Goes Somer * Goesomer * Gossamer

I have a lot of writing to do.

I’ve made it about halfway through my Doctor Who, Rose/Eleven fanfic—something I was not expecting to go anywhere, yet took on a life and, better yet, a plot. Lemme tell you, writing is easier when you’ve got a plot. It’s fun, but writing is not easy, especially when your day job saps the energy and soul out of you. (I keep hearing how taking up a job like I have is supposed to ‘leave you time to do other things’. You don’t have much time to do other things when you feel like shit and have to decompress and clear the monotony out of your head). I know it’ll be worth it to push through, not only for the practice and feedback and social networking and groundswell support if you move from fic to original books but because it’s FUN to lose myself in the Whoverse. And it’s unfurling like a thing that will bloom and grow and give seeds. A thing I made.

I’m also sick of not finishing things. This is a thing I’m well into and it’s feasible for me to finish.

And people like it. I don't want to disappoint them. Plus, encouragement. 

As for my new vampire. . .erotica. . .thing, I wrote five pages in my journal yesterday, eight pages today. I’m buckling down on this book, getting serious. Why? I have unstable ‘job security’. One way or another, this job is going to come to an end. Likely, soon. The definition of peril. Why not take hold of my so-called career path and point it in a direction that won’t crush my soul?

The bar is LOW. I’m not incompetent. I’ve done my research. This book might be a fallback position for me.

If not, at least I’m writing something that has a semblance of marketability. And it doesn’t have cocks twanging like tuning forks, or a character who is supposed to be in her 30s who keeps her cell phone in a fanny pack or ONE MORE goddamn red headed lady with green eyes who’s thin, with big boobs who thinks she’s ugly.

The bar? Is LOW. I can’t say I’m not a sucker for certain tropes and won’t fall for a few, but I’ll have one core rule: fun. It’s all for fun. Writing is not easy. It’s hard. 10,000 hours. I’m on my way.   

Now, it is time for bed.