Writerholic's Anonymous

Happiness seems like such a forgotten ideal; people are so caught up in the rat race and keeping up with the Joneses that it’s hard to tell what people find genuine happiness in anymore. I’ve watched as friends rack up debt after debt to buy the latest gadget or the latest shiny new thing that came out. I’ve seen people sell themselves into poverty. Is it even happiness they’re finding or simply some transitory satisfaction that they have once again one-upped their neighbors? Like gamblers, they’re addicted to that momentary rush of having the best — until something better comes along.

Is it really so hard to find? Do people really know themselves so little that they would rather barricade themselves in material things rather than search their own souls for the things that truly matter to them? Or perhaps they just don’t know what true happiness is.

One of my best friends once told me, “You’re happy when you write.” It’s as true a statement as you could ever ask for and it’s not one I would ever deny. I am happier when I write; I feel almost like I’m an entirely different person, some gossamer-winged butterfly of creative energy that only occasionally manages to crawl forth from the depressing cocoon that is the life of a responsible adult. No matter how difficult life gets, no matter how stressed or sick I’ve been, once I start putting words to paper it’s like all of that falls away, forgotten for a time as I immerse myself in prose.  It may not always be what I should be writing, like my novel or one of a dozen short stories, but it’s always what I need to write in the moment.

Spurred by a thought, a memory, or just raw emotion what comes forth on the page is what needed to be written in the moment.  Sometimes that’s what writing needs to be.  It doesn’t always have to be what we’re currently working on or what pays the bills, sometimes we just need to write for the sake of writing.  To put the words to the page that give us that euphoric feeling of completion.  Our pursuit for happiness doesn’t have to be a struggle.  In those moments when the words take hold, just let them flow, no matter what they are.

As a writer, our happiness comes from words and sharing them.  Pursue your happiness.  I know I’ll be pursuing mine.

My grand­fa­ther once told me: “Every­thing in life has a story to tell; every­thing we see, touch, taste, smell, and even hear. There is a story wait­ing to be told. It falls to us to dis­cover it.”

Per­haps that was the mo­ment I knew that I was meant for some­thing more, per­haps then I re­al­ized that there was more to the world around me than just ob­nox­ious noise and glar­ing lights. In re­al­ity, though, I’m pretty sure I was just humor­ing the old man in hopes of get­ting ten cents to buy a Slush Puppy when we went down to the five-and-dime. Noth­ing beat an ice-cold Slush Puppy on a hot sum­mer day — ex­cept one that you got on your grand-dad’s dime.

Sum­mers were be­yond lazy in Texas. With heat that of­ten topped a hun­dred de­grees, you were more likely to catch me in­side my grand­par­ents’ creaky old house play­ing Hun­gry, Hun­gry Hip­pos with my grand­mother than you were to catch me run­ning on as­phalt that would strip the skin off your feet and fry it like ba­con. No, sir, be­tween my brother and my cousin, I was the smart one. I stayed in­side where it was nice and cool, with the smil­ing com­pany of my grand­parents and all the choco­late chip cook­ies I could eat. The rare mo­ments that I would brave the risk of heat stroke and near-in­stant sun­burn were ones like this one – a lope down the dusty lane to the five-and-dime on the cor­ner be­cause… well, I don’t re­ally know the “be­cause” or at least not Grand-dad’s “be­cause” – be­cause all I was think­ing about was that Slush Puppy: six­teen ounces of chest cav­ity-freez­ing, slushi­fied, cherry syrup good­ness. Oh, yeah.

Of course, that was back when I was a kid. If I tried to drink one of them now, I’d prob­a­bly put my­self in a di­a­betic coma. I’m a Re­spon­si­ble Adult now. Those lazy sum­mers in Texas are lit­tle more than a dis­tant mem­ory. My grand­par­ents are sev­eral years dead now. The creaky old house has been sold and re-sold two or three dif­fer­ent times now. My sum­mers are spent work­ing as a min­i­mum wage slave for some Face­less Cor­po­ra­tion to whom I am lit­tle more than a num­ber, an ex­pend­able num­ber at that. All I re­ally have left are mem­o­ries of those times and the old man’s oc­ca­sional nugget of wis­dom.

Every­thing in life has a story to tell.

As I sit here, looking at the ten cents I have in my pocket, I can’t help but smile.  

Maybe you’re right, Grand-dad, maybe you’re right.

I’m not really talking about Story with ice cream, although that does make for an interesting thought — and probably a sticky keyboard later.  (Or not, you filthy-minded heathens…) What I’m really talking about are the narrative modes that we come across in our reading.

 There’s First Person Narrative; I suppose you could say this blog is mostly a first person narrative, considering I’m usually the one telling the story.  From my recent reading, I recall it best in Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files, telling the story from the point-of-view of the erstwhile Harry Dresden.

