Source: Frustrated Writer. From the book, 'Kid Confidential: An Insider's Guide to Grown-Ups'. Published by Bloomsbury US. (Walker).
So the above image will give you a pretty good idea of my writing frustrations while trying to continue writing my YA paranormal romancy type novel "Bite Me!"
I have been working on it for about six months now and I have hit a major roadblock. I am about 35,000 words done, and I know exactly where I want the story to end up, who gets killed off, who falls in love with who, etc, etc. However, it is the inbetween stuff that I can't get around. It just feels dry and plain boring. And if there is anything I DON'T want my writing to be labelled as, it's boring.
I have been pulling my hair out, moping around and staring at the monitor in such a depressed manner that my poor husband has started wondering if I am going to be okay ever again.
Now, for those of you with an interest in Summer and the gang, DO NOT PANIC! I promise I will finish writing it. I have a plan for it, you see...The first 35,000 words is currently being edited by my amazing dad (who is an English teacher, and a self-published author himself...I plan on doing an interview on this blog with him in the very near future) and I am hoping to release it sometime in the new year (date TBA) as the first episode of Bite Me!
What I am hoping to achieve by releasing the book in episodic form is to just get it out there, get people interested in Summer and her friends. Also, if I have enough people nagging me for the second episode, I know I will be able to get on with writing it. I work much better with a deadline!
In the meantime, I am distracting myself by writing a new novel that is totally different to Bite Me! in every way possible. This particular novel I have had outlined and lying around for the last year and a half. It is one of the three books that I had started writing when my computer crashed and I lost everything. This one was the furthest along at about 40,000 words when I lost it. Needless to say I had no desire to try and rewrite it for a very long time. Losing so much of your own work in that manner is very disheartening. Even now, as I begin to rewrite it, I am sad because I know I can't recapture what I wrote exactly. Nevertheless, it is giving me a much needed break from my other writerly frustrations.
So, what is this new novel? I hear you ask (or maybe that's just in my head - I wouldn't discount my being a bit crazy o_0). It is a Christian Historical Romance (like I said, completely different to Bite Me!), set in Bonogin, QLD, Australia (which also happens to be where I live). Months of research and careful thought has gone into the planning of this book. In my next post I will share with you all the authors that influenced me to want to write one of these.
Here the first little bit of it to whet your appetite:
Faith Hills
By Susan M. Hocking
© December 2012
Chapter 1
February, 1888
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The rhythmic sway and shudder of the steam train was gently coaxing Arabella Clarke into a light slumber. Heaven knew she needed the sleep. She had been on the run for close to a week and she had not had the peace of mind to allow herself to really rest. Even on board the steamship Rodondo, from Sydney to Brisbane, she had been unable to sleep. Not only was she still very much afraid for her safety, but the sea passage had been a rough one. She had always thought herself to have had a strong constitution, but even if she had been able to control her stomach from the constant pitching and rolling of the ship, the eleven other passengers squeezed into the tiny cabin with her did not, and she was anything if not sympathetic. Those six days, she had decided, had been hell on earth. Definitely not a trip she would like to endure again. Unless, of course, she was to stay in an upper-class cabin. She had spent most of the six days on board the Rodondo confined to her tiny bunk, which was probably only meant for a child, in a very cramped, putrid smelling cabin, trying to keep her stomach contents to herself. She could have paid for an upper-class cabin, but she had wanted to remain inconspicuous. A single young woman, without a chaperone, handing over large bills of money for slightly better accommodations would have drawn far too much attention. No, it was far better to suffer the seasickness and cramped living conditions than have George or one of his goons find her.
Arabella shivered at the thought of George. She would go anywhere to get away from that horrible man. The way he had compromised her, forced himself on her, ripping her innocence away from her. He had ruined any chance of a happy life that she may have had with another man. And now she was forced to run and hide, like a fugitive, and it hadn’t even been her fault. Why God? Why did you let him do this to me? She mentally screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could to stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. No answer. I don’t even know why I am bothering to ask you God. You never answer me. You never answered my father when Mother died. Father was right. You never help when I need you. You weren’t there when George attacked me, and you’re not here now. I give up. Her father had always told her that she was the only person that she could ever count on. No-one else would ever be up to the job. She needed to rely on her strength alone. But was her own strength going to be enough to carry the tremendous burden weighing on her shoulders?
