Getting Down to Business

It's January 26 (I say this AFTER I've checked the date numerous times) and it's been over an entire month since I've last updated "A Writer's Knot." Call me unfaithful, call me a crook, just don't call me unproductive and Shirley (a little Airplane! allusion for you there). I can't give you an exact word count for this winter break, but I can truthfully say that I've written over 20,000 words since my last update and most importantly, I hit my 50k mark! I'm just over half way done with my first draft. Some one throw some confetti and bring me a cupcake cake. Red velvet preferably.

But is that a light I see at the end of the tunnel?

Possibly. Probably not, since I have a whole other epic, "One does not simply walks into Mordor" size journey of revisions to sludge through before even thinking of querying (I lied. I have thought and worked plenty enough on querying in between crippling self doubt and "I am the next Charles Dickens" syndrome). And let's not get started on the whole agent thing because, honestly, I don't want to be wriggling my hands over people's opinions on my brain child. Not yet, anyway.

If I didn't have to work a paying job, I decided I'd turn my writing into my "job." I wrote everyday. Sometimes thousands of words, others just over a hundred. What mattered was I wrote and treated it as my work. I acted as a writer should. Instead of treating it as a hobby, I treated it as a career choice. A very tasty and sometimes frustrating career choice.

But all good things must come to an end. No, I'm not talking about my writing. I'm talking about my days frolicking through the many bookshelves of Barnes and Noble and hours spent sipping coffee and huddled in a corner banging on a keyboard. I'm talking about school.

The shackles are back in place. I already feel the pressure (already I despise the Puritan's literature. Hiisssss). But again, like last semester, I hold the goal of writing what I can everyday. Even if it's simply outlining or revision. And I promise to continue to update this more frequently! Exclamation point!!

So, next time you'll hear from me, I'll either be up to here in PDF files or coffee. Maybe both.

P.S. Here's a picture of my cute kitten who is named Me-Mow because no one liked Nova. And my sister wouldn't stop called her the cat assassin's name from Adventure Time. And Indie. I would never forget my quirky beagle pup Indie (named after Indiana Jones obviously).

Okay, laters.

BUT LOOK AT THEM THEY'RE SO ADORABLE. I JUST WANT TO DIIIEEE.

So, it's December 21 and so far the world is still in one piece. Although, there is plenty of time for it to fall apart someway or another. But as interesting as the Mayan's calendar is, I'M WRITING AGAIN!!@2!1

Yesterday I wrote about 1k words, which, in my case, is wonderful since I haven't touched my draft in a month or two. Stared longingly at it? Yes, but worked on it? No. And what even is more amazing is that I spent two days dilly dallying on my laptop, playing video games, avoiding writing before I finally faced the music and wrote (shame on you, Caitlin. Shame. On. You).

It's hard. I haven't written for my draft in what feels like way too long and suddenly I'm suppose to just jump in and continue where I left off? If only. If only. But I pushed and shoved and was able to fit the routinely word amount in. I should be writing more (jobless college student on break here) but I lack the inspiration I need. So to fix that I ended up reading a book (The False Prince) in a matter of hours. Hours, I say. Started at 2 ended at 11pm. Haven't done something like that since I was in high school.

And it felt great.

Reading is my number one trigger for inspiration and reading a good book is even more inspiring.

But why am I telling you this? Well, I plan to write (and read) a lot this break and I needed to tell someone (or thing).

Meow. I got a Cat!

So these past few weeks have been quite the handful. Thanksgiving, school, Thanksgiving, school, Thanksgiving, TV, school, and cats.

That's right cats.

I got a cat (more like forced upon). Well, a kitten, but a pet. A cat. A feline thing. It's mine and it belongs to me. All mine, mine mine, mine.

Nova don't play like that

The reason why "mine" is emphasized greatly is due to the fact that I've never taken on a pet before. Sure, I've shared responsibilities (more like I helped out while my dad or mom took on the major care), but never have I accepted such a challenge as raising an animal on my own (especially a cat. I've never been around cats before. This is a whole new experience for me honestly).

Anyway, I have a kitten to care for along with school. I almost decided to give her (Nova) away simply because these next three weeks of school are going to be hell, but after I'll have a month and a half to do whatever the hell I want including raising a kitty and write write write.

