Archive for February, 2012

A Belated Valentine’s

Happy belated Valentine’s Day all my dark and glittery little lovelies.  I know, I’m late.  But you know what they say, “Better late than pregnant.”  Ha ha  So my Valentine’s Day sucked pretty high on the crappy-o-meter and I was going to offer up some dark cynism but I figured, it’s a mini-holiday, don’t go to the Dark Place with it.  Then my comrad in AKA Literary’s arms put up a thing on FaceBook about how writers can experience bad stuff and still be thinking: Now I know how to write truthfully about this type of experience.  So now I’m going to offer up an example of this with one or two of the love nuggets ( 😉  ) I hold on to when Valentine’s Day is bad or I need to write about characters falling/being/staying in love.

In my chest of memries, is a kiss.  Not just any kiss but one of the first ones between my husband and me.  It was one of those kisses where the world shrinks down to just the two of you even though we were in public view if any happened by or glanced out a window.  I can still remember whose head was tilted which way, and how it seemed like my heart spread out through my body.  If I think about it I can still feel what it was like.  I can feel the texture of his shirt under my hands and the heaviness of his coat over top of them.  I know exactly how strong and safe and complete it made me feel for him to have one hand in the middle of my back pulling me as close to him as he could and the other on my hip half holding, half lifting me a little to reach his lips to kiss him back.  That may have been the exact moment I fell in love with my husband because as I walked into my house (he was kissing me goodnight), I was still smiling stupidly and telling myself to seal that feeling up inside myself so I could revisit it later when we’d been married for a while and the newness of love had faded into the happy complacency of just being married to the person you love.

Another time we were at a bar when two guys were sort of bothering me.  They kept insisting that I was someone I wasn’t.  I had been mistaken for this other girl before, so I was used to it but it was embarassing and uncomfortable for me since I was on a date.  I assured them I wasn’t this other girl and they sat down for a minute before one of them stood to come back.  My husband slid his arm around me and leaned in to me while he looked at the guy and for my and the guy’s benefit, my husband said loudly, “Don’t worry about it.  I won’t have a hard time beating both of them up.”  The guy sat back down.  And now I can remember that first golden rush of belonging to someone.  Not in an ownership kind of way, but I knew he would protect me, that he valued me and I was worth something to him.

So those are two of things that I keep for myself when I need to write characters falling in love.  Or the desire to keep a loved one safe because in a book, if there’s love you pretty much always need a trial or a test of that love.  Or if I happen to have a bad Valentine’s Day. lol  You’ve got to keep those things.  Especially if you’re a writer.  You’ll find yourself digging through your head for words to describe every aspect of your character’s life and development through a story.  And, since this blog was for a happy, lovey day, there’s my non-Dark Place post.  🙂


Writing is definitely harder than people thing, especially people who aren’t writers themselves.  To them, if you’re not making Stephen King style money, you’re wasting your time.  But there’s so much more to it than that

First you have to have an idea, whether you believe in your muse or not, either way you need something catchy, original, engrossing before there’s even a story to be written.  Then you pour yourself into what you’re writing.  There is a piece of you in everything you write and it’s hard to allow that flow to happen because, suppose the book gets finished and you send it to an agent or publisher and then get dreaded rejection letter.  You have to absorb that as a fact of life.  Someone didn’t like a piece of you basically.  Then you have to pick yourself back up.  You do a  rewrite or start something different.  And then you must have the courage to do it all again.

Writing is art.  You transport people.  You make them love the world and characters you created there and that alone is hard. You would never have made that time or those people if you didn’t love them a little bit yourself.

So if you’re a writer with no one supporting your dream and stuck in a creative dead space that you’re trying to claw your way out of, I’m right there with you.  I do understand and I do know what it’s like but you’ve got to keep going.  Writer’s write.  We can’t help it.  The creativity is an integral part of who we are.  So no matter how hard it is, or how long you’ve been trying.  Don’t give up.  Look at it this way, you know people get published or we’d have nothing to read, would we?  🙂