Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Honest Vomit!

Agony, Pit of Despair! I feel like I need a meme from The Princess Bride here. Something wicked has gotten a foothold in my brain and won't let go.

Can I say, Arggghh? You realize, Talk Like a Pirate Day, is coming September 19th. I need to practice anyway...

Back to my inner turmoil.

I've had one hell of a time for over a year now. I completely lost my way and my passion. It shows. But I love to write! Or I did. My fire is weak and I don't know how to stoke it back up. It's not my imagination's fault, honest. I've planned out (recently), a ten book series, a three book series (with the first almost done), and I have three almost completed books. But, Arrgggh! My motivation to get busy is, well, my motivation flipped me the bird, and hightailed it out of here.

I will admit....deep breath. I'm not writing for the right reasons anymore.

In 2012, I got my very first acceptance. YAY! I was freaking going places! I made a little money, but that's it. I didn't become a NY Times best seller. I didn't become any type of best seller. LOL. But, I was on fire inside, motivated as all get out. Y'all, I was on a mission, and ideas, stories, characters just manifested in my brain! It was so cool!

Three more books came out...Yup, I still didn't become a major success. I'd always heard that the best promo it another book! Bingo! I kept writing, kept pushing, kept going.

Two years ago, I was on top of the world. I still wasn't famous. I didn't earn a living from my writing, but I genuinely believed I was really going places. Positive vibes seemed to shoot out of my ass like rainbows! Not kidding! Life was good. I could really make a go of this...

New friends, new prospects...My life was about to change and I was certain of it!

It did!! Yep, sure enough, my life changed, but not for the better. 

I can't describe the hell I've been through. Not with words, because, legal shit. And also because there is simply no way to put in all into words.

Outside of my writing hell, my family is dealing with my Mother's Alzheimers. Talk about something that trumps the hell out of everything. It's been rough. 

I don't remember much about life for most of 2014. There was simply too much stress. I entered 2015 with a big ass rain cloud above my head. Where's a taxi full of clowns when ya need one? Zantac should hire me as a spokeswoman. Not kidding! I eat those things like candy. But, I digress.

When most people start a new year with new resolutions and high hopes....I was just miserable. Let me tell ya, lawyers and our shitty court system will take the fight right out of ya! By the time they're done with you, you'll pray for a lightning storm, and a well directed strike. 

Once I was done with the hell, I was left numb, just utterly and hopelessly, numb. Left with a mortgage in fees, not fucking joking at all, I had to pick up the pieces. Somehow, someway, I have to repay my family for the hell that writing has cost us. It isn't their debt, it's mine. Have you ever tried to climb a mountain with a pair of chopsticks and baling twine? That's what's it has been like for me. It has been a battle where I'm armed with a Nerf bat and the opposition has machine guns. The opposition being the debt and my idiocy for believing in someone besides myself. Stupid. Stupid.

Heh, on a lighter note, we're never too old to make mistakes, pick bad friends, or fuck up. Yeah, I'm forty, y'all.

Breathing lighter, but with a thunderstorm above my head, I jumped back in with both feet. I was determined to make it right on the home front. I had worked on a goofy, romantic comedy throughout my hell, and it was the only thing that seemed to keep me sane. I love the book, the characters, the lighthearted nature of it, and the plain silliness. 

I was so excited to put that book out, because every part of it is ME. I'm truly a goofy goober. Ask my kids and my husband. I love to laugh, joke around, make people smile, and just act silly. I even laugh at my own jokes! The book was in every way, me. 

It bombed.

Guess you know how that caused me to feel. Yep, piss ant. I devoted countless hours to that book, more so than any other I've ever written. I guess I wrote it for me, and in way, well, really, I did. It's still hard to believe there aren't many goofy readers out there. LOL. 

I dusted myself off, scraped my pride from the asphalt...then I carried on. For reasons I can't explain, I began writing based on what I thought readers wanted to read....

Mayday, mayday!!!

Stupid. Stupid.

First of all, authors should write for themselves. If the world loves it, yeah, bonus!

I tried, I really did, but as I think back now, the fire and excitement wasn't there while writing. And if authors aren't feeling it while writing it...yep, readers won't either.

Arrgghhh! Yes, I'm still practicing for Talk Like a Pirate Day, but that's the only word I know so far. I really need to snag the book about how to talk like a pirate from Amazon.

See? I'm really goofy.

Does goofy equate to sales? Ummm, I keep seeing oodles of writers selling the shit out of crazy titles. Not sure, but I do know that I'm not being good to myself. Words are forced. Writing has become a job. A JOB. That isn't right! I used to love to get lost in writing. Now, I find ways and excuses to avoid it. I'm tired. I need a break. Hey, the yard needs mowed....


Then envy strikes. So and so put another book out. What? How the? Does she sleep? WTF?

