Joy Nash

Still my hero.

Where Do Your Ideas Come From?

I got my first book-specific "Where did your ideas come from?" question at lunch with the rest of the marketing department yesterday.

Sure, I've gotten this question before, but it was always really general. That one's easy. You just say, "From living."

Which doesn't make great interview copy, but it's true.

But this question was in specific reference to God's War. "Where did you get the idea for the book?"

I mean, how do you answer a question like that? It really did stop me cold, though it's the hugest cliche question in the field and I should have been over prepared for it (well, the biggest cliche question other than, "My aunt/cousin/niece/nephew/friend's brother's dog wants to be a writer could you read their stuff/meet with them/send them an e-mail and tell them if they're any good/how to "break in"/read some of their stuff?" I've gotten that one loads and loads of times and whenever people ask it, I'm still dumbfounded that they don't know what a tired cliche that request is).

Where did I come up with the idea for God's War?

Schenectady.

The real answer would take me half an hour, and you'd hear all about South Africa, and bugs, and dying for a year, and getting an IUD, and chronic illness, and being weak, and kickboxing, and failed relationships, and heartbreak, and fear, and personal disaster. The real answer would mean reading four years worth of blog entries and only getting a sliver of the story. The real answer isn't the answer anybody's looking for.

The real answer is life, a life that's not ours, and we don't have enough head space or time or patience to get a grip on something like that.

Which is why we read books.

And why I write them.

In Which the Protagonist is Pissed Off

I hate it when I wake up pissed off for no reason. I think it's just a weird feeling because I've been in such a state of zen for the last two months. Being pissed off first thing in the morning at old hurts and bygones is such a waste of time.

Good thing there's pancakes and MST3K.

More line edits today.

Buried in Bills

Living on your own is fucking expensive, yo.

The bare facts of this were nicely camouflaged when I lived in Chicago, as Jenn would just give me the total bill for the month, so I'd write one check, not 8. Totalling these all up separately makes you realize just how much... stuff there is to middle-class living.

Granted, a lot of it is still catching up on various and sundry medical payments (I got a $50 refund from one of the ones I'd overpaid. I've spent so long not paying these that now when they come in for the 85th time, I try to pay them if I can, and there's some bum accounting on my part).

Only $800 to go, once I can get my old insurance company to admit that they're responsible for paying the $700 one.

I look at what I'll be making this year, including book money, and I'm thinking, "How is it possible I'm still in so much debt?" and then I look at the pile of unpaid medical bills leftover from last year's three emergency room visits.

Ah.. that's right!

I also try not to think about the fact that I'd be a lot closer to being COMPLETELY DONE with medical debt if I would STOP GOING TO CHIPOTLE.

I'm on the 5 year plan here, folks. One day at a time. Things get better, including me. I just take a frickin' long time.

So long as I'm an adult by 30, I figure I'm doing pretty well.

Transformers

That was pretty fucking awesome.

Brain Death

I'm starting to think that work has eaten my brain. That, or cozy apartment living.

I don't know what it is. Things just feel... nice. The problem with me feeling nice and content is that everything just sort of stops. I do a lot of cooking and reading and play some video games and watch some shows and work out and sleep and take showers and use perfume that won't kill anyone and tidy up and it's all very cozy and.. nice.

And I don't know what to do with myself when things are nice, when I don't hate myself. I tried to stir up some self-hate yesterday when I decided to order some pizza and have a beer, but I didn't eat enough to make myself sick (three pieces is my limit in order to subdue an impending sugar crises), and I played video games all night instead of working because I wanted to feel sorry for myself.

Instead, I woke up the next morning and I didn't feel sorry for myself at all. I tried to start a bit of the old, "Oh, I am such a loser stuff," but it was half hearted, because, what am I a loser about? Because I ate some pizza and played Mass Effect? Seriously.

There are too many good things going on to hate myself over. Thing is, I have no idea what to use to motivate myself at all. You spend so long running on self hate (I need to be a writer, need to publish a book, need to experience things, need to date more, need to socialize, need to have a better job, need need need need need) that when you stop, well... needing things, what are you supposed to do to get motivated again?

