“Each Book Gets Easier”: Lies Writers Tell #1

I actually say this all the time. I say it to newbie writers, to readers curious about how I keep writing more and more books, to just plain interested people who ask if I’m exhausted with writing all the time.

“Each book gets easier,” I tell them.

And it’s not like I’m deliberately lying. It’s not even always necessarily a lie.

But the truth is that although certain things about writing get easier all the time (editing, the publishing process itself, getting early reviews, getting the first draft written and out) there are certain things that change, and thereby get more difficult.

As you write, you’re always going to get better at writing.

Your process becomes more streamlined, your prose becomes better and better, your thematic unity and even the presence of a thematic system in your writing becomes more sophisticated, and you get to know your weak points when it comes to editing, which means you can fix stuff as you go, or just not make those mistakes while you’re writing.

But as you write, because you’re getting better, some things paradoxically become more difficult.

Now that you know how to write themes into your books, suddenly you have the challenge of deepening those themes and making them more satisfying. In a word, it becomes harder. Now that you know how to write more complex relationships or characters, you can’t be satisfied with writing simpler or less nuanced ones. Again, you’ve made your job harder.

Now you have the tools to write better books; to write more complex, deep, and satisfying books.

But because you know how, you have to write them.

And because you’re still learning those new things, those new depths, it’s harder again. And with each book that you write better, and learn new ideas and nuances, you have to become adept at using those things.

It’s a never-ending process of writing (hopefully) better and better books.

So here’s to the never-ending complexity of the writer’s life, and here’s to better and more difficult books in 2020!

welp, it’s the new year

…and here i am, sitting at my desk, writing and waiting for parcels.

same old/same old.

must be time for a cup of tea.

happy new year, you blokes.

Finding Balance/Saying No

First of all: Finding balance is hard when you suffer from Meniere’s Disease. Physically, that is. It’s not what this blog post is about, but I thought I’d put that out there.

It’s also hard to find balance, mentally, when you’re a perfectionist. Not to mention being a writer, as well. You want to write the book. You want to finish it in good time. You want it to be perfect. But you can only really pick two of those things. (unless you’re SuperWriter, which I dunno, you might be. I’m definitely not.) You make goals and fail to meet them, which makes you more pedantic about trying to meet the next goal.

It’s been a demanding year for me; but along with a lot of bad stuff, there’s been a lot of good stuff, too. I’ve been learning that it’s okay to say no to people and things; that I don’t have to wear holes in myself trying to be there for everything and everyone. More importantly, I’ve been learning that it’s okay for me to say no to my own unrealistic expectations. Or even those expectations that weren’t necessarily unrealistic, but turned out to be unexpectedly hard to fulfil because life happened.

November has turned out to be a more demanding month than I expected (and I knew I was going to be doing NaNoWriMo, so perhaps you can just imagine how demanding I already thought it was going to be). Last month, I also signed an audio deal for the rights to the first two City Between Books, Between Jobs and Between Shifts, so there has been a lot to do in sending paperwork back and forth, etc. And while that means there should be audio of those two in the reasonably near future, it’s definitely adding heaps to my pile of things-to-do…

November has also been the month of All The Doctors, where W.R. trots out in search of answers to various health complaints that have been ignored for the last 2-3 years. Some of those answers have been forthcoming, and some have not. Medication has also been forthcoming–and, with it, side effects. That, along with the steady work I’ve been doing on Between Floors, has begun to wear me out.

The upshot of all this added busy-ness is that, unfortunately, Between Floors won’t be out until January. I’m so disappointed with that, but I don’t want to rush this one and put it out while it’s still not ready. There are a lot of threads that need to be pulled together in Between Floors, and I want to do it well. I also want to be able to enjoy writing it–and to enjoy my interactions online as a writer. I love talking to you guys on my Facebook and Twitter, but it feels strained when I’m trying to do too much. I want it to be fun to answer my notifications, not a chore. You all make me laugh, and I want to take time to enjoy that.

