And so, my faithful blog has not abandoned me like I had abandoned her for two and a half weeks. She was still sitting here patient and waiting for my humble return. Which I have. RL is not threatening to tip the scale at the moment and I can take some time to blog about my loverly WIP "Cinder" and the words I have not quite, but still, kind of written.
*Flips back through the archives*
Goals from June 9th (wow! that was a long time ago*blushes*)
8k - CINDER
Write outline for new novel wriggling in my noggin.
Sadly, over the almost three weeks since I've posted a "goals" post, I've only written 10k. So that goal was busted a long time ago. However, I did manage to get two flash pieces out one coming in just under 1000 words and the other 743 words. AND I wrote out a skeleton of an outline for the so called "new" WIP.
I have been writing, just not as much as I had been. BUT now that the skirt has been straighten, I will attempt to keep this goal thing going, it's good for me.
"Cinder" has taken on some interesting twists and turns. My once small fear of not having enough words to fit 90k is squashed. The story has bloomed over the last few weeks, which may have been why I had hesitated on it for a squinch. The ideas needed to fester, boil, and ultimately ferment. I'm happy with the changes and the WIP is now, 66,957 and pretty.
Plus, I have written every day this week which is a bonus, I like to keep a steadiness when it comes to writing. I've always found it better for my progress. But I won't beat myself up if I skip a day or two here, my brain is a very complicated place. Far be it for me to judge the way it works.
New goals for new week 11:
8000 - CINDER
Sub out "Lana Plays with Matches"
For now, that's it until I get back into the swing of the fabulous blogging world!
Take care! Happy writing!!
Kara
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Momentum
The last three weeks have been a whirlwind of board-games, play-doh, fireworks, walks, good food, pleasant news, and very little internet time. Now, summer vacation is rightly in check, I have found my footing.
I am sorry to say that my forward thrust on CINDER has slowed, but still in process. Producing only two chapters a week, it is resting at a cool 63,000 words and I should be able to finish it up within the next month with the firm routine I've set out for myself.
Although my blog has been on slight hiatus, I've had a lot going on in the writing world and I'm quite tickled. Daily Love has published my first ever lust-type poem "The First" (don't get excited, it's not what you think), and my fellow blogger buddy Alan W. Davidson-Conversations From Land's Edge, is wrapping up the final week from the winners of the blog contest. I am happy and surprised to say that my story "The Light and Shadows of Independence" placed third amongst a myriad of high talent. Check out the other stories that placed and received honorable mentions, you won't be disappointed. I also got word that two poems I have been revising finally got picked up by the wonderful people at EveryDayPoets. The editors there are truly wonderful and I'm giddy that they chose to work with me on the poems. No word yet on when they will be published, but I will keep bloggy updated!
I will be able to settle back into my old-new routine without much fret or struggle on my part and I can't wait to get back there, catch up on blogs and see what my other blogger buddies are up to. Plus write every day. My life moves more fluidly with a routine and I as long as I am in forward motion, I'm a happy bee.
Have a great day! Happy writing!
Oh! Please enjoy the musical stylings of one Ms. Amiee Mann!
I am sorry to say that my forward thrust on CINDER has slowed, but still in process. Producing only two chapters a week, it is resting at a cool 63,000 words and I should be able to finish it up within the next month with the firm routine I've set out for myself.
Although my blog has been on slight hiatus, I've had a lot going on in the writing world and I'm quite tickled. Daily Love has published my first ever lust-type poem "The First" (don't get excited, it's not what you think), and my fellow blogger buddy Alan W. Davidson-Conversations From Land's Edge, is wrapping up the final week from the winners of the blog contest. I am happy and surprised to say that my story "The Light and Shadows of Independence" placed third amongst a myriad of high talent. Check out the other stories that placed and received honorable mentions, you won't be disappointed. I also got word that two poems I have been revising finally got picked up by the wonderful people at EveryDayPoets. The editors there are truly wonderful and I'm giddy that they chose to work with me on the poems. No word yet on when they will be published, but I will keep bloggy updated!
I will be able to settle back into my old-new routine without much fret or struggle on my part and I can't wait to get back there, catch up on blogs and see what my other blogger buddies are up to. Plus write every day. My life moves more fluidly with a routine and I as long as I am in forward motion, I'm a happy bee.
Have a great day! Happy writing!
Oh! Please enjoy the musical stylings of one Ms. Amiee Mann!
Friday, July 2, 2010
The Ramble... horror musings on my mind.
*blows dust off of blog*
Wow, it's been awhile! Sorry Bloggy, I didn't mean to neglect you, I promise! Will you every forgive me?
*blog turns nose up and sniffs*
Ah... well, what can I do?
I know!
*scene fades into background gray*
I was not what one would call a 'normal' child. I spent a good deal of my youth, adolescence, and teenage years in my room, by myself. Playing with invisible friends, devouring a mixture of RL Stein, Christopher Pike, and The BabySitter's Club. Walking through the woods of my back yard, wondering what darker things lie beneath the trees. The only scary movie that ever scared me was The Dark Crystal (And it was bc of those damn puppets *shudders* blech) . I couldn't get enough of the fascinating beauty that was the shaded side of life. I was enthralled, entertained and I hungered for more.
Yes, I was afraid of Santa Clause, the dark and bugs. But that's not what molded my mind to work the way it is. I simply was born this way.
Where other girls were having tea parties, dressing up and playing barbies, running around carefree willy-nilly, I was playing funeral, "Go to The Hospital and Die," and my barbies were kidnapped, tortured and then they managed to find their way out of the horrid mess all on their own. I loved my barbies (so much so that I didn't stop playing with them until I was fourteen), I just played differently than other kids.
