Chirography or Keyboarding
As a run-of-the-mill low level copywriter, I sometimes suffer greatly with knowing what to say and having issues with how I write it. Compounded with the fact that I also have to deal with my artist lizard brain in thinking everything I do is crap.
My first published book (a collection of poetry, philosophy rants, short stories, and life trials) didn’t really fall into this category of thinking and reflection. Since back then, I was going through some heavy life drama and it just sort of all flowed out of me until the darkness lifted. I felt like Bukowski at the time. After I read everything I wrote, I just shrugged my shoulders and sent it out into the void. Like a therapeutic exorcism that just got off of a ‘Pixy Stix’ addiction.
The second book (same type of content) was a test of willpower to see if I could do it again without the fuel of emotional turmoil. It took a bit longer, but I dredged through it. I actually performed a hand full of spoken word sets around Vegas just to see if the content was worth publishing. Again, the end result was the same. A shoulder hunch, shrug, and another one dropped into that staring abyss.
The whopper that kicked my ass, gave a huge grin on my face, made me cry, pumped up my inspiration, and is still haunting my critical mind. Is the third book (not yet published). This one is not like the other two. This is actually a novel. A fatty-fat one that is supposed to be part of a three book trilogy. A triptych of three very different stories, (each written in a different style and genre) that revolves around one giant world, from three different perspectives. Epic in nature, linked together in a cerebral method, heavily reliant on a very specific character driven formula of dialogue, and humorous wit. I finished the first draft early last year and am still slowly working on the second.
Personally I wish I were leagues better at editing than I am. I would probably be finished with a third draft by now. I have set up plans to enroll into a few entry level college courses just to learn more from professionals in editing and those pesky things called syntax and morphology.
“Proper grammar is a whore.”
It’s not like I am rolling in the bennies to pay a real experienced editor to fix all my bad habits for me. Rent is sort of a necessity. Kinda wish I did this when I was in college, fresh out of high school. Stupid student loans and utility bills. Being an adult can suck it.
But at least I am half way through it and have already finished an outline of the second book. I am also quite amused that the majority of the novel was written from my phone with a “journal” app. I feel like I should have a typewriter. Some sort of Steven King analogue trope situation mixed in with a little Frank Navasky obsession. You know, an Olympia Report Deluxe Electric? The whirring hum and clack-a-dee-clack sound?
The next book I will be trying to keep the majority of the first draft written in real journals. A little nervous how my hand will be treating me after the first week.
