WB - The Dreaded Words

As a writer, there are a few things that scare me. Bad reviews, no reviews, people nodding and smiling when I tell them about my book and saying "Oh, that sounds different."

And then the scariest. Writer's Block.

I've never officially had it in a 'I can't even think of a single word to say', but more in a way of never being able to finish a sentence correctly. Lately, I've learned about just putting down what you're thinking in the first draft and going back later to edit it (thank you Stephanie Morrill and everyone else at Go Teen Writers for backing me up on that one!) but I've hit the sticking point.

I participated in a word war this week. Usually word wars are hour or minute timed things where you and other writers set a certain amount of time and see who can write the most words in said time. Go Teen Writers hosted one this week that lasted for a week and helped me to put 10,120 words into my sequel. I'm at 9,199 after deletions but still, it motivated me to put in some effort that's been sadly lacking in me for weeks. 

Right after Christmas, I was on a high from finishing my last book and really wanted to get to work on the sequel. A month later, with the rambling start of a sequel and the realization I really needed to put some serious edits into my first book, my steam died down a little. Other projects call my name and sometimes I sway to their call but my sights are set on finishing off my two book series and moving on too other things (while hopefully making a name for myself with my books :). As I've said before, I've dived back into Only Human with only occasional moments of depression and this week, I tackled the Big One. Things were going great but today, I'm just plain ole' stuck.

Writing is something I have a love/hate relationship with. I have thousands of stories in my mind, too  many to ever finish just the way I want them. The fact that I have a computer and the time to get some of those stories down is amazing. Unfortunately, I'm not the kind of girl born with words.

Anyone knowing me would laugh at that statement. If anything, I've been born with too many words but no, I mean words. The kind of words that make people stop and reread the sentence because they realize the sheer genius of the simple yet descriptive description. The kind of words that stick in people's mind, make people laugh, make people cry, or make people slam the book shut and ask when the sequel will ever be released. Even in my early teens when I cared less about technique and more about writing my thoughts down, I've liked words. Not like my older sisters who use words like 'fastidious' or 'supercilious' or 'trifling'. I know what all those words mean (thanks, guys ;) but I like simple words that bring a picture to my mind. I like Taylor Swift and one of the reasons I listen to her songs isn't the great melodies, because a lot of them sound similar, but because of the way she has of phrasing things. "I've never heard silence quite this loud", or "But you held your pride like you shoulda held me". Those lines have stuck with me for years.

I want to be that writer. The one whose words stick in peoples minds and make them want to come back for more no matter what the story might be about. 

I'm stuck in a rut right now where I feel like my characters are all carbon copies of each other, my books are boring and the same, and everyone speaks the same way. I know I'm not a terrible writer but right now, I'm not feeling like a good one. No one around me writes, no one around me understands what goes into me trying to put my emotions, thoughts, and work out there, and sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy. 

I want to write. It's the one thing I've stuck with all these years and one of the things that's actually stuck with me. No matter what happens to me, I can put it all in a story and make it all right. The problem is, now I'm having a hard time writing. Am I going to be one of those people who writes forever but never produces anything worth writing? Am I going to write a blog to myself for the rest of my life about writing but never actually reach my goal? 

-Anna Leigh

Ever Evolving Ideas

So, I have a commitment problem.

Not the commitment problem most people would think from reading that sentence. I have a problem committing to one book for longer than three months. And when I say three months, I'm being generous.

My mind is in the constant motion of coming up with new book ideas. Even when I'm not even thinking about my books, I'll be watching a basketball game and the conversation from fans behind me will make four different ideas pop up in my head. Just the other day, I was at an ice cream stand, enjoying my frozen custard with family when I noticed a girl standing near the front. She wasn't stunning but pretty, wearing a short leperd print dress with a bright belt. She was dressed to impress and obviously waiting for someone. Halfway through my chocolate/vanilla twist, I noticed she was still there and kept checking her phone. Crunching down my cone, her face had definitely fallen and she kept looking around self-consciously. She stayed there up until I drove out of the parking lot and then I saw her in line by herself, eating a large cone with a dejected look. Not one hundred percent sure but I'm just gonna say; her date stood her up.

