have to have in my story and I keep screwing it all up. I don’t NEED a gay character. I don’t NEED a suicide attempt. I don’t NEED guys being animals. I don’t NEED girls being damsels. I don’t need half of what is in it, but I Have it, because a part of me thought it had to have everything in one. If I put everything into one story then I will have nothing left for my other twenty novels I want people to read.

&&&& who said I had to have 300 pages? If I don’t make it to 300 pages, that’s fine – that just means it’s a shorter book. But of course, I wanted words and length so I wrote and wrote until I had such and such amount of crap and garble that now I have to… you know.

&&& now I’m sorry for the rambling but I think I’m just mad at myself. In 2012, when I began this story, I really believed all of this. Now, the 2019 me is trying to fix the crap that 2012 me wrote. It’s aggravating…

Dear Diary : #1

I don’t know what happened to me.  I used to be the epitome of writing.  Wrote constantly.  Anything && everything I could.  But now – not so much.  I know I complain about writing a lot, but I promise this isn’t going to be thirty-three paragraphs about how I just can’t seem to write anymore.

Nope.  Not in the least.

Today’s Complaint = I am in a reading rut!

(This also won’t be a thirty-two paragraph rant, either.)

I have tried a few different styles && a part of me thinks that is what may actually have put me in the rut.  Sadly, I LOVE romance novels.  Always have.  The idea that someone could have the perfect relationship – the kind they want, anyway – makes me happy.  Even if it’s between two fake people with fake families and fake friends.  The thoughts came from a real person.  So it counts somewhere.

Me?  I love reading romance, any kinds.  I love writing romance – all kinds.  (No “smut”, though, I can’t seem to get through that without laughing at myself.)  So no worries about getting the next 50 Shades of Grey.

Romance is my thing – has been since I could remember.  I love every aspect of a good romance novel.  But I like taking a romance novel and putting a horrible twist to it, so when the love reunites it’s even stronger than it ever was.

So I started my novel.  I figured I could do whatever I wanted and put the characters through what I choose fitting.  So November of 2012 I began my novel (“Frost”).  Oh, boy, was I excited.  The excitement is still there it’s just a tad burned out.  Not because I don’t want to finish it, I do!  Oh trust me, I want to finish it.  But I guess my goals just didn’t add up and now I’m a little on the sad part.

What goals?

I decided, when I began writing again (around nineteen), that I wanted to be published by 30.  That seems like a good amount of years to write a novel, send out manuscripts, and get someone to fall in love with my story.

The problem?

I’m a little under two months away from joining the 30’s Club &&& I still haven’t finished the novel.  Yeah, no reason to reread that line – you read it correctly.  I have been working on the novel for five years and I am still not finished.

Well, I have technically finished.  I have been working on the corrections since 2015 when I finished the rough draft.   But nope… still haven’t finished.  So I made myself a new goal, that I am trying my hardest to keep – but I have moments where I can’t seem to keep my attention long enough to correct it.

I want to finish it completely by my 30th birthday.  However, I honestly don’t see it happening, not because I don’t want to, but because it’s less than two months away and I’m still correcting chapter 11 out of… 24?

Am I up to twenty-three paragraphs yet?

I have faith, though, lots &&& lots of faith that I will finish the novel.  When?  I’m not 100% sure, but I know I will.  Getting it published may be a different story.  (Most companies, now, don’t take unsolicited manuscripts anymore.)

Anyhoo…

I’ll stop complaining now and go back to watching “Vampire Dairies” &&& playing Fallout Shelter on the PC.  Yes, I do realize I should be editing (which is why most people know me as a procrastinator) but I’m not.

Go figure.