“OH HARDY-HAR-HAR. A. S. ARAMIRU. WE’VE ALL SEEN THAT BEFORE. BY THE WAY, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO ‘JUST WRITE‘ YOUR FINAL CHAPTER TO YOUR SHORT STORY THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE ENDED 2 MONTHS AGO?”
What are you Jackie Gleason?
Listen here you little turd. You little—
“Mr. Aramiru, remember you’re trying to promote yourself.” – My PR Team
Do you know how I got the title for this blog?
I used an SEO blog title generator.
Hiiiilarious. I thought. And probably highly effective.
Who knows. Maybe there are even SEO keywords that are completely unnecessary to this topic embedded somewhere in this post.
Or as the people in the biz call it, “black hat SEO”.
Bitcoins. Cryptocurrency. Trump.
Like the most boring kind of wizard. But probably a wizard that knows how to make money with his gibberish.
Look, I know.
It’s a bit annoying when people say, “just write.”
But they’re not wrong. Which is the best kind of right.
It’s not wrong and you feel annoyed because your brain knows that they’re right even though you haven’t realized it yet.
Just putting pen on paper, that finger on that keyboard, those thumbs on the touchscreen are the first essential step get started with this craft. It is the only step. And it is also the only step to continue honing the craft. You can research all you want. You can read all you want. But you’ll never be a writer without actually writing.
When I say it like that, it almost feels stupid that you had to read that right?
If you want to be a swimmer, you have to first get in the water. Start with the shallow end, eventually jump into the deep end.
If you want to be someone who’s despised by his friends and family, you have to first borrow money. Don’t pay it back. Then join Amway and sell their toilet paper to the said friends and family.
I’ve been legally advised to say that I’m only speaking anecdotally from my personal experience and of my personal opinion about Amway and they should definitely not go suck on some–
“Keep it politically correct” – My editor.
Does saying “suck on some nuts” offend my male audience for demeaning their genitalia as an insult? If you’re offended, go suck on some—
“Come on, dude!” – My editor.
We have to understand what it means to “just write” to not let the advice actually divest itself of any of its nutrients to help writers do their occupation.
It’s not a good advice if it offers no course of direction to the solution.
The quintessential significance of the advice “just write” actually can be found in its first word, “just.”
It implies that there’s no fuss, no grand scheme, and no grandiosity to the act itself.
You don’t need to have everything figured out.
You don’t need to have the latest program or the gadget.
You just need to write.
What do you write?
Whatever you feel like.
Not what you think will sell.
That’ll come later. Because everyone’s feeding each other bullshit that not making money can somehow be your occupation because you’re an artist and absolutely ignoring the fact that there are successful authors who chase after trends and write great stuff…. is just silly and irresponsible.
There’s nothing cool about being a hungry artist.
That’s right. I said dingus.
There’s always a better way.
Where was I?
Whatever you feel like.
—not what you think will sell.
Not what you think would make sense to others.
Just start with something.
Build from there.
The rest is discipline. How much do you want to be a writer? How much can you ignore the immediate pleasures and rewards of what you can see and do right in front of you and instead do something for the sake of just doing it.
Because you said you would.
Because this is something you want to do with your life.
Where’s your short story, Mr. Aramiru?
Prick. I’m talkin’ here.
If we all had the courage and the patience of the first farmer who decided to plant that seed, culture it, and hope for the best, the world would be filled with better humans.
“There’s actually a lot of discussion about how developing agriculture setback the society a lot.” – My Editor
Can I… Can I finish?
So just write. And keep doing it.
And learn to take criticisms and just eat it when someone is kind enough to let you know that you wouldn’t even be able to donate your work to Goodwill because they don’t accept trash.
It’s not a question that many people ask writers but a question I imagine many writers have asked themselves at some point.
Why do you write?
Why do you write even though your work is shit?
Why do you write even though it makes you miserable?
Why do you write even though no one will see your work?
Because I have to.
