Superstition and the written word

I've had the opening line for another Clans book running in my head, but I'm afraid to start it until I have Sacrifice finished. My writing is a fragile thing, or perhaps I'm simply superstitious. I'm nervous to start something new in the middle of working on something else, for fear that the original project never gets completed. I've made a mental note about this opening line, but I can't bring myself to even put it on a page for fear of upsetting my muse's internal balance.

I used to describe the stories as I was preparing to write them, but that was disastrous. Once the words left my lips, they left my head, and I was never able to get them back. Now I have to hoard my words like a miser, keeping them a deep, dark secret until I'm able to reveal them in a finished work. I'm even hesitant to tell acquaintances the title of the work in progress. It's ridiculous, and I'm far too precious about it, but I've been so disappointed in the past...perhaps I'm going to absurd lengths to stave off more sorrow.

I wonder if other writers have superstitions about their work. I have more than my share. I'm convinced that if I take a break from writing a new book before it reaches page 15, I'll never finish. I'm equally convinced that if I can just finish three chapters, I'll finish the whole. That's not always the case, though (Knight of Sorrows comes to mind, and I still tell myself I'll finish that). Still, despite the lack of probitive evidence, I persist in these tics and foibles until I drive myself nearly insane.

Maybe I don't want to stop the madness. Madness is, after all, the mother of some really awesome stories...

Success at last

My computer booted up this morning and I was actually able to save the files for Sacrifice to a CD. Hopefully I'll be able to get my other writing saved, as well.

Computer! Argh!

Thank God for internet access at my "day job". Writing is so difficult when your computer dies in the middle of a chapter. Thankfully, I saved the first eleven chapters of the Sacrifice re-write, so I only lost chapter twelve. It was enough.



My laptop, which is the only computer I have with enough brain power to be internet-friendly, started making a sound like a meat grinder filled with gravel, then everything just...stopped. To say that I'm alarmed is a drastic understatement. It's a terrible pity that my writing has become so dependent upon digitized monsters. I wrote the first book in long hand, filling up two college-ruled, five-subject notebooks that I carted with me literally everywhere. Now it seems I've forgotten how to write without a keyboard. Based upon the self-mastication of my laptop and my currently woeful finances, I think I'm going to have to relearn.

Tobyn

It occurs to me that characters, when sufficient amounts of energy and time are spent with them, become as real and as unpredictable as the flesh-and-blood people around me. Case in point: Tobyn Reyes Gemini, the "hero" of my Clans series. He's mercurial to a fault, spectacularly incapable of fidelity, and slavishly devoted to his schemes of revenge. He's also occasionally sweet and gentle, with a (well buried) spiritual side and a surprising capacity for love. I can tell you what he looks like, what he sounds like, even what he smells like. I can tell you his favorite color, and his favorite food. I can tell you his hopes, his fears, his desires, his plans, and his pet peeves. The one thing I can' t tell you is what he's going to do next.

I have paragraph-length synopses, really more like reminders, describing the large-stroke plot events for each book in the series. Somehow, despite Tobyn's very singular way of moving through the world in erratic zigzags, he manages to hit his marks when the time comes. I still don't know how it happens.

This is one of those moments where it's best not to think too hard about it. I'll just quote Geoffry Rush from Shakespeare in Love and leave it at that: "Who knows? It's a miracle."

Is this an opening volley or a warning shot?

Now that I've returned to my writing on a serious basis, I thought I would establish this blog to let any interested parties keep track of my progress.

I've been writing since I was four years old, and while I certainly wouldn't vouch for the quality of that early wordsmithing, the enthusiasm was undeniable. My writing carried me through an adolescence and young adulthood shadowed by illness and clinical depression, among other vissicitudes of life, and it was my lifeline until 1999, when I finally achieved a life-long dream and saw my novel, Nightchild: A Clans Novel (available on Amazon.com), emerge as a printed work.

That was when the wheels came off.

The book itself was a joy, and I still love it, but the business end of publishing was brutal. After unfair expectations and crashing disappointments, I was heartbroken and demoralized. I turned my back on my writing and embarked on the darkest, most spiritually parched period of my life.

Rescue came in a most unexpected guise. In September and October 2008, I had a very serious illness and nearly died. I came out of the darkness with a determination not to waste my second chance, and from that determination was born Irish Horse Productions, a company through which I can finally let my writing see the light of day again. With the encouragement and assistance of a very talented web designer at Time Scribe Designs, I now have a webpage under construction that will hopefully allow me to release my stories, poems, and more importantly, my sequels, in my own way and under my own control.

Me, a control freak? Whyever would you think such a thing?

Yes, this is sort of an exercise in control-freakery, but it's more than that. It's an attempt to reclaim my writing and thereby myself through authentically attempting to share my work without (much) regard for business or any illusions about success. My books are the only children I'll ever give birth, and I want to see them take their first steps. That's the real impetus here. I was given a second chance to let my "children" live. I want to take on the challenge.

I hope I'm equal to the task.

The first step is refining and finalizing the second Clans book, Sacrifice, which is over halfway finished. Once that's done, and once I have the registered copyright in hand (can't be too careful), I'll do the same with my short stories and whatever poetry I've written as of this date that's worth inflicting upon ... er, showing... other people.

One step at a time, but ever onward toward the horizon. As Tolkien wrote, the road goes ever on and on. At least this time I'm on the road and not sitting in the ditch and watching the traffic go by.