I used to have this deep fear of falling in love, because I had this deep fear of loving somebody crazily and them not loving me back, and how that would make me weak and useless (which is probably why, until recently, I always dated people who were far more crazy about me than I was about them. I was too terrified to pursue people I was sick over).

And then that heartbreak actually happened, and yes, it sucked, and I was completely heartsick and heartbroken for months and it still aches a little when I think about it, but like any other hurt, it bleeds and bleeds and then scabs over, bleeds a little more, and heals over. So all you've got to show for it is that occasional dull ache.

And you know, in the face of chronic illness, near death, job loss, and staggering credit card debt, heartbreak really wasn't so bad.

So that's not so scary anymore. Now I have something else to face, which is finding myself without that motivator. I ran a lot on fear. Choking, pulse-pounding fear. Fear of being weak, fear of failure, fear of never being good enough, fear of lost potential, fear of, well, fear of fear. Fear of just not doing enough.

I was in the shower the other day thinking about how I was going to get to Macchu Pichu for my 30th birthday, and I was thinking... this is all extra time. I'm dead already, really. All this is just extra time... so much extra time. What a gift.

One of my coworkers shuddered the other day when I gave myself my daily lunch shot of insulin. "I just don't know I could do it," he said. "Stick myself with a needle every day."

"Well," I said, "the alternative is to die in 72 hours."

Some bad things have happened. Not horrifically bad things. I haven't been beaten, raped, shot, mutilated and left for dead in a ditch or anything, but some things I feared have happened, and I got through them.

A funny thing happens when you face fear. It's not an unknown anymore. There's no anticipation, no buildup. Death sucks. It happens. Heartbreak sucks. It happens. Being poor and homeless, relying on other people, shitcanned and deeply in debt, sucks. And it happens. And you go on. Or, in the case of death, you cheat it just a little bit longer. Never inevitably. Just a little bit longer.

Now, though, I find myself a little directionless. I have a great job, a great apartment, a book deal, an actual mattress for my bed. I'm comfortable with my body and my looks. I honestly have no complaints. I like my coworkers. I have few but good friends.

I just don't know what to do with all this. I went out on the porch this morning and transferred some of my basil seedlings into bigger pots. It made me so happy, that simple thing. Simple things make me so happy. Readying comic books out on the porch. Line editing Black Desert on my big new mattress. Reading The Sugar Festival on the bus.

But it all feels sort of... formless. Without real drive or purpose. There's no gearshift grinding there in the back. Nothing telling me to shape up or ship out. No self-hate, no fear. Just this vast stretch of happy nothingness. Some days, I just drown in it, I just let myself go.

And maybe that's what gets to me, that I just let myself revel in it. It's so strange to not be crazy or unhappy or... driven.

I like to think that I just pushed so hard and long to get here that this is just a lull in... drive, productivity. Life. Because though I am happy, I miss that driving force, that passionate desire to do, to live, to push. I need to find that again somewhere, but it's so nice... so nice to just be happy.

I worry that happiness is a dangerous thing. I worry that it's not something we should strive for, but just something you get periodically, a lull between the long stretches of darkness, like the short, sharp Alaskan Summer. Those three months of intense, gorgeous, beautiful life and sunshine that make the 8 months of winter worth it.

Thing is, without the winter, would I have loved those summers so much?

And without the promise of summer, could I have made it through the winter?

I don't know.

I just know that I feel like I'm sinking into a happy life of cozy softness, and part of me wants to just let myself enjoy it because nothing lasts forever, and part of me wants to find some kind of weakness, some kind of fear, some kind of motivation, to make it feel that I'm living on the edge of everything again. To keep me going forward when all I want to do is pretend the world is OK for just a little bit longer

In Which the Protagonist Feels Like a Troll

The work folks like to make offhand comments about my perceived high standards in men (which appears to be the only reason they can comprehend my singledom). Apparently, my inability to sleep with people I find physically attractive but uninteresting sounds pretty weird to some of them.

"I would take interesting over hot," I said to our DB guy this morning. He gave me this look of spurious disbelief, like I'd just climbed up from under a rock, covered in seaweed.

