Retrograde

When will mercury be out of retrograde? I feel like every interaction I have with people has been so emotionally charged and confrontational. It’s exhausting.

Is this all stress based and not the mystical workings of a planet?

I have a writing class where the teacher is an elitist jerk whose assignments are poorly worded, making me wonder what it is she wants me to do exactly, and her feedback leaves a lot to be desired so I don’t even know how to improve. She makes assertions about the horror genre and the readership that she has no way to back up with sources, so most of what she says is opinion and conjecture. I’ve never had a professor (politely) fight with me on a discussion board before because she doesn’t “agree with the conclusions I come to”. Learning environment is now hostile. Stressed about grades and failing this class.

I finished my book and the initial edits., then had a beta reader go over it and was left feeling like a failure. Her critique was thorough and good, pointing out all of my problem areas, I felt as though she didn’t like anything about it. Clearly I’m a hack, my brain says. Repeatedly. Stressed about not being successful at the craft I love.

I tried to quit smoking. Stress was too much and quitting was stressing me out even more. Now a failure because I was unable to quit. Stress. Anxiety. Fear of failure in life, writing, school.

No. No, it’s definitely none of those things. Mercury is in retrograde.

Edit, Edit, Edit…

I feel like the editing process is so long and tedious. Sometimes I’m excited to get it done and like reading back over what I’ve written. Other times, rereading my own work is like looking in the mirror and I can see every single flaw in it, flaws that are outside of just grammar or quick changes. It’ll never be good enough, I think.

But, I’ve red-penned the whole thing. I printed out every chapter and went over it page by page. Now all that’s left is to take the edits from the physical copy and put them in the digital one. I feel like this process only made more work for myself, but editing on a screen feels so different and far less effective than editing on paper.

So, this is how it’ll be done. Even if it’s a bit more work and even if it means going over the draft a second time as I enter in changes.

Perks

I’ve been trying for a while to get some nice author photos of myself but all of them turn out terrible. There is only so much that can be done solo with a nice camera and a tripod. But! The perks of dating a fellow photographer is being able to have someone else looking through a lens for you and helping get it done. Author photoshoot today. I’m both nervous and excited.

Rejection

At this point, I cannot count the number of rejections I’ve gotten on my short horror stories.

It’s disheartening to say the least, but I think the fact that they haven’t kept me from writing shows how I’ve grown as an author. I used to get really down about it and, really, I still do. But the fact that I’m still working on my book days later, despite the little voice in the back of my head that is telling me to give up, is a good sign.

I’m eleven chapters into my novella and I plan on finishing the final couple of chapters tonight so I can start editing. That voice is still going to be there, but at this point, I’m just going to keep at it. Even if my writing is terrible, even if the book gets finished and no one wants it, at least it’ll be done and I’ll have accomplished this monster task. I’ve never finished a book before, always giving up halfway through.Just getting it done, at this point, will be enough.

Writing is my life and if I want to do it, seriously, as a career, I need to push on, even when others are telling me no.

Inspo

So, as I’m working my way through this novella, I’ve found that my biggest source of inspiration has been music. I made a whole playlist on spotify dedicated to Lyle, the main character I’m writing for. It’s all sickly sweet love songs that sound innocent until I put them in the context of his fucked up thoughts about love and possession and his life long pining after his high school sweetheart.

Sometimes, moodboards help. I made a pintrest purely to make character/story boards where I could put pictures that inspire me, but I haven’t kept up with it and thought images are fun to think about in relation to who I’m writing, music definitely works best for me.

Want to have a listen?

Prologue

pexels-photo-673862[Photo by it’s me neosiam from Pexels ]

 

Music drifted through the peaceful halls of the house, winding its way through the open basement door and down the stairs. It wrapped around the two of us and I couldn’t help humming along.

This magic moment, so different and so new…

Was like any other until I kissed you…

It was magic how the scalpel in my hand, caressed by my fingertips, pressed into him, sharp enough to part the flesh like cutting butter. Crimson weeping wounds kissed his skin and making him shake. For joy, I told myself. He was just as happy as I was that this was happening. My love, my dear. Staying with me in the most permanent of ways.

And then it happened, it took me by surprise…

The Drifters crooned, making my heart melt. You took me by surprise. Each new incarnation of you that I took captive. Each new man that wears your face, that smiles your smile, that laughs your laugh.

I knew that you felt it too, by the look in your eyes…

He was weeping. I almost was too. Each time felt like the first. Each time new, yet the same. Each time pure. Each kill a retelling of the same old story, the same tragedy that I live. The tragedy that is me without you.

Sweeter than wine

Softer than the summer night

Everything I want, I have…

I have you, even if you aren’t here. You on this table, letting me carve you up. He has a different name, but he tastes like you when we’ve kissed. He makes the same soft sounds low in his throat. Sort of like the keening sounds he’s making now, though not nearly as high-pitched.

Already I’m thinking of how I’ll prepare him, after I’ve cut him into fillets.

Whenever I hold you tight…

    How many times had I held him tight, pretending he was you? And then he was going to leave, just as you did, just like all of the others. I couldn’t let him. Of course I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to be left behind, some forgotten memory.

Blood gushed up around my fingers, warm wet coating the tips and making me hum.

This magic moment while your lips are close to mine…

I couldn’t help having a tiny taste. I didn’t want to spoil my appetite, but a little self-indulgence wouldn’t hurt. I flicked my tongue over the mess he’d made, a burst of copper hitting my taste buds and the metallic scent that hung heavy in the air filling my nostrils.

Will last forever, forever till the end of time…

I’ll keep you like this.