I have been working on it for about six months now and I have hit a major roadblock. I am about 35,000 words done, and I know exactly where I want the story to end up, who gets killed off, who falls in love with who, etc, etc. However, it is the inbetween stuff that I can't get around. It just feels dry and plain boring. And if there is anything I DON'T want my writing to be labelled as, it's boring.
I have been pulling my hair out, moping around and staring at the monitor in such a depressed manner that my poor husband has started wondering if I am going to be okay ever again.
Now, for those of you with an interest in Summer and the gang, DO NOT PANIC! I promise I will finish writing it. I have a plan for it, you see...The first 35,000 words is currently being edited by my amazing dad (who is an English teacher, and a self-published author himself...I plan on doing an interview on this blog with him in the very near future) and I am hoping to release it sometime in the new year (date TBA) as the first episode of Bite Me!
What I am hoping to achieve by releasing the book in episodic form is to just get it out there, get people interested in Summer and her friends. Also, if I have enough people nagging me for the second episode, I know I will be able to get on with writing it. I work much better with a deadline!
In the meantime, I am distracting myself by writing a new novel that is totally different to Bite Me! in every way possible. This particular novel I have had outlined and lying around for the last year and a half. It is one of the three books that I had started writing when my computer crashed and I lost everything. This one was the furthest along at about 40,000 words when I lost it. Needless to say I had no desire to try and rewrite it for a very long time. Losing so much of your own work in that manner is very disheartening. Even now, as I begin to rewrite it, I am sad because I know I can't recapture what I wrote exactly. Nevertheless, it is giving me a much needed break from my other writerly frustrations.
So, what is this new novel? I hear you ask (or maybe that's just in my head - I wouldn't discount my being a bit crazy o_0). It is a Christian Historical Romance (like I said, completely different to Bite Me!), set in Bonogin, QLD, Australia (which also happens to be where I live). Months of research and careful thought has gone into the planning of this book. In my next post I will share with you all the authors that influenced me to want to write one of these.
Here the first little bit of it to whet your appetite:
Faith Hills
By Susan M. Hocking
© December 2012
Chapter 1
February, 1888
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The rhythmic sway and shudder of the steam train was gently coaxing Arabella Clarke into a light slumber. Heaven knew she needed the sleep. She had been on the run for close to a week and she had not had the peace of mind to allow herself to really rest. Even on board the steamship Rodondo, from Sydney to Brisbane, she had been unable to sleep. Not only was she still very much afraid for her safety, but the sea passage had been a rough one. She had always thought herself to have had a strong constitution, but even if she had been able to control her stomach from the constant pitching and rolling of the ship, the eleven other passengers squeezed into the tiny cabin with her did not, and she was anything if not sympathetic. Those six days, she had decided, had been hell on earth. Definitely not a trip she would like to endure again. Unless, of course, she was to stay in an upper-class cabin. She had spent most of the six days on board the Rodondo confined to her tiny bunk, which was probably only meant for a child, in a very cramped, putrid smelling cabin, trying to keep her stomach contents to herself. She could have paid for an upper-class cabin, but she had wanted to remain inconspicuous. A single young woman, without a chaperone, handing over large bills of money for slightly better accommodations would have drawn far too much attention. No, it was far better to suffer the seasickness and cramped living conditions than have George or one of his goons find her.
Arabella shivered at the thought of George. She would go anywhere to get away from that horrible man. The way he had compromised her, forced himself on her, ripping her innocence away from her. He had ruined any chance of a happy life that she may have had with another man. And now she was forced to run and hide, like a fugitive, and it hadn’t even been her fault. Why God? Why did you let him do this to me? She mentally screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could to stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. No answer. I don’t even know why I am bothering to ask you God. You never answer me. You never answered my father when Mother died. Father was right. You never help when I need you. You weren’t there when George attacked me, and you’re not here now. I give up. Her father had always told her that she was the only person that she could ever count on. No-one else would ever be up to the job. She needed to rely on her strength alone. But was her own strength going to be enough to carry the tremendous burden weighing on her shoulders?
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