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reread my first chapter that i’ve been working on for about two hours a week the past three weeks and all i can think about my protagonist is “damn, this bitch has issues”

i feel like only a psycho could write a character this angry and crazy and it doesn’t feel good

#writing #resmiranda writes #apocalypse noir

bells of a lighthouse lost at the bottom of the sea

this fiction i am working on is so full of archetypes and little subconscious symbolisms that fucking SHAKE ME that I keep having the feeling that I’ve heard the story somewhere before and freaking out about all the bad stuff that’s about to happen lol

#writing #trauma #labyrinths #what is writing even #the spooky art #resmiranda writes #apocalypse noir #fairy tales #sotwh #wtts

dear diary my inner critic is an abusive pos

This morning I wrote 145 words on this story that I really love and want to tell from the depths of my soul, and I am pleased to report they are acceptable enough that I feel like I can move onto the next group of words. It sounds tedious, but the state of mind I am in when I am crafting a group of impressions and ideas and moods into a coherent narrative is deeply creative and meditative. I must touch on many things in my subconscious to evoke the proper experience in both myself and the reader, and it is satisfying and perilous.

However, in the bigger picture of things I am struggling to focus on the journey of writing and not obsess about what the story will look like when it’s done; I think the years I spent as a professional genre writer had a deleterious effect on my creative process. In order to make enough money to make it worthwhile, the end result had to be reached in a short amount of time and the final product was geared toward a genre audience. I love genre, but I love genre-bending and genre-breaking even more. Unfortunately, those don’t pay the bills. I’m lucky enough not to have to write to an audience now, but the habit is hard to break, and my inner critic roars into action every time I go back and try to polish my prose. “You don’t have the luxury of being a pretentious twat,” she tells me, “and no one likes it when you are, anyway. Besides, you should be doing something worthwhile.”

Such is the state of the Res. I’m working on loving myself enough to call security on my inner critic and have her banned from the hospital while I nurse the artist in me back to health.

#writing #resmiranda writes #this is a writing blog now #metawriting

She came to the crossing place on a day when the sun was red.

#snip #resmiranda writes #first line

the writer, in a fit of frustration:

i need to write but my son’s home for the next like five days or something (omigod we need summer camp so bad bored as hell, send help) and I ~can’t~ and everything is very dramatic in my soul right now. a revamped version of The Sea of All Things is on it’s way, i think. plotting for New Project tentatively titled Sisters of the Wooded Heart begins on the fifth of July, allahu akbar.

#reylo #sw #resmiranda #Resmiranda Writes #Resmiranda Complains #star wars

Husband: You doing ok?

Me: Yes. I wrote one word today.

Husband: Oh?

Me: It was "A" and I'm still not sure about it.

Husband: Well, I'm sure you can use it somewhere.

#writing #resmiranda writes