As eager as I am to write about Devil May Cry V some more -- and Kingdom Hearts III, I guess -- I can’t gorge on those two games all the time. Not that those two games are in the same league, of course. One is the sort of dessert you’d get from a Michelin-starred restaurant, while the other might as well be half-eaten leftovers from Denny’s. Guess which is which for extra fun!
So what am I going to waste a Monday slot on this time around? Not Sekiro. Not that I have anything against the game (besides my vehement hatred of ninjas), but A) I haven’t played it yet, and B) I haven’t even finished Dark Souls. The first Dark Souls. There is another game that’s piqued my interest, but because I’m so intrigued by it, I want to hold off until I can pump more time into it. So I guess for now, I’ll talk about something non-video game related.
Now then. Let me regale you with a post on the stupidest thing I’ve ever done…this month.
Thankfully, no fire was involved.
Guess there’s no point in dancing around it: I decided to start a new novel. “That’s great!” some of you might say, assuming you even exist. I’d bet that a bigger percentage of you -- those who are still waiting with bated breath to hear me rant about Final Fantasy some more, in which case I might have you covered sometime soon -- are sitting there and saying “Wait, you wrote a novel?” Or, alternatively, “What? You? Write? IMPOSSIBLE!”
Let me back up a little. Despite the fact that I perpetually gush/gripe about video games, I have dreams outside of this blog. And for once, it’s not just me spewing hot air. I have substantive evidence, proof that I’ve put in the work saved in multiple locations vis a vis my hardware. Not only do I have a full, edited manuscript ready, but it’s the latest incarnation of multiple, earlier versions of the same general story. Now it’s a matter of making those submissions and hoping for the best -- although there’s still plenty of time from round to round of the process for minor edits (the omission of which would probably drive me ten thousand miles past the brink of insanity).
Here’s my big issue, though: “the process” is slow as shit.
Well, sometimes it is. When it isn’t, it’s so I can get another big fat rejection from a would-be agent -- which is about as welcome to my psyche as a haymaker from Mike Tyson in his prime. When it is, it’s weeks and weeks of waiting just to hear back (IF I hear back, itself necessitating a wait and peerless frustration), and to get a “no” as a reward for my patience. The most maddening part -- though understandable, given the volume of submissions literary agents have to go through -- is that I’m VERY rarely given a hint as to where I went wrong.
Was the agent just not interested? Was my writing not good enough? Did the genre not sync up with the needs of the agent, their agency, or the written world as a whole? Hell if I know, and it’s discouraging that I have to deal with non-progress every time I build up just enough courage to put myself out there again. Contrary to what my writing here and my cheeky avatar up there might suggest, my heart is a twitching mass of scar tissue and frayed copper wire wrapped around a can opener on the fritz.
I’m…probably not going to find a good picture to represent that image properly. So here’s the next best thing.
Given that, my plan is --
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! As if I ever have a plan.
Given that, my plan is one that’s both therapeutic and incisive. Setting aside my writing ability, the question du jour is bitter yet necessary: “is there a market for a story about a killer-loving cult of superhumans who use experimental technology to stop time and unleash proto-ghosts on an immobilized city and the punch-happy teens who rise up to stop them?” I would assume so, because that’s a hell of a mouthful. But I could see how easy it’d be to lose someone along the way.
There’s a school of thought that implies you should write (or draw, or program, or make) the story you’d want to read. I did that once. I’ll keep on doing it; that school of thought syncs up with my artistic premise of “give the people something they didn’t even know they wanted”. With that said, I see the benefit of that school -- overlap between the two notwithstanding. So I’ve decided to take the plunge and write the story I’ve had in mind for ages: “what if there was a woman…except HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE?”
Behind the scenes, I’ve been pondering that question for roughly 2 years, 9 months, and 4 days. I’ve been brainstorming, outlining, sketching, and iterating on a regular basis that whole time. Having put in all of that work (and more), I finally reached a point where I could say “this is what I think would happen” and provide both a satisfying answer and narrative. I’ve cracked the code. I can write this story. And if my technique and preparations hold out? The story might actually end up pretty OK -- meaning that once it’s finished? I can submit two completely different novels to different places instead of banking on the one. Maybe there aren’t people who want to read about ghost-punching, but there are people who want to read about [UNAVOIDABLE STEVEN UNIVERSE REFERENCE].
I mean, I’m pretty sure there are by default, because Rule 34. Unpacking that (and more) is…going to take another post someday.
It’s VERY early into this prototype file’s life -- a little over 3500 words, given that I got a late start last week (with multiple interruptions along the way). But it’s refreshing to be able to work with a different character, plot, tone, and more after pumping so much mental energy into Final Fight But With X-Men, A JoJo Reference, And Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe Cthulu. Maybe it’s just because my writing has evolved, but I can perceive and appreciate the feel of this story, and how it’s of a different caliber. Granted that’s probably just because of the novelty of this…novel…but there’s a chance the good feeling will last.
Above all else, though? Starting this new thing has reminded me of something. No, I’m not published yet. Yes, I’ve been rejected multiple times, with the heartache to prove it. But I haven’t given up on shopping around the ghost-punching jamboree (itself the result of me doubling down to sate my wounded hubris). That said, in the meantime I want to pursue this new project for a while longer, because of the soothing passion it’s helped rekindle.
Profitable or not, I live for this shit. Constructing these new scenarios, in my head and on virtual paper, is what gets me revved up every time I boot up my PC. I’d think -- and/or hope -- that that drive is what’s going to help me become the writing hero I’ve always wanted to be. But until the ideal becomes the real, this will have to do. Work, toil, try not to cry, and double down on the double down.
Lose until you win. For now, that’s my way of life.
Thanks for reading. As a reward? Next week is (probably) gonna get a little…gummy.
No comments:
Post a Comment