Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Practicing a little vocabulary expansion, one cock at a time
What is it about writer’s blocks that can get us down? Is it because we have so much going on in our day-to-day activities? Maybe I’d rather sit on the couch watching New Girl or the ladies from the OC than actually make my brain function by creating properly formed sentences. Whatever it is, it’s a serious force to be reckoned with. This fiery beast weaseled its way into my creative mind and curdled all thoughts for months, it wouldn’t hurt that there was a whole lot going on, but even so works got put on hold. Could there be a better way to get out of this little ‘hurdle’ than to push the limits on something. A while back I wrote a short story for a very near and dear friend of mine. That story that was originally only meant to be seen by few has been seen by many. It’s currently getting published in an arena I never thought it would, but it is. It cracked the door of possibility, for a genre that was I was never really concerned about venturing in before as a writer. Like a girl who broke the seal after the first drink at a bar, that bitch got broken fast. To knock out this little writer’s block I dusted off the laptop--forgot it in the back of my car on numerous occasions, and started outlining. The first story for my friend was carefully constructed and thought out to fit her perfectly. But I have my own fantasy too dammit! A phrase that was repressed during this little block; writing lost its edge and after an anonymous email from a reader that was filled with encouragement, thanks and of course the endless request for more. It was never intended to write anything more for that series, only because it was a gift for a friend. If anything I could write a fresh stand-alone story. The guilty conscience kicked in. I started writing a follow-up story. This one surely could break through the writer’s block. For an entire weekend, I holed myself up and re-mapped an outline. I am one of those annoying writers who makes an outline for everything. Even for a grocery list. Creates characters and outlines their lives, the city, the sub-plot…it’s repetitious but it’s how I work to keep a constant flow that is somewhat seamless and real. By the end of the weekend the outline was completed as well as fifty pages already in the bag. It was strange and like an out of body experience, my hands were possessed and a plot came together. For the following week, work was secondary until I finished that story. It seemed all too important, much too necessary. By that Friday I sent an email to my editor and gave him the heads up. A new story was coming, get ready. Sunday rolled around and as the edits went out, I sighed with relief just before cracking the bottle of prosecco open. The writer’s block was officially kicked to the curb. The first draft of a novel I started was half-way written and could get picked up for an early summer push date should it get through editing on time. It could happen. Confidence fully restored…. Until the edits came back for the short. After reading through the first sections, I agreed with the changes and made the necessary revisions. When I got to a chapter where the two leads come together and get it on … ooh … there was a misstep. They were so not gettin’ it on. Reading through the edits and my own writing, I sat back from the computer and laughed so hard until I cried.
Placing her palm against his neck, Hadley looked into Marcus’ eyes as he started to lose control.
My poor, poor editor for this short. He is used and abused but knows I love him so. There was a dirty, nasty little coupling of words. One of them, I love more than the F word itself, but cannot ever write it in professional works. It’s like saying ‘bitch’ aloud or outside of a bedroom. It.Will.Never.Happen. Never say never, it really can (and does) happen but not in that context. I immediately emailed him, and what did I get in return: ‘I could tell you were laboring….”
Yikes! Laboring is right…so you push ‘cock’ into my vocabulary to stir up the pot? Go figure, because it worked. Somewhere in that laughing haze and going over the first draft, something inside snapped. So I re-read, re-grouped and re-sexed that story the hell back into shape. It’s completed and getting published chapter by chapter. The editor … approves. Halle-fucking-lujah. Something learned from all of this was even during a dry spell or a ‘writer’s block’, getting back into the full swing of things takes time. You can’t rush yourself, otherwise you appear rushed and frenzied.
My writing, is none of the above. It’s skilled and planned. This story, and God love him--my Editor, reminded me that I may move or type fast, but writing and actual stories take time to mature.
So it’s back to San Antonio we go. I’m over this writer’s block and fully set to finish the ‘Summons’ novel, and get it out the door. I have been talking to more than enough people, so the support is there to get it off of the ground and up and running.
Who knew that in order to break through this annoying hurdle, was an itsy bitsy word that is no stranger from my mouth. All it took was a little cock.
It was When he his cock hit her hard, did they fluttered shut. Wailing out to him, “Marcus!” ., she came so hard she nearly fainted.