Which segues into-

WORD COUNT: 78

Two weeks. Less than a hundred words. If only you could see the shame as I lower my head and avert my eyes. Atlas, what is a college student suppose to do?

The End is Near

You (all four of you) probably shed a few tears when I failed to update my blog these past two weeks. I know you struggled without your weekly dose of Caitlin Writing Complaints.

Well, I apologize for my tiny hiatus, but I plan to come back strong as ever.

WORD COUNT: 608

Okay that was a joke on my part. This is not strong. For two weeks this is a bit sad. But before you shake your heads and walk away in dismay, I have plenty of excuses to toss around! Are they valid? Well...eh. Most of them are. ]

Stress mauled me with a baseball bat these past few weeks. When I'm stressed, well, nothing good happens. My eating, writing, reading, school, everything habits sort of collapse inward and I tend to go into denial: aka I try to stuff my head with TV, food, books, things that make would usually make me happy. In the end, they don't even fill the hole I've dug due to the immense guilt I feel for putting off things that I actually need to do. In the end I'm only causing myself more stress because I'm trying to smoother the stress.

What has me thrown off is my pacing. I've been changing things around (missing a class here, getting out early there) and change screws up my schedule, screws up my eating habits. My body is already messed up (when will this so called period show its ugly head because it's been over a month already gosh darn it) and it refuses to act the way I want it to.

Basically I feel out of control. My writing has been put on the back burner for obvious reasons. It's still here--the document is always open. I'm always thinking about it, playing with it, but progress is little or close to none. It's frustrating because I want to give it the time it deserves but only four weeks of school. Four. Weeks. As much as I'm excited for a break, I'm biting my nails at the idea that I have only four weeks to get my grades in the position I want them to be in.

Grades or writing?

Grades obviously wins.

But I vow the day I get out of school, I'll immediately go home, pick up my laptop and hightail it to Starbucks and type away. My goal is to finish my first draft before Spring Semester starts.

There! See? Setting goals is progress! Right?

Literature: What is it?

Oh Mighty Google, show me what Literature is!

A year or two ago, one of my English professors on the first day of class asked a very interesting question: what is literature? Here we were, a bunch of English majors with quite a few English courses under our belts yet failed to give literature an adequate definition. Sure, you can look in the dictionary where you'll find three different meanings, each growing broader ("leaflets and other printed matter used to advertise products or give advice." Okay that is pretty much anything written for public consumption). Yet for something so slippery, we as society value this word. You are either a English major with emphasis in creative writing or in literature. When shopping at Barnes and Nobles you pass the Romance, Young Adult, Graphic Comic and the Literature section. If you're seen reading something by the Brontë sisters, Dickens, Fitzgerald, they assume you're reading something literary.

It's just, weird.

One thing I do know about literature is that literature isn't written, it's made. Readers and critics alike decide what falls under "literary" and what gets shelved under a more precise genre shelf (aka the cafeteria). Sometimes it's instantly. Others, it takes time. Harry Potter forever was under the children's section. It still is--but you can also find it with the literary fiction along with other classical stuff today. The Road which came out in 2006, was instantly in literary fiction, but more so because Cormac McCarthy already had made quite an impression in the Literary world and let's not forget that nice gold P sticker stamped on the front. "Collect 200 and pass GO" said the majority of the readers, and so that book when straight on the literary shelf.

So what the hell am I blabbering about? What is your point Caitlin!?!?

My point, dear reader, is I spend a lot of time reading what people qualify as literature and desiring what is not "literary."

Currently reading:

• Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
• The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
• Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko

What I want to read but can't because I have literally no time:

• Rebel Angels by Libba Bray.

What I feel like doing at the moment:

At least I got SOME writing done. But sadly, not as much as the previous week.

WORD COUNT: 892

I've been really into writing/author/publishing blogs lately. And I'm not saying that lightly, as in "oh yea  I've been checking out a few blogs here and there." No, I mean that in a "I'm literally searching high and low for great blogs that don't just talk about upcoming books, but what is going on in YA world and how to improve writing along with helpful tips to publishing. What do you mean I should be working on my essay that is due next Thursday? Sorry does not compute. Does not compute."

