I've had a lot of unmemorable birthdays. I was never big on parties or anything like that and since my birthday's around the holidays, the chances of me having a full day of school were slim.
I only had two parties, that I remember. One at 4 or 5 in a fast food place. Another at 9 in a bowling alley with a bunch of newly-made friends (as we'd just moved/switched schools earlier that fall).
I've had a couple birthdays on Thanksgiving. I remember the first time, that I was conscious of it, we were pulling into my grandma's driveway at 1:00 and I ran into her house to be there when the clock hit 1:01, my minute of birth. Time has always been important to me. My 18th birthday, my first away at college, was also on Thanksgiving. It meant I could be with my family and eat pie and cake as much as I pleased and get extra presents and money from family members who couldn't just ignore my birthday while in front of my face.
Then there are more I wish I could forget.
Like my 13th (or maybe 14th birthday) when my best friend at the time cancelled our plans to see a movie without a word because she had a dentist appointment she'd forgotten about and didn't remember to tell me (I was really bad at choosing good friends until recent years). My parents decided to then invite their best friends over to play games and give gifts. My mom took me to see the movie the next day or next weekend - it was Twilight. And it created another thing for us to bond over as she devoured the books and waited for the movies with me. They were sweet gestures, but there's only so much they could really help.
A year or two after that, one of my family members chose to have HER birthday party on my birthday. They included me in a way - I think my name was on the cake and I took a picture with her and someone I didn't know whose birthday was also around that time. Mostly I was miserable since I knew so few people and most of them weren't my age. But the worst part was after, when family decided to after party at a nearby bar. My brother was 4 or 5 at the time and couldn't go into the bar, nor would he want to. We sat in the car for hours. He watched an entire movie. My dad came out with food for him. I sat in the car and cried and made my brother promise not to say anything because I didn't want to upset my parents. Of course, being really young, he did mention it at some point and I brushed it off. Said he didn't know what he was saying. My parents went with it and didn't push. And I think my brother still remembers that day.
Then there was last year where my depression had been triggered by a houseguest being brought in and I came home from a lovely time with friends and cried when I saw the dishes still in the sink and then woke up in the morning and cried some more and had to deal with the post office.
But last year, I had time to turn the day around. It became one of the best birthdays I've ever had. I sat and talked for HOURS with a friend over lunch than tea then in Strand where I was able to buy as I pleased due to birthday money then we went to dinner. I came home to cards from my family that made me cry absurdly happy tears and one of those cards still hangs on my wall.
I guess what I'm realizing is that I'm used to others being put first and being ignored. I'm okay with that, really. I should be less okay with that, but I am. But I'm not okay with being ignored or stood up or pushed aside on my birthday. I don't need much more - part of me longs to just order in a big meal and stay home all day on my birthday this year - but I come first. That's all I demand.
And I don't think it's too much for a birthday.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
Depression in All Its Peaks and Waves
I have been quiet.
Not on the internet, but right here, in what should be my space, I have been completely quiet for over two months.
To some degree, it was forgetfulness, the way I forget to wear my retainer every night or forget about minor homework assignments until the last minute. In another sense, it was the lack of anything to talk about. My summer was rather boring. Then this fall has been nothing but work and work and school and school and trying to be social.
But I was also kidding myself in a lot of ways. The past few months were not just boring. They were mildly terrifying.
In May, I was determined to go to BEA. I didn't get a press pass and therefore had to pay for it. I was also losing my only source of income as my internship ended. I didn't have any editing jobs lined up for the future. I wouldn't have any for months. I nearly bankrupted myself to go to BEA and feed myself until I went to my parents'. I never asked them for money while I stayed, just bought what I needed while I was with them. I took my brother to get treats maybe twice. When I came in for an overnight trip, my parents gave me enough money that I barely touched my own.
But I was doing decently. I was bored a lot of the time and fell into terrible habits and was really inactive, but things were decent if I ignored the persistent nudging of my bank account and the constant worry of how I'd make do when the semester started again.
The summer ended, I had two internship interviews and I had a job within a week. I picked up two editing jobs, one towards the end of the summer and one early in September. I was going to be okay financially. Yes the internship wasn't the full semester and there might be down periods, but I would make it. I was sure my editing would pick up.
I didn't count on my mental health taking a nosedive.
My roommate had warned me that her friend wanted to visit in September. At some point in August, she messaged me and said her friend would be here for a month, but she knew that I hadn't handled having a house guest well last time, so if I needed, there could be trade offs and moving around. It wouldn't have to be a month straight. I agreed it would be fine; my roommate always seemed to see my limits and I figured she would work with me.
It wasn't that our house guest was a bad person last time. She was perfectly nice, but there were little quirks that aggravated me. She was also fun to talk to, which was distracting. Mostly, though, was the fact that I'm very much an introvert. My home is my domain and I need it to be certain ways. I need quiet time where nobody is here. I need to feel free and I need time alone. I lose that when we have a house guest. The space stops being familiar, stops feeling like mine.
Our new, temporary roommate arrived and was perfectly lovely. She was kind and generally cleaned up after herself, although our silverware and cups kept disappearing. She wasn't using my brush or bathroom supplies and I didn't feel distracted by her because she and my roommate were very close. They had plenty of inside jokes and frankly, I didn't feel like I fit in. I spent most of my time trying not to be around them and like I was intruding when I did.
But quickly, it reached a dangerous point for me. Our new houseguest was here often, having only a few friends in the city and a very limited budget. She and my roommate kept irregular hours, going out until late in the night some days, staying in to watch TV loudly others. They would cook dinner, directly outside my room, at 11 o'clock at night, knowing I had to be up at 6:30 or 7 am most days. It seemed I could never be alone.
And yet I'd never needed to be alone so desperately. I had work and school getting me up early 5 days a week and out the door until at least 5. I only had one mostly-free day during the week to run errands and try to work outside the apartment, since nothing was getting done in it anyway. I only had one gap in the day at school and my lunch hour at work. September was also very heavy on the bookish events I wanted to go to, keeping me out even later. Even my weekends were chaotic, one weekend having me on my feet for 5+ hours each day, seeing authors, volunteering, and generally running around and traveling extensively. I didn't have much time at home, and what I did have was unhappy and uncomfortable.
On top of that, I had to try to adjust to a new sleep schedule. I've never been a morning person and I spent most of my summer sleeping until 11 or noon. Getting up so early consistently for the first time in years was happening, but getting to bed early enough for a decent night's sleep was not. For most of the month, I averaged 5 hours of sleep a night. That average was likely skewed by the weekends when I could sleep in slightly.
I spent the month exhausted and desperate for my room, my home, but uncomfortable when there. I barely cooked. Barely ate at home at all, really. I was spending money I needed to save and was miserable. Suicidal, at times. I even found myself binge eating on occasion. My room became a mess. I'd worked so hard to get back floor space at the end of the semester, but the books I had brought back had no home, the books I acquired had no home, and my many, many school books had no home, so all of it was no my floor. Still is on my floor. I had no motivation to work so one of my editing jobs took two weeks longer than I'd originally promised, one is now months behind (and I am endlessly grateful to the clients who were/are so understanding about it). I also had some school/financial issues that haven't been totally solved, but required me to ask my parents for money, something I had hoped never to do. I only got to talk to my mom not via-text once. It was that hard for me to get time alone while she was also home in September. And even then, they got back halfway through the call.
September was terrible. But our house guest left on October 1.
Recovery has been slow. Achingly slow. I've found more energy to work on school projects and editing jobs. I'm still not getting any better at sleep or keeping up on errands. I still haven't cleaned my room. Part of that is because the lack of sleep and eating well caught up to me and my usual fall sickness caught up to me a week ago. I was halfway through a class when suddenly the hacking cough arrived last Monday. More and more symptoms have been building up since then, especially since Comic Con began Friday. I was downing more and more water bottles and cough drops each day of the con, ending in an Aleve an hour before I left Sunday and collapsing into bed for 18 hours of sleep Sunday evening into this afternoon.
I ate soup. I drank tea. I ate ice cream. I watched Gilmore Girls and my Sunday shows. I reread a few chapters of a book I love that comes out tomorrow. I slowly started feeling human again. Knocked one of a dozen things off my to-do list.
Then I started writing a review that required some back story while also texting a friend about something that should have been done ages ago and was forced to think about September. I started crying a bit, pulled it together, saw on Goodreads a book recommendation from a friend who said she thought of me with every page, and began crying again. And I was brought back to September again, to the day my roommate bought milk and I cried. To when our houseguest left and she put a note and some cookies outside my door and I cried. I heard plenty of kind words in September when I vaguely talked about my stress or when I jokingly mentioned it. I heard plenty of advice and my friends have always been pretty generous.
But actual acts of kindness or people actually thinking of me have felt rare recently. It's possible I just haven't noticed and appreciated them properly, but everything has felt like work for months. Everything's been draining me for months. And while I certainly don't expect constant acts of kindness and good things falling into my lap, they've been so needed and so hard to find for so long, that every time a good thing that doesn't require something from me first happens, I cry now.
