I’ve literally had to use my OWN older writing as reference because back then I was able to come up with the most clever dialogue I can’t recreate now.
One of the most important things to keep in mind when you’re writing is making sure that finishing your project doesn’t adversely affect your mental health. Today, writer Andrea Tomé shares how she balances writing and mental health needs:
There’s this trope in which writers almost always have a mental disorder that always grants them WRITING SUPERPOWERS. They’re able to finish a whole draft in two days, providing they have enough cheese balls and Coke cans on their desk (think Johnny Depp in Secret Window).
For some authors, writing is therapeutic. Me? My depression is so linked to my perfectionism that every time I struggle with my writing, I’m paralyzed. The white page is enormous, and it blinds me; writing a sentence requires Herculean strength.
I entered November feeling at my lowest, but I wanted to win NaNoWriMo. I was sure that my depression would always be this massive rock in my way unless I started learning to work in spite of it.
Well, at least they’re not drawing him like a warrior elf anymore… (I’d say it’s a trick since Dracula can change his apparent age at will but it looks like he’s genuinely aging while still a vampire.) From Avengers 14 (2019)
First Mephisto and now Dracula and it’s not even Halloween. Marvel is really trying to win me back, aren’t they? Beat still my Gothic horror loving heart.
So, I’ve decided to finally dust off my Wattpad account and use it. I use the same username as here, and have posted my first chapter there. I should be able to post my second one soon.
So it seems that Tumblr is going to be cracking down on sensitive materials, which parts of my writing might start to qualify as such. I find this ironic since DeviantART, a site that I’ve grown uncomfortable with joining, has grown in the amount of sensitive material that it’s supposedly not supposed to allow to be posted.
I’ll keep posting stuff on here until I can get my website up and running.
Every November, during National Novel Writing Month, thirty professional designers volunteer to create book cover art inspired by novels being written by aspiring authors from around the globe. Why? To encourage new, diverse voices, and help build a more creative world.
30 Covers, 30 Days is presented in partnership with designer and author Debbie Millman. Read more about these NaNoWriMo 2018 novels-in-progress, and the cover designers, below.
Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Now that we’re closing in on the final stretch of November, you may be wondering what to do with your novel after the month is over. Today, Scrivener, a NaNoWriMo sponsor, has some tips for post-NaNo noveling:
Completing the first draft of a novel in one month isn’t work for the faint of heart. Showing up every day to write, muddling through the middle, making your hero or heroine suffer, or just wondering where this little adventure will eventually lead takes perseverance, guts, and a touch of madness.
Now that you’ve reached (or nearly reached) the fifty thousand word mark, you’ve probably decided that you’re ready for the next step: revising your story. But hold on there, bucko, not quite yet. If you want maintain a firm grip on your sanity, please heed this advice: let it simmer and marinate for a month.
Below are tips on how I’ve lassoed the editing process and how I used Scrivener to revise, restructure, and rewrite my NaNoWriMo first draft in five easy steps:
I love Dracula so much, but it is blatantly obvious that it was written by a pretty misogynistic man:
“A woman ought to tell her husband everything. Don’t you think so, dear? And I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to be quite as fair as they are. And women, I am afraid, are not always quite as fair as they should be.”
“I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.”
“My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them?”
“Oh, it did me good to see the way that these brave men worked. How can women help loving men when they are so earnest, and so true, and so brave! ”
This really doesn’t surprise me. I usually expect this kind of misogyny for men in this time.
Going back and reviewing parts for my story of Lucy, I find myself sympathizing with poor Lucy. She is portrayed as very sexual, and yet, she’s the one who says every last one of these lines in her letters to Mina. Every line of Lucy’s that I read, I just feel that Stoker intended for her to be a lamb for the slaughter.
However, I would love to hear other people’s opinions.
I wasn’t satisfied with the first cover, and thought that a little makeover wouldn’t hurt. I might ask for it to be done again later after NaNoWriMo is over.
If anyone would like to know who did my cover, check out @msnita12
My ML isn’t in my basic region, but I chat with her often and bounce so many ideas off of her. We just hash out ideas with each other every day. So this is a shout out to my Mari.
Every November, during National Novel Writing Month, thirty professional designers volunteer to create book cover art inspired by novels being written by aspiring authors from around the globe. Why? To encourage new, diverse voices, and help build a more creative world.
30 Covers, 30 Days is presented in partnership with designer and author Debbie Millman. Read more about these NaNoWriMo 2018 novels-in-progress, and the cover designers, below.
Please forgive me if this sounds preachy. The church had been a big deal during that time, and religion was brought up on occasion in the original that this is a spin off from. I had a bit of trouble with this first chapter, but I enjoyed writing it nonetheless.
I Suppose That One Starts at the Beginning
Everyone thinks that they know what happened to Lucy Westenra. Her sad story consists of a young woman with a proper upbringing that was pursued by three good men, wedded one that became a fine lord, was turned into a vampire by a monster, and then put to rest by her beloved. Well, at the very least, that is what they think they know, including the very group that laid her to her final rest. I would know better, though. Why? Because I am Lucy Westenra, and this is my story.
Now, I had been given a proper education and went to church like mother and father said any honest woman should. However, I had a nasty habit of asking questions that mother always said were inappropriate of a lady. Father always suggested that I was born before my time. I guess that is what got me “in trouble” in the first place. Everyone would say that Mina helped keep me in check, and maybe she did. She was always a proper forward-thinking woman. I sometimes wondered if that was why he never cared for when I mentioned her.
I had cared for her as well as the three kind men, who had pined for my affections. I had wished that I could have married them all. It would have made it so much easier than having to break any of their hearts, but such thoughts were improper of a lady, especially of one of my station. They were very kind and understanding, and I do believe that they loved me until the very end.