"I don't need to date a traditionally attractive person. At least half of my attraction is mental. If they can't keep up with me, what's the point. It's why I had to stop going on dates with that guy who had the big TV. He was deliriously cute and physically, totally my type, but when we started talking? Nothing. Nada."

Sure, I could have had sex with him. And I wouldn't have gotten off on it.

Maybe that's what most people who worship at the alter of pretty bodies don't get.

Pretty bodies alone don't do it for me. It's just so much meat.

Not that pretty isn't nice, and not that I don't have a type. But there had better be a lot more going on than pretty.

What I didn't tell them is that I think that my singledom has more to do with the fact that I enjoy being single than that I have particularly crazy standards.

But then, maybe that's the rub: I have to be pretty wild about somebody before I switch out my happy single life. So maybe I have some crazy standards afterall.

Just the way I like it.

Conversations with my Coworkers

Went out with my workout group yesterday, and while we walked over to the Y, one of my groupmates turned to me and said, "I had a dream about you last night Kameron!"

"Great," I said. "Was I typing a lot of things furiously?"

"No, it was this post-apocalyptic world and you were this... this avenging angel, and you had this flaming sword and you were leading this army. This whole army! It was so weird. I mean, flaming sword!"

"Are you serious?"

"Seriously!"

"You have no idea how awesome I think that is." Because seriously, people, that is FULL OF AWESOME.

"Maybe I just ate some bad chili," she said.

Ah, bad chili.

I love my coworkers.

Finished my Last Final!

School's out!

Now it's book writing all summer long! Yay!

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

The guys at work helped me price out a new gaming computer for about the cost of my stimulus check. It's an amazing little machine with a flat screen monitor, 8800 GT graphics card, 4G of ram, and a sweet dual core processor.

Turned out the power supply was too dinky to run the stupid video card, so I bought a new one.

I bought a new one and installed it and the ginormous graphics card last night.

By myself.

When I plugged the computer in, it didn't blow up or anything! And I only had to open it back up one more time when I discovered that the CD drive didn't work. I'd plugged the power cable to the drive in, but re-located the data cable somewhere else.

And the fact that I did that, and can talk intelligently about that, makes me immensely proud. I love learning new things, and being able to do things on my own. After watching the not-boyfriend put together Steph's computer, I figured I was up to this bit of PC customization. Sure, I realize it's not terribly difficult, but the idea of it was intimidating, and now it's not so scary anymore.

Man, I love learning useful skillz.

I'm Always Looking for a Challenge...

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Writing: Do Not Want

I take my finals for my econ and marketing classes this weekend, and then school is officially over, major work deadlines and raise-related stress are done, and it's full-on book mode for the rest of the summer.

AND YES MY ENTIRE BEING IS REBELLING AGAINST THIS HARSH REALITY.

DO. NOT. WANT.

But it's time to face the facts:

It's time for the deathmarch.

It will not be pleasant.

There will be blood, and sand, and more people will die at the end of it.

But Nyx will learn how to shoot a gun, the red desert will fall into the right hands, and a three centuries old holy war will finally wrap itself up.

Um, this will also ensure than I see two more checks next year.

Let's not forget that there are now checks involved.

Which is probably part of my rebellion.

DO. NOT. WANT.

But it's coming.

Like it or not.

Google Adwords

Today's writing lesson: google adword haiku

I'm developing an incredibly broad skillset here at the dayjob.

In Which Summer Finally Arrives

It will be in the 80s all week.

(yes, I will be complaining about this in a month, but for now, it's a fun novelty)

Movie Night

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Things I Can't Wait For

I have one more week of classes. Then the summer off for book work.

Seriously, that whole, "I'll work a full time job, take 7 credits of marketing and econ classes, move house, and finish book 2" thing was kinda stretching it.

At least I learned my lesson.

Other things I can't wait for:

We had our reviews at work. Raises kick in next week!

Pending a little light haggling with my boss (what they offered was actually very close to what I believed I was worth, insofar as a raise goes), I may finally getting paid what I'm worth!

And that's all I can say about that here.

