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dotsandlinesI still exist. So what's going on?
What's going on with me, leaving aside some real-life stuff:
Trying to get through a cute commission project, a pair of bears from Sword Art Online and Fairy Tail. And after that I'm freeeeeeee, and will mess around with whatever I want to sew.
Doing fairly well at keeping my exercise schedule together - four days a week, mostly alternating between Dance Central 3 and Your Shape: Fitness Evolved 2012. The latter has some really annoying quirks, like an unhelpful and insincere-sounding voiceover "trainer" and a habit of docking points without telling you what you're doing wrong. Apart from that, though, it has some fun minigames and a lot of variety.
Planted a TON of things in the front yard. We are out of space. It doesn't look like it now, with the big spaces between the plants, but they will grow and I'll replace the ones that don't and in three or four years, it will be freaking fantastic. I was able to do that only after accepting that we can't handle the back yard yet. That this will be a multi-year project, year as in YEAR. That I don't have to do everything now.
Haven't been working on AMVs much lately. I will eventually. Just not right now. Actually, I just realized that I haven't seen this year's VCAs yet. I always try to at least catch those so that I'm not entirely out of touch. Eh, eventually.
As noted in many previous posts, I am still plinking away at the original story. It is first and foremost for fun, and I feel much safer not having to answer to anyone for it. But I do, more and more often, wonder whether it might be readable in this brave new world of self-publishing. There is basically no barrier to entry. It's possible to put something out there even though it will only sell five copies. "Worth it" is a vague notion, and one I haven't really explored yet.
Let's be honest, part of it is because a whole bunch of people that I know IRL have self-published, and it drives me crazy that I have never gotten my act together. I don't begrudge them their success - I just have that feeling that you get when you go out on an errand, complete six other tasks, and then realize that you forgot to do the thing that originally sent you out. Embarrassment, and a little panic. I've wanted to be a novelist since I was a kid. And I haven't, because the old assumption is that it has to be your full-time job (it doesn't), and that you have to have a degree in the right major (I don't know either way). And all of the inner critics say I suck. I might indeed suck, but I don't know.
But every time I read about someone who did creative things and still had a day job, part of me says See? And every time I read (or read about) a self-published story or a small-press ebook that probably wouldn't have sold tens of millions of copies but is at least out there, part of me says See?
I don't know. These are big words when the story isn't even finished. I'm not saying that I've failed. I'm just saying that this is putting the cart before the horse. I can, however, consider that the cart exists.
...
I read a lot of advice columns. It's a not-really-guilty pleasure. I want to believe that any problem can be overcome somehow. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I was rereading a compilation of essays from one of my favorite columns. A quote struck me, this time:
I’d finally reached a point where the prospect of not writing a book was more awful than the one of writing a book that sucked.
- "Write Like a Motherfucker" from the Dear Sugar column.
I think I might be at a point like this. It's been in my head for 13 or 14 years. I don't care whether anyone reads it, though it would be fun to share. I don't even care anymore whether it's any good. I just want it to be itself. Sure, I'd like it to be the best self it can be, but even if it's not awesome, I want it to EXIST. And so I'm going to keep plinking away. I can't make it my full-time obligation. But I can refuse to give up.
So that's why so many of my posts are those mile-markers about word counts. I want to remind myself that I'm not giving up.
What's going on with me, leaving aside some real-life stuff:
Trying to get through a cute commission project, a pair of bears from Sword Art Online and Fairy Tail. And after that I'm freeeeeeee, and will mess around with whatever I want to sew.
Doing fairly well at keeping my exercise schedule together - four days a week, mostly alternating between Dance Central 3 and Your Shape: Fitness Evolved 2012. The latter has some really annoying quirks, like an unhelpful and insincere-sounding voiceover "trainer" and a habit of docking points without telling you what you're doing wrong. Apart from that, though, it has some fun minigames and a lot of variety.
Planted a TON of things in the front yard. We are out of space. It doesn't look like it now, with the big spaces between the plants, but they will grow and I'll replace the ones that don't and in three or four years, it will be freaking fantastic. I was able to do that only after accepting that we can't handle the back yard yet. That this will be a multi-year project, year as in YEAR. That I don't have to do everything now.
Haven't been working on AMVs much lately. I will eventually. Just not right now. Actually, I just realized that I haven't seen this year's VCAs yet. I always try to at least catch those so that I'm not entirely out of touch. Eh, eventually.
As noted in many previous posts, I am still plinking away at the original story. It is first and foremost for fun, and I feel much safer not having to answer to anyone for it. But I do, more and more often, wonder whether it might be readable in this brave new world of self-publishing. There is basically no barrier to entry. It's possible to put something out there even though it will only sell five copies. "Worth it" is a vague notion, and one I haven't really explored yet.
Let's be honest, part of it is because a whole bunch of people that I know IRL have self-published, and it drives me crazy that I have never gotten my act together. I don't begrudge them their success - I just have that feeling that you get when you go out on an errand, complete six other tasks, and then realize that you forgot to do the thing that originally sent you out. Embarrassment, and a little panic. I've wanted to be a novelist since I was a kid. And I haven't, because the old assumption is that it has to be your full-time job (it doesn't), and that you have to have a degree in the right major (I don't know either way). And all of the inner critics say I suck. I might indeed suck, but I don't know.
But every time I read about someone who did creative things and still had a day job, part of me says See? And every time I read (or read about) a self-published story or a small-press ebook that probably wouldn't have sold tens of millions of copies but is at least out there, part of me says See?
I don't know. These are big words when the story isn't even finished. I'm not saying that I've failed. I'm just saying that this is putting the cart before the horse. I can, however, consider that the cart exists.
...
I read a lot of advice columns. It's a not-really-guilty pleasure. I want to believe that any problem can be overcome somehow. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I was rereading a compilation of essays from one of my favorite columns. A quote struck me, this time:
I’d finally reached a point where the prospect of not writing a book was more awful than the one of writing a book that sucked.
- "Write Like a Motherfucker" from the Dear Sugar column.
I think I might be at a point like this. It's been in my head for 13 or 14 years. I don't care whether anyone reads it, though it would be fun to share. I don't even care anymore whether it's any good. I just want it to be itself. Sure, I'd like it to be the best self it can be, but even if it's not awesome, I want it to EXIST. And so I'm going to keep plinking away. I can't make it my full-time obligation. But I can refuse to give up.
So that's why so many of my posts are those mile-markers about word counts. I want to remind myself that I'm not giving up.
