Me Jane, You Tarzan

"Hellooooo darlin, how are you today?" asked the character with a distinguished grin, while brushing her golden mane of well coifed hair away from her cherry kissed cheeks.

Ughhh.

It isn't really a secret that I've embarked on the mostly painful adventure of writing a book. Since I am frustrated with my endeavor, I thought I would spill some of the delightful issue's I've run across here on my journal among writer friends.

Writer friends are basically anyone with the ability to write a journal entry for public consumption or read an entry from another journal. Thats a bit what writing a book is like right? You write, you publish and you hope people take the time to read. So if your reading this, that makes you a writer friend <wink>

I have discovered, I am pulling A LOT of personal experience into my writing. Now, I've heard and read, that authors often write what they know most, on their first venture out the gate of book writing. I fit that mold to a tee. Now, with any good life experience, and a knack for spinning a tale, I believe what I've written so far is on the way to producing a possible book. My fears lie in the fact that should I ever cross the nearly impossible barrier into actual publishing territory, I will have to purchase every book that came into my town so that anyone who actually knows me in reality wouldn't have the opportunity to read it.

Idea's of my family, aghast, my Father, or Grandmother reading my words give's me the hebbie jeebies. Now, thats not just because of the familiarity or possible similarities that my writing may or may not produce in comparison to some of my life's adventures. It's about tossing myself under a microscope of writing ability, story ability, and general all out putting myself on the line. Yikes with a capital Y. So that extends to just about every person in the world that knows me. Ya, I'm trying to get over that little issue.

Next, I've decided I hate dialogue. Hate with a capital H. With simple words you can turn a normal conversation into a cheesy vortex of crap. Cryptic idle mish mashing of talk, or fluid strokes of conversation genius. There seems to be no in between. I have decided, writing dialogue is either something you are gifted at and type out in nice even symmetry, or you're stuck in the struggle lane as I am and moan and groan over every little word.

"I be Jane" said the woman with double D breasts in the bikini top.
"I be Tarzan" said the big beefy pile of manly biceps in a man thong.

Ya, it's fun like that.

Next up is word count. I've officially banned myself from performing Word counts. I never realized how little words add up to when you are actually aiming for a goal of them. The whole "I'll write a thousand words today" is a gloomy cloud of rain splattered ambition. If and when I get half way to that kind of goal, the writer gods start tossing out merciless thunderbolts of lightening in my mind that shatter any brilliant train of thought. When I align myself with word count goals, I find myself loosing precious time achieving the goal of a number rather then achieving decent story line.

Description. See above with Tarzan dialogue. There seems to be a fine line of description that is fluid and natural and down right grotesque word manipulation. See first line in this entry for example. Yuck. Writing about flaxen beauties and dripping sweat of anticipation just kills me. I can't do it. I cannot cross the line into that descriptive territory. All hail Nora Roberts. I bow to your bravado.

Revision and perfectionism. Evidently, I am not one of those people who can just write out a story, finish, and then go back and revise. I am a content reviser. Back and forth, too and foe I go. I mean come on, what if I was to die tomorrow and someone inherits my laptop and reads what I had started? Would they know everything was just a try out for now? Nope, can't do it. Evidently, in my reading of "how to write a book" this type of mentality is not good. So, for now, damned the good. I'll be a rule breaker.

All right, thats enough whining for today. I have to get back to the painful process of writing what Jane says to Tarzan next. It could go something like this "Tarzan, your muscles and man thong make me ache from my dark place of desire and I must take you into my treehouse of passion."


Hmmm ok, for simple clarification, that is NOT the type of book I'm attempting to write. I'll leave that type of writing for the pros~~~