On Ego

I've noticed that a lot of writers (myself included) have a somewhat inflated sense of self. Whether it's ego, or something else, I'm not sure, but I find that so many of my writer friends have this mentality.

I know PLENTY of other writers who think the same way, they're all cocky, self-assured creatures who have the mindset that they are awesome and deserve ALL the accolades and the worship and paycheck that goes with being an internationally best-selling author.

Whether this is true or not in the public eye remains to be seen.

But the mindset is abundantly clear.

I'm a cocky, self-assured little wench. I think I'm awesome. I think that I have a distinct, unique style in my writing and that my works deserve to be shared (you know, when I get around to polishing everything and editing and all that other stuff.) I know that I use the cockiness as a defense mechanism. I work myself up to the point that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am [insert positive adjective here] and that good things will come to me for whatever reason I choose to maintain the egoism. For me, it makes rejection a thousand times easier. It means that I can get over the disappointment a lot faster and work on improving what needs improving so that I can try again.

Having said that, I'm perfectly willing to have an open discussion about what [needs improvement, what (you) liked, hated, feelings the words evoked etc. etc. etc.] and take criticism, constructive or not.

I am also all about building my fellow writers up and sharing in their successes (and alternately, being there to grieve with them in their failures).

Writing is a lonely, lonely job. You lock yourself away to be in the throes of your imagination for hours on end. Alone. Because working alone is when you get the best work done. You only get social interaction when you're in the editing/critique/beta reading phase, and usually that's all business. Then it's back to revising. Rinse and repeat.

So why, then, is it SO COMMON with other writers to be self-righteous dicks? I'm not saying that I am immune to this, I'm only human, but I do try my hardest not to fall into that trap of ego and self-righteousness. I'm also certainly not saying that EVERY author is like this either. As with any group, there are some bad apples that you would much rather avoid.

Still, I see it all the time. I see blogs that are entirely self-serving (which you know, 99% of blogs are) or I see online discussions where the writers are condescending towards one another, and everyone else involved. I feel like the vast majority of writers are convinced that they are the next Hemingway or something and that everyone else is sufficiently beneath them. It's a very sad state of affairs. Most of these "authors" aren't even published and still they treat everyone else with an air of disdain and sarcasm. The worst is when I see other people/authors talk down to others. The biggest rule is that your audience is not stupid, you shouldn't treat them as such.

Your ego shouldn't be getting in the way of your relationships with other people. Especially with other authors. You never know when that smug and cocky tone of condescension is going to accidentally burn a bridge that would have otherwise helped you.

I mean really, we're all in this together, right? So why not support each other along? Rejoice in one person's success and offer sympathy in times of failure, but don't be smug and self-satisfied about it. And certainly don't be condescending. We can all get along in the literary sandbox. Right?

Kai Kiriyama lives in Calgary, Alberta with her pet snake Rhaegar and too many books to fit in one room. 

She is a monthly contributor to Zombie Training Magazine, which you can find here if you're so inclined.

You may reach Kai through email here! 
Or you can find her on Facebook if you're into social media.
Kai is also on Tumblr here! 
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The Dreaded Slump

Bollocks.

I'm pretty sure I've fallen into the dreaded "week 2 slump" that tends to plague NaNoWriMo participants yearly.

Usually when I participate in NaNoWriMo, I'm what our local group affectionately refers to as a "cyborg" -- meaning that I can hammer out 1000+ words in 15 minutes. I hate that idea, but when we're sprinting and doing word wars, it makes for better competition when you have a group of people ALL pumping out 1000+ words in 15 minutes.

Last year, I wrote 150,000 words in the month of November. Before that it was 77,000 while working 3 jobs totaling 70 hour work weeks.

Suffice it to say that only 1 of the stories I've written has made it through the editing process without making me wanna barf or with me giving up on the story in general with the intention to come back to it at a later date.

I don't typically fall for the "slump" of a writing deadline like this. In fact, I typically thrive under the pressure. And, if I do end up with a slump, it usually hits me around the 22nd or so, right in the homestretch.

So I'm a little bit lost.

It isn't writer's block. Far from it. I have all the ideas in my head, I know where the story needs to go and where I want it to go. It's just that procrastination is coming so much easier to me this month than ever. Sitting at my computer means that I'm either filling my brain with useless things or scouring the depths of social media or just doing something completely unrelated to writing.

I just don't know what's wrong with me, and it's frustrating. Not even caffeine is helping. Nor is getting "enough" sleep at night.

I think this is the "slump" that all insane NaNo'ers talk about.

Still, I'm doing something right. I have my butt in my chair and I'm forcing myself to peck out a few words here and there, even if they're not the huge amounts of words I usually spew forth.

Anyone have any useful suggestions for making the words work?

Today is a day where I really don't feel like writing. But I'm still sitting here at my computer, typing. The words are coming slower than I would like, it's a little harder to focus (obviously, as I'm posting this to multiple social networking sites and my blog) but I have put my butt in my chair and am doing what I can.

This is the first step you have to realize you need to take when you're truly being devoted to your craft: do it even when you don't feel like it. 