I am grateful for my friends who have done their best for the past month as I've been a train wreck. I loved the time we spent together and the ways they tried to coach me through. I've been grateful for the kindness and compliments I've gotten. I've been trying so hard to appreciate the people in my life and be happy for them, but it's been so hard while I've wanted nothing more then to disappear, but I also wanted them to never leave me because I didn't want to go home.
It's hard being here because I have not been in this bad a stretch since my first suicidal phase when I was first depressed, ten years ago. And it is hard because I want to tell everyone in my life thank you for being there, but also sorry I have not been fully here and sorry I have not appreciated you enough. It's this constant guilt over never being enough after these really dark times. I couldn't keep up with life and love life enough and why was I such a terrible failure? Why couldn't I be better?
It's also hard because I wanted my roommate to recognize where I was, just like she did with the last house guest. I wanted my friends to just know. I wanted them to see what vague/joking/and sometimes just flat out whining tweets and posts meant and to send cyber-hugs (because I really don't want to be touched if I don't already feel comfortable around you, kthx). I wanted them not to ask me for anything and just be there. But I also feel guilty for expecting them to notice the signs. I feel guilty expecting them to feel sorry for me, to try to help me. And I'd feel guilty if they really went out of their way to do anything for me. Especially because I've never been officially diagnosed, much less treated. I've never gone out of my way to see what the extent of the damage is, much less try to fix it, so why should I expect anyone else to? Why should I expect anything from anyone else?
I am recovering. But I am still a person with depression. I am still a person who doesn't see the point in my existence some times. I am still a person who is going to feel guilty for not being the best at everything I can be. I am still a person who feels guilty I could not handle my roommate's friend living here for a month. But I'm also still a person who wishes the world could lighten up on me for once, to make it a little bit easier.
I'm not in danger anymore...for now. But I am, once again, nearly broke. This time, however, I know there's a paycheck showing up in my mailbox at the end of the week and it'll be in my hands when I come back from my parents'. And hopefully I'll also return feeling a lot less guilty and much more human.
--Julie
Not on the internet, but right here, in what should be my space, I have been completely quiet for over two months.
To some degree, it was forgetfulness, the way I forget to wear my retainer every night or forget about minor homework assignments until the last minute. In another sense, it was the lack of anything to talk about. My summer was rather boring. Then this fall has been nothing but work and work and school and school and trying to be social.
But I was also kidding myself in a lot of ways. The past few months were not just boring. They were mildly terrifying.
In May, I was determined to go to BEA. I didn't get a press pass and therefore had to pay for it. I was also losing my only source of income as my internship ended. I didn't have any editing jobs lined up for the future. I wouldn't have any for months. I nearly bankrupted myself to go to BEA and feed myself until I went to my parents'. I never asked them for money while I stayed, just bought what I needed while I was with them. I took my brother to get treats maybe twice. When I came in for an overnight trip, my parents gave me enough money that I barely touched my own.
But I was doing decently. I was bored a lot of the time and fell into terrible habits and was really inactive, but things were decent if I ignored the persistent nudging of my bank account and the constant worry of how I'd make do when the semester started again.
The summer ended, I had two internship interviews and I had a job within a week. I picked up two editing jobs, one towards the end of the summer and one early in September. I was going to be okay financially. Yes the internship wasn't the full semester and there might be down periods, but I would make it. I was sure my editing would pick up.
I didn't count on my mental health taking a nosedive.
My roommate had warned me that her friend wanted to visit in September. At some point in August, she messaged me and said her friend would be here for a month, but she knew that I hadn't handled having a house guest well last time, so if I needed, there could be trade offs and moving around. It wouldn't have to be a month straight. I agreed it would be fine; my roommate always seemed to see my limits and I figured she would work with me.
It wasn't that our house guest was a bad person last time. She was perfectly nice, but there were little quirks that aggravated me. She was also fun to talk to, which was distracting. Mostly, though, was the fact that I'm very much an introvert. My home is my domain and I need it to be certain ways. I need quiet time where nobody is here. I need to feel free and I need time alone. I lose that when we have a house guest. The space stops being familiar, stops feeling like mine.
Our new, temporary roommate arrived and was perfectly lovely. She was kind and generally cleaned up after herself, although our silverware and cups kept disappearing. She wasn't using my brush or bathroom supplies and I didn't feel distracted by her because she and my roommate were very close. They had plenty of inside jokes and frankly, I didn't feel like I fit in. I spent most of my time trying not to be around them and like I was intruding when I did.
But quickly, it reached a dangerous point for me. Our new houseguest was here often, having only a few friends in the city and a very limited budget. She and my roommate kept irregular hours, going out until late in the night some days, staying in to watch TV loudly others. They would cook dinner, directly outside my room, at 11 o'clock at night, knowing I had to be up at 6:30 or 7 am most days. It seemed I could never be alone.
And yet I'd never needed to be alone so desperately. I had work and school getting me up early 5 days a week and out the door until at least 5. I only had one mostly-free day during the week to run errands and try to work outside the apartment, since nothing was getting done in it anyway. I only had one gap in the day at school and my lunch hour at work. September was also very heavy on the bookish events I wanted to go to, keeping me out even later. Even my weekends were chaotic, one weekend having me on my feet for 5+ hours each day, seeing authors, volunteering, and generally running around and traveling extensively. I didn't have much time at home, and what I did have was unhappy and uncomfortable.
On top of that, I had to try to adjust to a new sleep schedule. I've never been a morning person and I spent most of my summer sleeping until 11 or noon. Getting up so early consistently for the first time in years was happening, but getting to bed early enough for a decent night's sleep was not. For most of the month, I averaged 5 hours of sleep a night. That average was likely skewed by the weekends when I could sleep in slightly.
I spent the month exhausted and desperate for my room, my home, but uncomfortable when there. I barely cooked. Barely ate at home at all, really. I was spending money I needed to save and was miserable. Suicidal, at times. I even found myself binge eating on occasion. My room became a mess. I'd worked so hard to get back floor space at the end of the semester, but the books I had brought back had no home, the books I acquired had no home, and my many, many school books had no home, so all of it was no my floor. Still is on my floor. I had no motivation to work so one of my editing jobs took two weeks longer than I'd originally promised, one is now months behind (and I am endlessly grateful to the clients who were/are so understanding about it). I also had some school/financial issues that haven't been totally solved, but required me to ask my parents for money, something I had hoped never to do. I only got to talk to my mom not via-text once. It was that hard for me to get time alone while she was also home in September. And even then, they got back halfway through the call.
September was terrible. But our house guest left on October 1.
Recovery has been slow. Achingly slow. I've found more energy to work on school projects and editing jobs. I'm still not getting any better at sleep or keeping up on errands. I still haven't cleaned my room. Part of that is because the lack of sleep and eating well caught up to me and my usual fall sickness caught up to me a week ago. I was halfway through a class when suddenly the hacking cough arrived last Monday. More and more symptoms have been building up since then, especially since Comic Con began Friday. I was downing more and more water bottles and cough drops each day of the con, ending in an Aleve an hour before I left Sunday and collapsing into bed for 18 hours of sleep Sunday evening into this afternoon.
I ate soup. I drank tea. I ate ice cream. I watched Gilmore Girls and my Sunday shows. I reread a few chapters of a book I love that comes out tomorrow. I slowly started feeling human again. Knocked one of a dozen things off my to-do list.
Then I started writing a review that required some back story while also texting a friend about something that should have been done ages ago and was forced to think about September. I started crying a bit, pulled it together, saw on Goodreads a book recommendation from a friend who said she thought of me with every page, and began crying again. And I was brought back to September again, to the day my roommate bought milk and I cried. To when our houseguest left and she put a note and some cookies outside my door and I cried. I heard plenty of kind words in September when I vaguely talked about my stress or when I jokingly mentioned it. I heard plenty of advice and my friends have always been pretty generous.
But actual acts of kindness or people actually thinking of me have felt rare recently. It's possible I just haven't noticed and appreciated them properly, but everything has felt like work for months. Everything's been draining me for months. And while I certainly don't expect constant acts of kindness and good things falling into my lap, they've been so needed and so hard to find for so long, that every time a good thing that doesn't require something from me first happens, I cry now.
I am grateful for my friends who have done their best for the past month as I've been a train wreck. I loved the time we spent together and the ways they tried to coach me through. I've been grateful for the kindness and compliments I've gotten. I've been trying so hard to appreciate the people in my life and be happy for them, but it's been so hard while I've wanted nothing more then to disappear, but I also wanted them to never leave me because I didn't want to go home.
It's hard being here because I have not been in this bad a stretch since my first suicidal phase when I was first depressed, ten years ago. And it is hard because I want to tell everyone in my life thank you for being there, but also sorry I have not been fully here and sorry I have not appreciated you enough. It's this constant guilt over never being enough after these really dark times. I couldn't keep up with life and love life enough and why was I such a terrible failure? Why couldn't I be better?
