A small collection of helpful links

I thought I would put up a few useful links that I’ve found around the NaNoWriMo boards.

Twenty Five Ways To Plot, Plan And Prep Your Novel.

Twelve Ways To Open Your Novel.

What Are You Doing Differently?  Reignighting The Creative Fire.

Dr. Strangelove, Or How I Stopped Worrying And Loved My Goals.


Exciting news

Although this is a writing focused blog, I am not only concentrating on fiction writing!  Songs matter too, they are lovely and beautiful things and, as it turns out, I have managed to secure Cat Faber for an interview! 

I’m not making promises for when it’s going up but it will probably be before the end of the year  I will still bring you all the fun NaNo things but this is just an added bonus.  And you never know, you might find that her music could help you in your book-writing!

NaNoWriMO and what that’s going to ean for this place

So,, NaNoWriMo is starting up and I would love to get this block kicking again in honor of that onth of writing like you’re a crazy person.


I’m going to do a number of things in honor of November:

  • Get some guests to post about their NaNo experience

  • – Do a week,ly update on my own NaNo times

  • Try and do a roundup of helpful links I find on the forums

  • Post a soundtrack to the book I’ll be working on

  • try and do at least one review of a book that has influenced the story I’m writing.

Hopefully,, by the end of November, I’ll be in the habit of updating regularly and maybe even having some regular guests to talk about writing and so on and this thing can really get going.

Quotes, progress and storytelling

“Worry less about how long it should take to write a story.

Worry more about how long it takes to become a storyteller.”

– Chuck Wendig at terribleminds.com

Chuck Wendig is not for everyone, not by a long shot but I thoroughly enjoy his words and, although I have yet to read Blackbirds, I am planning to soon.  His writing advice is something I enjoy and find it easy to pick and choose what applies to me and what doesn’t.

What I love most about him is when he says things like the quote above.  He reminds me that, as much as I would like to he a writer, I am more concerned about being a storyteller.

It’s not beeen a good few days, it really hasn’t.  Writing wise it could be worse, I suppose, but I’ve not written since Saturday and that’s distressing.  I was letting it get me down and making me feel horrible.  Then I read the above quote and I put on my big person pants and decided to say ‘Fuck that’ to letting my depression and brainweasels eat at me.

So then I wrote this.

And yes, I know it’s not writing fiction, I know that I should probably be doing something else but hell, it’s words.  Words are better than no words and I think, once i get some caffeine in me, I can manage to get some fiction out, though I have no idea what that’s going to be yet.

Writing: And The Stories Rise Up WIthin Our Minds

You’ll get a review soon.  I have several books I mean to review, plus some scattered thoughts on writing that I’d like to throw up but for now, I thought I would leave you with a story.

I write stories for my friends all the time.  I do prompt based writing a lot as well.  Recently I took on a challenge to write one hundred stories off of prompts my friends gave me and this was one of those pieces.  I may post a couple more until I get in the groove of posting other things but I thought this would be a nice treat


And The Stories Rise Up Within Our Minds

Stories have teeth.

I know you won’t believe me, I know you’ll think I’m insane, that I’m just one of those writers who’s too deep in their own head, who believes in their stories too much but I’m not.

I was like you once. I thought stories were stories, I thought they were words on a page, on a screen. I thought the words were mine to wield. I thought I had power and I could throw that power around and do whatever I wanted.

I was wrong.

Because stories bite back. Stories bite and tear and rip at you when you’re not looking. They’re clever like that, they don’t hunt you down, they don’t run you ragged, they chip away at you, they break you down quietly. They make you feel every letter you put down, every word, every punctuation mark.

They they break you down slowly, just as you broke down a plot, a character, a scene. They break you down.

Not all stories, no. Not all of them have the heart but some?  Some catch you when you’re not looking, some work on you for hours, days, weeks at a time until you’re nothing left, nothing but a caricature, a puppet for the story to play with.

You become the Story and the Story, vicious as it is, becomes you.

But remember what I said about having teeth? Having claws? Remember that, you are never helpless, every story has fangs, every story has a chance to survive.

We pay our debts with the stories in our hearts…

I feel like I owe you a story.

I feel like I should explain who I am and why I’m here but that would take too long and you don’t know me well enough to care, you just know me as the strange person with the fish who scribbles every now and then.

But I still feel like I owe you a story.

So here it is, here’s my tale for the day.

Once upon a time there was a girl who wasn’t a girl at all, they were a boy and a gi8rl and so much more than that.  They were a firebird and an angel and a cat and a fae child and a child of sturms and lightning.  They were all of these things and more.

They were also not stable.

The world doesn’t work right for them, their mind can’t deal with the loud noises, the lights, the harshness of everyday life.  They don’t retreat into stories, but rather, they create worlds they could live in, rather than staying in the one that chose them.

But in this world, in the one that they lived in most often, they were sick.  Their mind worked against them and they couldn’t pull it together to be a normal person, they couldn’t pretend to be ‘sane’.

So sometimes they would hurt themselves and sometimes they would take too many pills and sometimes they wished they were never there at all.

But in the end, they stayed because there were people who loved them, people who cared.

My name is Rory and my brain doesn’t work right.

This is a part of who I am, part of my story, part of why i write.  It is a part of what makes me who I am and eventually, a part of me that I hopes will go away.  I hope to shed the depression and the hardships through work and therapy and drugs but if I don’t, I’m still me.  I’m still that cat of stories that loves to9 come up with universes in their head.

I’ve been gone because I’ve been ill but I’m back now.

So welcome back, self.  Welcome to the world you left behind.  It missed you, at least I like to pretend it did.

Regular posting will start soon, maybe not every day but at least once a week.  I thought I owed it to the few people who read this though, the few people who have been here, an explanation on where I’ve been.