It’s kind of the line that you’d expect from a Disney movie before the majestic score chimes in and kicks-off the transition for our protagonist to go against the grain and literally run somewhere to progress the plot.
However, this is the reality. So there’s just my dull face with a divine glow from my overly bright computer monitor and my ass is definitely parked firmly in my computer chair. The only majestic music playing is the whirr of my overworked computer fan in this otherwise a silent and lonely room.
But that’s the best answer I’ve accepted about why I do what I do. About why any artists do what they do.
It’s the dilemma of the creatives.
Whether their vice is writing, painting, dancing, singing, and whatever else STEM may deem as empirically worthless, we just want to keep diving into the recourse of our imagination. The very thing that seems to give the plot for ourselves in the randomness and indifference of reality and the colors we can finally choose for it.
To the point where we have to always find the reminders and the balance of the sanctity and nourishment necessary for that reality and the potential sacrilege of the rejuvenation with our delvings in creativity.
But not having it—not delving into it—is divesting our sense of being. We feel severed to something integral to the definition of ourselves when we have to disconnect from our outlets.
Damn, that sounds embarrassingly decadent.
Since Chronicles of the Otherworld: Season 1, I’ve re-written the plot charts for Black Halo spin-off and the sequel. I’ve written about four separate projects and scrapped two of them.
I’ve also lost two cars, two family members, and got a clean bill of health from the doctor only to get sick a week after.
A business was started. A business blew up.
I met a woman. The woman and I are no longer speaking.
I witnessed one of my dearest friends marry the love of his life. I thought she hated my guts. I think she likes me now.
A friend or two became doctors. I circled around where I was.
As all of this life passed by me, my mind was stuck in a constant of new projects in mind and like a thorn kept pricking at me whenever I wasn’t working on it. I was running in place with the background of life just scrolling past me like an old cartoon. The transition forward, I figured, wouldn’t really be there until I was done with my next project. Or at least I hope that’s the case.
But it doesn’t change the fact that when I look in the mirror, there are few more wrinkles. When I sort through the memories stored of the last two years, the gap between the person I was and am is obvious. And where others were and at seemed astronomical.
This is not unique. So many other creatives have expressed the same thing in one way or another.
How many of us at this point are still creating because we think this would be the one? The one that’ll justify our choices for us? The one that’ll make our careers? The one that’ll finally satiate our endless pit?
Not many I imagine.
But how many of us are still creating simply because we just want to bring it to life. Into this reality. Make it part of the list of things that happened.
Do something that was totally of our own.
The whole endeavor makes me think of being in a relationship.
And also fucking sucks.
But also breathlessly remarkable and seductive.
Makes you palpably helpless at times.
Like seeing the sunset for the first time on the beach of an island. You stand in awe at this thing that you know in time will be gone. It’s gradually disappearing over the horizon right before your eyes.
Then it turns dark, cold, rats are running around, and you realize you’re all alone as if the sun was never there.
But the sun rises again and you deal with the abandonment, embracement, and being in awe again when it sets.
One day, maybe, even after the sunset you won’t worry about the sun rising again. It’ll always rise. And it’ll always fall. But that’s okay. Because it’ll rise again.
With that out of the way, here we go! …Hopefully, I don’t forget any.
Star Wars: Rogue One ( 2.5 / 5) – Inconsistent. Perhaps the one of the most iconic Star Wars scene at the end. Certain questionable dialogue choices. Not sure why they chose to do what they did with the characters as it was unnecessary. Final moments of the movie after the famous Vader scene also makes little sense when we really think about it.
Star Trek Beyond ( 3 / 5) – Not sure about the pacing. Villain made little sense. Action sequences were done better in the previous films.
Captain America: Civil War (3 / 5) – Another fun Marvel film. Winter Soldier was a better film since it at least felt different than the typical formula Marvel films have been following since Iron Man. The moral debate between the two sides is weak and unconvincing. [SPOILER] Weak ending where nothing that matters was lost at the end.