It's also hard because I wanted my roommate to recognize where I was, just like she did with the last house guest. I wanted my friends to just know. I wanted them to see what vague/joking/and sometimes just flat out whining tweets and posts meant and to send cyber-hugs (because I really don't want to be touched if I don't already feel comfortable around you, kthx). I wanted them not to ask me for anything and just be there. But I also feel guilty for expecting them to notice the signs. I feel guilty expecting them to feel sorry for me, to try to help me. And I'd feel guilty if they really went out of their way to do anything for me. Especially because I've never been officially diagnosed, much less treated. I've never gone out of my way to see what the extent of the damage is, much less try to fix it, so why should I expect anyone else to? Why should I expect anything from anyone else?
I am recovering. But I am still a person with depression. I am still a person who doesn't see the point in my existence some times. I am still a person who is going to feel guilty for not being the best at everything I can be. I am still a person who feels guilty I could not handle my roommate's friend living here for a month. But I'm also still a person who wishes the world could lighten up on me for once, to make it a little bit easier.
I'm not in danger anymore...for now. But I am, once again, nearly broke. This time, however, I know there's a paycheck showing up in my mailbox at the end of the week and it'll be in my hands when I come back from my parents'. And hopefully I'll also return feeling a lot less guilty and much more human.
--Julie
Monday, August 4, 2014
All These Things I've Done
This weekend as I sat in the backseat of my parents' cat as we drove around doing errands, we drove through a collection of old, brick industrial buildings just two blocks from their house. And I remembered going to a party in one when I was 14.
They aren't industrial buildings at this point - they haven't been for a long time. The one I went to was an art gallery. We were welcome to see some of the art, but we were mostly confined art-less areas because where else do you trust a bunch of teenagers? Mostly we danced. It was one of the last nights we were performing our school musical, Damn Yankees, and one of the cast members' dad had a friend who gave up the space each year. I'd skipped the past the year before, but I didn't want to miss out on them that year.
So I went to a dance party in an art gallery at age 14.
Today a friend was talking about seeing an author, and mutual friend, at a cool event he was attending. Something about it triggered the memory of meeting J.K. Rowling. In 2012, she did one American event for The Casual Vacancy, and the author, myself, and another friend, worked together to buy tickets. Miscommunications and a ticket mess up left us with extra tickets that were passed on, one to the author's agent, and one to another author. Both authors that night were absolute favorites of mine. I didn't get to see one, but the one I did meet was just so grateful and kind and lovely. And all of us got to listen to the genius that is J.K. Rowling in Lincoln Center. It was a month before my birthday and I was just 17.
Remembering these two things so close together made me remember so many of the other amazing things I've been able to do. I've gone to a lunch in one of the Big 5 publishing houses. I've gone to parties in pent houses of famous buildings. I've taken my first solo trip. I've been to 5 conferences - including two NYCCs (soon to be 3). I've gotten invites to special movie screenings. I've been able to meet many, many other favorite authors, some of whom are also friends. I've been interviewed by a major outlet. I've seen several Broadway shows featuring some of my favorite big name actors, who I then met. I've worked in a landmark of NYC. I've gone out to eat with editors I respect. I've gone to my first concert with my favorite band. I've moved into my first apartment. I've started my own business. I've taken the Staten Island Ferry at sunset and walked the Brooklyn Bridge at night. I've been recognized by famous people.
Maybe it's not an extraordinary life most days. It's a life where I sit at home in my pajamas a lot. It's a life where I work from my bed because it's the only furniture I have that can contain a human body. It's a life where I struggle to afford groceries some days and deal with massive anxiety on others about the stupidest things that are out of my control.
It is not an easy life. But it's enabled me to do so much more than I ever could've imagined. I've learned so much and done things I never thought would be possible for me. It's extraordinary to me, who always pictured a very quiet, normal college experience like they have on TV. Or a very quiet, studious life like I thought might happen during my original dreams of NYU. I don't go to frat parties, but cocktail parties. I don't have this loud, huge group of friends on campus, but I always seem to find friends in classes and have a solid friend circle outside of campus and an amazing roommate.
My life is rather ordinary and boring most days. But then there are those extraordinary days. And I know I'd much rather have this life than any other...except maybe one just like this where I was more financially stable.
--Julie
They aren't industrial buildings at this point - they haven't been for a long time. The one I went to was an art gallery. We were welcome to see some of the art, but we were mostly confined art-less areas because where else do you trust a bunch of teenagers? Mostly we danced. It was one of the last nights we were performing our school musical, Damn Yankees, and one of the cast members' dad had a friend who gave up the space each year. I'd skipped the past the year before, but I didn't want to miss out on them that year.
So I went to a dance party in an art gallery at age 14.
Today a friend was talking about seeing an author, and mutual friend, at a cool event he was attending. Something about it triggered the memory of meeting J.K. Rowling. In 2012, she did one American event for The Casual Vacancy, and the author, myself, and another friend, worked together to buy tickets. Miscommunications and a ticket mess up left us with extra tickets that were passed on, one to the author's agent, and one to another author. Both authors that night were absolute favorites of mine. I didn't get to see one, but the one I did meet was just so grateful and kind and lovely. And all of us got to listen to the genius that is J.K. Rowling in Lincoln Center. It was a month before my birthday and I was just 17.
Remembering these two things so close together made me remember so many of the other amazing things I've been able to do. I've gone to a lunch in one of the Big 5 publishing houses. I've gone to parties in pent houses of famous buildings. I've taken my first solo trip. I've been to 5 conferences - including two NYCCs (soon to be 3). I've gotten invites to special movie screenings. I've been able to meet many, many other favorite authors, some of whom are also friends. I've been interviewed by a major outlet. I've seen several Broadway shows featuring some of my favorite big name actors, who I then met. I've worked in a landmark of NYC. I've gone out to eat with editors I respect. I've gone to my first concert with my favorite band. I've moved into my first apartment. I've started my own business. I've taken the Staten Island Ferry at sunset and walked the Brooklyn Bridge at night. I've been recognized by famous people.
Maybe it's not an extraordinary life most days. It's a life where I sit at home in my pajamas a lot. It's a life where I work from my bed because it's the only furniture I have that can contain a human body. It's a life where I struggle to afford groceries some days and deal with massive anxiety on others about the stupidest things that are out of my control.
It is not an easy life. But it's enabled me to do so much more than I ever could've imagined. I've learned so much and done things I never thought would be possible for me. It's extraordinary to me, who always pictured a very quiet, normal college experience like they have on TV. Or a very quiet, studious life like I thought might happen during my original dreams of NYU. I don't go to frat parties, but cocktail parties. I don't have this loud, huge group of friends on campus, but I always seem to find friends in classes and have a solid friend circle outside of campus and an amazing roommate.
My life is rather ordinary and boring most days. But then there are those extraordinary days. And I know I'd much rather have this life than any other...except maybe one just like this where I was more financially stable.
--Julie
Sunday, July 20, 2014
My Writing Process
I was tagged by Allison to join in a blog tour on writing process, so, here we go!
What am I working on?
Well, that's an interesting question!
I have to work on revisions for my last Book In A Week, which I pitch as a fantasy retelling of My Fair Lady with a dragon trainer and a prince. Which will happen...at some point.
I'm also playing with a couple of other manuscript ideas, a YA mystery, a YA contemporary, an NA, and a YA dystopian rewrite. None have dominance though.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I like playing with twists. My BookInAWeek is a retelling of a story we don't see much of in YA and it features dragons in a positive light, unlike a lot of other fantasy. My mystery involves polygamy, my contemporary involves a topic I'm still grappling with, the NA features baseball, and the dystopian involves cannibals. Lots of things that don't come up much in YA.
Why do I write what I do?
There's all kinds of theories about choosing what to write. The one I prescribe to most is probably to write what you want to read. A love the My Fair Lady story, silly as it is. I've had an interest in polygamy for YEARS and baseball is a huge part of my life. Cannibalism has long been another interest of mine and the last is, like I said, something I'm dealing with but haven't seen much of in YA, which seems odd.
How does my writing process work?
Usually? I write a couple thousand words, then realize the issues in it and can't continue. I'm stuck between trying to decide if I should go back and rewrite because imperfections are the worst or just plug on, which I CAN'T do if it's already a problem. So, nothing gets done.
I've only finished a couple manuscripts, and all of them have been in short time periods. A NaNoWriMo and BookInAWeek. So, the new method I'm going to keep trying is setting short time limits and being highly productive in those times to pump out a very rough draft, then revise like the wind.
Next week on the blog tour:
I...am not sure? I reached out to a couple of people, but spotty internet time has made it hard to get anything concrete. So...whoops? Will update if anything comes of it!
--Julie
What am I working on?
Well, that's an interesting question!
I have to work on revisions for my last Book In A Week, which I pitch as a fantasy retelling of My Fair Lady with a dragon trainer and a prince. Which will happen...at some point.
I'm also playing with a couple of other manuscript ideas, a YA mystery, a YA contemporary, an NA, and a YA dystopian rewrite. None have dominance though.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I like playing with twists. My BookInAWeek is a retelling of a story we don't see much of in YA and it features dragons in a positive light, unlike a lot of other fantasy. My mystery involves polygamy, my contemporary involves a topic I'm still grappling with, the NA features baseball, and the dystopian involves cannibals. Lots of things that don't come up much in YA.
