Dear Self….get your #^! SH*t together

Ummmmm…where has American Writers Exposed Gone?

Because I surely do not know…

It’s possible I do, so let us see if we can unearth this unkempt void to the beginning. 

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What the triple heck? As surely as eating better, my quest to post articles in a regular, meaningful fashion became lost. Sandi has been long on tour and I languishing on holiday in the cavernous recesses of Mt. Blockheadiness. A dismal vacation I promise.

Excuses are poor and so I shan’t give one.

Let’s talk.

My three year do or die clock has struck. 

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The window I gave myself to make my writing gig happen or pack up. 

There was a time I believed I never procrastinated. My littles complained I stuffed way too many stops into a single trip to town. In this day, I find it hard to prepare for a 3 o’clock appointment. My wonder woman invisible mountain blocks my way.

I mean I have to wake up, which could turn into a 2-hour event. There is showering involved, some primping and whining no doubt. My bed is never made so I don’t have to worry about that, but looking in the closet, the dresser drawers? Yikes, pressure begins to build.

So where in the life of lives of mine does my writing fit? I have acclimated into this clinging seaweed monster of advanced stall tactics smack dab in the middle of living my authorly dreams.

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(This is very close to me but you must add a spin, plus another…circling in the same spot.) Annoying, I know.

Over the past 6 months, I have hooked up with some great people. A phenomenal person. A clever-witted brilliant individual with vision, excitement, and knowledge to catapult me into the penman atmosphere of global literary enlightenment. Like POW, where have you been my whole life?

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And what have I done?

Froze. Deer in headlights, the whole gambit. I have no shame to admit such. What is my issue, fear? Didn’t I give that up the 1st time I submitted anything? posted on the internet? stepped forward and admitted I write romance? 

I’m doing everything I said I’d never do like a middle-aged driving disaster going 35 on the interstate and not in the right lane with hazard lights, but to the left. My personal blog and AWE have been left unattended. Don’t you like that acronym, AWE? See I’m doing it again. 

Deep down I understand my fear. When I started, I believed the hype I’d been told. Never did I dream I’d have more downs than ups. Couldn’t imagine the lack of support I’d receive from my community of related personage. Or realized my ability to be impetuously drawn into non-factorly tasks.

What a load.

So I ask the greatest community of wordsmiths in every stage of their multiple WIPs to send this block of dirt a surge of well wishes to “get er’ done!” (I hate that quote too!) Like, tomorrow, or if I’m seriously serious, today.

 

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Write On ❤ Jess!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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these things I do

Welcome to Thursday, June 8th, 2017 the day AFTER June 7th, 2017, the 1st Wednesday of the month and the official day of IWSG.

( Déjà vu…I feel as though I’ve been here before, many times, many, many times. 😦 )

It’s a very real possibility my membership has been dissolved, being tardy for the party and all.

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Which is exactly why I am the perfect member for The Insecure Writers Support Group.

Insecure Writers Support Group Badge Continue reading

#5 Ways a #Male Protagonist/Hero Knows his Romance Author is Cheating on Him #RatedMature

#1 His document file remains untouched … 

In the beginning it was a passionate love affair, there were not enough hours in the day for “said typist” to satisfy their needs, to spend every minute solely on him, slaving, slathering, salivating as the story hit the page in graphic detail. Oh’ the fervor was electric, his character and energy, building, growing, escalating and wait, excuse me, what’s that? Yeah…exactly, crickets! Where the heck did that #$!@&%*go? Hello? Author, we are not finished here!Awkward-silence-e1378058433778.jpg

#2 His creator accidentally calls him by a different name …

When, finally “said storyteller” opens the word file lamenting lame excuse after excuse, having not been able to find his specified folder, mislabeling the work, or worse, accidentally deleted their idiosyncratic draft. How could this have happened to their supposed one-of-a-kind, spiritually satisfying soul-mate, “I will die without you” connection? Suddenly typing starts again at a furious pace, rushing down the poetic highway at lush breakneck speeds when his name is written wrong. Hans??? Who the H – E double L is Hans? My name is George!

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Continue reading

In Preparation for … Your Story in a Sentence—Crafting Your Log-Line.

 All hail Kristen Lamb…

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I eagerly prepare to attend a class where public flogging is an anticipated event. Weary authors will stand in line, heads hung in despair and maybe a fleeting quiver of hope lodged like vomit bubbling in the back of their throat, humbly bowing before their master, waiting for THE “shredding” Knees quaking, writers will clench between white-knuckled-fingers a two sentence description of their manuscript. Peeping through half-closed lids, fearing the removal of an outstretched hand, we will offer our meager sacrifice stained in hours of coffee slobber and sweat.

Phew….

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How is it that one can be filled with an obnoxious combination of enthusiasm and apprehension at the same time?

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Adrenaline has become this, moi, writer’s bubbly, knocking it back as an eager freshman. There is definitely something peculiarly wrong with this picture. I feel as though I am a dark age villager, preparing her lunch to watch the beheading of another crier of the written word, a fellow peer, and friend, standing first row before the hovering guillotine, hoping mid-bite, perhaps, that I shall be the next oblation.

And if called upon, what will I do?

A year and a half ago, I would have shrunk behind the crowds, disappearing into the swarms of rowdy peasants hailing curses and throwing rotten tomatoes. Fast forward to present day, I will be first to watch the spectacle. My glasses pushed high on the bridge of my nose with pencil sharpened, journal wide-open, praying to absorb the ink splatter. And will dance with Gene Kelly as he belts out,“Singing in the Rain,” shouting, “Pick me! Pick me!”

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So you ask what is a log-line? I found Gideon’s Tips and he describes it like this …

“LOGLINES are a 1-2 sentence description of your script. They aim to identify the main character, the tone, the conflict and give an idea of theme and plot. Some loglines can stretch out to 3-4 sentences and are more like mini-synopses. A new trend is emerging to describe your film in 25 words or less. Whatever the format, the purpose of the logline is for you to quickly pitch your script to a producer and talent to convey the general concept. Another recent trend in loglines is to pose a hypothetical question such as “what if”? or “imagine if”?

The basic anatomy of a logline is: Character A must achieve a goal, but character B blocks him in a unique way different to other films. Character A emerges a changed person by learning something about themselves or  humanity at large.”

Thanks, Gideon! I’ll let you know how it went.

Write On! ❤ Jessica