Forgot My Notebook

I’ve been working on plotting on my latest story, Coast Tied. I’ve been working on this book for about a year now. Saying it makes it sound like such a long time! I was about 10 chapters in when I couldn’t do it anymore. It had so many plot holes and I didn’t even know how I was going to end the story. So, I went and bought a notebook. 

Image

A plotting notebook. I have found that it makes it so much easier to figure out what’s going on in my stories if I plot. I get to know my characters much faster and the excitement to begin writing is enough to spur me on through the dead zones of the writing process.

Mondays have been dedicated as my writing days. I work Tuesday-Saturday and it really makes it hard to come home and write. I try, but usually I don’t have the energy to do much else other than sit and stare at a wall. Working with dogs is more exhausting than it sounds. So, what I tend to do on my work days is write through my lunch hour. If the dogs aren’t barking up a storm, it’s kind of nice!

Today is Monday, which is awesome. I stay at my boyfriend’s over my weekend, so I’m at his house right now. The internet isn’t very fast, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and I get to puppy sit. It’s perfect for writing. The problem is, I forgot my notebook at home. That’s a big problem. I’m only about halfway done with my plotting. In fact, I might not even be that far with it.

But, I have a much better grasp of my characters and plot now. I even think I know how it’s going to end! Cue happy dances and a barking chihuahua! So, I’m going to spend today WRITING. I’m excited.

I’m very excited.

Lillia, it’s time for me to take over your world!

“Wedding Bells?”

We’ve all done it. Or at least something similar to it. 

You log on to facebook and begin looking aimlessly around, hoping for something decent to strike your attention. Nothing really does. Perhaps a picture of a kitten or a long rant about soap or something equally strange, but nothing else. A picture of a young couple catches your attention and causes you to change your mind on getting off the internet and doing some work.

They’ve been together for quite some time now, You think. I wonder if they will be taking the next step any time soon?

The wondering is perfectly innocent. It’s a normal thing to ponder over. So, you look through the few comments to see if the answer is there.

It is. Someone already asked the question for you.

‘Aww! When are the two of you getting married?’ The random person says.

Of course, there is no response, but it makes you feel better as someone else was wondering the same thing.

The only thing is, the couple, though very happy together, don’t feel quite ready to add shiny rings to the relationship. That’s perfectly alright. It’s their choice. It’s better to know for sure on something like that after all.

But they keep getting asked the question.

Every time they see a relative;

“When are you two getting married?”

Every time they see a person from church;

“How are the two of you doing? Wedding bells?”

Even when they pass by family members;

“Is he gonna ask you to marry him yet?”

“Not yet.” They say in response to each one.

“Oh no! Is something wrong?” The immediate concern is quite extreme.

“No! Everything is great!” They rush to explain.

“Then…” The questioners just stand there and narrow their eyes ever so slightly. Just enough that someone might notice if they cared enough to look.

“We just aren’t ready yet. I’m only 20 and he’s 21. We’re really young.” The couple explains, trying to remain patient. However, they are screaming inside.

 

 

Because the question is getting old. And extremely pushy.

 

Procrastination Must Be Destroyed!

So, procrastination is a good friend of mine.We go way back… But our relationship shall be kept a secret.

Only, I think it’s time to end it.

It became a hurtful relationship. So… I must say goodbye!

How?

I have no freaking clue. Every night, I promise myself that I will actually wake up at 6 in the morning, do some yoga, make a healthy breakfast, get ready (even do my hair!) and then have a while to sit and read or write. A good start to my day before I have to be at work.

Now, what actually ends up happening is this; the alarm goes off and I hit the snooze button – even edit it for thirty minutes. When it decides I can’t snooze anymore, I do the required math problems to shut it up and go back to sleep until my next alarm goes off. This repeats itself until 7:30 or 8. I have to leave the house at 8:30.

Evil procrastination!

Of course, this cycle isn’t because I stay up late. I physically can’t. I fight dogs all day long, so I’m quite exhausted by the time I get home after dark. I’m honestly not sure how I get myself to exercise. (Seriously! Why am I not procrastinating on THAT?! Is that my way of procrastinating on my writing? Well… it’s healthy?)

Perhaps my over sleeping is because I’m getting too much sleep? I’ve heard that can be a problem too. It would make sense.

Sleeping besides the point, I want to write.

I want to finish a novel I’ve been working on for a couple of months now. I REALLY want to finish it. It’s a really good plot, if I do say so myself. It’s about mermaids…. and an evil scientist… and kidnappings…. That’s all the information I’m disclosing due to me being overly paranoid.

Why is it not finished? Why am I at a mere 14,000 words?

PROCRASTINATION.

Curse word, curse word, procrastination.

I’m procrastinating on it right now, in fact.

I must admit, I’m writing a scene that I’m not particularly proud of. I don’t like the setting, or how it’s unfolding. It’s a boring scene. One that needs to explode into flames and then ram straight into a shooting star and burn again. But I’ll worry about it more in editing. Right now, I want to finish the book so I actually can edit it!

Wish me luck…

So, my question is this; What do you suggest to get myself to stop procrastinating? How do I make this novel a complete priority?

Those who have been following me for a while know this has been something I’ve struggled with a lot. I honestly enjoy writing and reading, but if I get stuck in a scene that isn’t working right, everything stops.

Help?

“19”

“How old are you?” He asked, his elderly eyes scrutinizing my every move. I never make eye contact, but I did this time. I had to make myself seem confident, look as though I was no longer a child.

“I’m 19.”  I said steadily. He did as I expected; he smiled.

“19 is a good age. You’re still young and can go anywhere you want in the world.” His expression turned to dreamy. I imagined he was thinking of his first love, who he probably met in college. Or maybe he was simply thinking of the amazing food he ate back then. The look on his face fit either option.

“I suppose,” I said. It didn’t feel like such a good age to me. I didn’t find the love of my life at 19. That happened two years before. I couldn’t cook, either. So food wasn’t exactly that great.

Sure, I was 19. I was young. I lacked ‘real’ responsibility. It still felt as though I was trapped at the age of 15. At 15, I wanted to be free. I wanted to get a job, get a car, and begin to gain my independence. Only I couldn’t do any of them until I grew up. But even these things are never enough.

At 19, I wanted out. I wanted to start my own life. I could drive. I owned a car. I had a job. But it was never enough.

“Why do you say that?” He asked, effectively breaking my train of thought.

I stayed silent for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I’m an adult on paper, but I do not have the power to act as one. After all, I’m still ‘too young.'”

I Think I Shall Live

I have a story idea.

FINALLY!

I’m not going to share it here, because I’m paranoid.

Even so, I’m beyond thrilled. I’ve been trying so hard to fix my brain so I could be somewhat creative again. I think the stress going on in my life right now just completely sucked out everything important to me. As if it killing my health and happiness wasn’t enough. The sadistic bastard needed to steal my writing as well.

Thanks, stress. Thanks.

Anyway, I had an idea yesterday! To keep it from jumping out of my head like everything else did, I just started talking about it. By this, I mean I would talk about it to anyone who would listen.

My boyfriend.

My mother.

My brother.

The car.

Customers. (Kind of. As much as you can say in passing, AKA ‘My brain’s back to normal!’ The looks I would get were priceless.)

Coworkers.

And everyone loved it!

Yes, I feel much better now. If only I can get that Scrivener file open and begin typing.

About mermaids nonetheless!

I’ve always wanted to write about mermaids…

Excuse this crappy post, it was required.