Why do I write what I do?
There's all kinds of theories about choosing what to write. The one I prescribe to most is probably to write what you want to read. A love the My Fair Lady story, silly as it is. I've had an interest in polygamy for YEARS and baseball is a huge part of my life. Cannibalism has long been another interest of mine and the last is, like I said, something I'm dealing with but haven't seen much of in YA, which seems odd.
How does my writing process work?
Usually? I write a couple thousand words, then realize the issues in it and can't continue. I'm stuck between trying to decide if I should go back and rewrite because imperfections are the worst or just plug on, which I CAN'T do if it's already a problem. So, nothing gets done.
I've only finished a couple manuscripts, and all of them have been in short time periods. A NaNoWriMo and BookInAWeek. So, the new method I'm going to keep trying is setting short time limits and being highly productive in those times to pump out a very rough draft, then revise like the wind.
Next week on the blog tour:
I...am not sure? I reached out to a couple of people, but spotty internet time has made it hard to get anything concrete. So...whoops? Will update if anything comes of it!
--Julie
Friday, June 27, 2014
Book In a Week DOS
So...we're gonna go ahead and do another Book In A Week and I'm announcing it beforehand so people can join me...and because I'm going to need more encouragement.
Last time, I spent 4 of the 7 days in my apartment, alone except for my Roommate who can function on her own and spends a decent amount of time out of the apartment. I could sleep weird hours and take quick runs out to Duane Reade or Popeye's for emergency craving food. I had some reading obligations, but nothing major.
Then I came to my parents' house and didn't write for 2 days. And I'm still here.
I still sleep weird hours, but slightly less weird because my brother is now home. He's old enough to generally function on his own, but sometimes needs to be fed properly. He's also kind of loud and spends much of his free time playing video games in spaces I want to work in or watching videos on YouTube in spaces I want to work in...except now I also have issues loading the internet and Write or Die.
On top of that, my parents' have season tickets to see a minor league baseball team. I'm not obligated to go and they didn't buy tickets for me anyway, so I've just been trading in ones that went unused so far and it's not at all a big deal for me to skip. But I LIKE going to the games. Unfortunately, that usually means being out of the house by 6:30 and trying to make sure we're all dressed, fed, and packed starting at 5:30, then we don't get home until 10 and I still have to shower and usually I'm hungry again because I'm bad at eating normal sized meals and have my night time shows to watch. Then it's also a holiday weekend and my parents' are now tossing around the idea of going somewhere. If we don't go somewhere, we'll be around but running errands and going to more baseball games. Either way, my parents' will both be home an extra day and we get VERY little time together with my mom, so I'm going to want to be hanging out with my family.
Basically, it's a lot harder to get consistent writing time.
So this go round, I'm doing more scheduled writing. I'm planning to get up by 10 am each day, eat some breakfast, then settle in and write until me or my brother needs lunch, take a break, then keep pushing through. I also have to aim for 15-20K each day in preparation for the weekend.
I also have to decide what I'm writing...but whatever.
If you're planning on joining me in Book In A Week, then awesome! Please let me know so we can support each other on twitter or by email or whatever's best. And if you're like me and do best in sprints, I'll be sprinting for anywhere between 30 minutes and 2 hours at a time for the better part of the time between 10:30 and 5 EST.
--Julie
Last time, I spent 4 of the 7 days in my apartment, alone except for my Roommate who can function on her own and spends a decent amount of time out of the apartment. I could sleep weird hours and take quick runs out to Duane Reade or Popeye's for emergency craving food. I had some reading obligations, but nothing major.
Then I came to my parents' house and didn't write for 2 days. And I'm still here.
I still sleep weird hours, but slightly less weird because my brother is now home. He's old enough to generally function on his own, but sometimes needs to be fed properly. He's also kind of loud and spends much of his free time playing video games in spaces I want to work in or watching videos on YouTube in spaces I want to work in...except now I also have issues loading the internet and Write or Die.
On top of that, my parents' have season tickets to see a minor league baseball team. I'm not obligated to go and they didn't buy tickets for me anyway, so I've just been trading in ones that went unused so far and it's not at all a big deal for me to skip. But I LIKE going to the games. Unfortunately, that usually means being out of the house by 6:30 and trying to make sure we're all dressed, fed, and packed starting at 5:30, then we don't get home until 10 and I still have to shower and usually I'm hungry again because I'm bad at eating normal sized meals and have my night time shows to watch. Then it's also a holiday weekend and my parents' are now tossing around the idea of going somewhere. If we don't go somewhere, we'll be around but running errands and going to more baseball games. Either way, my parents' will both be home an extra day and we get VERY little time together with my mom, so I'm going to want to be hanging out with my family.
Basically, it's a lot harder to get consistent writing time.
So this go round, I'm doing more scheduled writing. I'm planning to get up by 10 am each day, eat some breakfast, then settle in and write until me or my brother needs lunch, take a break, then keep pushing through. I also have to aim for 15-20K each day in preparation for the weekend.
I also have to decide what I'm writing...but whatever.
If you're planning on joining me in Book In A Week, then awesome! Please let me know so we can support each other on twitter or by email or whatever's best. And if you're like me and do best in sprints, I'll be sprinting for anywhere between 30 minutes and 2 hours at a time for the better part of the time between 10:30 and 5 EST.
--Julie
Monday, June 23, 2014
Writing a Book in a Week
So, my incredibly talented friend Taryn does this thing from time to time where she writes a book in a weekend. I've seen her live tweet the process on twitter and read her post on doing it a bajillion times. During her most recent go of it, I wondered if it was something I could try doing. And I ended up getting an idea during that weekend. We write at about the same rate and I'm also childless, currently jobless (mostly), and not in school so...why couldn't I do it?
Well, a few reasons. One being my attention span. Another being that I did have SOME responsibilities. I had 2 manuscripts to beta read, one to read as a giveaway win, and some blog tour stuff to work out. A third was that I was going to be at my parents' for at least the next three weekends, which always mean running around, doing errands, trying to spend time with my mom since she works crazy hours, and baseball games.
So logically I should do it in a week instead. And of course, I had to do it right away because, as I mentioned, I was returning to my parents'. My brother was about to start half days at school, then the week after he would start being home 24/7 with only me until 4 in the afternoon. It would mean having to move rooms as various people wanted to do various things that are specific to certain rooms and helping my brother with the computer and taking care of pets and having friends who haven't seen me much wanting to spend time with me. And at my apartment, I had pretty much no responsibilities, no reasons to leave, and nobody to judge my weird eating/sleeping habits as I did this because my roommate's used to it.
To sum that up: Last weekend, Taryn wrote a book in a weekend. I decided to try writing a book in a week. I had my idea. Which brings us to the time line of actually writing the book:
Sunday Night/Monday: Develop the idea/characters slightly. Outline the first five major scenes.
Tuesday
1:00 am: Began writing. Reached 2.5K by 2:30, plus a lost ~1.4K (thanks new Write or Die web app. *glares*). This covered the first two scenes.
4:30am : Showered, read, played some games, now finally sleeping.
10:30am: Get up, goof off on my phone, eat a muffin, drink lots of water, set up for the next bit.
11:00am-11:30am: 1538 words courtesy of Write or Die.
11:30am-12:00pm: I hadn't left my room yet, so decided to take a bit of a longer break to stretch, refill my water bottle, etc.
12:05pm-12:35pm: Started sprinting with Nicole, got to 1559 words.
12:35pm-1:05pm: Break for chatting
1:05pm-1:35pm: 1577 words
1:35pm-3:00pm: Lunch break to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report and recharge for a long sprint.
3:00pm-4:00pm: Long sprint! 3071 words. This pushed me over 10K
4:00pm-4:30pm: Break time!
4:30pm-5:00pm: 1327 (I took a 5 minute break during the sprint)
5:00pm-6:00pm: Tired set in. My internet was SUPER spotty which, in theory, would make me write more. But since I was using Write or Die's web app...not the case.
6:00pm-7:30pm: Laid down for a little bit. Accidentally fell asleep. Oops?
7:30pm-9:00pm: Tried writing. Internet went out for a bit again. Write 298 words
9:00pm-4:30am: Much tired. Kind of hungry? Baseball. Reading. Shower. More reading. There may have been an episode of Big Love in there.
Wednesday
4:30am-8:30am: Slept
8:30am-12:30pm: Continuously thought about getting up. Didn't.
12:30pm-1:00pm: Rolled around bed. Remembered I had a UPS package coming and thought I should be semi-presentable. Finally get up.
1:00pm-4:00pm: Package arrives! Baseball! Twitter! Trying to do work-ish!
4:00om-5:30pm: Run to the bank and Duane Reade. Buy ice cream. Eat ice cream.
5:30pm-6:30pm: 3316 words via Write or Die and Nicole. Cross 15K and 50 pages.
6:30pm-7:10pm: Goof off
7:10pm-8:05pm: Tried to stop at 8 with Nicole, but I was close enough to finishing a scene and she encouraged me to stay in it. 3111 words.
8:05pm-9:00pm: Goof off more. Talk about the book with Nicole. Do a little bit of work for one of my jobs.