I don't know what caused my love of all things macabre, I don't know why my mind works this way. It simply does, and I'm proud of it.
Many people who truly know me aren't surprised. But if you see me on the street, you wouldn't know that I was a person who enjoyed the twisted and sick over a love story. I'm a petite, brunette with chocolate eyes that sparkle. I love life, I always want to help people, I want to give and I'm actually so peppy sometimes I make myself a little sick.
I have had people, close friends, ask "Why can't you write something happy?" I've had a parent ask what they did to make my mind this horrible way. And yet, I sit back and think what's wrong with the way I think? It's me... it's who I am, and I am not going to apologize for it. If I can accept it why can't they?
Why in the world do people have to judge one another? I write horror. It's what I do, most of my main characters wind up dead in my short stories. Or they wind up with severe damage. I think it's more real that way.
I was never a girl who believed in faerie tales because it always seemed like the princesses got the short end of the stick on many sides, happy endings with their man, who came to their rescue. That was never for me. I still get pissed when I watch Disney's version of Sleeping Beauty and Flora and Fawna give Brier Rose "Beauty" and "Song" before "Intelligence," I don't understand it now, and I didn't understand it then, even when I was six. Happily Ever After's don't exist in real life. There is no riding off into the sunset to live eternal bliss. That's just not how life works.
That is a part of the beauty of horror. While some of it is far fetched, there is a realness to it, an honesty that I have always truly respected, even when I was a child. Yes, it's fiction and fiction can be whatever we make it. But people, start remembering that just because we (horror writers/movie makers) think something, write it down and make it a story that doesn't mean that I'm actually going to chop my kids and husband up, bury them in the back yard, only to have their vengeful spirits come back to haunt me and drag me to hell... anyone who truly knows me knows that I'm a kitten. Sweet, lovable, cheery and I'm a good person.
Imagination is a wonderful thing and if we only stop looking at one another, let our minds work in they way the are supposed to, I would think that the world would be less harsh.
*Bloggy hugs Kara*
See! Now we've made up! Yay!
OH! And I've got a poem up at The Cynic Online! (sort of goes with the blog post.) Check it out when you get the time!
Wow, it's been awhile! Sorry Bloggy, I didn't mean to neglect you, I promise! Will you every forgive me?
*blog turns nose up and sniffs*
Ah... well, what can I do?
I know!
*scene fades into background gray*
I was not what one would call a 'normal' child. I spent a good deal of my youth, adolescence, and teenage years in my room, by myself. Playing with invisible friends, devouring a mixture of RL Stein, Christopher Pike, and The BabySitter's Club. Walking through the woods of my back yard, wondering what darker things lie beneath the trees. The only scary movie that ever scared me was The Dark Crystal (And it was bc of those damn puppets *shudders* blech) . I couldn't get enough of the fascinating beauty that was the shaded side of life. I was enthralled, entertained and I hungered for more.
Yes, I was afraid of Santa Clause, the dark and bugs. But that's not what molded my mind to work the way it is. I simply was born this way.
Where other girls were having tea parties, dressing up and playing barbies, running around carefree willy-nilly, I was playing funeral, "Go to The Hospital and Die," and my barbies were kidnapped, tortured and then they managed to find their way out of the horrid mess all on their own. I loved my barbies (so much so that I didn't stop playing with them until I was fourteen), I just played differently than other kids.
I don't know what caused my love of all things macabre, I don't know why my mind works this way. It simply does, and I'm proud of it.
Many people who truly know me aren't surprised. But if you see me on the street, you wouldn't know that I was a person who enjoyed the twisted and sick over a love story. I'm a petite, brunette with chocolate eyes that sparkle. I love life, I always want to help people, I want to give and I'm actually so peppy sometimes I make myself a little sick.
I have had people, close friends, ask "Why can't you write something happy?" I've had a parent ask what they did to make my mind this horrible way. And yet, I sit back and think what's wrong with the way I think? It's me... it's who I am, and I am not going to apologize for it. If I can accept it why can't they?
Why in the world do people have to judge one another? I write horror. It's what I do, most of my main characters wind up dead in my short stories. Or they wind up with severe damage. I think it's more real that way.
I was never a girl who believed in faerie tales because it always seemed like the princesses got the short end of the stick on many sides, happy endings with their man, who came to their rescue. That was never for me. I still get pissed when I watch Disney's version of Sleeping Beauty and Flora and Fawna give Brier Rose "Beauty" and "Song" before "Intelligence," I don't understand it now, and I didn't understand it then, even when I was six. Happily Ever After's don't exist in real life. There is no riding off into the sunset to live eternal bliss. That's just not how life works.
That is a part of the beauty of horror. While some of it is far fetched, there is a realness to it, an honesty that I have always truly respected, even when I was a child. Yes, it's fiction and fiction can be whatever we make it. But people, start remembering that just because we (horror writers/movie makers) think something, write it down and make it a story that doesn't mean that I'm actually going to chop my kids and husband up, bury them in the back yard, only to have their vengeful spirits come back to haunt me and drag me to hell... anyone who truly knows me knows that I'm a kitten. Sweet, lovable, cheery and I'm a good person.
Imagination is a wonderful thing and if we only stop looking at one another, let our minds work in they way the are supposed to, I would think that the world would be less harsh.
*Bloggy hugs Kara*
See! Now we've made up! Yay!
OH! And I've got a poem up at The Cynic Online! (sort of goes with the blog post.) Check it out when you get the time!
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