Learning How to Write... And Write. And Promote What You Write

One of the great things about the day job is that I've been learning how to write in so many different modes. I've written training scripts, marketing scripts, brochures, newsletters, blurbs, SOPs, various scripts for franchise recruting videos, the occasional press release, resumes, bios, SEO optimized web copy, regular web copy, funding proposals, and much more.

It's sort of been a crash course in all of these different types of writing. It's involved a lot of research and a lot of trial and error.

The good part about learning that kind of breadth and flexibility is that when one of the two comic book artists here at work (yes, we have TWO comic book artists. What are the odds?) approached me about doing a project together, I was eager to see how I could use that opportunity to promote GW for next year.

I've always thought the God's War books would be awesome comic book material. I mean, wicked owmen warriors and heads being chopped off and guns and bugs and magicians and shapeshifters and blood oh my!

And it's cool "extra" stuff that you can pass out at readings, send off with signed copies, maybe post a free web comic on a revamped website of mine to drum up some interest, and basically just use to promote the book.

I spoke with my editor about the idea of doing a promotional God's War -related web comic or book; so long as it's promotional and nobody's making any money, it looks like that's doable. I'll see if it works out and run it by all parties once I actually have a sample concept in hand.

So now I'm spending a bunch of time learning how to write comic book scripts, which are a lot like movie scripts (hey, it's a good jumping off point to get there, too). The big challenge, I think, will be working with artists (can she please wear actual clothes? No, her boobs are not supposed to be bigger than her head. No, she's not going to end up mutilated in a refrigerator. Sorry.).

We'll see if the project works out; in the meantime, it's a hell of a lot of fun to learn how to write in another mode... again.

I also figure it's a good dry run in case I do want to do a GW comic book deal (or another type of comic book) for reals in the future. If I do this and it turns out 1) I like it 2) I'm good at it, then we'll see.

There are also some other promotional things in the works, including a re-design of my website which I'm trying to incorporate with my blog. That won't happen for awhile, since our web designer at work graciously offered to do it for free as one of his side projects (He knows I am a poor writer. I offered to pay his hourly rate! I did! But Ok, yeah, it's probably best if I put the grand that is my next book check toward my credit card...).

I have a lot of stuff in mind for the website, including GW extras, deleted scenes, demotivational posters, maps, etc. And, of course, a peek at the next series I'll be peddling after this one, which I am also very excited about, though it's at least two years away.

So I'm hoping there will be some swoony goodness to come over the next year prior to the GW launch. I have a crapload to do this year. Author photo, improved buffosity, promo brainstorming, local Dayton-arts-related people I need to contact to try and drum up readings and blah blah.

Oh yeah, and I have to finish, um, book two (20k to go! yeah, I've been stuck there for six weeks, but I've also been work-crazy and moving-crazy). Scheduled for a very leisurely personal August deadline right now (work has finally turned Less Crazy. It should remain that way through the summer, which is great, cause I have GW edits with the editor and book 2 to finish this summer. Being in a the tax industry is a pretty good thing, for a writer).

It's been a crazy few months.

Now that the gosh-gee-whiz-bang-wow of the book deal has worn off, I have a shitload of work to do.

It's going to be a crazy year.

Knowing this makes me so happy.

The Brown Bunny

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

But is it Cheaper by the Gallon?

The Office

What a horrible little show. I was surprised, at first, to hear that it struggled its first season, and keeps getting nudges and bumps and lots of help from corp staff as far as network scheduling and second chances.

Then I watched the first three episodes.

It's just not a funny show. In fact, it's deeply uncomfortable. The "humor" involves working for a tasteless boss. And the discomfort comes from the fact that we've all worked for (or deeply dreaded working for) a loser, clueless boss just like this one. These are the people who control your salary, your health insurance, your 8-12 hour workday. And they're utterly incompetent. But not in a funny way.

To add insult to injury, the only female main character is... the secretary. Seriously. And she seems to only exist so one of the sales guys can have a hopeless crush on her. It's just this side of insulting.

I nearly didn't finish the last episode on the disk, then realized it was the only "new" television I had in the house, and ground through it.

I'm sure the show's gotten better since it first came out, but I understand now why it struggled.

They kept this on an cancelled Firefly?

Seriously?