9:00pm-10:00pm: 3307 words
10:00pm-1:00am: More goofing off. Play on twitter, watch Big Love, eat ice cream, play Kitchen Scramble. Realize how many cheerleaders I have and how excited people are for me. I've now crossed 20K and 75 pages. I've almost reached 10K for the day and still feel really good about things. I already know some of the work it needs, but I'm still itching to find CPs to send it out too.
Thursday
1:00am-2:00am: Itching for 25K words, I wrote 3785 words, bringing me to 25,433 words and 90 pages. Wonder if so much typing has made me some kind of typing mutant. Nearly cry as I realize this might actually happen, I might actually finish a book. Debate trying to pass 30K before bed.
2:00am-5:00am: More goofing off. Reading. Showering.
5:00am-11:00am: Sleep
11:00am-12:30pm: Sort out my travel plans for getting back to my parents, goof around on twitter
12:30pm-1:30pm: 3181 words. Some water spillage slowed me down.
1:30pm-4:00m: I needed to eat lunch but kept putting it off with Facebook games and conversation. Finally made lunch and watched The Daily Show and The Colbert Report
4:00pm-5:00pm: 1740 words before I realized I was WAY too tired, but I wanted to pass 30K. Wait 25 minutes for Nicole to finish.
5:00pm-7:45pm: Napped
7:45pm-11:15pm: Listened to a baseball game, grabbed some dinner out so I would eat something that wasn't a PB&J sandwich, got really snarky.
11:15pm-11:45pm: 2052 courtesy of a sprint with John. Consider aiming for 40K for the night and definitely being 1/2 way through the book.
11:45pm-12:00am: Play around. Plot out next move.
Friday
12:00am-12:25am: 1318 words. Definitely slowing down.
12:25am-12:50am: I can FEEL 35K words and decide to go for it, despite the tired.
12:50am-1:35am: Waver between writing and playing on twitter and end up with 1497 words - bringing me to 35,228 in total.
1:35am-7:30am: Goofing off. Playing 2048. Showering. Reading really bad fanfic.
7:30am-2:30pm: Sleeeeeep
2:30pm-6:10pm: Ate, watched The Daily Show. Tried to wake myself up. Read more really bad fanfic.
6:10pm-7:10pm: VERY distracted word sprint. 2054 words.
7:10pm-11:15pm: Went out and got junk food. Consumed much junk food. Read more bad fanfic. Finally decided to write out the new plot bunny in my head that's really complex and taking up too much head space.
11:15pm-11:45pm: Sprinting with myself for 1473 words. I can't really maintain the long distance I'd been doing, but word speed is back on track. I also realize at this point I have to stop stressing about the point of view switching being well timed and perfect transitions. I just have to move on if I'm not sure how to blend perfectly - it's a rough draft for a reason.
11:45pm-12:00am: Take a break to write up this so I have the numbers. Drink water. Snack a little. Decide to join #writeclub for their next half hour sprint.
Saturday
12:00am-12:30am: 1385, bringing me to 40,143 words
THEN THERE'S A GIANT BLOCK WHERE NO WRITING GETS DONE.
Monday
12:45am-2:15am: In a desperate rush to actually make this happen, I start writing again. I've realized the book is going to be MUCH shorter than I originally thought (as a first draft), and therefore still possible. Write 5114 words, bringing me to 45,247.
2:15am-5:00am: Break to eat, shower, watch an episode of Secret Princes, and read a blog tour book.
5:00am-11:30am: Sleeeeeep
11:30am-1:30pm: Dentist shenanigans/driving
1:30pm-3:30pm: Brother wanted to watch Lego Movie/have snuggle time. As he's now 10, we NEVER SAY NO TO SNUGGLE TIME. Also lunch.
3:30pm-6:05pm: "I should be writing...wait let me check this real quick."
6:05pm-6:45pm: Write 1352 words. Words 1351 and 1352 are "THE END"
Originally, I'd estimated the book needing to be between 70K-80K. I was...really off on that, at least as far as first drafts go. The final word count on the first draft is 46,598. (If you try to add up everything I listed, it might not add up exactly to that since I would sometimes take the word counts I had, then as I was adjusting formatting from Write or Die, delete/add a word or two.) I already know a lot of areas where things need to be fleshed out more or developed more and there were some places where I just couldn't figure out a good transition, so I skipped it.
A lot of what I learned doing this was that first drafts need to be fast and messy, at least for me. I started writing when I was 9 and have only finished a couple short stories, a couple fanfics, and one other original project (my first NaNoWriMo in...2008? 2009?), in large part because I get stuck on imperfections. I see the mistakes and the issues and the plot holes coming up and find myself questioning every single thing instead of just writing. And you can't fix what's not there, so I try to make myself just finish the damned thing instead of going back and revising, but I'm too paralyzed to do that and then nothing happens.
But when I was writing this fast and so determined to just get it all down and win my self-made challenge, I couldn't worry about the issues. And in some cases, the issues worked themselves out as I wrote. A LOT of what I did came pretty organically. As I said, I only outlined 5 scenes. Very brief descriptions and I ended up stretching those into my first 20K. It was like nothing I've ever done before, not even in NaNo. I'm rarely a plotter/outliner, but just having those few things were a HUGE help and then I wanted to explore my world and my characters and could work from that.
I also learned that I want to do this again. It was occasionally exhausting emotionally/mentally, but...having finished...I feel pretty good. Maybe because I did take breaks to watch TV and read two books and live my life to some degree. It helped kick the exhaustion and keep me inspired instead. And I think writing a new book in between will help make editing work better. Hopefully. ;)
In the future, I would probably time myself better. Like you saw, I went 48 hours without writing because I was trying to sleep in my own bed as much as possible, then had to go back to my parents', was out and about a lot and spending time with them and enjoying a TV again and just had no desire to sit with my computer open since I can't write with them nearby. So maybe not letting travel/major amounts of errands overlap would be a good plan.
I'd also prepare more than 24 hours in advance. I ate a LOT of weird meals and junk food and slept all kinds of weird hours in the process. I didn't know much going into the story. Because of that, I never named a key character. Or the setting. I just avoided even trying and risking getting held up. I found out part way through that my main character was a woman of color. I also had this realization part way through about how things unraveled, but couldn't figure out a way to get it into the story.
And I 100% need need to but the Write or Die app as soon as possible. 98% of this manuscript was written in Write or Die on Kamikaze mode because I'm easily distracted and the internet in my apartment is unstable during the summer and the internet at my parents' house is technically stable, but not happy to work with me when ANYONE ELSE is also using the computer.
So...yeah. I learned a lot. I relaxed a lot more than I probably should have. But I'm going to do this again. Really, really soon. Because there's NO way it can happen again until next summer with classes, holidays, work, and repeat all fall and spring. (Although maybe I can sneak one in January...maybe.)
--Julie
Well, a few reasons. One being my attention span. Another being that I did have SOME responsibilities. I had 2 manuscripts to beta read, one to read as a giveaway win, and some blog tour stuff to work out. A third was that I was going to be at my parents' for at least the next three weekends, which always mean running around, doing errands, trying to spend time with my mom since she works crazy hours, and baseball games.
So logically I should do it in a week instead. And of course, I had to do it right away because, as I mentioned, I was returning to my parents'. My brother was about to start half days at school, then the week after he would start being home 24/7 with only me until 4 in the afternoon. It would mean having to move rooms as various people wanted to do various things that are specific to certain rooms and helping my brother with the computer and taking care of pets and having friends who haven't seen me much wanting to spend time with me. And at my apartment, I had pretty much no responsibilities, no reasons to leave, and nobody to judge my weird eating/sleeping habits as I did this because my roommate's used to it.
To sum that up: Last weekend, Taryn wrote a book in a weekend. I decided to try writing a book in a week. I had my idea. Which brings us to the time line of actually writing the book:
Sunday Night/Monday: Develop the idea/characters slightly. Outline the first five major scenes.
Tuesday
1:00 am: Began writing. Reached 2.5K by 2:30, plus a lost ~1.4K (thanks new Write or Die web app. *glares*). This covered the first two scenes.
4:30am : Showered, read, played some games, now finally sleeping.
10:30am: Get up, goof off on my phone, eat a muffin, drink lots of water, set up for the next bit.
11:00am-11:30am: 1538 words courtesy of Write or Die.
11:30am-12:00pm: I hadn't left my room yet, so decided to take a bit of a longer break to stretch, refill my water bottle, etc.
12:05pm-12:35pm: Started sprinting with Nicole, got to 1559 words.
12:35pm-1:05pm: Break for chatting
1:05pm-1:35pm: 1577 words
1:35pm-3:00pm: Lunch break to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report and recharge for a long sprint.
3:00pm-4:00pm: Long sprint! 3071 words. This pushed me over 10K
4:00pm-4:30pm: Break time!
4:30pm-5:00pm: 1327 (I took a 5 minute break during the sprint)
5:00pm-6:00pm: Tired set in. My internet was SUPER spotty which, in theory, would make me write more. But since I was using Write or Die's web app...not the case.