I start downing myself. So and so has put out three books to your one. Loser. Really? You once wrote 10k everyday, for three days in a row! OMG, you need serious help. My muse is huddled in a corner, refusing to come out. So and so's book is ranking on Zon...You could too if you got busy. 

Wait! Nothing is there! 
A boulder is crushing me!

And if you haven't ever watched, The Villain, you're missing out! Kirk Douglas, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Ann Margaret. 1979.

Uh, do you see what is going on here? I do. It only took around two years to figure it out though. I love spaghetti westerns, slapstick humor, zombies, satire, good vs. evil, demons, angels, aliens, ghosts, witches, ancient religions, folklore, time travel, and random goofiness. Guess what I don't write about?


I've been plagued with duty, building a pen name, and believing I should write to entertain others rather than myself.

The last five books I added to my Zon wish list are:

Write a Western in 30 Days: With Plenty of Bullet Points! by Nik Morton
Time Pimp by Garrett Cook
What Would Satan Do? by Anthony Miller
The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! by Timothy W. Long
Zombie Apocalypse Preparation: How to Survive in an Undead World and Have Fun Doing It! by David Houchins

Last night a revelation struck me. I'm the idiot meditating on a high peak, asking for a sign, and Whamo! I'm struck by an ill-navigating fowl, who rather rudely, knocks me off the narrow rock I'm perched on, and I end up tumbling down a jagged, rocky cliff, shouting, "Fuck you, bird!!"

I should thank that bird...

A couple of years ago, another author mentioned something about the fact there were only so many ways Part A and Part B could go together. I'm 99.99% sure that it was Tymber Dalton. At first, I laughed, because it was funny. There is so much truth to that statement. BTW, Tymber, sorry for dragging you into my "honesty fest". XO. 

So true! As a writer of erotic romances, the task is daunting. Once upon a time, I sped up to get to the "good" stuff. Lately, I write, "ADD SEX SCENE" and move on, hoping I'll get a sudden urge to write the sex eventually, and whip it out. 

Holy shitballs!

Skipping a sex scene???!!

To my credit, I'm forty. I have no uterus. Had that nasty thing taken out years ago. Am I pre-menopausal? What? No? Not me? Too early.....

Whatever the problem is, I'm pretty sure it isn't because of my age or my uterine status. Well, maybe. 

The biggest problem inhibiting me at this point is genre. I love to write, but lately, I'm crapping out, and the dealer is raking my chips his way. Fucker. 

Now, this doesn't mean that I don't love what I've been writing. It means my muse needs medication and that I need write the type of books that I really want read. 

Let me tell ya, being psycho isn't an easy gig. Ask my husband! Poor guy. LOL. Yep, hot, cold, up, down, laughing, crying, happy, sad. I've every flavor a psychiatrist dreams of. They can cash out on a gal like me.

So, to sum up this post, and why the sky has suddenly cleared above my head...

It started last night when I realized that what I liked to read differed on the opposite side of the spectrum than what I'm writing in. Then, tonight, I stumbled across an article, shared by another author. I devoured every word and got the big, "Ah-Hah!" moment. 

I've been writing for all the wrong reasons for the last year and half. 

1. I've been writing to pay back a debt to my wonderful husband. He didn't hook up with the wrong people, I did.
2. I've been writing based on what I believe readers want to read. So wrong, I've yet to write a step-brother romance. Can I get an LOL?
3. I've made writing a JOB. Writing should be the perfect escape! I've turned writing into a task that needs to be done, much like the laundry. Not good.

I need to reconnect with ME. I need to write what I like, and yes, I love erotic romances to read, but I really love a lot of other stuff, too! Damn, I have to find the pre-life-apocalypse ME.

Well, crap!

I'm back to the drawing board, wondering how to re-invent myself. Does this mean I plan to stop writing erotic romances?

Hell no. I have a ten book series, and a three book series, planned! And ooohhh-la-la, I really like what I've come up with. Now, I may be a little slower executing said books, but they will come.

My big revelation has just struck me. I'm not sure how I will accommodate the multiple personalities in my head, but somehow, it will happen, because I want it to, and I'm willing to work at it.  

1 comment:

  1. I think you're on the right (write?) track, Hennessee. By the way, I don't always want to write the sex scenes, either, but I do want them in the book, so I come back to them, mechanically motor through, and go back to fix in edits so they're smooth. I've often asked myself why I seem to write two books in a series and then move on to something else, write two books, and come back or go elsewhere. It's rather disjointed, but when the muse sings the tune, I gotta face the music. It means I have a wide variety of tales to share, but they don't always come out in a linear order. I think that's what you're experiencing except with different genres. And there's no reason not to write what you love. Do it. Writing for a paycheck makes everyone miserable. And make you hate writing. Good luck!