here and there

This writing thing...it sure is hit and miss. I've recently dragged out the zombie novel, the one I started for NaNoWriMo a couple of years ago. It's going okay. It has multiple POVs, the first time I've attempted this. I like it. It's kind of fun. I think it's a little easier than the single POV. Maybe. At any rate, I'll be using Remnants in November in an attempt to finish the first draft.

At least I know what I'm writing about is what's being published now. I get so disgusted in the library in the YA section. It's all witch this and wizard that, ghosts and vampires (toothless) and junk like that. A regular story about normal people is pretty hard to find. It's gotten so that I don't even check out any YA books anymore, and that used to be the first place I'd go. If I do choose in that genre, it's from the stacks, an older book.

I've read 99 books since January. Cool, yeah?

End in sight

NaNoWriMo  novel stands at 46,764 words right now. I haven't gotten tired of it yet, like I did the one I did in '06. That one was pretty much crap. This one, Blood Moon (working title) isn't too bad. Of course it's going to need tweaking, but I noticed this year that I was more carefuly with word choice and all of that grammar stuff that the NaNo people tell you not to worry about. I worry about it. I think the difference may be a better storyline.  I may post an excerpt here.

From the Journal of Joel M. Wilder

Nov. 15

Mr. Piper, my counselor, wants me to write in this journal whenever I feel out of control or lost or angry or anytime I can’t hold it in anymore. I don’t think there’s enough paper in this notebook. He says he won’t read it, but I don’t believe him. I don’t believe in anyone or anything. Not anymore.


Nov. 25

Happy Thanksgiving. The cooks went all out today. When I got my tray, I’m sure what the pale slab of whatever is supposed to be. Fake mashed potatoes I recognize, and a pile of canned peas that look more like rabbit shit than actual food, and a rock hard roll. Yum.

“Great, huh?” Mercer says, grinning. He scoops up some peas and stuff them in his huge mouth. I nearly puke.

I shrug, thinking about the turkey dinner I’m missing. Mom would have made pumpkin pie, like she always did, and probably pecan pie, too. Everyone would be sitting around the table, Andrea and Don and his family, the Nazi and Mom. Do they miss me? Or is it a relief I’m not there?



Nov. 27

Mom comes to see me today and brings some cookies and a slice of pecan pie from Thanksgiving dinner. She can’t stop crying, which really makes me feel like crap. She keeps saying she’s sorry. Sorry for what?



Dec. 12

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help thinking about Cass, about what it felt like to hold her, to kiss her. It hurts that I will never do that again. I’m not stupid. Even when I do get out of this hole, nothing will be the same. I know she must hate me, her and everyone else in that stupid little town. Derek was the Golden Boy, and me, I was nothing. Am nothing. Will be nothing. Forever and ever, amen.


Dec. 13

You know, this just sucks. The food sucks. The people here suck. I suck.

Is this what you wanted, Piper, you asshole? I know you’re going to read this. Read it and laugh at what a loser I am. There’s a big ‘L’ on my forehead now, or maybe it was always there and everyone saw it but me.


Dec. 15

Piper tries to get me to talk about the Nazi today. Wants to know why I call him that.

“That’s disrespectful,” he says, giving me one of those condescending looks. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps some of your conflict with your father stems from your lack of respect for him?”

I just glare because there’s nothing to say. Piper steeples his fingers and peers at me over the top. “And perhaps his lack of respect for you?” Guess he’s not as stupid as I thought.




Dec.19

Have a lovely visit from the parents. Mom is all touchy-feely, hugging me, touching me like she thinks I’m going to disappear or something. I wish. She brought me more cookies.

“You’re too thin, Joey. Don’t they feed you here?”

“Of course they feed him,” the Nazi says impatiently. As usual he doesn’t look directly at me, only somewhere off to the side. The only time he ever acknowledges my existence is when I’ve screwed up.

“You know what the lawyer said, Marcy. This is the best place for him.” He paces back and forth, from the window overlooking the yard and back to the cracked vinyl couch where me and Mom are sitting.

Mom doesn’t say anything, just keeps squeezing my hand.

“It could have been much worse, you know,” he goes on, staring out the grimy window. “He’s lucky the prosecution didn’t push for him to be tried as an adult.”

“Define ‘lucky’,” I mutter, and bingo! He sees me now. I thought his head was going to explode. Mom gets up and plays her usual role of peacemaker.

“Paul, don’t. He’s upset. Try to understand.”

“After destroying so many lives, this is much, much less than he deserves.” The Nazi snarls the words, throwing them in my face. His fists are clenched and I know he would have hit me if he thought he could get away with it.

Whatever. They leave not long after that. I guess the Nazi is right, I am lucky. If lucky is the right word.


Dec. 20

No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about that night. Why did I take the keys? Just because Derek called me a chicken shit? I knew better. I should have blown him off instead of Cass. If I had, Derek would still be alive and I’d still have Cass. I’d still have a life. Now I have nothing. Nothing but grief and regret.

God, I want to die.


Dec. 24

I think I started hating Christmas right around the time my grandpa died. It happened a week before Christmas.

I was at my grandparents’ house helping them decorate the tree. It was something I did every year since Andrea decided she was too old for that and Don left for college. It was every cliché you could possibly imagine: Balsam wreath on the door, cookies baking in the oven, Christmas carols playing on the stereo. God, I loved it over there.