Dr. Strange (2.5 / 5) – Tried to do too much with the first movie. Benedict is likable as Strange. Forgettable villain with convoluted motives. The big baddie at the end is a bit puzzling considering his place in the comics. The end fight itself borders between corny and clever. One of the best post-credit “Marvel teasers.”
Batman v Superman (2 / 5) – Too scattered. Too inconsistent. Plot doesn’t even make sense within its own logic. Snyder seemed to have pieced together moments instead of creating a film. While the actor was great, how they decided to portray Lex Luther felt like a mistake by the end. MARTHAAA
Finding Dory (3.5 /5) – Very heartfelt as to be expected from Pixar. Bigger emotional punch than Finding Nemo. Jumped the shark a bit at the end.
X-Men Apocalypse ( 2 / 5) – Very meh especially considering how impressive the preceding film was. Nothing groundbreaking, nothing really interesting, Apocalypse was surprisingly a boring villain. Gets pretty cheesy near the end.
Zootopia (4 / 5) – Funny, witty, creative, and I’d love to live in Zootopia. It handled the message it wanted to send well for what it was. Nick Wilde is also a great character.
Hell or High Water (4.5 / 5) – Just watch it. Wonderful neo-western with a compelling story and pacing. One of the most intense and clever standoffs I’ve seen in a western during the final moments of the film.
Sicario (4 / 5) – Just watch it. Especially if you liked Hell or High Water.
Moana (2.5 / 5) Some of the most beautiful visuals I’ve seen in a Disney Film. Best female Disney character to date. A bit Miyazaki-esque. Songs were generally a miss for me. The song by Lin-Manuel Miranda, however, is brilliant. Very weak ending.
Sky Rising ( 2 / 5 ) A bit too in-your-face with metaphors and symbolisms. Lacks certain Magic and nuance that Miyazaki films tend to have. Pacing is too slow. Unnecessary romance that made no sense and wasn’t even biographical. Voice acting by Hideaki Anno was mostly a miss for me.
Swiss Army Man (4 / 5) – Surprisingly thoughtful and touching. Never thought fart & sex jokes can take a movie so far.
Sausage Party (1 / 5) – Dumber than you think it’d be. People will tell you that “it’s just not your type of movie” or “you just didn’t get the jokes” when you tell them you didn’t like it. It sucked. I wanted my money back.
Corner Gas the Movie ( 3 / 5) – If you’re a fan of the show, it just feels like an extended episode… but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Caché (4 / 5) – Sometimes a bit too much with the message it wants to send (sometimes too subtle, sometimes too blatant) but it’s one of those films for film students. Masterfully filmed. Each shot has a purpose. Engrossing story.
Winter’s Bone (4.5 / 5) – If anyone wants to see Jennifer Lawrence’s acting chops this is a good film to do it with. Powerful and an organic film. Watch it.
Hail Caesar! (4 / 5) – Coen brothers film for all ages (?). Celebrates film industry while also poking fun at it. Charismatic, colorful, and whimsical.
Penny Dreadful (TV) S1 : (3.5 / 5) – Promising and refreshing. Someone give Eva Green an award.
S2: (4 / 5) – Awesome though the second half of the season is a bit corny. Someone give Eva Green an award.
S3: (2/5) – This would be 1/5 if it wasn’t for Eva Green and Rory Kinnear. The ending is absolutely atrocious. Build up to the ending is horrendous. Rare moments where I felt my time was wasted starting this series. But, seriously, someone give Eva Green an award.
Fargo (TV) S1: (5/5) – Tight writing, great pacing, memorable characters. Lester is a fascinating character to watch as he twists and turns through the series. Lorne Malvo is basically Chigurh but that’s not such a bad thing and Fargo brings a brilliant Coen brother feel to the force-of-nature character.
