Writers Write (Good Excuses are Still Excuses)

I'm a writer. I have a newborn baby and a toddler and a preschooler. I don't write every day. I tell myself I'm tired, that my brain is too mushy to write, that I'm too busy, and that this is just a time in my life that's especially hard. Other people tell me to focus on myself. That I have enough on my plate. But you know what?

None of that matters.

Because I'm a writer.

If I want to consider myself a writer, I need to be writing. Regularly. Small amounts are fine. 10 minutes a time is fine. But I need to be writing.

The fact is, life is rarely easy. Sometimes I imagine myself 20 years from now, with the children grown. I'm in a quiet house and I'm always eager and excited to write. I'm always inspired. I have my own desk and a corkboard with inspiring pictures tacked all over it. I write for hours a day, blissfully.

That's a fantasy. It'll never happen. Life has a way of making sure we still have to prioritize. And being a mother of small children doesn't mean I'm exempt.

If I want to be a writer, then I must write.

When I look back and count the number of days I didn't write anything (but could have), I cringe. Those were missed opportunities. Times when I could have been focused, devoted, and loyal to my readers. But it's in the past. I'm trying to see those missed opportunities as a reason to change. Wallowing doesn't help (and wishing I had worked on my book doesn't make me a writer).

So I'm resolved to be more of a writer than I was last week. There's no excuse. Because writers write.

What's in a genre? What won't I write?

So far, I've only published fairy tale-related stories, so obviously I love fantasy. I always have. My parents read The Chronicles of Narnia to me when I was really little. My Mom read fairy tales and other folklore to me before I even started kindergarten. I'm pretty sure it's part of my DNA.

But what about the other genres? I had a healthy helping of sci-fi as a kid, too. Star Trek: The Next Generation was a favorite of my dad's, and was a favorite of mine. (Any episode with the holodeck or Q is a win!) I remember my aunt introducing me to Star Wars and just watching them non-stop for a week. I have vague memories of some of the classics--Planet of the Apes (the original series), 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Logan's Run come to mind. And I like to read in the genre, too. Some of my more recent favorites: Uglies and of course The Hunger Games.

I went through a stage in high school where I read classic mystery novels, mostly Agatha Christie. I even tried writing a whodunnit in 9th grade. I spent a lot of time planning the murder, but never really got past that. To be honest, I don't think I'll ever be able to write mysteries. They intimidate me. I mean, it's an entire genre devoted to being smarter than your reader. Writers that excel under that kind of pressure: you have my utmost respect.

I like paranormal, but I don't think I could ever write a romance. I'm just not a romantic kind of person. If a love interest blossoms in the midst of a plot, I'll go with it. It's more organic to me. But if I set out to write a romance, it comes off as awkward and bland.

Of course, I dabbled in thrillers for Cinderella and Zombies (which I never thought I'd do). Anything could happen.

What genres are your favorite? Are there any you'd like to try? Where should I go next in my writing endeavors?

Cinderella and Ivy Thorn: How my favorite characters came to be

Coming up with a character is a different experience every time. If you've been following this blog for a long time, you know that Ivy was actually born here, in blog form.

I've told this story before, but basically, Ivy was born when I realized my writing voice was boring, but the way I talk in a casual environment is a lot more fun. So I wanted to bring that out. Ivy Thorn is spunky and sarcastic and basically, she says all those things I'd normally be afraid to say myself (plus the things that just pop out of my mouth before I can stop myself). Ivy is the mouthy side of my personality, with a few tweaks.

Ivy and I are both military brats, but moving around didn't bother me as much as it bothers her. I drew on my  teenage girl-experiences to try to create her relationship with her mom (which, I know, is shameful at times). I tried to draw out all that inexplicable frustration I had at her age.

Ivy hates being told what to do. I probably drew more on my own six-year-old experiences for that. :) I was that kid that did the opposite of what I was told, just to show that I could. (Yes, I was a holy terror.)

But Ivy and I don't make the same decisions, given the same situation. She's more impulsive, where I'm more curious. I'd want to understand the ins and outs of a new situation, but Ivy is more interested in getting out of it (and/or sticking it to the guy making things difficult for her).

