Write, Edit, Rinse, Repeat

An author's epic quest into the world of publishing. Complete with time travel, space ships, and unicorns. Check out my fiction at wendynikel.com

[write-edit-rinse-repeat]

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(In reference to the recent Department of Justice v Penguin Random House trial) https://twitter.com/JohnHMaher/status/1555231154525159426

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Every time I send a submission

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NaNoWriMo Gothic

- Your fingers move across the keyboard, but the words that appear on the screen aren’t the ones that you’d planned for, and you’re not quite certain where these ones have come from. - When you started, it was a bright autumn day, but when you look up from your desk, it is winter, and it is dark. The sun is gone, snow is falling, and the pumpkin spice latte on your desk is stone-cold. - The characters whisper to you in your dreams. They converse in your head as you go about your days. You beg them to be quiet, but the only way to shut them up is to keep writing. Keep moving forward until you reach the end. - The word counter on your document jumps erratically. You try not to look at it, thinking that by ignoring it, you might fool it. It’s less now, somehow, than it was. - Food appears before you: Halloween candy. Coffee. Sandwiches. Pumpkin pie. You don’t remember preparing any of it. Then it’s gone, but you don’t remember eating it. You’re hungry. Always hungry. So hungry. Why is there never any chocolate in the house? - They warn you not to go back and read what you’ve written. Don’t do it, they say. You’ll regret it. Your finger hovers over the scroll button. You don’t remember what you wrote or if it’s comprehensible. You wonder if you’ve written anything at all. - The calendar on your desk says it’s November. This month is November. Last month was November. Next month is November. It’s always November. A voice in your head whispers, “Shouldn’t you be writing?”

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Some days...

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Are your novels fiction or non-fiction ?

Fiction! I write science fiction & fantasy. The four-book novella series I have published through World Weaver Press are time travel adventures. https://www.worldweaverpress.com/store/p139/The_Continuum.html The first one is also available on Audible, and we’re currently working on production for the second one! https://www.audible.com/pd/B082YFMM16/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-177069&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_177069_rh_us

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Watching as the red “track changes” take over my manuscript

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Trying to be a productive writer during a global pandemic

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When you’re not sure if your revision fixes the problem or just creates new ones

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Trying to tell myself to stop wasting time online and get back to work on my WIP

[myjetpack]

for the @guardian review

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Guys, we really need to talk about what we consider “life hacks.”

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Everyone in the Midwest

[danceswithcoyote]

Guilty

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Or ones where I just watched the Wishbone episode.

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Utah Gothic

- You’d swear you’d driven past that rock formation before, but the GPS has stopped working hours ago and there’s no use turning around now. The thermometer crawls upward, and you don’t remember the last gas station you passed. The numbers on the mile markers are random, arbitrary. You wonder if you’re still on Earth.

- Smoke tickles your eyes, your throat. You can smell it, taste it, but can’t see it. The world is on fire, somewhere to the west, and the flames creep closer every year. The locals light fireworks every night of July to prove they’re not afraid.

- Nothing lives in the water. Nothing ever has. Even the brine-flies don’t venture too far from the shoreline. The deeps are still and silent now, but no one talks anymore about the lost planes.

- There’s tracks in the snow that no one can identify. They’re buried by avalanches before they can be documented.

- A billboard along I-15 predicts the apocalypse. By the time you realize what you’ve just read, it’s already changed.

- There’s a monument along the mountain road, but no one will tell you what it’s commemorating. The local history books have been relocated to the archives. You’re not worthy to access the archives.

- The neighbor knows your name, though you’ve never met. You see her walk her children to the park, but they always look like different children than the day before. She leaves a tupperware of soup on your porch in the winter. You don’t know who told her you were sick. You never heard her walk up to the door.

[wearingmyboots-deactivated20200]

this never mentioned mormons and therefore is an invalid gothic post

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- The ones who’ve been here longest can tell if you’re one of them. They can sense one another in crowds, can tell by the phrases you use and the cut of your clothing that you’re not from around here, are you? Whispers flow from their great and spacious buildings, decrying the name that was never theirs.

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When I hear writers giving up on their NaNoWriMo projects before the month is over

[valtsv]