In the last post, I was writing about how I want to use November as novel-writing month once again. Even though NaNoWriMo is (deservedly) disbanded, I still think of November as the time to write a novel. I have not written a complete one since my medical crisis, so I’m going to give it my best shot this year.
One problem I’ve had all my life (and it’s only increased since my medical crisis) is that I constantly edit what I think because I don’t want to upset/offend anyone. The reason I do that is because it was drummed in my head at a very early age that other people’s emotions and feelings mattered whereas mine did not. More than that, mine were bad and not to be shown, especially if they were negative. In my family, the only emotions/feelings that mattered were my father’s and if he wasn’t around, my mother’s.
What’s more, I was severely criticized/chastised if I dared to let my emotions show. Add to that the fact that I’m weird so I tend to keep my opinions that aren’t important to myselfd. Meaning, pop culture. I’ve joked/not joked about how I got dumped for my opinion on Pulp Fiction (hated it), and while that was a very particular situation, I’ve found that many people do not take it well when you don’t like something they love. No matter how gently I phrase it, it’s not taken well by the majority of people, so I don’t bother saying it until I know someone well enough to be assured they are not going to freak out.
I will say that I’m not trying to be contrary when I don’t liek something popular; I really am not. I usually know what I will and won’t like because my taste is very definite, but I have been surprised a time or two (in a positive way). I did not think I would like The Royal Tenenbaums, (Wes Anderson) but much to my surprise, I enjoyed it immensely.
When I write, there’s a soft, but persistent voice in the back of my mind telling me not to write this and not to say that. I can write pretty gruesome things without blinking an eye. I don’t find horror stuff scary, so I can throw any amount of that into my writing without a care in the world. But I can’t say shit that would be hurtful to people I really care about, even if it’s for the sake of fiction.
I have to get past that if I’m going to write a novel worth reading. I don’t want it to be safe, bland, or boring. On the other hand, I don’t want to just parrot shit that is hurtful without being intentional about it. I’m tired of hipster hatred. It’s not funny; it’s not clever; it just allows people to say shit that is hurtful under the thin veneer of comedy. There’s a YouTube content creator I watch that is starting to do this more and more, and it’s turning me off.
I’m part of several minority groups that are going through a very rough time now. I do not need to hear someone I’m watching on the regular make cheap jokes about ppeople in those groups, even under the guise of mocking the people who hold those views.
Pertaining to my writing, take for example transphobes. They are so grotesque and cruel, it’s hard to go too far when mimicking them. So anyone trying to parody them just end up sounding gross. Same with any anti-immigrant sentiments, sexist bullshit, and all the other horrifying things that this administration and their folllowers are espousing.
I have the idea for the novel/memoir. And, yes, it’s going to be a novel/memoir. It’s been done (as in it’s an actual genre) and I’m all about breaking the rules. I think that it’ll be the way to get me out of my rut, too.
I t hink I need to try something completely different, and this will be it. Yes, the idea has been percolating in my brain for some time. Yes, it’s still somewhat in my comfort zone (though not completely), but it’s a stretch in other ways.
When I first started writing mystery stories, it was because I was a murder mystery aficionado, but there were no female Asian writers of said mysteries. Hell, there were no Asian mystery writers at all. Asian American, I should say. More to the point, there were no *deep breath* Asian American, agreligious, bisexual, fat female writers who had black cat. It was also at a time where mysteries were considered genre writing, and that was definitely looked down upon. It’s fantastic that they are now simply literature and there are Asian non-male, queer writers. There aren’t enough, but there are some.
Is that egotistical? Of course it is. Do I care? Hell no! Listen. This is my way to try to be part of the solution and not just gripe about it.
In this case, though, I’m going to try to mash together five distinct things. Four genres and one video game. I have my opening written in my brain, and it’s strong. The main character will be based on me as always. Hm. I think I might introduce one more genre into the mix, but we’ll see. The last novel I tried had three or four of these mixed together, and it just did not come together. it wasn’t because of the mix, though. I think it’s because I could not nail the murder mystery aspect, which, arguably, was the most important factor.
I had it written in my head. I had my perp and my victim, and I had all the usual suspects. I just could not get it to work, so I reluctantly gave up on this.
I think I’m going to set a rule that I have to finish this novel. It can be pure shit (which a first draft should be), but I have to finish it. In addition, I want to fight my urge to edit the hell out of the writing as I go. That’s my M.O., and it’s a bad habit that I would like to break.
That’s all I have in me today. My sleep is shit, and I need to try to wrestle my sleep back to a semblance of a schedule. I will be back tomorrow to firm this up as I want to go into November with a solid idea of what I want to do with my new novel. I don’t want to half-ass it; I want to give it my whole ass.