Now, I barely knew the man that John had called to save me, but I’d like to think that he was a kind soul if a bit eccentric. I could tell, though, that there was a deep seeded hatred towards the monster that turned me. The hatred was quite mutual, and I began to understand why when the doctor was allowed to ramble on. Although, he had been very kind in dealing with me, despite his feelings towards the one that turned me.
The monster in question, a one Count Dracula, was actually a man with a dream. Most might have called him mad, and the doctor had once compared him to having a child’s brain. He was so much more than all of that, though. He was far from the monster that he has often been portrayed as, whether by the letters or diaries of my friends or the any other source of information and stories, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I suppose that one starts at the beginning when they tell their story, much like our heavenly Lord did for His Son in the “Gospel of John”. I am no savior though, nor is he. We were but two children that found each other in the dark of night.
Now, if one were to start at the beginning, then it might be best to start with when I met the three dear men that wished to wed me. Mina was away, and I had envied her for it. She was just as beautiful as they would say I was, and she was in love, what I wanted more than anything. However, she was so much more than that, she was ambitious, wanting of a career, to be a woman of the future. I had longed to be like her, to travel and do something with my life. She barely even had time to write to me, she was so busy in living her life, and it left me feeling a little sour.
I was working on a handkerchief at my mother’s behest when she came in with a charming young man. I paused to admire the new soul mother had brought into my life. He looked positively angelic with his fair curly locks. With the fair skin typical of a man of status, it caused his deep blue eyes to stand out like sapphires. He towered over my dear mother like a friendly giant with that sweet, bashful smile of his. I was taken with him on the spot.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Westenra,” he said, taking my hand and kissing it. “Your mother has told me so much about you.”
“I wish that I could say the same,” I chortled, hiding my smile behind my other hand.
“Dear me, my apologies, I am Arthur Holmwood,” he stated, bowing.
“It’s a pleasure,” I replied, taking his hand and asking him to sit with me for a while.
I had asked our maid to fix some tea while Arthur and I chatted with each other. I learned a bit about him as we chatted. He was the son of a lord, and happened to be good friends with my family. He hoped to escort me to a gala that was coming up. I was positively thrilled with the idea.
We talked gayly over tea and cakes for a while. We laughed every so often. When it was time for him to leave, I was upset to see him go. I followed him out as far as was acceptable for a lady, wishing that I didn’t have to be held to such standards.
Arthur paused, turning back. “Miss Lucy, I would like to meet you at the next Pop, if that is alright?”
I smiled, feeling giddy over the thought. “I would be delighted.”
He smiled, winked at me causing me to blush, and went away. It pained me to watch him go, but I was excited about the thought of seeing him again. I rolled my eyes when my mother commented that he would be a perfect match.
Granted, it had crossed my mind that I was almost 20 and I had yet to be proposed to. Why did a woman have to marry a man in order to be complete herself? Why must a woman be measured by the number of men who wish to wed her? Was a woman’s only purpose to marry and birth children? Why couldn’t she make something of herself of her own choosing?
I had to stop my train of thought for I was treading in dangerous waters. This is how arguments with my mother always started. I would have my revolutionary, unladylike schemes and she would hint that I was a heathen destined for Hell for going against the Holy Father. Surely, our Lord would commend me for trying to be a forward thinking woman. At least, that is what I would like to think. Then mother would be cruel and ask why I couldn’t be more like Mina. Father, with his perfect timing, would interject then saving me from saying something that I would regret.
This time, I decided to simply dismiss myself to my room. I slid back against the door once I was safe inside the one place I found solitude and sighed. I didn’t wish to be such a disappointment, really I didn’t. Was it my fault that either the Lord or the Devil had blessed me with the need to know why the world had to work the way it did?
I glanced up and saw my writing set. A sudden urge to write to my dearest Mina hit me as I rushed over. Grabbing a pen and paper, I wrote furiously all my frustrations down. If I could speak freely to anyone, it was Mina. Once I had written what I felt was everything, I folded the letter and slipped it into its envelope and sealed it. I went to my door and called one of the maids, asking her to have it mailed for me. I breathed a sigh as soon as she went away feeling much lighter now that I had expelled my troubling thoughts on paper.
I looked out my window at the garden below and noticed that the roses were in bloom. They tended to be so beautiful with their various shades of colors. I always loved the white roses and how they shone brightly against the dark green of the leaves. However, for some reason, I could only see deep red roses that looked like droplets of crimson against a field of green.
If you’re writing a novel this November that has the potential to involve a lot of research—say, science fiction or historical drama—you may be feeling a little overwhelmed trying to balance your time. Today, Dan Koboldt, author of Putting the Science in Fiction, shares his tips for making your research help rather than hinder your writing:
Doing research is one of my favorite parts of the writing process. Of course, I’m a genetics researcher by day, so I probably love it more than most.
Scientists don’t exactly advertise this, but we don’t know everything. Just like engineers, doctors, lawyers, and other professionals, we tend to specialize in a particular area. Often, we don’t know anything more about a subject outside our field than the average Joe. So yes, I do my research, and I encourage other authors to do the same.
At the same time, it’s important not to let research become an excuse to avoid writing. I see this happen to some of my friends who aspire to be authors. Heck, I’m guilty of it myself. It’s understandable, because writing is hard. It’s much more fun to read stuff that’s already written under the guise of preparing to crank out words of our own. Yet, a writer who wants to be successful must not fall into this trap. Especially if they hope to win NaNoWriMo.
My 4 year old nephew loves to paint his nails. Any time he sees someone wear nail polish he asks if he can have some too. The most difficult part is getting him to decide what color, because he he wants all of them.
And the Oscar for best dad of the year goes to this man! May more parents follow by his example. I only hope that my husband and I will nurture such flames like his little firework
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