The thing that I love about these blogs is that, they're not simply giving you advice, but encouragement. They're giving you reasons to return to your draft when you're in a rut or to keep your head up when things aren't going your way in the publishing sphere. And my favorite thing of all is that, it makes me want to write, even when I'm not quite ready to write (sometimes you have a scene that you want to happen, but you haven't thought it through just yet).

And for me, personally, this newfound encouragement puts me in a place I need to be. If I could, I'd write a thousand words a day. That enough would be satisfying (and I'm positive I would write more if I was a full time writer). But sadly, I don't have that option and sometimes that knowledge that I can't sit down and go to my writing place daily is disheartening. Frustrating. But after readying a few posts, I find myself fighting the urge to write. 

It feels good. I feel good.

This week I wrote quite a bit. Friday (my day off from school and work when no one is home to bug me) alone I wrote just over two thousand words.

WORD COUNT: 3,247

Hopefully I can keep this up. Or at least keep it up on the weekends.

This weekend I wrote -

WORD COUNT: 3,195

And I finished A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray (which I'll eventually post my review) made spaghetti and homemade meatballs, and was able to finish, like 90% of my homework. Don't ask me how I did it, I just done it.

This, besides the million of cute BOWS, was the first bow on Google. This is what you get.

I was going to include my TV shows that I watch on Sunday (there's so many I love on this night) but I still haven't watched Boardwalk Empire, (which I plan doing right after this) so it felt wrong to include that as an accomplishment. Darn.

Anyway Sunday TV Line Up includes

• The Walking Dead
• Once Upon a Time
• Boardwalk Empire
• Hell on Wheels

And I like to watch all of them on Sunday. Yeesh. Why do I torture myself with four hours of TV. At least most of them are usually more than decent. Well time to go rush off to the roarin' 20's.

Five weeks down. Ten to go.

School is all consuming currently, but today I did it. I wrote. I jumped that gaping hole in my draft, finally.

WORD COUNT: 1,858

I never thought those writing stereotypes of working at a Starbucks would be true. That is exactly what I did. I went to Barnes and Noble, like usual to sit at the cafe and work on some homework. Instead of starting my essay, I worked on my dusty draft.

Something about working in a public, open space. The atmosphere really does help. I guess I need to go there again.

Exhaustion.

Don't bother writing when you're exhausted. Not tired. Not sleepy. But exhausted. Everything you write ends up being crap. Even if you think you're "getting it done." You're not getting it done. You're just adding crap that is going to be cut or completely changed because it's crap. Crap is crap. Nothing you do can change that. Unless you completely get rid of it, then yes. You can change that.

Thus why I leave you short because I am exhausted. School, working out has been sucking me dry. I started walking to the local track. For a half hour I jog/walk a bit, then walk back to my house. Let me tell you. It takes me ten minutes longer to walk back. And I haven't even mentioned the sit ups I force myself to do once I get back.

My legs and stomach hate me in the morning.

Doing this five days a week is hell along with late nights with homework and early mornings with school. By Thursdays (my last day of classes of the week) I'm like a used and abused paper towel. Throw me away, let me be. I've had enough. No more. Let me pass peacefully, please and thank you. But of course this following Monday/Tuesday I have TWO papers due along with a take home test. Not to mention the regular assignments (which involves books and epic poems and W.B. Yeats and T.S. Eliot) in those classes.

A good restless night of sleep feels so far away.

And my writing is still at a standstill. It's annoying. I hate myself. I want to delete the last three paragraphs and start anew, hoping I could dive right in. But I don't. I push forward. Word for word if I must.

I honestly blame exhaustion.

But I also believe that you should force yourself to write when you're at that point of fatigue. Crap is crap. The only way to change crap is by literally getting rid of it. So what is the point of wasting energy on something that will be tossed out? Prime example to not right write when exhausted.

It's a bit hypocritical saying not to write when all you want to do is crash--I do it all the time when it comes to school. And the end results are always the same: B or B- or C+. For my own fiction, I don't even try. Don't put yourself in that position, not unless your mind is ready to suffer a bit. Currently, I've been staring at my draft, but haven't written a thing. My brain is mush, but at least my spirit wants to write. All I need to do is get my body up to speed. Back to it's same old self.

After this weekend, I can't wait to sleep. The best sleep is after not sleeping.

WORD COUNT: 0

It's 11am and I have to wake up in six hours. There is a chance (a huge one at that) that I won't be falling asleep any time soon, thanks to school. So, let's say I'll be getting less than five hours of sleep on top of my three hours of sleep from last night.