There are times when I have been DESPERATE to write and have been unable to. Those days are worse for me than the days where I feel like I'm not in the right mindset to write. I can press keys and form sentences even if I don't feel like it, but when I have thousands of ideas floating around in my mind and I'm unable to write them down? That's the part that kills me.

I guess that this is a very timely thing to write as we're halfway through week two of NaNoWriMo and a lot of people are starting to feel the dreaded "slump" that comes when creativity flows constantly and so quickly in a mad rush to meet the deadline of 50,000 words in 30 days.

But if you are truly devoted to what you're doing, to your craft, be it writing, or music, or art or something else, then you will continue on. You will move ahead, and move forward. You will power through the fact that you really don't wanna be doing this and you'll make yourself proud to overcome the fact that you don't feel like doing this.

Believe me. There is very little more empowering than working through your self-doubts and your lack of motivation to meet a goal.

Go forth and succeed. 

Love,

Kai Kiriyama

Kai Kiriyama lives in Canada with her pet snake Rhaegar. She drinks far too much tea for anyone's safety.

Kai writes for Zombie Training magazine, which you can find here: www.zombie training .com

To contact Kai, you can ask her things on tumblr (thekiriyamaheir.tumblr.com) or find her on twitter (@thekiriyamaheir) or on facebook (facebook.com/authorkaikiriyama)

Best Line of the Day: Blaze Tuesday

This is my favorite passage that I wrote today. It is from Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the Night Surgeon.

I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Blaze's head.

Cheers.
-Kai Kiriyama

I had to walk past the morgue, and I tried not to stop and peer inside. I hated the morgue, always had. Dead bodies in coolers was a horrifying concept. Like macabre leftovers just waiting for the time when they'd be brought out, reheated and examined.

I shuddered at the thought and reminded myself to throw out all the leftovers in my fridge back at my apartment when I got home.

Excerpt: Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the Night Surgeon

This is an excerpt from the current novel I'm writing.

Enjoy.

Chapter One

I wish that I had a more awesome description to start this story off with. You know, “it was a dark and stormy night” or something similar. The problem is that I don't. It doesn't always start out strong and interesting. Sometimes, the story starts out a little plainer than what we hope for and even the most innocent and boring of things turns out to be the start of something good.

My story started nearly fifty years ago; but I'm not here to tell you about my life. All you need to know about me is what's current. My name is Blaze Tuesday. I'm a private investigator in New York. I used to be a cop, but I gave that shit up five years ago. The corruption in the system made me wanna puke, so I quit. Now, I run a fairly successful P.I firm with my partner, Jackson Early. I'm nothin' special; I'm about five foot ten, blue eyes, grey hair that I keep cut fairly short. I'm skinny... kind of. I try to keep myself in pretty good physical condition since chasin' perps down dark alleys isn't the easiest thing in the world. I like to think that I'm pretty good lookin'; I haven't got any body mods or clockwork though, so I'm not everyone's cup of tea, but I wouldn't call myself rugged or nothin'. Modesty is my biggest virtue... Sarcasm is probably my biggest flaw.

Anyway, this story starts out pretty boring. I was sitting in my office, like usual. I run a pretty lax ship when it comes to the P.I firm. I own the whole building and my secretary and I live in the apartments upstairs. The building is okay; it's an ancient thing left over from the early 1900's back when New York was a major city. I guess New York is still a major city, but the cost of living sure dropped off after the oil crisis of the mid-2000's. Everything inside the building has been updated, though, and it's pretty nice, even if I am a terrible housekeeper.

I'm not stingy with office furniture, neither. I've spent a good chunk of money furnishing the place. Nice desks, decent couches int he waiting room. Killer office chairs. There's honestly nothin' worse than sitting in a chair for eight hours and havin' your ass fall asleep. By the time you stand up to work some feelin' back into your posterior, it's guaranteed that the hottest broad you'll ever see will walk into your office. Trust me; I've been there.

It had been a long day already and I was reclining, feet up on my desk, debating on if the vintage, blue paisley wallpaper in the building was actually worth keeping, or if it was contributing to the pounding migraine that was settling into the back of my skull, when my secretary knocked on the door.

I groaned under my breath, but didn't move from my spot. I was comfy and to hell with what anyone else thought.

“Yeah? Come in.” I said.

Trixie pushed open the thick wooden door and stared at me with a look of familiar contempt. She'd seen me do this a thousand times before. I flashed her my winning smile and she folded her arms over her chest in response.

Trixie Luna was pretty cute. She was in her mid-twenties, bookish, with red hair and the most intense green eyes ever. I kid you not, she could stare right into your soul with those peepers. Add the cat's eye glasses she always wore and you had a hot secretary fantasy waiting to happen. Or something. I dunno, she wasn't as buxom as I liked, but she was a good kid, smart and she made the best cup of joe this side of Manhattan.

We stared at each other for a long moment before a smile slowly crept across her face, and we both started to laugh. We couldn't take this job too seriously sometimes; it wasn't worth the trouble.