I also want to get back some balance in my life. I want to be able to keep this blog updated, to not forget things that I said I’d do, get a little time to learn how to advertise, and maybe a smidge of time to do fun stuff like going to concerts and relaxing with my nephew without always thinking of what I still have to do. I want to enjoy reading again without feeling guilty about not being writing. I also want to do well enough at publishing so that I feel comfortable publishing every four months to six months instead of feeling the rush to try and publish every three months and then feeling guilty because I didn’t manage it (again).

I want a bit of brain space again, and I think I’m finally at the point where I can do that. So I hope it won’t be too disappointing to wait another month for Between Floors–I’m certain the results will be worth it in terms of story and structure, and I want to do this series well. I love it a lot, so I don’t want to mess it up.

So this month, I’m going to stop and rest for a bit, finish reading Intisar Khanani’s amazing Thorn (again), and go enjoy the local show that’s on this weekend. I’m going to let myself say no to a few things that are stressing me out, and take it easy. And I’m going to let myself thoroughly enjoy writing Pet’s adventures Between…

You can keep updated with my progress over on my Author Facebook Page, where I’ll still be regularly posting excerpts, updates, and random music videos that I love. And do look forward to January–I promise it will be worth the wait!

Why I Write What I Write (Part One: The Reason for this Post)

Okay, this is gunna be a LONG blog post. I have to cover the reason for the post as well as addressing the content of the title itself, so there’s a bit of material to cover.

I apologise in advance. Maybe I’ll split it into two posts and save everyone’s eyes. (EDIT: yeah, I’m gunna do that).

On to the blog post.

It was at an extended family gathering roughly a year and a half ago; I didn’t know everyone, and not everyone knew me. My sister introduced me to someone as an author.

Their response?

“Oh, you make a living out of lying!”

I’d like to say it was the first time I’ve had a response like that, but it wasn’t. It stung, but it wasn’t the first, and it wasn’t the worst.

Nor, unfortunately, was it the last.

I’ve been accused of everything from being a liar to dishonouring God; asked anxiously if I’m sure what I’m doing is something a Christian should waste their time on; accused of writing things that belong in Dark Mofo (an outspokenly anti-christian festival that specialises in blasphemy and anything that is an art form that speaks against Christ).

The latest of these occasions came in the form of a series of Facebook private messages through my author page, and prompted me to think again about this blog post that I’d meant to write at least a year ago.

I’d recently been invited to read and speak at a Christian arts festival that I attended last year as a guest; I knew that someone had found offence with my work and was trying to insist on my not being allowed to read. When the organisers mentioned the concerns had been brought up, I asked them if they’d like me to read from a different book instead, just to keep everybody happy. There was no thought in my mind that there was anything wrong with BETWEEN JOBS, just that it was better to make life as easy for the organisers as possible. One book for another–no big deal.

Unfortunately, the person who had objected wasn’t content even with me reading from another book and approached me through FB messenger on my author page.

The first message was more or less polite, apart from an accusation and an insinuation that were something of a slap in the face. They concluded their message with a demand to know why I wrote it [BETWEEN JOBS]. Why was it necessary? They wanted to enter into a dialogue with me about how a person who seemed to be sincere about their Christian faith, could write books with magic in them.

As I read the message, I prayed for wisdom in how to respond–as a matter of fact, I’d been praying just that morning for grace to respond to unpleasant people in kindness and not in pride, so I suppose it was timely. (And lest anyone think it was an excess of godly thinking that had me praying like that, let me tell you, you’re dead wrong. It’s because I failed spectacularly badly with something slightly similar just a week ago. God being the God He is toward me, He obviously decided to repeat the lesson.)

I swallowed the hurt of the accusation and the insinuation, and tried to remember that this person had represented themselves as a Christian, and that although they had no right to dictate what I wrote, or my conscience before God, they had every right to speak up if they felt their conscience led them to say something.