6:00pm-7:30pm: Laid down for a little bit. Accidentally fell asleep. Oops?
7:30pm-9:00pm: Tried writing. Internet went out for a bit again. Write 298 words
9:00pm-4:30am: Much tired. Kind of hungry? Baseball. Reading. Shower. More reading. There may have been an episode of Big Love in there.
Wednesday
4:30am-8:30am: Slept
8:30am-12:30pm: Continuously thought about getting up. Didn't.
12:30pm-1:00pm: Rolled around bed. Remembered I had a UPS package coming and thought I should be semi-presentable. Finally get up.
1:00pm-4:00pm: Package arrives! Baseball! Twitter! Trying to do work-ish!
4:00om-5:30pm: Run to the bank and Duane Reade. Buy ice cream. Eat ice cream.
5:30pm-6:30pm: 3316 words via Write or Die and Nicole. Cross 15K and 50 pages.
6:30pm-7:10pm: Goof off
7:10pm-8:05pm: Tried to stop at 8 with Nicole, but I was close enough to finishing a scene and she encouraged me to stay in it. 3111 words.
8:05pm-9:00pm: Goof off more. Talk about the book with Nicole. Do a little bit of work for one of my jobs.
9:00pm-10:00pm: 3307 words
10:00pm-1:00am: More goofing off. Play on twitter, watch Big Love, eat ice cream, play Kitchen Scramble. Realize how many cheerleaders I have and how excited people are for me. I've now crossed 20K and 75 pages. I've almost reached 10K for the day and still feel really good about things. I already know some of the work it needs, but I'm still itching to find CPs to send it out too.
Thursday
1:00am-2:00am: Itching for 25K words, I wrote 3785 words, bringing me to 25,433 words and 90 pages. Wonder if so much typing has made me some kind of typing mutant. Nearly cry as I realize this might actually happen, I might actually finish a book. Debate trying to pass 30K before bed.
2:00am-5:00am: More goofing off. Reading. Showering.
5:00am-11:00am: Sleep
11:00am-12:30pm: Sort out my travel plans for getting back to my parents, goof around on twitter
12:30pm-1:30pm: 3181 words. Some water spillage slowed me down.
1:30pm-4:00m: I needed to eat lunch but kept putting it off with Facebook games and conversation. Finally made lunch and watched The Daily Show and The Colbert Report
4:00pm-5:00pm: 1740 words before I realized I was WAY too tired, but I wanted to pass 30K. Wait 25 minutes for Nicole to finish.
5:00pm-7:45pm: Napped
7:45pm-11:15pm: Listened to a baseball game, grabbed some dinner out so I would eat something that wasn't a PB&J sandwich, got really snarky.
11:15pm-11:45pm: 2052 courtesy of a sprint with John. Consider aiming for 40K for the night and definitely being 1/2 way through the book.
11:45pm-12:00am: Play around. Plot out next move.
Friday
12:00am-12:25am: 1318 words. Definitely slowing down.
12:25am-12:50am: I can FEEL 35K words and decide to go for it, despite the tired.
12:50am-1:35am: Waver between writing and playing on twitter and end up with 1497 words - bringing me to 35,228 in total.
1:35am-7:30am: Goofing off. Playing 2048. Showering. Reading really bad fanfic.
7:30am-2:30pm: Sleeeeeep
2:30pm-6:10pm: Ate, watched The Daily Show. Tried to wake myself up. Read more really bad fanfic.
6:10pm-7:10pm: VERY distracted word sprint. 2054 words.
7:10pm-11:15pm: Went out and got junk food. Consumed much junk food. Read more bad fanfic. Finally decided to write out the new plot bunny in my head that's really complex and taking up too much head space.
11:15pm-11:45pm: Sprinting with myself for 1473 words. I can't really maintain the long distance I'd been doing, but word speed is back on track. I also realize at this point I have to stop stressing about the point of view switching being well timed and perfect transitions. I just have to move on if I'm not sure how to blend perfectly - it's a rough draft for a reason.
11:45pm-12:00am: Take a break to write up this so I have the numbers. Drink water. Snack a little. Decide to join #writeclub for their next half hour sprint.
Saturday
12:00am-12:30am: 1385, bringing me to 40,143 words
THEN THERE'S A GIANT BLOCK WHERE NO WRITING GETS DONE.
Monday
12:45am-2:15am: In a desperate rush to actually make this happen, I start writing again. I've realized the book is going to be MUCH shorter than I originally thought (as a first draft), and therefore still possible. Write 5114 words, bringing me to 45,247.
2:15am-5:00am: Break to eat, shower, watch an episode of Secret Princes, and read a blog tour book.
5:00am-11:30am: Sleeeeeep
11:30am-1:30pm: Dentist shenanigans/driving
1:30pm-3:30pm: Brother wanted to watch Lego Movie/have snuggle time. As he's now 10, we NEVER SAY NO TO SNUGGLE TIME. Also lunch.
3:30pm-6:05pm: "I should be writing...wait let me check this real quick."
6:05pm-6:45pm: Write 1352 words. Words 1351 and 1352 are "THE END"
Originally, I'd estimated the book needing to be between 70K-80K. I was...really off on that, at least as far as first drafts go. The final word count on the first draft is 46,598. (If you try to add up everything I listed, it might not add up exactly to that since I would sometimes take the word counts I had, then as I was adjusting formatting from Write or Die, delete/add a word or two.) I already know a lot of areas where things need to be fleshed out more or developed more and there were some places where I just couldn't figure out a good transition, so I skipped it.
A lot of what I learned doing this was that first drafts need to be fast and messy, at least for me. I started writing when I was 9 and have only finished a couple short stories, a couple fanfics, and one other original project (my first NaNoWriMo in...2008? 2009?), in large part because I get stuck on imperfections. I see the mistakes and the issues and the plot holes coming up and find myself questioning every single thing instead of just writing. And you can't fix what's not there, so I try to make myself just finish the damned thing instead of going back and revising, but I'm too paralyzed to do that and then nothing happens.
But when I was writing this fast and so determined to just get it all down and win my self-made challenge, I couldn't worry about the issues. And in some cases, the issues worked themselves out as I wrote. A LOT of what I did came pretty organically. As I said, I only outlined 5 scenes. Very brief descriptions and I ended up stretching those into my first 20K. It was like nothing I've ever done before, not even in NaNo. I'm rarely a plotter/outliner, but just having those few things were a HUGE help and then I wanted to explore my world and my characters and could work from that.
I also learned that I want to do this again. It was occasionally exhausting emotionally/mentally, but...having finished...I feel pretty good. Maybe because I did take breaks to watch TV and read two books and live my life to some degree. It helped kick the exhaustion and keep me inspired instead. And I think writing a new book in between will help make editing work better. Hopefully. ;)
In the future, I would probably time myself better. Like you saw, I went 48 hours without writing because I was trying to sleep in my own bed as much as possible, then had to go back to my parents', was out and about a lot and spending time with them and enjoying a TV again and just had no desire to sit with my computer open since I can't write with them nearby. So maybe not letting travel/major amounts of errands overlap would be a good plan.
I'd also prepare more than 24 hours in advance. I ate a LOT of weird meals and junk food and slept all kinds of weird hours in the process. I didn't know much going into the story. Because of that, I never named a key character. Or the setting. I just avoided even trying and risking getting held up. I found out part way through that my main character was a woman of color. I also had this realization part way through about how things unraveled, but couldn't figure out a way to get it into the story.
And I 100% need need to but the Write or Die app as soon as possible. 98% of this manuscript was written in Write or Die on Kamikaze mode because I'm easily distracted and the internet in my apartment is unstable during the summer and the internet at my parents' house is technically stable, but not happy to work with me when ANYONE ELSE is also using the computer.
So...yeah. I learned a lot. I relaxed a lot more than I probably should have. But I'm going to do this again. Really, really soon. Because there's NO way it can happen again until next summer with classes, holidays, work, and repeat all fall and spring. (Although maybe I can sneak one in January...maybe.)
--Julie
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
What I've Learned As An Intern (1)
(Why is this labelled part 1, you ask? Because there will hopefully be other parts based on other internships.)
- Being an editor is really what I want to do.
- Interns and assistants may have low pay and little experience but they hold so much power in publishing. SO. MUCH. POWER.
- People in children's publishing are generally so sweet and helpful and they really want to teach you the craft and work with you so you can do the best possible job.
- They're also big on sharing. Food. Books. Knowledge. Gossip. Keys. Sharing is caring.
- HR is not as hellish as it seems. In fact, it's way less hellish than college administration buildings.
- People work late but rarely complain because they love what they do, or at the very least care. Very few people ACTUALLY leave at 5 because they want to make sure as much gets done as possible.
- One of the most important qualities in editorial is that you've read a lot of books and you've lived. Seriously.
- Much phone calls. Many meetings. Such socializing.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
The Mental Health Balance
I am an introvert.
