What the hell was I thinking?

In this post, I was questioning my sanity in signing up for the Love’s Landscape Event on Goodreads. Remember? No? No problem: I signed up to write a story from a photo prompt.

The story is due May 1st. That’s in five days. I’ve known about this event for a month. I started writing three weeks ago. I wrote around four thousand words, only to scrap about a thousand. Then I stepped away from it for many days, waiting for inspiration. I’ve had an idea of what the story would be about since I saw the photo, but certain key elements were still vague.

I’ve been trying Ritalin for my ADHD. I’m still taking a baby dose because after what happened with the Strattera, the doctor is weary of my reactions to meds. No kidding.

I was hoping the Ritalin would help me write this story. Actually, I was counting on it. It didn’t happen. I’m hardly feeling anything positive but then I’m not suffering from horrible side effects either, so that’s good I guess. Still, I shouldn’t have counted on that.

In perfect ADHD mode, I’ve procrastinated until five days from the due date to write the story. I’ve been writing furiously for four hours today. I’m up to 8,700 words so far.

I’m not sure I’ll finish on time, but I sure will try.

It’ll probably suck but I’ll do the best I can. Wish me luck.

*sighs loudly

Writing to an author

In my previous post, I wrote about being angry with an author for the atrocious treatment he inflicted on his characters and me by the same occasion.

I wrote to this author, Dan Skinner, and told him that I had enjoyed reading his book Memorizing You and although his writing was exceptional I was upset with him about what he did to the MCs.

Dan answered me (I feel privileged to call him Dan because he signed his message “Smooch, Dan” – I’m pink with glee even if he signs all his communications like that on Goodreads to everyone…).

He explained to me the part at the end of the epilogue where we’re supposed to understand that, after approximately forty years, they would see each other again.

I danced in my living room after reading this, my heart thumping (yes, I’m hysterical about this story don’t ask me why). Yay! There was a silver lining around that dark, thunderous crappy cloud hanging over them.  I just didn’t get it. In all fairness, apparently not a lot of readers got it either according to Dan, which surprises him.

Mr. Skinner is a photographer. I wonder where he got the idea to write a book…. but he certainly writes a mean sentence.

By the way: I’m not mad at him anymore. (*sigh)

 

I never realized

I was a HEA person. I mean, I like happily ever afters just like the next person, but I didn’t realize I sometimes needed it.

I just finished a book that left me wanting to throw my tablet out the window. On the ice. So it can break into a million pieces.

Some guy said something like: “Writing is not to let people read but to make them feel”.

Ah.  Here it is:

Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader – not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.
EL Doctorow

at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/e_l_doctorow.html#u3M0bdThIXWBSRLq.99

This is it. This book made me feel. Like, everything. Their love, their troubles, the beauty of their relationship.

At 80% in the book, I wanted to write to the author to let him know how much I enjoyed his writing. The images he creates with words are so real, poignant, honest and true you can’t help but be impressed. I was saying to myself: “Well perfection’s been done, so I might as well quit writing altogether”.

Then WHAM! Like an old Batman episode. POW! And another hit to the gut. At about 90% the story just crumbles. One minute they’re fine the next their life as they know it is over. And I mean over. I skimmed the ending just because I couldn’t bear to read it. I just couldn’t.  No HEA here.

Now I want to write the author to give him shit for putting his characters and his readers through so much fucking pain. I mean, come on! This is the closest I’ve ever been to crying over a book! I NEVER cry! Ever.

Fuck. I guess he did a good job. His book moved me like no other in a long, long time.

No matter. I’m still mad at him. So there.