S2: (5/5) – As good as, if not better, than S1 but it’ll definitely depend on the audience. It has more “whimsical” elements to the plot that may turn off some viewers–even the fans of S1. And the vibe of the story is essentially different than the S1 as well. It’s more heartfelt and builds much bigger investment into the characters. Every actor is memorable in their own, unique ways. The dialogues are more subtle and also more profound, insightful, uniquely tailored, and at times even haunting.
I think that’s all?
Best Thing I Watched This Year
Runner-up: Hell or High Water / Winter’s Bone
Worst Thing I Watched This Year
Runner-up: Penny Dreadful Season 3
That’s it! Maybe I’ll do books sometime soon as well!
But for now… Happy Holidays! Happy New Year! And I think I speak for all of us when I say…
You might have heard of me from my past works such as… who are we kidding? You have never heard of me. I’m a nobody. But I’m a nobody with some experience.
Last time, I posted a blog about 4 Same Stupid Questions I See All the Time On Writing Forums. Click HERE to fulfill my shameless plug.
This time, I thought I’d do something a bit more helpful and thoughtful.
I’m going to buy your ebooks.
Just kidding. I’m still poor. And with the money I have I’d rather buy a McDouble and a McChicken at McDonald’s with the awesome Mc2Pick for $2.50! What a deal! And make sure to check out their limited-time holiday drinks!
You already know what this is about. You’ve read the title. Get to the point you’re saying. Maybe you’ve already scrolled down.
This is for all of you out there wondering what exactly some of those answers you’ve received meant. Because the random stranger who gave you the answer left you cold and hanging without an explanation. Like my dad on Christmas.
“Show, Don’t Tell”
Let’s get the big one out of the way.
I’m literally massaging my nose bridge with one hand and typing this with my other two hands as I’m trying to explain this one.
Not because it’s particularly difficult to answer, but because it’s so basic.
But not because it’s just so basic, but because it’s so basic and it’s a mistake that I make often and I know for a fact that many other writers who should be above these kinds of things make this mistake as well.
So let’s try to understand WHY this happens.
I have a simple theory: We are describing what we are seeing in our brilliant, gifted minds and forgetting that our jobs as writers are to help the readers experience what we’re seeing and not have them simply understand what we’re seeing. We’re not supposed to be the tour guides but be VR goggles. They want to be inside of our story—not be outside of it.
Showing is taking notes.
Telling is creating worlds.
There are times when you want to “tell” over “show” but this is one of those things where you have to master the rules before you learn to bend them.
And here’s an example just in case:
Jimmy was mad at Moe.
Jimmy’s unibrow furrowed into a rugged U, his hand trembled with fury, and his heart filled with the burning desire to bitchslap Moe.
You want to be a swimmer? Go practice swimming every day.
You want to be a stripper? Go practice stripping every day.
You want to be a writer? Go practice stripping every day.
Well. Why not. Cardio’s important. But you should also practice writing every day.
This somewhat calloused sounding advice exists because most people only talk about writing and never actually write.
They think they can be writers by just spewing their thesis about the craft of ink and paper as they lasciviously rub themselves for their own creativity and avant-garde ideas.
Something about hic Rhodus, hic salta.
Your ideas aren’t worth donkey’s spit on a chicken’s ass if you never actually create something with it. And unless you’re some sort of a Hemingway’s spirit reborn, you’re probably not as good as you think you are.
So how do you “just write”? I personally say do away with the whole “have a word count for the day” thing. You know, when people say things like “just write 1000 words a day”?
Look, fellow grasshoppers, if you’re a professional writer then you know when your due date is so daily word count either makes more sense or not at all since you just have to get’er done by that date.
You know how you work. You can set your own pace.
If you’re a hobbyist it makes less sense because the rigidness and the arbitrary number just turns your hobby into a chore.
But sure. If it works for you—good. Nothing wrong with that.
If it doesn’t—don’t worry about it. And let me recommend, instead, setting up a timed session.
Maybe one hour a day. One hour every other day.
