“Monsters! Monsters!” That’s something I used to run around the house and say when I was about two years old. I loved them even though they made me pee my diapers. Really. I loved having the crap scared out me. *** I’m a weirdo*** Sort of. I guess. Um…still am.
“Monsters! Monsters.” My grandfather chuckled after I had my fifth daughter. “You’ve always loved them. Now you’ve got your own.”
“Monsters! Monsters!” I say now after I’ve read a few not-so-good novels by famous and newbie authors. Mistakes are splattered throughout and their story-telling skills went somewhere else because it didn’t end up in that particular book. It’s possible the monsters scared it away. Total ugh!
That’s what this piece is about, our own monsters in writing. The ones that keep you from being published. The ones that get you the bad book reviews. The ones that keep you up all night angsting over how you can undo your subordinate clauses. The ones that keep you away from your writing. Yeah, those monsters.
Here are a few of my monsters:
Stupid Monster Mistakes for The Whole World to See
I’m one if those who can’t edit myself all that well and will sometimes publish blogs (and chapters to my novels) that make absolutely no sense at all. At that particular moment, I’ve self deluded myself into believing the post is blemish free. Only to go back, read it, and see thousands of stupid mistakes. Spelling. Grammar. Sentence structure. I hate those kinds of monsters. Totally embarrassing. It’s almost as bad as asking some well-endowed (in all places) chick when her baby’s due.
My muse can be an absolute Medusa turning my brains into absolute stone. I’ll sit for hours staring at my blank computer screen waiting for her to speak.
On the other hand, she can be quite rude and bothers me when my hands are busy doing other things. Driving the car. Washing the dishes. Lopping someone’s hair at work. Walking the dogs. Preparing dinner. How rude is that? She can be such a monster. I can think of another choice word. It begins with a ‘B’.
Sometimes My Critters
Well…sometimes. One time I handed in a chapter where one of the characters threw a pit bull across a room into a mirror. The mirror shattered and the dog walked away unscathed. Three critters told me they’d stop reading it right there and would never read anything I’d write and publish in the future. ***me eye-brains crossed here***
Has anyone ever read the Hannibal Lecture seires? Why can we read about serial killers skinning peeps alive but not about pit bulls being thrown into mirrors? But then again, what do I know. Right?
And, there are those times when no one agrees and I’m left to my own devices. That one can be a big scary monster.
Apparently, I don’t know the difference between a rifle and a shot gun. And, I have no clue about what a semi looks like on the inside. Research monsters! Yeah. If you don’t do the research you’re readers will probably trash your book. Bad, bad monsters!
It never fails when I’ve actually got a nice chunk of time to write, guess who calls me? The head slavemaster. “Do you think you can come in and work so-and-so’s shift today? Since you’re a shift-manager, you know the rules?”
Will these monsters ever leave me alone and get their act together so I can write uninterrupted and smoothly?
What are your monsters?