I didn’t want to answer in wounded pride, or hurt someone who was genuinely concerned for my soul. So I wrote back politely, letting them know I appreciated their concern for my soul; that I was completely whole in my conscience regarding my writing; that I was indeed serious about honouring God in all that I did; that I didn’t consider by writing about magic or murder, that I was dishonouring God. I told them I had prayed for many years over my decision to write as a job, and hoped by this they would understand that although our positions differed, we would have to agree to disagree and serve God in our own ways the best we could.

The next message from this person was considerably pushier; it demanded to know was I sure I was right in my conscience, and didn’t my changing the book I was going to read from mean that I was secretly feeling guilty about the book?

It contained several guilt-inducement attempts that I recognised only through having lived with a manipulator for the past ten years. It spoke of anger that something like my work would be read in a Christian festival, and tried to insinuate that there was trouble or misunderstanding between the organisers of the festival and myself. In short, it looked like the author was trying to talk me out of attending the festival, having failed to have me disinvited by the organisers.

I replied to let them know that I wouldn’t be discussing the matter with them, since I didn’t find it a profitable use of time given our vastly differing stances, and that I wasn’t in the kind of health that made debating over the internet a pleasant or sustainable pastime.

I thanked them again for their care for my soul, and concluded with the comfort that if God saw fit to show me that I was wrong, it would be accomplished in His time and through His Spirit, and asked that they be content with that.

Their final message didn’t even attempt any concern. This time, instead of opening with anything remotely appropriate (an acknowledgement that they would honour my request, or an agreement–no matter how reluctant–to leave God’s work to God) they accused either myself or the organisers of the festival of lying, and suggested I be very sure there weren’t any problems.

Having checked with the organisers that they were still very happy to have me attend as a speaker/reader, I turned my thoughts to considering what I consider every time I experience a reaction like this: the reasons I write what I write, and what I hope to accomplish in the act of writing as well as the books produced thereby.

To Be Continued in Part Two: Why I Write What I Write, or, The Actual Blog Post

The Fantasy of Writing SciFi

I don’t write scifi.

That probably sounds weird, given that I’m publishing the 2nd book in my Time Traveller’s Best Friend series this month. Don’t worry, you didn’t imagine it; Memento Mori really does exist.

I don’t write horror, either; but I’ve published a short ghost story.

Nope, I’m not schizophrenic (not that you can prove, anyway); I just have a different world view.

Aliens, time travel, ghosts…

…those things don’t exist in my paradigm. I’m a Christian writer, so I believe in God. Any other supernatural or alien creatures other than angels or demons? I don’t believe in ’em.

So when I write about them, I’m writing fantasy. And I am a fantasy writer.

I came to this conclusion a few years ago when I first wrote A Time Traveller’s Best Friend–why it was that I found it so easy to switch to writing scifi when it wasn’t something I’d ever considered writing. Why I felt so much at home there with Kez and Marx. I’ve always been more interested in characters than genre (it’s the reason I read so widely across genres) and when Kez and Marx showed up there was no other setting for them than a Scifi one. They were time travellers, and could never have been anything else. I just wrote them into the fantasy world that was right for them.

So next time you read one of my scifi books–psych! You’re not really reading Scifi. It’s all in your imagination. You’re reading Fantasy.

Rainy Monday

As you may have guessed from the title of my blog post, today is Monday. Also, it’s rainy.

You’re always gonna get the truth from me, you blokes.

On this particular rainy Monday, I’m feeling very cosy and relaxed. Part of that is because of the rain: there’s nothing better than curling up beneath my mum-made patchwork blanket and watching the rain make a watercolour painting through my window-frame. Well, it’s always better if there’s a book, and tea, and you know what? I’ve got both.

Another facet to my contentment is the fact that Blackfoot is–more or less–done, and I now have a week off.

Last week, when I was writing the last few bits and patches to join other bits and patches together, I was feeling insanely fed up with the whole book. Being the second book in the series, it was flamin’ hard to write, and by the end, I felt as though it was complete and utter rubbish. I was disheartened, and depressed, and could only think about all those preorders going out to a general reception of “Oh my word, what is this rubbish? I’ve been waiting for this for 6 months now and it’s garbage!”