I notice things like that all the time and point them out to select people. If I told everyone, they'd realize what a nut I really am and wouldn't be friends with me anymore. Thankfully, my oldest sister at home likes hearing my crazy ideas, even though she gives me funny looks sometimes when I suggest our lack of water pressure might be because alien sabotaged the lines as a first step to invasion. I never said all my ideas were best sellers :)

I have ideas for multiple different books that over time have to be combined to make one full length book. An example of this is a book I started two years ago about the two sons of a CEO and the daughter of a CEO of a company merging with theirs. At seventeen, my ideas for the book were undeveloped and very vague as to what the company was or what work they did. I had ideas about the plot but was a bit lost as to world building. 

A few months ago, I got inspired to pick the brother angle back up. As long as things don't descend into soap operas, I like brother plot lines where you get to explore the similarities and differences in families. I've also always wanted to write a book where the female MC started out liking someone different than she ended up with. I thought it'd be a good idea to combine these plots and last month, the two brothers got names and a company. And instead of a merging company, the female MC is the daughter of a rival company. Both companies deal in cosmetics and FMC spends a lot of time feeling inferior to the better looking, polished rivals. 

Adding details to characters includes the fact Aria (FMC) loves ice cream, hates makeup, and has panic attacks. Being that she's the eighteen year old daughter of a famous company about to start coming to work, panic attacks have to stay off radar and hating makeup is awkward when it's your business. I've only written a little - because I know I should be editing OH and writing HN - but she is fun! Pretty, witty, full of money, and about to get dumped into a world she isn't prepared for, I can't wait to get into her character. The brothers are fun to since one is friendly and quiet while the other is bombastic and outgoing. 

I've wanted to write out my version of Peter Pan for as long as I've written books and just three weeks ago, I woke up with the most brilliant idea. Unfortunately, for the sake of my unwritten book, I can't really share too many of my brilliant ideas but I can say I'm going for a sciency Dr. Who angle as opposed to a magical land. Can't wait!

I started a book several months back about a struggling book writer (wonder where I got my inspiration? :) who loses a bet to her over confident, published rival and has to write a sappy book following the lines of Korean drama. In order to ensure historical accuracy, she employs the help of a genuine first generation Korean and ends up in a mess of trouble, trying to write her book, not let her rival get on her nerves, and deal with a guy who doesn't even want to help her.

Human Nature is on its third draft, off to a more promising start than the last two. I've found it's very hard to erase previous writings from my head and focus on what I'm doing. Doing editing on OH at the same time does give me different inspiration for writing the sequel though and I am getting excited to getting into Abby's braver side and back to Connor who is always fun to write!

I'll write again soon!

-Anna Leigh 

Continued Edits - Side by Side Comparisons

I have not been as diligent as I ought with editing but life has been VERY busy!

I've gotten back to my editing in the last few days and am doing my best to ignore my word count has just hit 96,000. It'll be a long journey still...

As I edit, I cut and paste into a new blank document so I'll never scroll down through what I've already worked on so my final word count is more like 107,000. Considering I started at 115,000, I'm feeling pretty good about it. I removed my first major scene, reworking to hopefully flow better into the rest of the story. I thought it'd be interesting to be a side by side comparison. The first one is what I published in December and is a 1,505 word excerpt. The second one is what I've been working on and is a 1,502 word excerpt. The  highlighted portion on the second excerpt is a part I still want to rephrase or delete entirely.

I'll write again soon about some new project inspirations I've had!

Anna Leigh

The Tunnel

The tunnel was dark, so dark I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. I reached to the right until my hand came in contact with a wall, then did the same with the other hand. The tunnel was only about five feet across, the walls bumpy like cement.

A breeze caught in my hair, blowing the short layers out of my face. After a minute I realized there was a small ray of light coming from the end of the tunnel, almost impossible to see. I started forward, anxious to get out of this thick darkness and into the light so I could see where I was. I barely caught my footing on the uneven ground, fighting to keep my balance as I tried to walk forward.

I hadn’t gone far when I heard a shout behind me. I didn’t know who it was, but my danger instincts were on red alert. Despite the uneven surface and the darkness I broke into a slow run, afraid to be caught but worried I’d lose my footing if I went any faster. They’re coming after me. They’re going to get me.

I tripped and fell against the wall, dragging my elbow across its jagged edge. I felt the wetness of blood running down my arm but strangely enough didn’t feel any pain. I continued to run but the light was getting more distant and hard to see. At one point it disappeared entirely and I turned, surrounded by darkness and dozens of footsteps pursuing me.