One thing I love about Ivy is that she learns and adjusts.If something doesn't work, she tries something else. We'll see a lot of that in book 2, where she's a lot more cautious (seeing as being forward and impulsive made things so difficult for her in book 1). But we can't change who you are. Ivy is still Ivy. She'll manage to get herself in trouble, so no worries.

Then there's Cinderella. Obviously, she came pre-made to some extent. But I made one major change. I've always hated this character for being so spineless. I mean, who just rolls over and accepts servitude? So I made sure MY Cinderella had a higher calling. She was going to be a kick-butt heroine, though just as hard-working, just as lonely, and just as clueless about what was really going on in the palace. She's still lower-middle class, she's still working herself to the bone, but she can throw knives really well.

As I wrote her character, her toughness started to bring out a new weakness--she was distant. She was judgy. And that worked well with Prince Kent's character because he wants to be tough but can't. I seriously love this atch-up because it came so unexpectedly. I mean, I always knew Cinderella would need to wind up with the prince. How could she not? But the WAY they came together was a surprise and just as fun to write as it would be to read (or so I hope).

Chapter 10 of The Fairy Tale Twist (Draft 2)

I've probably (hopefully) had the baby by now, but I went ahead and scheduled this chapter to go up. I thought it would be a good place to end the sample. Hope you've enjoyed the first ten chapters of The Fairy Tale Twist! 

My shoes click against the stone floor while my imagination runs full-speed. Where does this cave lead? Is there something at the end of the tunnel? Are there nasty monsters that can pop out of nowhere and eat unsuspecting girls?

No. There are five other girls ahead of me, still having a good time, from the sound of it. But maybe the monsters are turned-off by the chatter. (I know I am.) I force myself to laugh, warding off anything scary that might be nearby. I sound more like a weeping goat that’s being tickled. Hopefully, the monsters don’t like goats.

I follow the turns of the cave, grateful there aren’t any forks in the path. I can always follow the sounds of the princesses, but I wouldn’t put it past the pixie to mess with my senses. The last fairy tale had an enchanted forest that would keep you lost forever instead of letting you find a way out. I shiver against the warmth of hundreds of candles. This cave isn’t like the forest. It’s not. Just think of something else.

The echoes of voices die down. Are they getting too far ahead? Have they split from the main tunnel? Are they out of the tunnel? Panic rises from my belly. I break into a run, wishing I’d followed them sooner.

My shoes aren’t ideal for an evening jog, but thank goodness I didn’t pick spike heels. I snort a laugh. As if I’d ever be caught wearing spike heels.

I strain to hear anything over my shoes striking the stone below. But I’m not about to slow down. The heat from the candles warms my lungs from the inside. I start to sweat.

Then, suddenly, I’m out in the open. Not out of the cave, but in a vast, open area surrounded by the same stone and the same candles. Like a room within the cave, only the room is bigger than my house and it has a massive lake in it. No, not a lake. A river. It’s about ten feet across and other side are lights, music, and brightly-dressed people. Five colorful dresses and some guys dressed in black. It’s hard to tell, but I think there are—horses? What kind of fairy tale is this?

I look around for a way across the river. A stone bridge is my first choice. Swimming in this dress seems a little impractical. I cross the bridge slowly, trying to take in the scene in front of me without looking like a gaping idiot. The couples all dance to the waltz-like music being played by a quintet of strings. They spin around on an open dance floor surrounded by trees. Except these trees aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen before. They shine and sparkle like they’re made of glowing gems and polished gold. Even the bushes shimmer. But that’s nothing compared to the servers. They hold trays of food and offer them to the dancers between songs. But they’re not your typical bowtie-wearing caterers. What I’d thought were horses are actually centaurs. Bare-chested, shiny-coated centaurs with silver platters of finger food!

I stop at the end of the bridge, the river swirling behind me. This isn’t like anything I expected. I guess fairy tale princesses really know how to throw a party.

While I stand there, slack-jawed and mesmerized by the shiny objects, someone nearby clears their throat. “Princess Ivy?”

I’m not used to being called princess-anything, so unfortunately, I don’t snap out of my stupor right away. I say “unfortunately” because the guy standing in front of me is completely gorgeous. He offers me his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you.”