I honestly couldn’t believe the amount of work it was going to take to bring Blackfoot into publishable condition–in only two weeks! It didn’t feel possible, and mostly I just wanted to sit in the shower and cry.

I didn’t do that because a.) there’s a mushroom growing in there and I seriously don’t want to get near it, cos I read a horror story about that years ago, and b.) we would run out of hot water before I ran out of depression, and if you think being depressed in a hot shower is bad, try being depressed in a cold shower.

It’s adorable and hilarious and cringe-worthy, all at the same time…

Instead, I took a day off between writing those last words and doing my quick, pre-printed-MS run-over to catch glaring inconsistencies. I watched the latest episodes of 힘쎈 여자 도봉순 (Strong Woman Do Bong Soon)–hilarious, by the way–started to read The Eyre Affair–also excellent, though in a completely different way–and watched an insane amount of Gag Concert and Would I Lie to You?

After the last two weeks of writing 2k-5k words per day, I felt as light as a butterfly.

And I’m SO GLAD I did it, because when I went to do the pre-print run-over today, I found that Blackfoot wasn’t actually the huge train-wreck I was convinced it was. In fact, it wasn’t too bad. Maybe even good. The pacing was consistent, there were no glaring plot holes, and everything seemed to flow well, unlike the patchwork thing I’d imagined it to be.

Thus, my contentment is complete.

Also, I have tea and sticky buns and biscuits…

We’ll see how contented I am when I start final edits for Blackfoot next week, and how contented I am when I start the edits for Lady of Dreams a week or two after that…

Exhaustion and the Writer

You know how it is.

You lost your job. Your job is incredibly stressful. Maybe you’ve got a chronic illness. Perhaps you’ve had extra hours at work, or could it be that you’ve simply spent all night watching K-Drama and can no longer function normally?

You’re exhausted. Whether that exhaustion is physical or mental, it’s something that makes it incredibly difficult to work on your writing. So what do you do?

Well, if you’re anything like me, you sink into a well of despair, self-loathing, and binge-tv-watching, out of which it is incredibly difficult to drag yourself. When it feels like your head is going to explode, or you’re exhausted to the point that you can’t do anything but sit in the recliner without moving, it’s an easy fix.

Easy, yes.

Helpful? Not so much.

Here’s the thing with writers.

We have to write every day. Some of us write more, and some of us write less; and honestly, it doesn’t really matter what your word count is, whether it’s 50 words a day, or 5000. We just have to write every day. And when I say ‘have to’ write every day, I really mean ‘should write’, or ‘need to write’ every day. It’s not all about habit, though habit is a good thing to get into. And it’s not all about word count, though that’s important, too.

So what is the point, Frixos?*

The point of writing every day is to keep your WiP fresh. It doesn’t matter if you only write 50 words per day, and though it’s great if you write 5000 words, it’s not necessarily more meaningful. Because even 50 words per day is going to keep your WiP fresh in your imagination. It will keep your storyline present in your mind, and it will keep your subconscious ruminating on and building on the WiP. You’ll find it easier to slip into your narrative each day, and you’ll notice that the flow of the story is much smoother. In short, it will make you a better writer: it’s a bit like practising your instrument every day.

What does this have to do with exhaustion?

Simple. When you’re exhausted, it’s hard to find the energy to write. There’s always the suffocating feeling that you should be doing more: more words per day, more writing time per day. You get caught up with the idea that you’ll never feel any better. But sometimes it’s simply a matter of writing 50 words. You don’t have to break the bank. You don’t have to write 5000 words, even if that’s your normal words per day count. It’s okay to take it easy when you’re sick or exhausted. Just don’t give up altogether: a tiny word count each day is enough to keep your WiP going, and it’s incredibly important to keep it going.

