So week 1 of Panty Parade’s 12 Week Writing Challenge is completed, and I must say I’m feeling pretty good about it. And although I haven’t actually written that much, it’s more than I’ve done in awhile. More importantly perhaps, I’ve been thinking about how I write, which I’ve never really done before.
Last week I had a shortlist of goals set for week 1, and I completed all three of them. *Yay for me!*
- Find 2 or more blogging/writing buddies. *check* I’ve got Cara and G doing the challenge and invisible woman volunteered too!
- Find a mentor. *check* The lovely Hy, ever supportive, is my mentor.
- Start fucking writing. *check* Not including the 12/12 post and Boobday, I posted 3 times this week, which is one more than my goal. I wrote the beginning of Bad Mom; it’s not a long beginning, but a beginning nonetheless.
And then for the challenge, I was to figure out what kind of writer I am and map out a plan that will work for my writing style.
Well fuck. This was much harder than I thought. I checked out the creativity styles, and I can’t really determine what fits me. If I’m simply writing for me, short stories or blogging, I don’t have a plan. Sometimes I think I do, but very rarely does my plan follow through. Instead my brain takes it somewhere I didn’t see coming. But if I’m writing something specific, an article or a how-to piece, I’ll at least have an outline in my head, if not on paper.
And through my writing experiences, I’ve learned I can force myself to write. I can sit down and get words on paper, even if I don’t feel like it or know what to write about. What I can’t do is force myself to write thing I don’t care about. And if I want to do it for the long haul, I have to be passionate about it. I go through phases where I’ll write articles or blog posts for money, and I can keep it up for about a month before I just have to stop or put a gun to my head. It takes away from the pleasure of writing, the enjoyment I get out of it.
But then there are times when writing is therapeutic, cathartic really. It helps me relieve stress, process emotions and often times look at things from a different perspective. It allows me to slow down my thinking and actually follow my thoughts for more than just a moment or two. It makes it so I can understand.
Sometimes writing becomes automatic. Sort of like when you’re driving and all of a sudden you realize that you don’t remember the last ten miles or three turns. You just did it without even thinking about it. Yeah, sometimes that’s what writing feels like; my fingers simply move without me even knowing what they are going to type. When I get into a story, I don’t know what my characters are going to do or say, they just do them. Sometimes they surprise me. Sometimes they piss me off. *No, no, no. I don’t want you to do that, I want you to do this* Sometimes things end up someplace I never expected them to go and I can’t even tell you how it got there.
Does that make any sense?
Damn. Bit of a tangent there. Yeah, so anyway, no fucking clue as to what kind of writer I am.
But my plan… Well it’s just to keep writing. I have to keep it flexible, but still plug away, word by word, day by day. I’m going to set my goals roughly by the month, to give myself shorter deadlines and easier to manage word counts. So by the end of May, I’d like to have done the following: rewrite chapter 1 of my novel, pick a short story erotica submission and get a few ideas for stories, start writing them and see if any of them go anywhere, between my two WIP, get 10,000 words down, and do at least 2 of the 3 posts to finish out the 9 Weeks to Better Sex series.
And, for a level of accountability, my short list for between now and next Sunday…
- Pull out my novel and go over my plot line notes for the first few chapters
- Find out what the topics are for this month at SexIs and at least start that article.
- Start (publish?) a 9 Weeks post
- Write a chapter for Bad Mom
- Read an article for the challenge
- Decide what book I’m going to read for the challenge
Okay, so there you have it. Nothing too exciting, but I’m writing and feeling good about it. And if you care to read it, here’s my short fiction for the week.
5 Sentence Fiction: Festival
Sage squeezes her hand, and Addy looks up at him, her nervous smile still lights up her face. His steps slow, then stop as he places a lingering kiss on her cheek before asking, “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be,” Addy says, eyes moving past him to the crowd gathered at the temple base where the altar has been prepared for Beltane. “It’s an honor to be picked, the fertility festival is so important…” her voice trails off while her hand unknowingly toys with the small blade hidden beneath her skirts.
Sensing her nervousness, Sage pulls her to his chest, arms tight around her, lips at her ear, “Just a small knick on the inner thigh,” he pulls back, his hand dropping to her abdomen, caressing it with tenderness, “only a few drops of blood and you’ll keep our secret safe.”