Why am I even running? If I just stopped and let them catch me, at least I’d be out of this darkness.

My legs began to go weak under me and I found I couldn’t support my weight anymore. I dropped into a sitting position. Soon they would be here. Soon, for better or worse, the unknown pursuers would catch up with me.

From out of the darkness, someone took my hand. I opened my mouth to scream but stopped, feeling the strange sensation he wasn’t the enemy.

“You can’t give up.” The voice was quiet in my ear. It was a nice voice. A man’s voice, I thought, but I wasn’t sure.

But I wanted to give up. I was tired. I was bleeding. Besides, no matter how fast and far I ran I couldn’t escape the darkness.

“You can’t give up,” the voice repeated again, the grip on my hand getting tighter. “You have to fight, Abby. You have to fight.”

I frowned. “Fight what? Fight them? How can I fight them?! There are so many…”

“You have to fight yourself,” the voice replied, making me more confused than ever. Why would I have to fight myself?

“If you give up now, you’ll always be surrounded by darkness. You have to fight to see the light. Fight to come back.”

I started to respond but suddenly another voice interrupted, jarring and unpleasant. “You don’t understand what you’re talking about!”

The blackness faded away abruptly and I was opening my eyes with a start. The window to my room was open and a warm breeze blew across me accompanied by the sound of birdsong and someone mowing their lawn. My heart was beating hard as I sat up, reaching over and grabbing the glass of water off my bedside table. Another nightmare. Why hadn’t I just gotten used to them by now?

More annoyed voices carried their way through my window and I realized the neighbors on either side of us must be having an argument again. Mr. Sawyer and Mr. Sullivan seemed to have made a pastime out of finding reasons to fight with each other and the emotional resonance was already starting to give me a headache.

I got headaches from other people’s emotions a lot, but I’d never told a soul about it, not even my mother. She got stressed out if we didn’t have the meat we were planning for dinner: who knows what would happen to her if she found out what I could do.

Uh oh. Dinner.

I glanced down at my watch, my eyes widening when I saw that it was five thirty.

“Great.” I hurried away from the window to check my reflection quickly in my mirror. I hadn’t meant to sleep so late. Mom’s new friend was coming over for the first time tonight and being groggy was not optimal.

I ran downstairs, hearing Mom humming to herself as she worked in the kitchen. I stopped by the doorway pulling myself together. My dad had been gone since before I was born and Mom only talked about him now and then, making him pretty much a total stranger to me. Thinking about the car accident seemed to upset Mom so much she wouldn’t talk about it all, even after almost two decades. She hadn’t ever seemed interested in finding anyone else, either, until suddenly she met Ash. Now things were different.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Mom looked up from her chopping board, her hair back a little fancier than normal and a few extra swipes with her mascara apparent. “Did the two old fighters get you up again?”

I nodded, grabbing one of the carrots she’d cut up and popping it in my mouth. “I really have to remember to keep my window closed if I take a nap. You’d think I’d learn by now.”

“You’d think they would’ve learned to stop fighting over the same things by now.” Mom shook her head, dumping the chopped vegetables into a bowl and pouring dressing over them. “I guess that’s what happens when people get older and don’t have their spouse around to keep them grounded.”

Her happiness dimmed, a twinge of sadness joining it. She’s thinking about Dad again.

“So what time is Ash coming?” I asked, forcing myself to be more cheerful than I felt. I’d had to unload on Callie how much I hated the name Ash. I mean, what things are associated with that name? Ash borer? Ash heap? Cigarette ash?

Callie told me I was being too cynical and I should really be happy for my mom she’d gotten up the courage to start dating again. I didn’t have the heart to say what I was thinking. I didn’t want Mom to date again. I’d always wanted to have my dad come back but since he couldn’t, I’d learned to be happy with just Mom and me. The idea of someone new coming into our lives scared me, especially since I wasn’t exactly normal. Hiding it from one person in my house was hard enough; two would be even more difficult.

“He should be here any minute.” Mom brushed her hands off on her apron as she checked the clock. “He seemed really interested in meeting you.”

“Really?” I smiled. “Good - I’d like to meet him too.”

The doorbell rang right on cue. “You get it,” Mom said. “I’ll check on the chicken.”

