Writing Journal: I'm almost done with
The Adjusters #48. It's surprisingly breezy, that one, even though it's Jenn-centric. (Yeah, yeah, famous last words, I know.) And I have #49 and #50 essentially laid out, so that's looking positive as well. Installment #51, which is the planned conclusion to Book IV, is still a bit fuzzy in my head—there are three directions I can take it into, and I'm not entirely sure which one will get me where I want to be further down the road—but I trust by the time I get to it things will have gelled.
New year, new goals. I'm not particularly big on New Year resolutions—I tend to think grandiose, while what I really should work on are details—but the main thing I want to get back to this year is fix my process.
(By the way: you all noticed, I hope, the modified blog layout. Slightly nicer fonts, and what I find to be an easier-to-read color scheme. If something's off, please let me know.)
Process. I've used that word a few times in the last few months, mostly in the context of lamenting how broken mine was. Time to explain, in case it's not clear what I'm talking about. So, sorry folks, a bit more writerly navel-gazing.
Writing's not hard, I keep telling those foolish enough to ask. It just becomes so when you start thinking too much about what you're doing. At least, that's the case in my admittedly limited experience. My way around thinking too much is process: just write a little bit every day, day in, day out. 500 words a day is not difficult. They don't even have to be good words. If you can do more, great. But 500 is enough. After ten days, you have 5000 words. Twenty days, 10000 words. You can do the math.
But writing daily requires a certain form of discipline, at least at first. Eventually, it becomes a habit, and when you've reached that point, it's like a train on well-maintained straight tracks: it's effortless and everything goes smoothly. Mess up the process, though, and the train derails. And when the train's off the tracks, it's freakin' tough to get it back on. That strained metaphor is basically my last October/November/December. I got off the train tracks, and it took a while to get back on. The Holidays helped, strangely enough.
So 2014, at least for now, is all about make sure I remain on the tracks until I hit that long straight.
But enough about me...
Our story this week is a little epic that I believe I knew about a while ago, but had completely forgotten about.
Our First Female President, by
Harry Berg: “Candace Williams, beautiful and highly intelligent but also shy, self effacing, devoutly religious, and sexually inhibited is seduced by the devil. This novel length story blends themes of religion, political corruption, and sexual debauchery as Candace progresses up the ladder of American politics. Side-bar stories that rely on great historical events add to the texture of human debauchery and lust that always accompany the acquisition of power and wealth.” This is a little epic—I'm only a fourth of the way in, and it has pretty much everything. Definitely worth checking out. It's on BDSM Library, sadly, which means that formatting has a 50/50 chance of making you want to gouge your eyes out, but still.
