What this blog's about . . .


Welcome to PlotTwisted!

I treat this blog as a sort of mental “toy chest.” Read on and you’ll find writing advice, rants, and random flash fiction. Comments are always welcome.

Monday, November 14, 2011

I HAD PANCAKES

The worst thing about the midlife crisis phenomenon is that I've had more than one.  My first one hit me after grad school, when I was 25ish.  Sort of a "What now?" phase, it was followed  by a bunch of other mid-life moments.  I don't remember how many.  I just remembered that lost, restless, "there's-gotta-be-more-to-life-than-this" feeling: of watching months and years fall off the calendar without a real plan.

Then I crossed into 30-something land and figured I wanted to be a writer . . . but of what type?  I did novels, screenplays, short stories and couldn't lock on to a solid plan of attack.  I had excuses galore to not do jack: the current self-publishing technology wasn't around, I didn't have the money to start a business, women, laziness, blahblahblah.  But I couldn't stop trying.  And as many times as I stopped writing, I had to start up again (it's in blood, I guess).

Know what?  I'm glad my life was a chaotic pile of sewage all those years.

Why?  Because, when I turned 38 in 2009, I was looking ahead and chomping at the bit to get sh$t done.  I had some help for my first book ("Unheroic"), the means to see it published, tons of written ideas/material in reserve, and nothing left to stop me.  When life finally fell into place, all those years of stumbling around in the dark were actually useful.  I became a better, more focused writer and much wiser coming out of the gate.

Now I'm 40. 

And during my last hour as a 30-something, I decided to get pancakes.  The best thing about this midlife crisis phenomenon was that I had irons in the fire way before I hit 40.  I don't wanna imagine how crappy it would've been like to wake up, turn 40, and THEN start a writing from scratch.  Nope, I simply had breakfast and checked Amazon.com, waiting on them to upload my second collection: "The Book of Schemes". 
I guess the moral of this particular ramblage is this: if you want to write, but aren't ready to publish, just write until you are ready.  Look ahead, keep your life baggage to an acceptable minimum, and learn what you can.  Then, someday, I hope you'll be able to quietly celebrate a birthday without that nagging midlife itch in your soul - whether you're in your 20's or your 90's.

Hope this was of use.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

What a week!

Hiya folks,

I'm in Day #6 of writing a novel.  I'm doing the National Write A Novel Month thing.  It's kicking my a$$ . . . but in a very satisfying way.  I've gone over 8,000 words into the book, with this simple 3-part approach:

1. Get up too early and write at least 1,666 words before stopping.
2. Ponder what happens next throughout the regular work day.
3. Get to bed as early as possible.

I know . . . it's complicated.  But this is what I do whenever I feel the need to mass produce.  It's a rough draft that I could actually finish in 30 days (God willing).  But that's not the sucky part.  The sucky part's revising it into a polished novel.

Seeing as this will be Book #3 (and I plan on doing this for a living), I'll figure something out.  For anyone else facing the future hurdles of rewriting a rough draft into something worth publishing, here's a link to a simple 5-step process for doing that very thing:

The Geyser 5-Step Approach To Revision
http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/the-geyser-5-step-approach-to-revision?et_mid=522677&rid=191148924

It's an interesting process, one I can use bits of.  But frankly, I'm probably gonna polish my book 'til it shines and drive my editor insane. 

What I like most about this NaNoWriMo thing is that it can condense months of rough draft novelwriting into 30 painful days.  This frees you up to revise at a more relaxed pace. 

Even after November ends, I think I'll do all of my novels this way.

Well, off to dreamland.  I've gotta figure out how to further develop my main character . . . who happens to have a bomb in his head.