 I came.  I saw.  I conquered.

There’s the little-seen Second Person Narrative, I seem to recollect them from my days of reading “Choose Your Own Adventure” stories.  I can’t seem to recall any fiction I’ve read recently that uses this mode, but according to wikipedia, there are plenty.

 You came.  You saw.  You conquered.

 And then there’s the sturdy staple of Third Person Narrative, in which the bulk of much of the fiction I’ve read.

 They came.  They saw.  They conquered.

 I often struggle with mode; on the one hand, I like rooting myself into one character and experiencing the world I create through them, so First Person Narrative almost seems ideal; on the other hand, I like just telling the story sometimes, rather than trying to live it vicariously, so Third Person seems better.  Second Person just seems downright awkward.

 Is there a right choice?  Is there a wrong one?  I suppose it would entirely depend on whom you would ask.  There are some writers within my circle that would say they hate working in first person, others decry the usage of third.  There seems to be no set standard beyond writing for whatever you’re comfortable with.  I will sometimes begin two versions of a story, one in both First and Third Person formats to see which I have an easier time writing in.  Other times, the narrative grips me from the start and that’s just how I proceed.

 I suppose the creative well-to-do out there will tell you that it is entirely dependent on the  story you’re telling and what your goal is and give you a lengthy dissertation on the merits of each.  As a humble writer in some out of the way pocket of the world, I can only tell you what I know:  write whatever you feel inspired to write, in whatever way you are inspired to write it.

 You never know, your ala mode may come with hot fudge and peanuts on it, someone else’s may be with strawberry syrup and a cherry on top.  Regardless of how you serve it up, as long as you enjoy what you do and relish it, that’s what matters.

 Cripes.  Now I really want some ice cream.

Back in 2010, some of you might remember that I started a Nanowrimo project by this same name.  At the time, I couldn’t really get into National Novel Writing Month and the idea fell by the wayside.  I’ve always been somewhat daunted by urban fantasy, because it’s so steeped in realism that the devil is in the details.  I left off with the promise that someday I might return to the idea.  Well, we all know how I feel about that devil in the details, don’t we?

I’m still sorting out what a good “schedule” for putting this out will be.  Saying “every Friday” has proven to be something of a bane to me and the death of many projects.  I have the urge to write something that isn’t the same brand of fan fiction that I’ve been doing lately.  You all just get to come along for the ride.  :)  The 2012 version of Riftwalker Chronicles will take some of the best ideas I had in the original incarnation, but I’ve also tweaked some things and taken the advice of John Adamus to write the story I  want to write.

So, rest assured that there is more coming on the horizon.  It may be tomorrow, you never know!

After much discussion with my husband, we’re going to Dragon*con this year. (Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t much discussion. All I really had to do was tell him that Patrick Stewart was going to be there.) I’m super-excited, because I remember when we went in 2010 and had an absolute blast! There was so much to do and see! So many great costumes, so many awesome celebrities.

The hardest part of attending Dragon*con is always getting the hotel reservation. The host hotels for the convention sell out FAST. At the time of this posting, four out of the five host hotels were sold out. I managed to nab some reservations at the Westin Peachtree, which is absolutely grand. If you’ve ever done the convention circuit, you understand that being in one of the host hotels makes con-life *so* much easier. You can rest more often and have a nearby place to drop off purchases.

Now that the hard part is over, it just becomes a matter of logistics and planning. There’s still a lot I need to do. Some things already on my to-do list:

• Book flight with Delta.

• Get Dragon*con tickets.

• Get a longer-range lens for my Canon Rebel T3.

• Get extra camera battery?

(I already have two, but tests at the zoo gave me an average battery life of 4 hours or 400 photos. I took over 3000 shots at D*C in 2010, especially during the D*C Parade.)

So much to do! So much to plan! *Zip!*

~Angeli

Oh, hi.

You might notice things look a little different (or if you’re a long-time reader, maybe they look a little more familiar). I changed my blog again, back to an older theme that I feel reflects me a bit better. I came to the realization that I was trying a little too hard to pigeonhole myself into this “professional” image and this was stymieing the flow of posts, because I kept second-guessing what I felt was “appropriate”. It’s my blog, doggonit. I can be inappropriate if I want to!

In a nutshell, I’m an aspiring author, which is fitting for a site named “Writerholic’s Anonymous”. That’s just part of who I am, though. I also enjoy photography, video games, movies, and a whole lot of other stuff that probably wouldn’t belong on a professional website. I also enjoy writing about those same interests. So, I’m changing things up in 2012.

What does that mean for you, the reader? Hopefully more stuff to read! After all, I’m not really living up to being a writerholic if I’m only going to post every few months, right? Right.

Until my next post…

~Angeli