I am not looking forward to waking up tomorrow. In fact, I never honestly look forward to waking up. It's such a drag. Your body is creaky. You head groggy. That weird taste in your mouth, even when you brushed and flossed the night before. Don't even mention the hair. Please.

WORD COUNT: 347

Despite the twister that has ripped through my life, I've managed some new material.

AND I HAVE TWO THREE FOLLOWERS. I HAVE OFFICIAL PEOPLE READING MY BLOG.

I know it's pretty lame, but it is now 11:17am. And I'm exhausted. Beggars can't be choosers, you know?

WORD COUNT: 1216

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

The title is from Lord Alfred Tennyson's epic poem In Memoriam. We're studying it in my Victorian era Literature class. It's one of his famous lines, and I'm sure if you've seen Moulin Rouge, you've heard something similar to it.

WORD COUNT: 176

I don't know if you've noticed, but I'll be updating this blog maybe, once or twice a week instead of EVERYDAY. Mostly because

1. I don't write every day (how boring is it to see post after post about how YET AGAIN, I've failed to write--or only have written a sentence or two).
2. I've become quite the busy student
3. It's easier to post once or twice a week with a meaty meal rather than five measly servings that couldn't feed an ant.

School so far has been successful. I'm actually happy about it for once. It's been over a year since I've felt this confident. Losing 19 pounds may have something to do with the confidence department, but still. Having my family's support at every turn--actually depending on them does help a lot.

Ironically, it's not that they actually do anything materially for me. They don't hold my hand as I go to school, or help me with my papers and readings. Just talking to my mom about how my day's been, how nervous I am about some assignment or how proud I am for talking to some random person.

It feels good.

I feel good.

If only I had more time to really sit down and pound out this chapter! This weekend is going to be busy also. I'm going down to San Diego to my aunt's to help with an event. I plan to leave Friday and then get back Sunday. Maybe. The details need ironing. But this means I might go another weekend without much progress. Last weekend I spent with my family also. Damn these buggers, taking my precious writing time away!

Yes I just went from "oh I love how supporting they are!" to "God damn it, why are you everywhere!"

Now that's true love.

I have this phobia of burdening others.

No really. I like to think of myself independent, but the joke is on me. I have not a stich in my name, nor am I capable of supporting myself economically. How can I keep a stable job if I can hardly get though school?

This past year has been the most difficult year...of my life, possibly. Not because school was hard (I neglected and hid from that). Not because I suffered an illness or injury that put me through hell (I didn't do enough to cause injury or catch an illness). And certainly not because I suffered some great tragedy (unless you count getting into a car accident). No, this past year I've suffered internally. Mentally. Emotionally. I doubted myself and instead of turning outward, reaching for help, I imploded.

Since I'm dependent on others, despite how much I hate it, I ended up hurting others.

Reality scares me, so I hide from it. Ironically, when I don't hide from reality--when I take the bull by the horns--I grasp it well. But it's work and lets be honest, I hate hard work. Hard work leads to stress, and stress leads to tears, and tears lead to doubts, doubts lead to thoughts I rather avoid.

I started this blog as part of a new beginning. A new beginning for my writing and for me.

Everything is out in the open now. Instead of feeling guilt for burdening--no, not burdening, asking for help from others, I'm trying to feel relief. That I'm not alone. That someone can put an arm around me or rub my back as I fail or succeed.

So what does this have to do with writing? Writing has always been my outlet. It's always been the one hobby, no matter how depressed I've become, that I continue to do (though at times I look at writing more as a "thing" rather than a "need"). But writing is a private thing (see!?). Blogs are not. Having a writing blog is putting my private thoughts and insecurities out there. Yes, I said private. Yes, I'm aware that no one actually reads this. But here's the truth: it's an illusion. I'm deceiving my feelings, tricking them into thinking they're being released.

It works. It does. I still need to talk to people outside the Internet of course, but written/typed words are my forte and love. It make sense to cope with my weakness with my strengths.

Anyway, on that note. I wrote like 56 words in the past two days. Obviously writing during the school week is not working out, but it's always there in my mind. My brain is always coming up with ideas and working out characters. I'm always taking notes and thinking about updating this blog. Because I said I would. SO I am.