I took a deep breath, telling myself to stop feeling so grumpy and be happy for Mom. If she could find someone who made her happy and who would take care of her, why would I want to stop her?

Ash was a bit taller than I’d expected him to be. He was also a bit younger and just a little too good looking to be real. He was standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, everything in place from his hair to his overly shiny shoes. “You must be Abby,” he said, breaking into a perfectly straightened and whitened smile.

So he was Captain Obvious. Oh well. Didn’t mean he wasn’t nice…

He offered his roses and it was only then I realized he was holding two bouquets.

“For me?” I asked. Maybe I was Captain Obvious too. Who else would he be bringing a second bouquet for?

He nodded and I thanked him rather awkwardly, making sure to take the flowers without coming in contact with his skin. The constant stream of random thoughts and emotions had become my norm but skin to skin contact brought things to a whole new level. Contact with another human being, especially an emotional one made my world cease to exist while I was caught up in theirs. I’d never tested how long I could touch someone before I passed out but with the feelings I got from short exposure, I doubted my resistance was high.

I reluctantly stepped away from the door to give him enough room to come in. He wiped his shoes meticulously on the door mat even though there didn’t seem to be any good reason too. Trying way to hard.

“Come on in, Ash. I’m glad you were able to find your way here,” Mom said from kitchen doorway.

“It wasn’t difficult at all - your house is definitely the cutest in the neighborhood.” He flashed her another of his brilliant smiles, making me cringe a little inside.

“That’s quite a compliment,” Mom said.

The Tunnel

The tunnel’s darkness surrounded me, so dark I couldn't even see my hand in front of me. I felt blindly with my hands, stopping as they came in contact with a wall. The tunnel couldn’t be more than five feet across with walls bumpy like brick.

A breeze caught in my hair, blowing short layers out of my face. A small ray of light had appeared at the end of the darkness, almost impossible to see. I started forward, anxious to get out of the thick darkness. I caught my footing on the uneven ground, fighting to keep my balance as I moved forward.

I’d gone a few steps when a shout sounded behind me. I didn’t know the identity of my pursuers but my body screamed danger. I broke into a slow run, jostling and tripping along the uneven path. They’re coming after me. They’re going to get me.

I fell against the wall, dragging my elbow across its jagged edge. Sticky liquid ran down my arm but the inevitable pain didn’t follow. I staggered onward, watching the light recede and become even harder to reach.

A few steps more, just a few more.

Without a sound, it vanished. I turned in a circle, cold fear filling me with the surrounding darkness and my pursuers footsteps.

Why am I even running? If I’m caught, at least I’ll be out of the darkness.

My weakened legs buckled and I dropped into a sitting position. They’d be here soon. I would be at their mercy.

A hand covered mine, forcing a scream halfway up my throat before I stifled it. Friend.

“You can’t give up.” A quiet voice brushed by my ear, warm and protective. He wouldn’t let them take me. “You can’t give up,” he repeated, his grip tightening. “You have to fight, Abby.”

I found my voice. “How can I fight? There’re so many…”

“Not them. You have to fight yourself.” His voice sounded more urgent now. We were both running out of time. “If you give up now, you’ll never get out of the darkness. Fight to come back!”

Before I could respond, another voice interrupted, jarring and unpleasant. “You don’t understand what you’re talking about!”

The blackness faded away as I sat up, opening my eyes with a start. A warm breeze made its way through my open window, blowing across me and bringing the sound of birdsong with it. I breathed in and out, trying to calm my thudding heart. A little calmer now, I grabbed my glass of water and drank it with slow, deliberate sips. Another nightmare. Why hadn’t I just gotten used to them by now?

More annoyed voices carried their way through my window, revealing the owner one voice from my dream. Living between two old, curmudgeony men made for loud summer afternoons. They’d fought with each other as long as we’d lived here. The emotional resonance pounded away at my head, threatening to bring back my earlier migraine.

I still wondered if I’d done the right thing by not telling Mom about what I could feel. She got stressed out if we didn’t have the meat we were planning for dinner: who knows what would happen to her if she found out what I could do.

Uh oh. Dinner.

My alarm clocked blinked five thirty as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. A quick check of my mirrored-self showed all the side effects of a bad nightmare. I pushed sweaty hair out of my face, shoving it into a ponytail. With Mom’s new friend coming over for dinner, being groggy wasn’t my optimal condition.