I can muddle along just fine and make casual conversation with strangers, but when given the choice, I'll wait over ten minutes for the next subway instead of the current crowded one. It takes a lot of mental and physical energy for me to want to go out and be social most of the time. Getting through two days of classes and one day of work is enough to make me crash pretty hard in the three or four days after. I won't go out, I'll just stay in bed, watching TV shows and movies and reading, unable to do anything else because I'm just so tired and I hate it because I have work to do and good friends to see and I live in New York City for crying out loud. But that's my reality and I came to accept that.
This past week, I had a couple of errands to run and my roommate had some stuff to do and we needed to go grocery shopping. So, on Thursday, we set out. My roommate I could handle doing it with because I'm obviously comfortable with her and we were going to familiar places. Bookstores, grocery store, nothing complicated.
Two books, a new tote bag, many groceries and a whole lot of wallet regret later, I returned home. Slept a lot that night and my weekend of alone time began...but I wasn't really tired.
I went to the post office and I grabbed some things I craved, but not everything, and I was able to do work. I had energy. I felt up to doing things. I spent most of Saturday sleeping too, and didn't even get dressed or make it to the mailbox, but I felt awake and alive and good. I was productive.
Today, I got myself up and went to church and took myself to my favorite bakery and came home, then went out again for a couple things I'd missed Thursday and I got more work done.
I've gotten very little sleep this weekend, but I've read a ton and I've been productive and I feel good. I feel better than I have the past couple of weekends after three or four days of mostly sitting at home. I feel relaxed.
Unfortunately, relaxation apparently comes after torture to my wallet. As importance as my mental health is to me, I just can't do this every weekend.
So, it's back to the drawing board on how to keep myself mentally and emotionally stable enough to get through school. After a weekend trip to my parents' to shop and get pampered on their dime. And a trip to a wedding mostly on their dime. And two weeks later a trip back to their house. And then two weeks after that, I'm on spring break...
Alright, maybe I won't be going back to the drawing board anytime soon. But, it's the thought that counts, right?
--Julie
I can muddle along just fine and make casual conversation with strangers, but when given the choice, I'll wait over ten minutes for the next subway instead of the current crowded one. It takes a lot of mental and physical energy for me to want to go out and be social most of the time. Getting through two days of classes and one day of work is enough to make me crash pretty hard in the three or four days after. I won't go out, I'll just stay in bed, watching TV shows and movies and reading, unable to do anything else because I'm just so tired and I hate it because I have work to do and good friends to see and I live in New York City for crying out loud. But that's my reality and I came to accept that.
This past week, I had a couple of errands to run and my roommate had some stuff to do and we needed to go grocery shopping. So, on Thursday, we set out. My roommate I could handle doing it with because I'm obviously comfortable with her and we were going to familiar places. Bookstores, grocery store, nothing complicated.
Two books, a new tote bag, many groceries and a whole lot of wallet regret later, I returned home. Slept a lot that night and my weekend of alone time began...but I wasn't really tired.
I went to the post office and I grabbed some things I craved, but not everything, and I was able to do work. I had energy. I felt up to doing things. I spent most of Saturday sleeping too, and didn't even get dressed or make it to the mailbox, but I felt awake and alive and good. I was productive.
Today, I got myself up and went to church and took myself to my favorite bakery and came home, then went out again for a couple things I'd missed Thursday and I got more work done.
I've gotten very little sleep this weekend, but I've read a ton and I've been productive and I feel good. I feel better than I have the past couple of weekends after three or four days of mostly sitting at home. I feel relaxed.
Unfortunately, relaxation apparently comes after torture to my wallet. As importance as my mental health is to me, I just can't do this every weekend.
So, it's back to the drawing board on how to keep myself mentally and emotionally stable enough to get through school. After a weekend trip to my parents' to shop and get pampered on their dime. And a trip to a wedding mostly on their dime. And two weeks later a trip back to their house. And then two weeks after that, I'm on spring break...
Alright, maybe I won't be going back to the drawing board anytime soon. But, it's the thought that counts, right?
--Julie
Monday, February 10, 2014
Deleting Things From Your Resume at 19
I got bored sitting in class and asked for people to ask questions and whatnot. Someone asked how I got around to doing all that I do. That's a rather complicated question since I've done...a lot. So, blog post!
I was 14 when I was first asked to join a book blog. I didn't take it very seriously at first, only writing a couple of reviews between the February when I was invited and the fall. It's been five years as of this month.
In November of that year, I was avoiding working on my NaNoWriMo book. I only had a few thousand words left and it was the second to last day of the month. I stumbled across a book blog - maybe on twitter? Maybe some other way? This part is fuzzy to me, but I found one. And through that blog, I found another, and so on and so forth. I realized this was something I already did, but I wanted to take it seriously. I wanted to be a blog with a bigger following and I wanted to be friends with all these people, and I wanted to be entering contests and getting ARCs through them, and eventually, on my own.
I took a day to finish my NaNo, then on December 1, talked with Lanna about setting up the blog as a serious thing, like all these others I'd found.
Over the next year, I did a lot of blogging and a lot of tweeting and a lot of fangirl-emailing authors. It was about seven months before I got my first ARC, and they haven't really stopped coming in. I started connecting with authors over my love of their books. Then I began learning more about books before they came out, before the ARCs, as early as book deals, and sometimes even earlier. Then I could connect with authors even more.
These connections with authors lead to some contacting me for beta reading. I'm now a regular reader for one author, I've read for two authors, and I've been trusted to read manuscript versions of several books by those authors.
But I always wanted to do more. I wasn't very social, I had very few friends and lived in an area where there wasn't much to do even if I was. And I wanted to help out authors more. So one day, I offered up being an author assistant. For a little while, I was a sounding board for swag ideas and helped with research.
A little while later, one author I'd connected with asked if I'd read her book. I read it and loved it, so she asked me to be her assistant in May 2012. I've been doing publicity types of things since then.
I started college in New York City in August 2012. I began frequently attending events, which allowed me to meet other bloggers, editors, publicists, and authors. I attended New York Comic Con, which gave me even more room to meet people in an environment not really about books. I continued meeting people and sporadically blogging and in November, made the decision to be a freelance editor. My friend, Brent, was one and there were going to be a couple of openings there, so I happily agreed to join. I kept it quiet for over a month, and it was officially announced early in January 2013.
That spring, I began applying to summer publishing internships. I only had one interview that didn't lead to anything, but as a freshman, it was still encouraging to have that interest.
In May, I went to Teen Author Carnival, but not just as an attendee. I finished moving into my first ever apartment, took a shower, then hustled down to the library to begin set up and prep. A quick dinner break, then we had to start looking after very early arrivals. I spent most of the night in the lobby, directing people to where they wanted to be.
The next day was BEA, my first conference. It was huge and massive and full of people I felt like I knew already. I had several best selling authors recognize me from my twitter picture or handle that I'd worn as a second badge. I'm still not quite over that high.
In August, I branched out from my original freelance editing company to start my own, True Blue Editorial, with another blogger, Tirzah.
I attended NYCC again this past fall, as well as several other events before and after. I began applying to spring internships, just to start getting my resume out there again. I only sent out one before realizing that it wouldn't actually work with my schedule, and I forgot about it. I turned nineteen and spent my first birthday without my family. I continued seeing friends that came to the city and friends that had moved to the city. I continued blogging sporadically and editing and going to school.
In December, I was asked to interview to the one company I applied for. It was an editorial internship at a couple of children's imprints. I interviewed in my last week of classes, returned to campus, and shuffled around my classes, just in case. They had seemed impressed with my freelance editing and my blogging experience, but I didn't get my hopes up. I wrapped up classes and most of my finals and left for my parents' house. I submitted my last assignments and, the next day, got the call offering me the internship and asking when I could start.
I've had to revise and update my resume several times in the past few months, and each time, I've had to delete things. Because 19 year old college sophomores cannot have a resume over one page. It's just too much, you know? But I could, if it wasn't so absurd.
Instead of having a social life or a steadily paying job, I made friends. You could call it "networking" if you wanted, but I really do consider myself friendly with many of these people. These friends are the real reason my resume is so full. They've trusted me - to read for them, to edit with them, to review them, to help publicize them. Blogging sparked a fire in me to help get books out in the world and into reader's hands, then helped me want to make them better. They just kept feeding the fire and making me more ambitious, more desiring of being able to do something.
It's February 10, I've been an intern for a month, and I'm already getting ready to apply for summer internships. They're way more competitive than semester internships, but I'm hoping that future possible employers will see this semester's internship and be as enthused by it as my current employer was by my freelancing. I've now been a freelancer for over a year, at my own company for almost 6 months. I continue helping out as an assistant, though not as efficiently as I used to. I blog sporadically, though I'm now reading a lot of my company's titles which I won't review while I work there. I'm almost halfway through college. And I've realized that I'm going to have to be VERY picky about how social I am to make sure house work and homework gets done. But that works for me because...I'm not really social, unless I'm talking with other publishing people.
So. There you go. That's been my publishing journey to date. Long and rather boring and spanning over five years. It's missing a lot of the little moments that really make this journey worthwhile for me because I could spend AGES on the details. Those are the fun parts, though. The parts that make me want to continue in this crazy ride.
