 I have a teenage boy.
He just turned fourteen two weeks ago and I’m actually quite surprised he made it to his fourteenth birthday, because honestly, I wasn’t sure he would. He drives me nuts. I’ve been told it only gets worse too. One friend told me to just wait until he turns fifteen. That’s when I really won’t like him. She said not to worry, though, once he turns twenty-five I’ll like him better. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Here’s the thing with this kid—he’s a bugger at home, pushing his boundaries, super messy, and likes to argue just for the sake or arguing: Him: Why did you put milk on my cereal? Me: Because you like milk on your cereal? Him: What makes you think that? Me: Because you had milk on your cereal for breakfast yesterday. Him: That was yesterday. You just don’t know me at all. But outside our house, everyone LOVES him! They think he is the greatest kid ever. Now, don’t get me wrong, as far as teenagers go, he’s pretty good one, but he can be SOOO annoying too. At home, he’s rude. Outside our home (school, church, scouts, friends), he’s a real gem of a guy. He even helps pick up after himself. He’s been known to carry dishes to the sink. What the heck? At home, he picks on his younger brother and sister ALL THE TIME. Outside our home, little kids adore him. They think he’s amazing and cool. They high-five him (my kids scream at him to stop touching them). At home, he is demanding. Outside our home, he has manners. He has been known to say please and thank you. He holds open doors for people. At home, he sulks and mopes around as though nothing in this world will ever make him happy. Outside our home, he is a ball of joy. I am the mother of a teenage son, so this is my lot in lot in life for the next six or so years (so I’ve been told). I look at him and think, “Who in their right mind is ever going to want to marry my son? He’s going to live with us forever, isn’t he?” But I must say, that at least when he steps outside our door, he knows how to behave and be a good kid. That has to mean something. When I first started writing my book, I was excited. It was cute. It was new and fun. I loved watching it grow and develop—like a toddler. I put my heart and soul into it and shaped it into being. Now, it’s acting just like a teenager. I’m in the editing/revising phase and this book is being a pain in my backside. Filling in plot holes and tweaking has become excruciatingly painful, especially the ending. The ending is mocking me. I only have twenty more pages to edit and rewrite (I’ve come a long way) and yet, for the past several days, the ending simply won’t come together. It’s as if my book has become a lanky teenage boy who has thrown himself over the couch, his big size eleven feet flopped over the armrest, sleeping the afternoon away. I nudge him. Nothing. I nudge him again. I get a moan before he rolls over, his back to me. Me: Come on. We need to write. My Novel: Not now. Later. Me: No, I want to write now. It’s a good time. You’re not doing anything. My Novel: I am doing something. I’m sleeping. Me: You’re always sleeping. My Novel: Yeah, well, I like sleeping. Me: Are you going to help me or what? My Novel: Tomorrow. I’ll help you tomorrow, okay? I promise. Me: You promised me that same thing yesterday. My Novel: This time I mean it. (My novel flashes me a peace sign). It needs to get done, because there is no such thing as a novel without an ending. AND there is no way I’m allowing the crappy ending that is there to just sit and taunt me. The ending will be fixed. It has too. I can make it better. Then, and only then, when I send it out into the world, I will hope it behaves itself, reading the way I always envisioned it would. No one will ever know the love, patience, and long suffering that went into the making of my book. They will never know how much I agonized over it or how much I lost sleep over it. No one will ever know—which is a good thing. I only want them to see the good stuff. Leave a comment and let me know how your novel is coming along? What roadblocks you’ve faced, what amazing hurdles you’ve jumped over. I’d love to know. Leave a comment and I’ll pop over and check out your site too.
