or something similarly nasty.
I started the revisions on one of the requested books - the first book I did. I realized through a lot of editing and contests and crap like that that I'd lost my voice in it. It's still there, but later in the book which hadn't been picked to little bloody pieces yet. In addition to that, my heroine, Liz, is letting life happen to her, not doing something about it.
Here's the problem with that: I'm Liz. Liz has a lot of my baggage from my first husband (In the book, that's Jake. In real life, that's Jon.) I was so close to the heroine that all those insecurities came through loud and clear. So I took a step back and thought, "Okay, what if I had a chance to relive my life with Jon?" What would I do different? Liz had to be more determined than ever not to let Jake screw with her again (Jon was really into mental warfare - long story.) I had to take that attitude that's always been innately me (although he tried to kill it - here's the ironly - HE is dead now.) All that to say this: I DID START THE REVISIONS. After a year, I started actively writing again.
And it sucked. I mean, really sucked. Even Shari, who would NEVER say, "Bren, this sucks," said, "Well...it's not your best."
That's Shari speak for THIS SUCKS!
Tomorrow is the end of week two for school being in session. Remember that little goal of mine, writing EVERYDAY while the kids were at school? Yeah - that hasn't been happening. Worst yet, I can say, "See? I knew I'd start writing just to realize I don't have the talent to think I can do this." I proved myself right.
But on the other hand, I'm such a tenacious bitch. Do I give up like a normal person? Nooooooooo, I have to go and prove myself wrong. So no, I'm not giving up.
I also decided that the huge mountains of clutter I have surrounding me are mentally giving me the shaft. My desk has different levels. Of stuff. Top layer is more of "this week's crap" and the layers under that level are for various different weeks or whatever. I'm not organized at all. My house is a wreck, and I feel like crap if I write while my house is in shambles. How can I be so selfish to sit at the computer for hours on end and ignore the house which my kids live in?
So, B's off for the next three days. I'm using it to whip this house in order. I did decide to have a garage sale again (which is quite funny since I don't have a garage), so okay, maybe a YARD sale. I didn't do one last year. Instead, I donated it all. I gave so many boy clothes to my cousin. I mean, we're talking a 27" tv box SHOVED FULL of everything a little boy would ever, ever need. I didn't even get a thank you or any acknowledgement at all that she'd received it. So then all I could think about was how much money I lost by not resaling it. Not again! I'm yard saling. (I think I just made up that word.)
So that gives me a PURPOSE. I'll use my neglected craft room and move anything for resale to that space and get it out of the living spaces. I'll declutter my house, and hopefully in the process, I'll declutter my brain.
Then come Monday, my brain will be able to write. I think. I hope. I'm so depressed over the pages I wrote that I have zero motivation - whether or not an agent is waiting to read it, or even to blog. That's pathetic.
In the meantime, I have worked on the new website with Dadio - and it's looking REALLY good. And I've read like five novels just in this week alone. I started the Stephanie Plum series of Evanovich. I have the first 11 of them, all but 4 & 5. I'm almost done with #3, so I gotta start lookin' to get me #4.
And I'm going to try to blog DAILY. It seems to get my brain thinking instead of staring at nothingness. I swear, nothing is as depressing as a blank white sheet staring at you from Word.