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.

Finished ‘The Selected’ Now What?

It felt strange finishing ‘The Selected’ because I didn’t want to finish, if that makes any sense. I wasn’t ready to let go of the characters; which I assume is a good thing if I want to write a sequel (at the least). I haven’t written a YA in a long time, so this was a nice change. Mind you, this YA is not like a typical Ya because that is not like me.

Well, I just started the sequel. Not too sure on where I want to take it, but I am positive it will go where it wants to go.

Now that I have finished that novel I can do my typical break from writing where I type up my next book. I have already typed up 38 pages of ‘Control Me’. My oh my, the writing is poor. I am surprised I even understand what I am writing. Nonetheless, I will figure it out like I normally do.

‘Control Me’ is one of my favourite novels I have written so far. It is more action packed and exciting and the two protagonists are some, if not, the strongest I have written yet.

I am hoping to get it typed up by January. I want to make sure I have plenty of time to edit and work on the cover art. I am not good at that, so I need all the time I can.

Instead of doing Nanowrimo, I will just try to type up 50k of the novel. Figured it works the same to me. Handwriting that much is just too hard.

Now I will go and start typing up a little bit before resting for bed. I am very old and need my sleep. Here is a little bit of the novel for your enjoyment:

 

Within seconds I stopped sending them the feeling of sadness. My point was proven my abilities existed.

“Do you know how much danger you are in with a third of the countries trying to find you?”

“As you have seen and experienced, I am more dangerous than any of them,” I said. Instead of speaking to them through their minds I opted to speak aloud. “Emotions are only one aspect of what I can control.”

“You are a commodity that people will do anything to get a hold of. As you have analyzed, people have ideas with the use of you.”

Pushing Limits

I have this weird conception where pushing limits is a great thing. Not in every day life, but in my books. I am not always a mystery writer…I dabble in other styles too.

My books contain violence. Some of it is overdone, others it is just right. What I mean by overdone  is 1440. That book is straight violence. It is hard to read because well, it’s gory. It was a riot to write because it was something so outside my normal way of life and thinking. An escape to a place so much worse than here.

Not saying all my novels are like that. Most do have a strong-willed, tough protagonist. No, that is not me. Strong-willed, maybe, but not tough, or as brave as most of my characters.

Pushing limits in novels is what makes them interesting. Most banned books push limits by containing information that some people find controversial. Not every novel can please every reader. The world would be so boring and generic if novels did do that.

All right, the main reason behind this post is about the next novel I plan to self-publish and the one I am hoping to finish writing soon. Both these books are a little different than I am used to writing, and tend to push a lot of limits; which I tend to do with my writing. I will start with Control Me. No, it is not sexual, start off with that. It’s a little out of my writing comfort zone. That’s right, I have one of those. This particular novel is about a girl born with a certain skills most humans do not have. She can control people with her mind, change their emotions and talk to their minds. She is wanted by all different governments/people wanting power to use as a weapon. She basically is forced to flee the country and hide with a highly trained guy. That is basically the gist of it. Lot’s of fighting, evil people and arguing. Yes, there is sex, but if there wasn’t I would be beaten my friend Shawna…with my own writing book. She is good at knocking that type of sense into me when it comes to my books. I cannot say any more because I am typing up the rough draft and will still need to edit it. As you can see, not exactly for everyone.

Now, The Selected. This one is about 14 year olds that get selected to pretty much become assassins/spies. They train to kill and will train to seduce. I am nearing the end of the novel, and there will be bloodshed and changing of the main characters mentality. I am waiting to hear uproars when I do self-publish it next year. No one is safe because in training people will die. Can’t really prevent people dying when they have to train with real weapons, or I am little sick.

Now that I have told you what my two current works are about you can understand why people may not like them. Some people should, but who knows. To end my blog, I will tell everyone something funny my co-worker told some of our new coworkers. He told people I am crazy because I write novels and like to murder lots of people in them. Outcome, most of them avoid me, but still piss me off. Now I wonder if I yelled if they would be terrified of me. Hmm…time to ponder scary writing mind.

Off to be productive, or think about being productive.

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.