Make it your schedule, like everything else you do in life, and just use that time to write one word or ten thousand words. Or even no words. Just do something writing related. Even if that’s reading for research, doing brainstorms, and whatever. Maybe it’ll be for an hour. Maybe it’s two hours. Just set a time.
This will give you some freedom and some ease with your writing pursuit. And if you have an end goal in mind that’s where you can set a long-term deadline for yourself.
Oh, and, if you’re not letting other people read your work—you’ll never get better. Practice makespermanent and not perfect.
Writing without outside criticism will only make your lack of talent permanent.
“Write for Yourself / Don’t Follow the Trend”
So, this one’s a bit FUBAR.
To unravel this, I’ll just first explain where it’s coming from and then kind of go on about why it’s FUBAR. And just a head’s up: this one’s going to be a bit serious.
Like stool samples. Poops are fun and games but sometimes you have to use serious, medical terms like “stool” and “samples”.
When there’s a fad, it’ll start a trend.
Star Wars sparked the sci-fi boom.
Lord of the Rings & Game of Thrones sparked the fantasy boom.
Twilight sparked the wtf-happened-to-vampires boom.
Hunger Games started the dystopian boom.
The whole idea of “write what you’d want to read / don’t follow a trend” is that the chances of you actually catching the trend and having your passions align with the trend… are low.
Why is the chance of catching a trend low?
Because writing is a long process and publishing can be even longer. It usually takes years for someone to finish a book and see it in stores. You really think the trend will last that long? And what about passion? Do you think you can write a work you’re proud of without a passion for it? Even if you’ve missed the trend? Can I add any more questions to this paragraph? Well? Can I?
Writing what you’re proud of—something that you can call your own—can mean more at the end of the day than writing something that you thought was going to sell.
But remember when I said this topic is a bit tricky? With the technologies and how the book market is today… you can basically ignore everything I said up there and maybe you should.
You know why trends start? Because they sell.
People tend to want more cake after they had a slice.
Twilight spawned True Blood, Vampire Diaries, and a bunch of other vampire shows, books, and ebooks in a variety of genres.
Erotica was a popular genre to write for on Kindle for a while because they sold like… well… sex.
Publishers will always welcome any book that’ll sell. That’s their jobs. Publish things to sell. And if the genre’s hot right now, they’ll be looking for more of that genre and might even put you through the fast lane.
For indie writers, catching trends is easier now more than ever because you can instantly check what’s selling well. Check the Top 100 on Amazon. There you go.
Passion? Damn, son. Passions tend to suck at paying forstuff. And I like stuff.
Besides, if you’re a professional writer shouldn’t you have a grasp of how to write just about anything?
Timing? You click “publish” and you’re done.
You want to put more work into it? It won’t be too hard for you to chug out a 40-50k novel that follows a formula for a standard successful storytelling in a month. Remember, NaNoWriMo thinks just about everyone can chug out 50k in a month. You’re a professional, veteran writer. If this is your full-time job, you can do it in 2-3 weeks. During the time you’re writing you can hire an editor and an artist and ding-ding-ding you have a Hot Pockets book.
Besides, talking about passion, do you think there’s a lot of market appeal to a book that’s so personally you?
Sometimes a book is too much you and sometimes that’s not a good thing. That’s when a writer is just doing a self-pleasing (there, friends, I didn’t use the word “masturbatory”) project and hoping that people might like it.
Hell, that writer might not even be thinking of readers. If your protagonist is a half-orc, quarter-dragon, quarter-boar stripper named Borga Do’Kora (stage name being Danger Dick) who’s day job is a tax accountant, maybe you really did not give a chicken’s ass on a donkey’s spit about the readers.
And that’s fine. Writing, in its best form, should be reflective and a fragment of your being. Even if that’s a half-orc, quarter-dragon, quarter-boar stripper who’s favorite food happens to be pickled eggplants.
But if we’re talking about making money, the whole story changes.
Wow, the last one was so damn long. I’ll keep this short. You know how you improve your mile run right? You keep running.