And then, right when Grandpa lifted me up so I could put the star on top of the tree, he sort of staggered and dropped me. I couldn’t believe it. I fell right into the tree with him on top of me.

I can still hear Grandma screaming his name. The branches scratched the heck out of my face and arms, but that wasn’t what hurt the most. After he died, I never went over to their house again.

I was only ten, and can you believe my folks never talked about it with me? Not even Mom. Guess they wanted to forget it ever happened. That’s pretty much the way they deal with unpleasant stuff, just pretend it never happened. Like when all that stuff went down with Carly. As soon as it was over, Mom and the Nazi never said another word about it. As far as they were concerned, nothing had changed. They were still the good parents who went to church and did the best they could with their rebellious, trouble-making son. Martyrs. And did those hypocrites ever suck it up. For a while, anyway. Until all the details came out and they asked the Nazi to step down and we left KC and came to this lousy excuse for a town. All my fault, of course. That we had to leave the church wasn’t one of those things they could pretend never happened. Kinda hard to when church work is what you do. Now the Nazi sells insurance and my mom works in a preschool.

And their rebellious, trouble-making son is in prison. Oh, excuse me. Youth facility.


(c)2008 W.S. Ribelin

Soooo, How's That Goal Thing Going?

Ugh.

I've been writing a lot every day, just not on the novel. It's like I wrote those big scenes and filled in a bit, and then I didn't know where to go from there. Probably just need to recharge and think about it. So I've been working on the vignette thingie I did for the LiveJam contest on writing.com. At least I'm writing.

I may post some of it here, just for laughs. Maybe.

Daily Goal

I'm not so hot at keeping goals, but this is one I must. I need/want to write 1,000 words at the very minimum every day. Yesterday I wrote 1300 words (yay!) but today it will be a little more difficult. I've written a bit here and there, but since I just finished the big scene with Cassidy and her mother, and then with Cassidy and Joel (still needs some tweaking), I have to do some thinking. That's where the other stuff comes in handy, the Dream On bits and pieces that I probably won't ever finish but it gives me practice and gets me into Joel's head. That can be kind of a problem, though, me knowing him so very well that sometimes when I'm writing, I forget that the reader knows nothing about why Joel's family left KC, or how he feels about his brother and why it's hard for him to trust. He's an interesting character, but I wish Cassidy was half as interesting. The characters with all the problems seem to be the most interesting. Must be all the drama.

I Know How It's Going To End!

Yay!! I received some extremely helpful feedback for my book today. I am excited about it today, plus I know how it will end.

Some things I need to change/work on/add:

1. the Talk between Cassidy and her mother
2. Cassidy needs to lighten up
3. Joel needs to talk more
4. Show more of Derek's problems
5. Physical description of Jenny and Allan
6. More setting and description (ugh)
7. Show Joel's feelings for Cass
8. Tentative renewal of friendship b/w Cass and Janie

So now I'm excited and I know for sure it isn't crap and that's a wonderful feeling! Still waiting for feedback from the rest of my writing group, so we will see.

I will finish this thing and see it in print!!

Over 10,000 words

Yes, that's right! I wrote over 10,000 words in June! Go, me!!!

This 500 words a day group is really helping me write regularly.

I've started working on 'Only You' again; it's going pretty well at the moment. Derek's problems are becoming apparent to Cassie, her dad has moved out of the house, her feelings for Joel are intensifying, and a renewed friendship with Janie is on the horizon. I just thought of that last point earlier today. I think Tommy Marco will dump Janie for whatever reason, and so will Imelda and that group. Janie will be on the outside, and at first Cassie is glad she's getting a taste of her own medicine, but Cassie's mean spiritedness won't last very long, and she'll extend an olive branch.

As for the Joel thing...it's getting there. I want to show his relationship with his parents, his intense anger, his feelings for her...plus, Rich and his friends are going to jump him one night as he walks home from Cassie's house. Audra causes more problems, and Cassie will realize that Audra is a person, not just someone to hate. I think I need to put Craig Hopper in a bit, probably at youth group.

It is SO nice to finally be over the bump.

A Possible Solution

I'm going to try starting 'Only You' right at the main action--the car accident in which a character dies due to the actions of another. I'm hoping this will work. Before I was starting totally from scratch with Cassie's developing relationship with Joel, but that was going so slowly. Now I can start with them already having discovered their feelings for each other. I'm still not sure if Joel will be newly to town or a childhood friend of Derek's. Both scenarios have potential subplots to move the plot along, but I think having Joel well known to both Cassie and her family will work best.

I will not be presenting 'Only You' to my writing group; I won't let the girls read it either. I need some privacy to make this work. I can't do the story justice if I have to worry about the language and/or actions of my characters. Yes, yes, I know, one shouldn't worry about such things as a writer, but I still do.

The main thing is to get the story down, start to finish, and then worry about making sense and having all ends tied up, etc. Gotta tie up that internal editor and throw him in the basement. That is difficult sometimes. I read once about an author who writes and rewrites the same 500-600 words until they are perfect before moving on. I dont' think that is something I could do. Okay, I do it a little bit, you know, go back and edit something, but I try not to. It's detrimental to getting the story down. That has to be my main focus, to get the bare bones down and into some sort of cohesive and comprehensible story.