Mom’s humming reached me as I took the stairs two at time, stopping just outside the kitchen door. She’d gone along fine after Dad’s death before shocking me by launching back into the dating world. Two decades of silence, all my info about the car accident coming from the papers and now this?

 “Hey, you’re awake.” Mom looked up from her chopping board, her hair curled and mascara applied liberally. “Did the two old fighters get you up again?”

I nodded, grabbing one of the carrots she’d cut up and popping it in my mouth. “I forget to close my window again.”

“You’d think they would’ve learned to stop fighting over the same things by now.” Mom shook her head, dumping the chopped vegetables into a bowl and pouring dressing over them. “I guess that’s what happens when people get older and don’t have their spouse around to keep them grounded.”

Her happiness dimmed, a twinge of sadness joining it. She’s thinking about Dad again.

“Ash isn’t here yet?” I forced my tone to stay flat, asking the question out of simple curiosity. I’d unloaded to Callie this morning how much I hated the name Ash. How many nice things were associated with that name? Ash borer? Ash heap? Cigarette ash?!

Callie called me out on my cynicism as she usual, telling me to be happy for my Mom. I’d kept my thoughts to myself, knowing my own selfishness in not wanting her to date again. I’d learned to be happy with just Mom and me. The idea of someone new coming into our lives scared me, considering my total departure from all things normal. Hiding from one person in my house could be hard enough; two would be even more difficult.

“He should be here any minute.” Mom’s voice brought me back to the present. She checked the clock again, running a hand through her hair. “He’s excited to meet you.”

“Really?” I smiled. “Good - I’d like to meet him too.”

The doorbell rang right on cue. “You get it,” Mom said. “I’ll check on the chicken.”

I took my time getting to the door, plastering on a smile before I pulled it open. Ash was a bit taller than I’d expected. His gelled hair challenged an onlooker to find a fault in it, while his chiseled yet youthful face stared back at mine. A good looking smile reflected across his attractive features, making my own smile falter. He had a huge bouquet, far too large for a first home date. Everything from his smile to his shined shoes screamed ‘trying too hard’!

 “You must be Abby!”

I tried not to stare, unsure how he spoke while smiling.

“Uh…”

“You must be Abby,” he repeated.

So he was Captain Obvious. Oh well. I couldn’t really count it against him…

He offered out a bouquet, making me realize the huge bouquet had been two.

“For me?” Great. I must be Captain Obvious too. Who else would he be bringing a second bouquet for?

He nodded and I took it with a short nod, my thanks sticking in my throat. Make conversation, Callie had told me. You have to make the effort.

“Thank you.” I spoke a bit late as he crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him. At least I’d managed to take the flowers without touching him. The constant stream of random thoughts and emotions had become my norm but skin to skin contact brought things to a whole new level. Now would not be a good time to end up in his head.

He wiped his shoes on the door mat even though it hadn’t rained in weeks. “He’ll be nervous if you stare at him with the ‘I’ve spent the last week stalking you online’ expression.” Callie might be sympathetic but she didn’t want me to mess things up for Mom. I dropped my gaze, hoping it would seem welcoming.

“Ash, glad you made it.” Mom had appeared in the narrow hallway, her excitement bubbling over

 “It’s not difficult hard to find your house. I just looked for the cutest one on the block.” He flashed another brilliant smile.

“We try.” I gritted my teeth as Mom’s cheeks pinkened.

“I can tell.” He gave her the other bouquet and her blush deepened. Mom had gone from being a practical mother to looking like a girl on her first date. My gaze shifted to Ash. Besides a few things Mom had told me, I didn’t know anything about him. He’d moved to Rosedale six months ago so the normal gossip channels didn’t have much to offer. Callie had even given Mrs. Johnson two free refills to try and get some info but we’d ended up with a lot of speculation and two less cups of coffee.

He unsettled me for more than one reason. I couldn’t feel him. Even without touch, I at least got a prompt, a wisp of emotion from everyone around me. Mom’s excitement would be hard for a normal person to miss but aside from Ash’s quirked eyebrows and boyish laughter, nothing told me he wanted to be here. Maybe my nightmare had done more to my senses than I’d realized.
I followed them into the kitchen, trying to convince myself it as the nightmare. I’d had a few intense ones burn me out before.