But as you keep running, you’ll run into some hurdles along the way. Maybe your ankles will start to hurt, maybe you’ll run into better runners, and maybe some literal hurdles. It’s called gaining experience.
And sometimes, it’ll hurt. They might say you have ugly shoes, ugly face, and that you look downright silly running.
But someone wise once told me… Just kidding. I read this on Tumblr.
“Writer’s who are afraid of rejection are like boxers who are afraid of getting punched. You’re in the wrong line of work.”
In every aspect of our lives, we should welcome valid criticisms. In writing, we have to take-and-thank any sort of feedback we can get and sort it through ourselves like beggars on the street corners Aurora ave in Seattle.
And a lot of times… the greatest of criticisms will come from our own failures. It’s okay to fail despite what my mother says. What’s not okay is to let failures just be failures. Then you’ve wasted your time.
Don’t give up. Everything’s hard and writing as a craft has been around since the beginning of written language. You don’t have to try to rewrite the rule book, the legacy, or try to be the next big thing. Just enjoy it and see where it takes you.
If someone says you suck–say thanks. What can I do to be better?
If you think you suck–well, I suck. What can I do to be better?
And I’m not saying having that attitude is easy. It’s tough. Hell, I always get salty and pissy and depressed about myself and my life. And sometimes about my writing!
But that’s the process of “Keep Writing”. You’ll get better as long as you keep challenging yourself and keep yourself honest. Make sure the cycle of depression and persistence keeps turning. There’s no fast lane here. It’s just gaining experience.
Or just give up. It’s your life. Why are you doing this if you’re not enjoying it unless you’re trying to pay bills with it?
It’s okay not to be a writer. It’s okay not to be a professional writer. I’m sure your friends and family will be happy to hear that you decided not to be an artist anymore and decided to be a Tax Accountant and go make a happy, comfortable living without having to worry about your future.
But if you’re not going to give up, keep running. As you keep running, you’ll also learn how to enjoy running better. And hopefully, y’know, you’ll keep researching into how to run better because that’s part of keep running.
Let’s begin by murdering the elephant in the room with a buckshot, skinning her with a rusty knife, and harvesting her ivory for pristine piano keys–I’m against it.
Review trading is a blatant hush-hush among indie writers that some participate without much thought, some with the belief that it’s just part of the game, and some with guilt that’d make Catholics envious.
The title for this entry was a forewarning because this is a complicated matter and my position on it is a bit of a fine waltz (or an awkward crunk) that could be easily misconstrued (like an awkward crunk). I readily admit that I could be shining my own position and this problem with the wrong kind of bulb.
What it actually is is simple: Author A asks Author B that they should read each other’s books and give each other reviews.
The concern lies within the innuendos that may or may not be there… like back when you were 16 at a keg party and talking to Minji Kim the Asian cheerleader that you’ve had a crush on before she developed and became popular so you know that you were into her for her soul and personality and she’s slightly tipsy and you are too and you don’t get if she’s hitting on you or not but her boyfriend Derek is across the room sipping on his red plastic cup and glaring at you like a diseased hawk with quads that’d burst your cherries like balls if he decided to kick you in the grapes.
Theoretically, the two authors would take their times to photosynthesize each other’s books and emit onto one another honest reviews and breathe in whatever the other had to say.
Because as we all know, criticisms are often more beneficial than praises (remember this because I’m going to tell you later how I lied by simply omitting four words).
Here’s the not-so Shayamalan: reality is a dick.
You see, criticisms are often more beneficial than praises for honing your craft. Criticisms are not often more beneficial than praises for paying your bills.
Yes, yes. Perhaps by having honest criticisms people would improve and write better books that’d sell to more people.
Again, theoretically true, but not always true in reality.
Selling is about marketing. Whether something is good or not doesn’t really matter as long as the package is good.