--Julie
I was 14 when I was first asked to join a book blog. I didn't take it very seriously at first, only writing a couple of reviews between the February when I was invited and the fall. It's been five years as of this month.
In November of that year, I was avoiding working on my NaNoWriMo book. I only had a few thousand words left and it was the second to last day of the month. I stumbled across a book blog - maybe on twitter? Maybe some other way? This part is fuzzy to me, but I found one. And through that blog, I found another, and so on and so forth. I realized this was something I already did, but I wanted to take it seriously. I wanted to be a blog with a bigger following and I wanted to be friends with all these people, and I wanted to be entering contests and getting ARCs through them, and eventually, on my own.
I took a day to finish my NaNo, then on December 1, talked with Lanna about setting up the blog as a serious thing, like all these others I'd found.
Over the next year, I did a lot of blogging and a lot of tweeting and a lot of fangirl-emailing authors. It was about seven months before I got my first ARC, and they haven't really stopped coming in. I started connecting with authors over my love of their books. Then I began learning more about books before they came out, before the ARCs, as early as book deals, and sometimes even earlier. Then I could connect with authors even more.
These connections with authors lead to some contacting me for beta reading. I'm now a regular reader for one author, I've read for two authors, and I've been trusted to read manuscript versions of several books by those authors.
But I always wanted to do more. I wasn't very social, I had very few friends and lived in an area where there wasn't much to do even if I was. And I wanted to help out authors more. So one day, I offered up being an author assistant. For a little while, I was a sounding board for swag ideas and helped with research.
A little while later, one author I'd connected with asked if I'd read her book. I read it and loved it, so she asked me to be her assistant in May 2012. I've been doing publicity types of things since then.
I started college in New York City in August 2012. I began frequently attending events, which allowed me to meet other bloggers, editors, publicists, and authors. I attended New York Comic Con, which gave me even more room to meet people in an environment not really about books. I continued meeting people and sporadically blogging and in November, made the decision to be a freelance editor. My friend, Brent, was one and there were going to be a couple of openings there, so I happily agreed to join. I kept it quiet for over a month, and it was officially announced early in January 2013.
That spring, I began applying to summer publishing internships. I only had one interview that didn't lead to anything, but as a freshman, it was still encouraging to have that interest.
In May, I went to Teen Author Carnival, but not just as an attendee. I finished moving into my first ever apartment, took a shower, then hustled down to the library to begin set up and prep. A quick dinner break, then we had to start looking after very early arrivals. I spent most of the night in the lobby, directing people to where they wanted to be.
The next day was BEA, my first conference. It was huge and massive and full of people I felt like I knew already. I had several best selling authors recognize me from my twitter picture or handle that I'd worn as a second badge. I'm still not quite over that high.
In August, I branched out from my original freelance editing company to start my own, True Blue Editorial, with another blogger, Tirzah.
I attended NYCC again this past fall, as well as several other events before and after. I began applying to spring internships, just to start getting my resume out there again. I only sent out one before realizing that it wouldn't actually work with my schedule, and I forgot about it. I turned nineteen and spent my first birthday without my family. I continued seeing friends that came to the city and friends that had moved to the city. I continued blogging sporadically and editing and going to school.
In December, I was asked to interview to the one company I applied for. It was an editorial internship at a couple of children's imprints. I interviewed in my last week of classes, returned to campus, and shuffled around my classes, just in case. They had seemed impressed with my freelance editing and my blogging experience, but I didn't get my hopes up. I wrapped up classes and most of my finals and left for my parents' house. I submitted my last assignments and, the next day, got the call offering me the internship and asking when I could start.
I've had to revise and update my resume several times in the past few months, and each time, I've had to delete things. Because 19 year old college sophomores cannot have a resume over one page. It's just too much, you know? But I could, if it wasn't so absurd.
Instead of having a social life or a steadily paying job, I made friends. You could call it "networking" if you wanted, but I really do consider myself friendly with many of these people. These friends are the real reason my resume is so full. They've trusted me - to read for them, to edit with them, to review them, to help publicize them. Blogging sparked a fire in me to help get books out in the world and into reader's hands, then helped me want to make them better. They just kept feeding the fire and making me more ambitious, more desiring of being able to do something.
It's February 10, I've been an intern for a month, and I'm already getting ready to apply for summer internships. They're way more competitive than semester internships, but I'm hoping that future possible employers will see this semester's internship and be as enthused by it as my current employer was by my freelancing. I've now been a freelancer for over a year, at my own company for almost 6 months. I continue helping out as an assistant, though not as efficiently as I used to. I blog sporadically, though I'm now reading a lot of my company's titles which I won't review while I work there. I'm almost halfway through college. And I've realized that I'm going to have to be VERY picky about how social I am to make sure house work and homework gets done. But that works for me because...I'm not really social, unless I'm talking with other publishing people.
So. There you go. That's been my publishing journey to date. Long and rather boring and spanning over five years. It's missing a lot of the little moments that really make this journey worthwhile for me because I could spend AGES on the details. Those are the fun parts, though. The parts that make me want to continue in this crazy ride.
--Julie
Saturday, February 1, 2014
January Disappeared
Things went kind of crazy town in January.
I haven't been actively eating better, but I've generally been more active, since I never just sat at home. I've also unintentionally been eating better since my favorite lunch place at work is a sandwich shop where I can get grilled cheese or Eataly for fruit, and my favorite lunch place near school is a diner where I get a ton of vegetables with my meal. Going to school/lunch on campus also means walking up/down several flights of stairs or hills.
I've already pushed boundaries on my anxiety by going to ALAMW. Every single part of that trip was a new experience and I didn't break down or decide not to go through with it. I'd been able to come up with all kinds of reasons to go, but I do think at the heart of it, I wanted to prove to myself I could.
In the four weeks of my part time internship, I've worked...a lot. And I love it and still genuinely want to go in every day, even if that would mean waking up at 7 am. It gives me more confidence that I'm going after the right career and I'm in a really good office space with really good people.
I'm handling a really full schedule...decently. I need to work a little better at balancing sleep, but even this week, when I didn't get any time to recover from being really extroverted at a conference before starting classes and going back to work, I did decently. I found time to relax and still get some things done. I...crashed really, really, really hard today, but part of that was a headache every time I tried to get up. And you know, it's the first week at Schedule Full Throttle. It'll take some adjusting and I'm doing okay with that.
Despite it being a stressful time, I've still been in a good place mentally for a longer stretch of time than I can remember. And that's a wonderful feeling.
All of the things I've mentioned would probably be on my list of resolutions to handle, yet I've been handling them without actively trying. So, you can definitely say I'm looking forward to the rest of 2014 and what leaving teenage years behind will be like.
--Julie
- I picked up three freelance jobs, one for January, one for next month, one for April.
- I started my internship and I love it and frankly want to spend all of my time there.
- My mom had surgery and everything's going really well and she's already taught herself to drive with one arm. I haven't checked in since my last visit home, but I'm betting she's planning to be back at work soon, if she's not already.
- This past week, I started up my classes again. I'm only taking 4 classes and going to campus twice a week, but I spend 7 hours on campus one of those days and 9 hours on campus the other. This week, two of my classes were cancelled on the shorter day and learned one of my classes is only happening on my shorter day, so I still haven't REALLY experienced a full week.
- I took a spontaneous trip to Philadelphia for ALAMW. I'd never been on a trip without my parents before, nor had I ever been to Philadelphia, nor had I ever taken a bus that wasn't school related. I also don't do spontaneous very well. But I booked my bus ticket Friday afternoon, took a bus Saturday morning, and decided by Saturday afternoon to stay overnight and came back Sunday.
I haven't been actively eating better, but I've generally been more active, since I never just sat at home. I've also unintentionally been eating better since my favorite lunch place at work is a sandwich shop where I can get grilled cheese or Eataly for fruit, and my favorite lunch place near school is a diner where I get a ton of vegetables with my meal. Going to school/lunch on campus also means walking up/down several flights of stairs or hills.
I've already pushed boundaries on my anxiety by going to ALAMW. Every single part of that trip was a new experience and I didn't break down or decide not to go through with it. I'd been able to come up with all kinds of reasons to go, but I do think at the heart of it, I wanted to prove to myself I could.
In the four weeks of my part time internship, I've worked...a lot. And I love it and still genuinely want to go in every day, even if that would mean waking up at 7 am. It gives me more confidence that I'm going after the right career and I'm in a really good office space with really good people.
I'm handling a really full schedule...decently. I need to work a little better at balancing sleep, but even this week, when I didn't get any time to recover from being really extroverted at a conference before starting classes and going back to work, I did decently. I found time to relax and still get some things done. I...crashed really, really, really hard today, but part of that was a headache every time I tried to get up. And you know, it's the first week at Schedule Full Throttle. It'll take some adjusting and I'm doing okay with that.
Despite it being a stressful time, I've still been in a good place mentally for a longer stretch of time than I can remember. And that's a wonderful feeling.
All of the things I've mentioned would probably be on my list of resolutions to handle, yet I've been handling them without actively trying. So, you can definitely say I'm looking forward to the rest of 2014 and what leaving teenage years behind will be like.
--Julie
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