“You're gonna fall over one day, sittin' like that.” Trixie informed me matter of factly. “You're gonna hit your head on the floor, crack your skull open and I ain't callin' you an ambulance. That's out of my pay scale.”

She had a point. I really didn't pay her enough to deal with avoidable accidents.

Slowly, I took my feet off my desk and sat up straight. Trixie relaxed and stepped a little further into my office so that we could talk.

“So what do you need?” I asked.

“You've got a client waiting for you in the lobby.” Trixie explained.

“Did you get any details about what they want?” I asked, bored already. “You know that I'm pretty busy these days.”

Trixie rolled her eyes at me, clearly not buying my excuses.

“So I'll take that as a 'no' then?” I teased, grinning cheekily at her.

“It's not in my job description to ask.” Trixie shot back.

“Well, maybe it's time for me to change your job description?” I considered, still grinning. I sighed and waved my hand. “Let Jackson deal with it?”

Trixie's mouth formed a thin line on her face. I knew that look all too well; I'd seen it more times than I cared to admit. She closed the almost soundproof door and wheeled on me.

“Jackson is currently working three cases, Blaze.” Trixie said, her voice low and angry. “Good cases, too. Cases that you declined for whatever arrogant reason you came up with at the time. There's been steady work rollin' in for the past month and you've turned down almost all of it!”

I shrugged. “They were boring, unimportant things.”

“They were important to the people trying to hire you.”

“Irrelevant.” I yawned. “Besides, Jackson closed all of them anyway.”

“And you're running him ragged!”

“He doesn't have to accept every case that walks through our front door. There are plenty of other private eyes in our fair city.”

Trixie strode across the small space between the door and my desk. She pressed her palms flat against the smooth, dark wood and leaned forward. I hadn't noticed how low cut her blouse was until she leaned forward, and I found my eyes wandering for a moment.

“So you want me to just take this case, don't you?”

“That would be a nice start.” Trixie agreed.

I stared up at her for a long moment. She stared back, entirely unamused and I had a sinking feeling that I wasn't going to win this argument.

“Are you sure that Jackson can't take this one?”

The blush crawling up Trixie's neck and onto her cheeks told me exactly how pissed off she was. I braced myself for the verbal bitch slap I was about to get.

“Obviously I was wrong about you, Mister Tuesday. And here I thought that I was working for the most accomplished private eye in all of New York.” Trixie drawled. “What a shame it is to find out that I'm really just working for a lazy, arrogant, self-entitled dickwad who can't be bothered to move his ass to take a job to pay his bills and, oh, I dunno, maintain his outstanding reputation.”

“Are you done slandering me?” I asked. “I might start to get offended.”

“Are you done with this false macho bravado that you seem intent on putting on to alienate your entire clientele?”

“Who said it was a false bravado?”

Trixie gave me a look that would curdle milk. Any of those hot secretary fantasies I mentioned? Instantly gone.

“Fine.” I grumbled flatly, standing up. I walked around my desk, brushed past Trixie, opened the door and walked out into the waiting room.

11-2-2012

So all my social media is a buzz with NaNoWriMo things.

Some good.

Some bad.

A lot of confusion and indifference.

Personally, I am a fan of National Novel Writing Month. It gives me a social community of like-minded individuals in my city. Most of these people I wouldn't have met without the NaNoWriMo meetups and stuff, so I can't complain about that. I also love NaNo because, well, it brings out the super competitive streak in me. I'm ALWAYS competing with other people, to get published, to get noticed, you know, the nature of writing. But NaNo brings out the competition in me even more, I see these word counts climbing and I want to get mine there, too. I want to have my word count meter thing way up there, over 10k, over 20k and so on. It's excellent visual motivation to see my friends and writing buddies climbing that ladder and I want to be there, too!

However, I also know that NaNoWriMo is not gonna produce a perfect piece of work right out of the gate. There's a lot of revising needed after the fact. Especially when you set a huge goal for yourself.

I'm an over achiever, I never settle for 50k words. I shoot for more, and I usually achieve what I aim for. So that motivation is an excellent thing.

I write every day, there's no denying that. I write and revise and work very hard to create stories with the intent of publication one day. I also write for Zombie Training Magazine. I find that NaNoWriMo is an additional excuse to write every day for a month. It makes it a habit to write daily, and that is what so many writers need -- motivation and the suggestion of a habit.

So yes, I am participating in NaNoWriMo. 2012 marks my 4th NaNo, and my first 2 Camp NaNo sessions.

I also finished a spec TV script during Script Frenzy but didn't validate it, and I have written a spec film script last month.

All of this stems from the habit of writing every day that NaNo instilled in me 4 years ago.

So, for those of you about to write? I salute you.

Love,
Kai

Kai Kiriyama lives in Calgary with her pet snake Rhaegar and her laptop.

You can find her on the NaNoWriMo forums under the name KaliYuga.

You can read Kai's Zombie articles at www.zombietraining.com

Kai's Twitter: @thekiriyamaheir
Kai's email: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorkaikiriyama
Tumblr: thekiriyamaheir.tumblr.com