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As you all know, I'm right dab in the middle of revising my zombie western romance called WANTED: Dead or Undead. The revisions are almost done too, and I have a really snazzy cover, designed by Author Creations, that I'll reveal at a later time. I'm excited. I am. This is the first novel in which I wrote something out of the norm (for me, anyway. I usually write contemporary stuff. For some of you, zombies are nothing, child's play). All my life, I've been pretty predictable, and so to step outside my comfort zone (which is writing contemporary YA and Adult novels) took some getting used to. I don't know the first thing about writing horror stories or cowboy westerns or even romance, and yet, I decided to combine all three and test myself. A pretty big gamble if I do say so. Will it work? I won't know until I put it out there for my beta readers to read, which will be soon. (I'll let you know what they say when the time comes). But still, to even tackle something so different, and love it, has to mean something. When I tell people I'm writing a zombie western romance, most people ask (my own mother included. I think she was wanting to find out what kind of a daughter she'd raised), "So you have a zombie romance set in the wild wild west?" (This is asked with brows raised and a hint of "you're odd" coating the words). No! Of course not! That's weird! Zombies in love with other zombies, or heaven forbid humans in love with zombies, that would be really, really weird! I made a remark on twitter about how such a thing would be strange and boy did people respond. I was sent this following Youtube clip by a follower (I like how they incorporated a whole heck of a lot of genres in this one): And this one (not for the squeamish, by the way): Then I was reminded about Fido (one zombie movie I thought brilliantly funny) and the zombie love that permeates this movie:  Regardless, I still think loving zombies in more than an admiration from afar kind of way, is odd. It would take a lot of guts (pun intended) to place a kiss on the rotting mouth of a zombie. All I know, is that should my husband, whom I love more than anything even after 17 years of marriage, become zombified, I will shoot him in the head. Maybe even twice. I'm not keeping him around, that's for sure. And I hope he would do the same for me.
So I do like zombies, but I have my limit folks. Zombie love-love is highly bizarre. The only romance going on in my book is between humans. The zombies are purely a device to bring the humans together--just the way I like my zombies, scary and a means to motivate the humans into taking action. How about you? How do you take your zombies--funny or scary? Leave a comment and let me know you've been here. I'll pop over to your place if you do. *This is a strange post. I realize this. Sorry.  I blame it all on summer. The thick, multilayer coating of dust covering my writing and my writer's brain is the result of a having a very, very nice summer vacation. Darn you summer!
Yes, summer has put a very big crimp in my writing time--so many places to go and see, so many fun things to do. How the heck am I supposed to find time for editing and writing? I knew that once the kiddos were out of school for the summer, it would be hard. I knew going to South Dakota for a week would be hard. I knew going camping in the wilderness (the real wilderness with real bears and real trees and did I mention real bears? . . . well, I can't mention the bear thing enough) would be hard. I just didn't realize it would be THIS hard. Here it is, almost August, and I have very little writing/editing done to show this summer. It's pathetic really. So sad. I mean, how exactly was I supposed to write in the wilderness? There wasn't exactly a current bush near by to plug into (and don't say use a notebook and a pencil because that is soooo passe--not gonna happen). And then, all that aside, it is a vacation after all. I'm supposed to be vacationing. With my family. Doing vacation type stuff. Okay, so I've let a couple of months slip by without really writing or doing anything writerly related. But, because I can't change that fact nor could I have done anything differently about it at the time, I have decided to embrace the dusty writing and accept it. It's okay. Breaks are not only needed sometimes, but can be a good thing as well. For instance, my family now knows what I look like without my pink laptop sitting on my lap. They are so used to me click-clacking away at my keyboard that they know nothing else. I actually went to a school function this past year where each of the second graders drew a family picture and had them on display in the hallway for people to look at. In my daughter's depiction of her family, there I was, holding my pink laptop, front and center. Awesome. Just awesome. Another good thing about stepping away from the laptop for awhile (besides building lasting memories and relationships with loved ones) is that I now feel somewhat refreshed and rejuvenated. I'm ready to edit once more. I'm ready to kick some WIP butt! Now that all my vacationing is done, and August is nearly here, I'm ready to get down to business. August will be better. My writing will be better. It will be okay--perhaps even better than okay. So, how is your summer fairing? Do anything fun? How do you balance summer fun and vacationing with your writing? I won't know you've been here unless you leave a comment. |
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Ahh, the fruits of my labors...
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