And, yanno, have a cuppa. Take it from me, a cup of tea is the best remedy for exhaustion that I know of.

I know quite a few of my writerly friends suffer from chronic illnesses/have full-on day jobs/multiple kids/etc: what tips do you have for dealing with exhaustion?

*watch Princess Caraboo if you want to know what I’m referencing. Seriously. Watch it.

Strings, Bows, and New Books

June has been an odd month, so far. I’ve been feeling like I’m drifting aimlessly, which is more or less normal procedure after a book release, but it doesn’t make the feeling any more comfortable. What I’m meant to do during and after a new book release, of course, is write the next book; but I find that I’m rarely in a cohesive enough frame of mind to concentrate properly on the next book while the new book is in the process of being published. That means that I’m usually scattered, undisciplined, and inclined to waffle for both the duration and about a week after launch day.

Today, I’m happy to announce, I seem to be back to form. The last couple days have seen anywhere from 500-1500 words consistently written, which means that the new book is settling in well–or, to be more accurate, the new books.

That’s right. I’m obviously mad. This time, I have two strings to my bow. And by that I mean that I’m writing two books at once.

One of the WiPs is the next book in the Two Monarchies Sequence, BLACKFOOT. Carrying on almost directly after the end of SPINDLEBLACKFOOT concentrates on the adventures of a young girl called Annabel, her friend Peter, and Annabel’s cat Blackfoot–along with a parliament of cats, sneakily growing ruins, and a certain staff that supposedly vanished years ago. Some previously-met characters will be appearing again *coff*PolyandLuck*coff* and many questions will be answered. I don’t want to say too much because spoilers, Sweetie, and I haven’t finalised the blurb, but I’m really looking forward to this one.

The other WiP is a romance. That’s right. An actual romance. Well, it’s in an Edwardian/Korean style setting, with distinct fantasy elements to it, but it’s my first fully romance novel. I usually do Fantasy With A Smidge Of Romance or SciFi With A Smidge Of Romance. With BRIGHT AS THE EYES OF YOU, the focus will be on the romance. I’m planning on publishing a chapter every couple of weeks on Wattpad as soon as I have a cover to upload. I’m hoping to get feedback from native Korean speakers (and romance readers, if it comes to that) since BATEOY is a bit different from my usual kind of book. Below is a rough blurb for your information. I’m having a lot of fun with this one, and since I have THE WHOLE MONTH OF JULY OFF FROM WORK, I’m hoping to finish the first draft of both books reasonably quickly.

BRIGHT AS THE EYES OF YOU: Confined to her couch because of an inability to walk, Clovis Sohn spends her days and nights dreaming, drifting further away from the reality closest to her with each passing day. But Clovis’s dreams are also real, showing her the outside world and people that she otherwise has no access to. As Clovis dreams and watches, she becomes caught up in the complicated love life of publishing assistant Ae-jung, an ordinary young woman who has three very different men in love with her.

There is Clovis’ mischievous half-brother Jessamy, arrogant writer Hyun-jun, and bored, playful composer Yong-hwa. Ae-jung is mistress of many secrets, not the least of which is her love for Hyun-jun, and neither Jessamy, with all his delightful humour, nor Yong-hwa, with his fondness for games and subtlety, can succeed.

Jessamy is young enough to love again, and Hyun-jun is just beginning to learn to love, but it is playful Yong-hwa that Clovis connects with. Ae-jung’s rejection of him has hit as hard as his unexpected love for her did; and Clovis, who has always thrown her bread to the wounded bird over the healthy, decides that Yong-hwa needs another game to bring him back to himself.

And in the end, perhaps it will take Yong-hwa to bring Clovis back to herself.

In addition to all this, I’m learning Korean and Hangul, and enjoying every moment of it! Hangul is like decoding and deciphering all at once, and as someone who practised to be a spy as a kid, I’ve taken to it like a duck to water, proving that some people don’t grow up, they simply grow older.

What are you guys up to? What are you writing? Reading?

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