New Writing Phase/Genre Time

I am back to trying to edit again…not because I want to. Editing is my least favourite thing to do, especially when I have a novel that keeps screaming to be written and couple ideas running through my head.

I tend to go through phases of writing genres. I don’t know why and I wish I could explain it. It seems like I am going to be in a dystopia YA genre phase. I’m not complaining because it has me intrigued. The only complaint is more of a worry because it is a new genre. Sure, I’ve written one novel, but that is not enough.

It is easy to speculate about the future because so many things can happen. I think I am drawn to this genre because there will always be violence as the world changes. Also, most of what has been established will be changed. It’s intriguing to think of these concepts. It’s also as close to science fiction writing as I will get.

Have other writers gone through a phase similar to this? Or are most authors always in one genre and have never ventured?

Sorry for the short post, not much is new and I’m more distracted about my health issues. Update to come about that later.

When I Want to do Other Work

My mind is a pain in the ass sometimes. A couple days ago I was typing up Control Me and working on the sequel to The Selected and my mind had to distract me.

My mind decided to distract me with a new book idea. I only typed up two pages and am still trying to get a feel for it. I figured I would share my really rough draft of it to decide if I want to continue or not.

Here it is:

The lights flickered in the hospital hallway I stood in. Alarms, sirens, beeps and shouting surrounded me. As people ran past me they shoved me to rush to rooms. Paramedics wheeled people in covered in blood, burns or other severe injuries. Everything seemed to be a blur. No one took notice of me as I searched the halls.

“Anna! What are you doing here?” my mother came out of a room. Her scrubs were coated with blood. She was coated in sweat, her ponytail now frizzy and falling out. She took off her gloves and placed both of her hands on my cheeks.

“Dad called. Why is he telling me to go to Denver?” I said to my mom while I looked at her. This was my mom on a rough night at the hospital. She was an ER doctor and the occasional surgeon if needed. “He said I had to leave tonight. I packed what I could and came here to get you.”

My mother led me around the nurses and doctors station and into a small break room to talk. The commotion in the hospital and the power on the brink of going out was too distracting and loud. “Oh, honey. My sweet baby girl.”

Whenever she said that I knew that she was going to refuse and follow it by an explanation that will not be favourable by me. “Mom, you have to come with me!” I protested.

“I have to stay here and help.”

“Dad said he wasn’t going and now you! What am I to do?”

“You can do this baby. Dad and I have obligations. He is in the military, he has to fight and I cannot leave the hospital with all the wounded.”

“Then why are people not leaving if the threat has publically announced?”

“Most people think we are safe here in Canada because only the States have been attacked. Your father and I don’t want to risk your life like that. You must go. Denver only suffered a little damage from a nuclear bomb far away from it.”

“How am I to get there?”

“The car sweetheart. Now, getting going.” Her eyes were tearing up.

The door opened and a male wearing scrubs entered the room. “Diane, thank god you are here. Well, hello Anna,” the male doctor said to me.

“Hello Dr. Schmidt. How are you?” I said. However hectic and depressing the situation was I never forgot my formalities.

“Glad to see that you have not left. Are you going to Denver?”

“Yes, she is,” my mother said with a stern voice.

“Good. My son, Devon, is on his way here. I was going to give him my car, but if you are going I would like it if he could go with you.”

“Devon, as in the sophomore U of T student?” I said to Dr. Schmidt.

“Yes. He will be here shortly. I, too, want you both to leave as soon as he arrives.”

“Why don’t you go with him?”

“I am obligated to stay here, just like your mother is. He is all I have left and I want to make sure he makes it to the refugee camp in Denver. If nothing happens here, I am sure we will all make our way down there to meet you and him. I will tell him to meet you out by your car once he arrives.” Dr. Schmidt left without saying another word. He sensed that my mother and I needed more time alone.

“Mom, you have to come with me.”

My mom pulled me into her arms and started to cry. Her entire upper body was heaving up and down as she cried. “No, baby. I need to stay here. Dad knows I am here and I have to wait for him.”

I started to cry against her shoulder, not wanting to let go. I had turned 18 on May 8^th 2016, only two weeks ago, and now we were preparing for a nuclear war. A war that was started between the United States and North Korea, and Canada was getting stuck in the mix because of being allies with the United States.

“The longer you stay, the harder it gets. Did you grab the photo album I told you to grab?”

“Yes, why?”

“I made it for you.” She pushed me away from her so she could look at me.

I realized she had known about this potential event longer than I did. “How long have you known about this?”

“Only a few days. Now go!” She let go of me, crossing her arms at her chest like she often did.

I nodded, knowing that stance and look, even through her puffy, red eyes and tears on her cheeks. I left the room, crying hard, and ran towards the entrance/exit that I was to meet Devon at. My whole body hurt from the crying that wouldn’t stop.

Nearing an end

As always, well, not so much as always, but I am getting close to finishing The Selected. It is going to be a much shorter book, probably just over 200 pages typed up. I know, I know, clearly I have not rambled enough. I just feel like this book doesn’t need to be that long. I may add more, but I won’t be typing this book up till next year.

With nearing the end with this book I am thinking of the sequel. I know, bad, terrible, etc. I like these characters, and know that this book cannot be it. I want to do more with them, if I can do it. If not, the book is just fine on it’s own.

Also, I am back to work, so my writing amount has decreased. It is to be expected with the first few weeks because my body needs to adjust to working. It’s tough. I am exhausted every day I come home and am in pain. Soon, I plan to write to distract me and to prolong when I go to sleep.