For books that’s about reviews and it’s cred. Sadly, unlike movies, most books cannot sell on notoriety of being bad. Especially considering as time passes, more and more people are thinking of books as sort of an investment–time investment. Why should they spend the time and money they could be using watching 3 minute videos on YouTube and Facebook and etc. on a bad book?
Specifically, for indie authors, this means the number of stars and the number of reviews attached to the name of their novel. Book marketing, like anything else, is complex and expensive but the foundation of it (for indie authors at least) starts from there.
So let’s go back to Author A and B. There isn’t a writer out there who’s not aware of this. Everyone’s aware that bad reviews can tangibly harm someone’s writing career.
I think most of us can agree that there’s some immorality there if the two understood they’d give each other a positive review no matter what.
However, the gray seeps in when the pressure to give one another honest reviews is challenged by peculiar circumstances.
Lets say Author A wrote a fantastic book and received a glittery review from B. But B wrote a dull novel and A was planning on giving them a review that reflected exactly that.
After receiving a good review, understandably, A could feel the pressure to plant some flowers into his review for B.
A is simply a person not wanting to harm someone who’s done them a favor.
“Favor”, as it often does, becomes the gray word here.
To prevent this problem from ever happening, many writers suggest to simply not ask other writers to trade reviews. Let them discover your novel like any other readers and give you a review as an audience. Or ask a writer to simply give you a review with an understanding that this is a clean favor you’re asking from them and not a transaction.
But many of us starting out writers do need help from our peers to make it past the first few steps of our careers.
A method I found that is mostly acceptable is to give one another private reviews and ask for permission if they’d be okay with the review being public. Of course, this being discussed beforehand that the review will be performed in such a manner.
There’s a problem with this too, however, in that you could give someone a poor review and if you’re involved in a poor circle of writers this may circulate a bad branding to your name and people might not support you as they are aware that you probably don’t present them with any benefits.
Business be business, people be people, and life be life.
I’m writing about this topic because I felt like I missed a better timing for it. A writer friend of mine, Jessica Wren, invited me into her co-op group for authors.
As far as I know so far, they seem to be good people looking to help one another’s careers with integrity. I’m happy to be part of the group. Jessica is a pretty awesome person that I am glad to have met.
We’re all in this together. We’re all trying to make self and indie publishing a legitimate source for novels and storytelling. There’s no sense in cannibalizing our own fragile credibility for a small chance at brief success.
The road for indie writers is still unpaved, littered with broken glass, and filled with robbers.
What they shouldn’t take away from us are our names. Let’s protect that together.
It sounds like a drunken Tinkerbell screaming for her life.
I’m starting out with that because that’s apparently how I’ll be starting out this morning. On a goddamn Saturday morning no less.
You see in my mind, if I wasn’t so lazy, I already went to the garage, broke down my car, somehow fashioned myself a military grade flame thrower, and burned the whole tree down while laughing maniacally as I watched the blue jay make its last few drunken screams.
Suffering as I did.
But I remind myself, goosefraba. Goooooooooooooooooosefraba. Find my center.
It is a lazy Saturday, after all. A blissful, restful, and maybe even a delightfully sinful day was waiting for me just outside those bedroom doors. Limitless possibilities.
Of course, I’m going to park myself on the couch and play video games.
Maybe even order Pizza later because screw cookin’.
I’m going to enjoy this day all for myself, anyway I want it, however I want it, for however long I want it until the clock strikes midnight.
No one will bother me this day I think to myself as I grab a water bottle out of the fridge.
I don’t care, Mormons! I say as I ignore the doorbell and turn on my game system.
I don’t care! Girl Scouts! I’m going to punch some scrubs online! I say as I ignore the doorbell once again and pick up my joystick.
Bang-bang. They’re knocking–smacking–on the door.
Did… Did I pay my bills?
BANG-BANG. I’m pretty sure those are kicks.
When was the last time I did something to piss off the Yakuzas?
“Goddamn it! Open up! I know you’re in there!” She yells.
Emily. Emily Wolf.