WORD COUT: 0

Now that that is out of the way--

I'm on a roll.

WORD COUNT: 871

There's no denying that I'm also in the middle of a crucial moment--more like finally the steady climb has finally reached it's mini climax. In other words: shit is finally going down. Motivation to write and keep writing is there.

It's all good.

Here's some other good news: I've written over 20,000 words and over 50 pages for my manuscript. It's a nice feeling knowing that I'm over a fourth into the book (technically I'm not sure how long it will come out to be, but usually YA falls between 70-90k words. I'm expecting less then 90k but more than 80k?). Plus 50 pages is a lot (it is 14 font though--12 hurts my eyes). Put that in book format, that may or may not double.

Progress is nice. 

Now time to do some school work and resist watching more American Horror Story.

By the way, I made this. I make gifs. I do photoshop. I'm hip. I'm cool.

Yes, I missed Saturday. Yes, I'm aware of this. Yes, I suck.

Actually I don't suck.

WORD COUNT: 2,085

No, I do not suck.

I started writing early this morning and continued through out the entire afternoon. Of course, I took breaks, but once everything is rolling it's difficult to stop.

Yesterday I was transferring my documents from my old laptop to my new, and I came across some very old writings. I mean, like, when I first attempted at writing. Oh boy was that fun going through those. It's interesting because reading them gave me perspective: look how far I've come. And it wasn't even that horrible. Sure, I was unawares of the tropes of writing or the the metaphors to avoid, but for a 16/17 year old girl, I thought I did a damn good job.

Damn good job.

Looking at my present writings and my past ones makes me smile. I'm glad that I've continued to write. That it's not something I attempted and didn't like. Nor a "thing to past the time." Writing has become a part of me. I don't see that changing ever.

WORD COUNT: 0

Things are starting to settle down, but I'm still quite a bit away from "relaxed." It's frustrating. All I want is for my class schedule to be set in stone. I don't want to attend any classes I will not end up taking for credit. I don't want to read a book when I won't even be involved in the discussion for it later on.

I'm tired of juggling.

Oddly enough, I was able to write today. And not just a little bit, but quite a lot. For four days I'd been holding this up and thankfully it came out well.

WORD COUNT: 1,003

That's right folks. That's 1k. Usually, 1k would be the ideal daily goal, but with school and such, I find it extremely difficult. Luckily, I can sleep in tomorrow, allowing me to stay up a bit later than usual tonight. Thus allowing me to write.

Now time to crash.

Oh man!

I apologize!

I'm sorry!

Yesterday, I forgot to update my word count. More like, I never got the chance to update it.

WORD COUNT: 0

And then of course I didn't type anything at all. At the moment, I'm stressed to the max. Last night, I got home around 10:30 (because my class ends at like 10) and cracked open my textbook and began to study. Then for some reason I woke up at midnight with my face sticking to the thin pages.

I'm exhausted. I didn't even finish the reading. School is nuts right now.

My schedule is nuts.

Hopefully something will give today.

Sometimes it's Okay.

Classes started today.

Woke up at 6:30 am. Sat in about an hour of traffic (though it shouldn't have taken me nearly an hour. Damn you LA with your sporadic congestion). Spent all day at school. Got home around four. Did some e-mailing via professors and councilor. Worked out. Watched Hell on Wheels. Ate. Worked on Victorian Lit homework. Sighed for about ten minutes in self pity. Played on Photoshop for about five. Worked on blog.

And now I'm here.

What's missing from that paragraph?

If you guessed writing, then you've won a brand new metaphorical car! It will be sitting on your front lawn in about a week, give or take. Now go have fun! Be safe you crazy kids.

WORD COUNT: 0

But yea. As you can see, again, I failed to write. Honestly, I'm not too miffed over it. Things needed to be straightened out desperately before I could even sit down and play around with the Internet. Writing was not the priority here and that's okay.

It's okay.

Currently, my job--my career is school. Writing isn't the bread and butter of my life. At the moment it acts as an hobby, and in the event that I do get published (knock on wood) then I can panic about not writing my daily 1k. As of now, I must keep a calm head about it. And even if this entire week that big fat, yellow zero fills up the entire page, then so be it. But this weekend, I'll make up for it.

So help me God, I will make up for it.

And that's all that matters, right?