You're probably thinking I've gone insane (which translates well from my last entry, hah!) but I haven't. After a month at my new job I've figured out something that I began to suspect awhile ago.
My writing thrives on negativity.
The creative juices flowed best when stuck in a situation I hated. My first job at Chase was going nowhere, I saw no exit, and the monotony of the same old thing every single day had me ready to slam my face in the safebox vault door.
So I wrote. And man, did I fire off those pages like lightning. The premise, the plot, the scenes...everything came together with such clear vision that the dreaded writer's block never came close to infecting me. I went to my breaks and lunches frothing with what I would type next. I zoned out at my station, laying plans for upcoming scenes, setting up jokes, connecting the dots, and working like clockwork to get the first manuscript down.
Then the first reviews of the first draft came in.
It dragged. Too many adverbs. Too much exposition. Grammatical errors. Way short on the show, overdosed on the tell. I was crushed...and motivated.
I dove back into the manuscript, obsessed like never before. I had to fix it. I love being tasked to fix broken things, and this was even better. I had to fix my own creation. So for another six months I hacked, slashed, and burned the manuscript until it resembled 99% of what it looks like today (I still make corrections as they find them. I know, I know, I should get an editor. If anybody wants to foot that bill for me, by all means...).
Then I got promoted at work. Settled in with a great staff and on top of that, the first reviews of the finished book came in.
And...the opposite happened. Sure, some fixing here and there needed (and still needs) to be done, but for the most part, I scored a small win. Those who took their time to offer their opinion of the book have given mostly positive comments. Even the negatives weren't really negative. So I started book two and found my energy sadly lacking. I struggled so much with the first eight chapters that I'm doing a complete revamp of everything between one and nine. What makes chapter nine satisfactory to me? I wrote it in misery.
I don't hate my new job, but it's not the same. The people are good, but it's not the same filial atmosphere. Everybody does their own thing and checks out. I haven't sensed a brand loyalty. The pride isn't there. I'm staying strong, but at the cost of great personal stress.
Now my writing has come back as fierce as ever. Chapters nine and ten FLEW out of my mind. Eleven is nearing completion. I've done more in the past three weeks than the past three months. I needed to be miserable.
A one-star review will accomplish that.
I'm not a stickler for punishment. In fact, a one star review will help beyond upsetting me, it would tell me what needs to be fixed! I hate not knowing what people think of my story. And don't think I wouldn't appreciate some more rave reviews, I'd be equally grateful for those, but man, if there's anything that drives me to start churning out the words, it's misery.
So to those people who felt ripped off for downloading my ebook, who are upset that they took time out of their lives to read my worthless waste of e-space, to those people who can't stand the sight of my amateurish prose; lay it on me! I can take it! Tell me how much you hated my plot holes or weak premise or lack of characterization. Bemoan the forced humor and point out every typo or grammatical error you can find!
Gimme those one-stars. I can take it.
Focker, OUT!
No comments:
Post a Comment