Some people say finishing a novel is easy. I find it a little bit of both: easy and hard. It’s easy because I know where I want to take it; hard because I don’t like letting go of a book. You get attached to the characters. It’s weird because in real life, I don’t get clingy, just with my writing. The only difference between this book and any other one is that I probably won’t take a break between writing this one and the next one. I don’t know how many books will follow this one, but I doubt I will really take much of a break between writing them. Only time may be to type up another novel…which I should be kind of doing now. Ultimate procrastination.

Oh! This is what happens when you get writers block and want to procrastinate:

 

Not that great, but it works for me. It shows the basis of where the novel takes place in 2065. I am not good with graphics, but the logo works for me. It’s supposed to be a patch worn on a uniform. Don’t criticize me for my lack of skill to create this.

Time to go back to writing it. I am thinking I have about 10-20 pages left, depending how fast I want this to happen. Knowing myself, the action parts will happen fast. I hate too much filler. I admit, I sound like a broken writer. All right, enough rambling. Must write, then bed.

Sometimes Being Strong Makes me a Better Writer

Recently my health has gone all weird on me. Two experiments failed, go figure. For now I am taking a break before I try the next one. Hopefully no allergic reaction to this.

To pass the time I have been listening to my writing playlist for my current novel. Yes people, I make playlists of songs directly for each of my different novels. Powerful lyrics are a must and they must be able to be sung really loud. No point in just writing to quiet music. The songs not only have to appeal to my books but how I am currently. These songs make me stronger because they motivate me, I relate to them and they just make me smile. Another post I will post my playlist.

Oh! With my current health situation I found someone I can relate to. Never been so happy to have someone else to talk to that understands me. She also has a blog about it. I may mention her later on in my blog! Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all the support both spoken or silent. I just am tired of burdening everyone with it.

What I am going through is a pain in the ass. Sorry for swearing, but that is what it is. I am stubborn as hell so I am not letting it hinder me. I am writing more than ever and I know why. I have something to forget, ignore, banish, etc. Without working I need a good distraction, and writing is it.

For now, I will let my strength show in my writing. For everyone else, here are quotes I find inspirational and I can relate to.

Writing Genre: Dystopia

Yes, people, this is what I have been posting about. Why? Why must I torture you with all this? Well, I did because this is my topic for my blog this week.
I absolutely love books that tend to be based around a Dystopia, such as: Hunger Games trilogy, 1984, Fahrenheit 451, Divergent series. With you thinking about one, or all of these books, time to define!
Dystopia: a society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression,disease, and overcrowding.
Wikipedia explanation of Dystopia: Dystopia is defined as a society characterized by poverty, squalor, or oppression. Most authors of dystopian fiction explore at least one reason why things are that way. Dystopias usually extrapolate elements of contemporary society and are read by many as political warnings. Many purported utopias reveal a dystopian character by suppressing justice, freedom and happiness. Both utopias and dystopias are commonly found in science fiction and other speculative fiction genres, and arguably are by definition a type of speculative fiction.
Enough with the definitions/research. I did enough of that for University. I am quite excited that more popular books are using this genre. The main type of age group attracted is Young Adult. Not surprising seeing as more people read YA than any other age group. If I need to explain why then I am concerned.
Once again, here is the picture I saved from a writing page/website.

My book is only 135 pgs. in so I am still fine-tuning what exactly I am doing with the world. So far, it is Post-Apocalypse and for Dystopia. Why is this genre so widely popular?
It is popular because it is still based on on our planet, but details are changed. Most change after a war or disaster. Makes sense? There are so many variables of what would happen that people can play, reinvent and change our world. My favourite is 1984. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love The Hunger Games, I just enjoy the other one more. It happens. Both are huge inspirations for my next novel, with the help of music.
How do I know I am writing a dystopian novel? Here is a little bit of the opening. Don’t mind the writing, still working on the 1st draft, so it is fairly rough.
The Selected:

I was fourteen when I was taken. As the government termed it, I was selected. It was an honour to be selected. Families took great pride. The children only had nostalgic images and phrases of what it meant to be selected. It was honour, duty to the new Nation of the North. The kids selected received the best education, training, jobs and if the time came, would represent the nation during a war. 

I should explain how this all came to be. The year is 2065. World War III had occurred in the year 2020 and caused the world to divide into eight new nations. Three were allies: Europe, Australia and its colonies, and us, Nation of the North—comprised of the United States, Canada and Greenland. We joined our nations together after we barely won the war with our allies. We had to rebuild after losing so many men, women and children. It was nasty and everyone learnt about it in grades seven and eight. 

I am from Ontario, the southern part. The only names to remain in the nation were the previous states, provinces and territories. Town and city names no longer existed. The war had ended forty years ago and since then the world changed into what it is now. My grandfather died in the war and my father has never fully gotten over the affects. When I was selected he looked upset, like the world had taken something so precious from him again. I was the eldest of four siblings and the only girl. I was my mother’s favourite by default.  

It was my grade eight graduation. My classmates and I stood in front of our parents and family. We were smiling, all happy to be moving on to our next step. High school was the defining moment. we would find out our trades or schools to go to afterwards. Then, after that, people were permitted to get married and have children.

That is all I am giving because it is still a work-in-progress. Hope this helps prove why Dystopian literature and my constant posting about Dystopias makes sense.
Keep writing everyone, like I am.