Onward

KD has been distracted by the babble in her head for a very long time now. In the rare event that everyone shuts up, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. KD has even been known to take such drastic steps as cleaning her house on these occasions.

Yes, I’m quoting myself.  I like it, so I’m keeping it.

So.  Voices.  Yes.  Don’t roll your eyes; I didn’t call them my muses.  (Hey–this is my process.  I never said you had to be like me; do me the same favor.) I’m not one who waits for inspiration then whines that she never writes.  Sarcastic comments and an unlimited supply of what-ifs?  My guys are on task.  Actual writing?  They’ll flee if I let them.  So I don’t.

My apologies if you’re offended by my vehemence.  I’ve covered this ground before.

From Psychology Today, in an article written by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi:

Creative individuals are remarkable for their ability to adapt to almost any situation and to make do with whatever is at hand to reach their goals. If I had to express in one word what makes their personalities different from others, it’s complexity. They show tendencies of thought and action that in most people are segregated. They contain contradictory extremes; instead of being an “individual,” each of them is a “multitude.”

So there.

Contradictory extremes–that is so me.  I love people–and I hate people.  I can talk your ear off–or I can be silent the entire day.  I’m dying to go until I’d die to avoid it, and I can’t wait until the day comes, and then I’m not ready.

But there’s an exception.  Writing.  I always want to write.  When I’m writing I can let all the rest out.  All sides at once.  In the biz we call that conflict, and it’s a good thing.

Ever since I figured out that archaeologists didn’t really live like Indiana Jones, all I’ve wanted to do is to write.  I want to earn a living at it so I can write more.  I have several novels complete in draft, and each one taught me a great deal.  I think editing is fun. I have more created friends than I’ll ever have real ones, and I like it that way.  I make up scenes in my sleep; I work out plots while cooking dinner.  I’ve won NaNo twice, and went on to complete both books.  I read all the writing books (and any other books) I can get my hands on.  I ask people (honest people) to tell me what’s wrong with my stories.

I like movement.  Action.  I want to write dialogue that sparkles and stays with you like Joss Whedon’s.  I want to yoink your heartstrings like that, too.  I want to suck you in and take you somewhere else like Tolkien does.  I want to etch my words into your soul.  When you’ve fought all day before the gates, and all you loved lies broken about you; just when that impossible victory seems within grasp after all, but dark sails dash what hope you had–I want you to think of Eomer.  (come on.  TOLKIEN for that one, baby!  Now for wrath, now for ruin, and a red nightfall!)

But maybe when you’re tongue-tied before someone who makes you yearn so much you want to throw up, you could take courage from Taro.  Since, let’s face it, you’re not likely to end up in a damaged escape pod after taking on a singing psycho.

I want to plot all twisty like Lois McMaster Bujold, and I want my characters to stick with you like Miles Naismith Vorkosigan does with me.

I want to write the book you reach for when you need a favorite quote at half past your bedtime, the book you read bits of to your friends till they want to kill you, the book by your bed when life just keeps kicking you and you need to ESCAPE.

And I want my book to bring you back happier and stronger.*

*please note–I am in no wise promising an HEA for every book.  I do kill characters and when I do, they stay dead (so far).  If anyone does make it back, I promise it will be a mixed blessing at best.  Not passing judgment here–I’m just sayin’.

So, uh…yeah.  That’s me.  How about you?