The situation:
1. The house Mom and I rent together has stairs, and after her stroke she has a lot of trouble with stairs.
2. We're staying with her sister, my aunt, until we can buy/rent a house all on one level.
3. I have keys to my aunt's house.
4. I forgot those keys today.
5. At about noon today I discovered we were locked out.
6. We are now spending the afternoon at our old house, which is fine for me since I have no trouble with stairs. Mom is less thrilled, although she's lying on the couch watching a movie and drinking a Gatorade, so I don't feel quite as guilty as I did.
But now I feel guilty for being upstairs at my computer while Mom's stuck downstairs. A few months ago that was the norm--not Mom stuck downstairs, but Mom preferring to hang out in the living room while I'm on my computer. It feels normal to me right now that I'm blogging and I can hear the Lord of the Rings music downstairs. Then I realize I need to check on Mom to make sure she doesn't need anything. Then I feel bad for feeling so content at having a chunk of computer time.
Anyway, I'm at 72,000 words on Misfits and closing in on the end. All I have left to write is the main character's date with his new girlfriend and the big scene where a friend of his needs his help, then a scene of reconciliation between two estranged friends. Hmm, that sounds like more than I thought. It'll probably go over 75,000 words, but then again it's not like I need to keep the wordcount low.
I'm not sure about Misfits. I really like it, and I think it's a good book, but I've also stopped believing I'm ever going to get an agent or sell a book to a big publisher. Misfits is a YA book with no speculative elements at all, with a central theme of the bonds of friendship--but it's got strong LGBT themes, which means it's destined for a small publisher no matter how good it is. And I don't know anymore how good a writer I am. Last week I started rereading The Taste of Magic, a book I only wrote a few years ago and which was just published last month, and I couldn't even finish it. I didn't like my own writing style. I don't know what to make of that.
8 comments:
Writing styles evolve. I have stories that feel like looking at an old high school picture.
I have that experience with code: I know I'm good at what I do, but I can look at code I wrote six months ago and still be disgusted.
Remember that there's room for personal taste in evaluating a work--and what you personally prefer will change over time, sometimes rapidly. That doesn't mean that what you've written isn't still appealing to others or is intrinsically bad just because you no longer have a preference for it.
Familiarity breeds contempt. I can't read through Thagoth without getting a creepy-crawly queasy feeling.
I hear you, re: writing style/evolution. Familiarity does breed contempt... and old high school pictures? *shudders*
This is just a bump. You'll feel better when the house thing sorts itself out. Take care.
Natalie--Ugh, high school pictures! That's a good analogy.
Richard--I do notice that the books I'm reading lately are a lot different from the books I was reading a year or two ago. I think that influences style too.
Michael--Yeah, I think a big part of it is just being bored with the story because I've read it so many times.
Aaron--Thanks, I hope so. I do like the book, at least. As long as I'm enjoying what I write, I figure I'm doing something right.
Go with the fow and let the future sort its self out you never know what's around the corner. Glad to know your mum is going stronger. My very best wishes to you both.
You're an inspiration, Kate. There you are looking after your mom, worrying about finding somewhere else to live and still getting more words down than most of us combined.
Never stop believing in yourself.
Jarmara--That's more and more my way of thinking. All this with Mom has really made me reevaluate how I approach life.
Cate--Aw, thanks. I cracked 80,000 words today and I'm still not done. I will approach the hack-and-slash revision phase with an open mind in a few months. :)
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