It is so not easy

It's harder than you think. To write a story. To create an entire world. Even if it is based on this reality.

Writing a book is creating a life inside your head. A life full of complicated relationships, and problems.

To say that your going to sit down and write a book, story, article or poem because it's easy is nearsighted.

I know because I said that and it's difficult for others who don't write to understand.

My poor friends. I will go to work and say things like, "I changed my main characters name."
After writing five hundred thousand words with her original name. Some of them look at me and are encouraging. "That's great. I like the new name so much better."
Others roll their eyes and I can see the question on their faces. "Why cant she just finish the book and get it over with?"

I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just finish it and get it published.

I did it again today. I changed the name of my main character. It was stale and too young for the turn that my story has taken. I got the same looks and same encouraging lines. Except for A. I know I have said it before, but my writing buddy needs to be blessed for putting up with me.

I have made some serious changes, and added a whole new level of darkness.
What people have a hard time understanding is that it's a process. The basic story has stayed the same, but it has evolved beyond anything I could have hoped for.

Each time I make a change I hope it's the last but I know it wont be. If I don't adapt to the story it will die and never be published.
So I've started to think of my writing like working in the kitchen.

Some times there are a lot of dirty dishes and messy spots that need to be cleaned up . Some times it's like trying to catch water in a colander. Sometimes it's like putting chili on the stove and letting it simmer, taste testing it. Adding spices and tasting again.

Other times it's like batching a giant batch of cookies. Putting a dozen in at a time checking the temperature, and making adjustments.

One day the chili will be spicy enough, the cookies will bake perfectly and I can plug the colander.

I will get published. I will have a well spiced, perfectly baked, nonleaky book. Someday...

Her name was Hilde

I see weird shit at my job and I work in one of the strangest towns.

Case in point:

I was doing my thing. Standing at my computer screen, watching the monitor flip from facial view, to over view every two seconds. I saw the van approach. It was a monster. One of those seventies fifteen passenger vans. It slowly pulled up to the speaker box and I greeted the woman on the phone.
I asked her what she wanted, she asked for three tickets cause she had a gold card. Okay, whatever.
She's on her phone trying to figure out what to order while the cars are stacking up behind her and I am fairly impatiently waiting for her to pull it together and order.

That's when I saw it. A fuzzy long curved up neck. 

The screen flipped to overview before I could confirm what my crazy brain processes the image, cause there is no way I saw what I thought I saw.
The screen flipped back to the woman and she starts ordering and I am sure I was imagining things cause whatever it was was gone. I'm confused, she's confused and we're having a hard time understanding each other. She's on the phone trying to figure out what she is supposed to be ordering and I am going, "NO WAY!" In my head over and over.

She ordered, and ordered and I saw it again. 

"There is a llama in the back of that van." I jumped pointing to the screen as it flipped to overview. Everyone at my store looked at me like I was crazy. I'm not offended, they do that a lot.
I got a few, "Ha, ha, yeah rights" and "It's a dog." Nope. I'm sticking to my guns. It was a llama.

The screen flipped back and again the llama is gone. I looked at everyone again.
"I swear to god, there is a llama in the back of her van."
Still stares of craziness heading my way.
She finishes her order and pulls up to the window. By now there are several people behind her waiting to get through.

Sure enough the old brown and gold van stops at my window, and there it is. A llama, wandering around the back of the van that has been customized (I can only assume for the comfort of the llama) so that there is just space in the back of the van.
The woman has a conversation with me as if the there is nothing odd about what is going on.
I asked about the llama, who I don't think liked me very much because it kept showing me it's recently shaved rear end.

The woman told me the llama was one of her babies and she took her every where.
And if your thinking why not get a dog to cart around. She had one. A poodle, that was sitting very stately on the front seat staring at me is if I was the bane of it's existence.

The woman took her coffee and drove off like any other normal day. And I am left standing there saying, "There was a llama in the back of that van."
Course when I turned around to face my coworkers I wasn't the crazy one anymore.
By the way, her name was Hilde.

Okay I know...I'm lame.

I will admit that I haven't been a very good blogger as of late. But my poor little brain has been over worked. I have been stressing about my lackluster writing and my failure to strike the right tone. 
But then I had this conversation with my mother. You might have read. Then I joined a few writing fourms.

There are some amazing writers out there and I have had the wonderful opportunity to read pieces from people who are far more intelligent than I.
Then I began to write a satire. It's going well, there are fear farts. And then...I was driving to meet my girlfriend and I was thinking about the tone. I was actually seriously considering tabling the entire manuscript for a while. Let my brain rest, take a little R and R.

Then I was thinking I needed to rethink the entire plot. Keep the characters the same, but do a massive overhaul.

And then it happened. An entirely new beginning came to me. A whole new version. Different place, different writing style and a vision popped into my head.

I sat down at the coffee shop and told my girlfriend that I was going to set my story aside and give it some time, all the while my brain kept playing the vision over and over. She looked at me surprised but accepted my decision.

So I did. I put it aside, I didn't think about it. I shelved it...for about thirty seconds.
I wrote the vision, and then I wrote some more. Then I went home and I continued to write and write and one week later I have over nine thousands words that feel good. Really good. Like I want to share it good.
Someone is going to get to see it other than the two people that have already read it. My sister, hated it so I know I am off to a good start.

And now I'd like to say stay tuned for a playful little story about Poot. The Wobbleweeble.