I begrudgingly drag my body over and open the door. Soon as she heard the lock click, she barges in with that wide grin of hers.
“What up, nerd! It’s a beautiful day and you’re going to spend it cooped up in your room again?!”
I peek outside and it’s cloudy. It’ll probably rain soon.
“I didn’t know you were coming over today,” I say.
“Yeah, hope you don’t mind but Noah was taking care of some stuff and I was bored,” Emily says as she holds up a big bag she’s carrying. “I brought chicken though!”
Any complaint I have disappears with the smell of the chicken. I’m probably smiling already without realizing.
By the time I come to my senses, I’m by my kitchen counter opening up the bag and checking out my loots.
“Were you getting your butt kicked?” She asks as she fiddles around with my joy stick. “You always get your butt kicked. You were getting your butt kicked.”
She makes a whipping noise.
“I didn’t even get to play yet.” She got the extra crispy kind. Emily doesn’t like the extra crispy kind. I like the extra crispy kind.
I grab a couple of plates and dump some chicken, cob of corn and macaroni and cheese that came as the package for the two of us.
From afar it sounded like she was just smashing the buttons and the stick but by the time I set the plates on the table in front of the couch I’m surprised to find that she’s winning.
“Hell, yeah!” She screams as she secures the win. “I like this game. I should buy this game.”
“You don’t even have the console,” I take a big bite into the chicken.
Without looking down she grabs hers and does the same.
I always saw Emily with a sense of envy. She was that type of person that seemed to be so carefree but be so damn talented at everything.
It’s petty but I see her playing this game I’ve played since college. I know if she had wanted to, she could be better than I ever could be in a few months.
But, even then, I always enjoyed her compa…
“Why you just sitting there in silence, ya freak?” Emily asks as she sees me trailing off in my thoughts.
…ny. But today… or any other day soon I didn’t really want to see her.
“Kay, you’re starting to freak me out now,” Emily starts another match and hurriedly gobbles down glops of macaroni and cheese before it begins.
Because decisions were made and I had news I didn’t want to share with her. Something I wasn’t sure if it was either appropriate or inappropriate for me to share.
“Watch me make this kid cry,” she said with devilish grin. “Children’s tears are the fuel to my life source.”
I believe it.
“Emi…” I clear my throat to make it unnecessarily dramatic. “Emily.”
“I already have a boyfriend I love from the bottom of my heart, Mr. Writer,” Emily cuts me off.
“God damn, it.” I shut up and just watch her finish the match.
“What is it?” She sets the joystick down and looks at me.
“I think…” I pause again and make the mistake of making it unnecessarily dramatic once more. “I think need to tell you something.”
“Am I pregnant?”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Is Noah pregnant?”
“Just…” I let out a deep sigh.
“…What is it?” She’s serious now.
“Someone’s going to die,” I tell her. Great date.
Emily grin’s gone and she looks at me like she’s about to punch me. She scratches her fake blonde hair and lets out a sigh.
“What are you talking about?” She’s agitated.
I try to grab the chicken and she looks at me as if I’m committing a murder dodging her question.
“Hey!” She raises her voice. “I’m talking to you! Who’s going to die?!”
I’m a coward. I’m an asshole. Why did I say anything?
“Choke on it,” Emily tells me as she gets up and fixes her bomber jacket. She rushes over to the front door and I instinctively go after her against my better senses.
She grabs the door handle and pauses for a moment.
“Do what you got to do,” Emily says. “Just do what you got to do.”
I can’t give her a reply but she knows what it’d be.
She walked out into the rain as I wonder if she regretted taking the time out of her life to visit someone like me.
But I know such a thought would offend her.
Emily Wolf regrets nothing.
This is a personal writing exercise that I’ve been asked by my editor and few others to share on this blog.
To get to know my characters better I go on a “date” with them to explore their thoughts, reactions, and just overall dimensions of what makes them a person.
Sometimes it goes well and sometimes it goes terribly. I’ll try to post a few more that I’ve done in the future.