Being the Bad Guy

"You are never the villain of your own story."

This seems to be incredibly true of my life today. The Bad Guy doesn't realize that he's the bad guy. And when he refuses to acknowledge this, it makes it incredibly hard to get any sort of resolution. It's their word against yours. It's open for interpretation. There are two sides to every story.

But what if the story just plain sucks?

In stories, it's easy to pinpoint the antagonist. There's the hero and the villain. And you know who to support. How dare that person do this to your beloved main character? They're obviously evil. But every once in a while, you get a villain that's hard to hate. They have some redeeming qualities. You can understand how they got to this point in their life. But they're still the bad guy. They're still doing horrible things to good people. So, while you're understanding of their situation, you, as a reader, don't like them very much.

Unfortunately, there isn't a delete button in real life. You can't say something terrible and take it back. You can't rewrite a memory. It isn't black and white, because emotions cloud the situation. There are any number of influencing factors. Friends and family have their own opinions. You don't want to disappoint the people who believe in you. But you also don't want to burn your bridges.

I figured out who the Bad Guy is today. But even though I have this knowledge, I'm not sure what the outcome will be. I don't have the luxury of an outline of my life. Sometimes, I really wish I did. It might make it easier to avoid these situations.

Hating people is so much easier in fiction.


-Liz

Passing 'Go'

Do you ever feel like there's so much emotion inside of you that it's difficult to figure out what you're really feeling? In the past, writing has helped me. But lately, there's so much going on in my life that I haven't been able to write. I understand that a large part of being a successful writer is discipline, but there are times when the most determined of individuals are so overwhelmed by life that writing just isn't an option.

Lately, I've been telling people about my novels. I find that explaining them gets me excited about the characters. It's a simple pleasure, but many good things stem from such a feeling. It motivates me to open those documents and skim through. In some cases, I'm given an opportunity to read a passage aloud to someone. I find this is particularly helpful, one, because I have an easier time correcting any awkward word combinations in my dialogue, and two, because it connects me with my characters. If I have to feel their emotion while I'm reading, it breathes life into them. It makes them seem more like real people. Old friends. And I find myself wanting to get to know them all over again.

I'm working with someone to set up an official website for all of my writing pleasures, and I will hopefully be starting a new blog over there. If all things go well, I'll take all of these memorable posts and move them to the new site. It's unclear at the moment if I will keep this blog active, but the new site will provide me with infinite new possibilities for marketing.

I'll keep you guys posted on the progress. I hope that you'll follow me when I make the transition.

Keep writing!

 
-Liz

Star Gazer

I believe in fairy tales. Not that life can be picture perfect, because that's just not realistic, but I honestly believe that everyone in life is granted one wish. It might be something small like a thousand nights curled up with your favorite pet, or something big like True Love. Your dream house. A wildly successful career. Fame and Fortune. A childhood dream realized and grabbed with both hands. I believe it's possible for humans to have this. And sometimes, when we're really lucky, we get more than one.

Life is very often the polar opposite of pretty; it's easy to only focus on the bad. The war, death, destruction, plague, economy. It's easy to be lost in the swirling vortex of depression. But I think it's important to hold onto those good things. And if you don't have them now, find one, and jump into it with arms outstretched.

I write stories about people. They have good days and bad. There is birth and death and tragedy and love. Nothing is simple. But nothing in life is simple either. It's complicated. No matter how hard we try to analyze and schedule and micromanage, there's always something that slips through our fingers. There is always something just out of our control. And that's okay. Sometimes you just have to take things on faith.

Even though I write fiction, my stories are about real life. They're about hundreds of life experiences broken down and fed into imaginary people. In this form, I think the truest life lessons can be put down on paper. There are a thousand tears in every gut-wrenching passage. A dozen smiles in every baby's laugh. It's the purest of emotions written in a way that people can relate to. We've all experienced these things in some ways.

That's something we all have in common.

That, and the desire for real life fairy tales.


-Liz

Musing

Hate is scary. Not the kind that you scream about during an argument. The kind that happens after the argument, when there are no more arguments. Hate that is so strong, you can't think about it, because you're afraid that it will consume you; turn you into someone who is no longer a person, but an emotion. It will turn you into some monstrous being that doesn't care about anything but hate. And that hate will lead to a thirst for revenge. And that thirst will be put into action, and actions into motion, until you are ruining lives, most of all your own. Hate is powerful. Hate is dangerous. And somehow, it still exists.

Hate is so close to passion. You can feel passion for a person so great you're afraid it will carry you away. But passion isn't considered a bad thing. People throw themselves into it, breathe it in, and beg for more. But what happens when that passion turns to hate? If you're so deep in your longing and suddenly, your world shifts. And you find yourself no longer loving, but hating. Is there a way back from that? Distance might lead to forgiveness, and forgiveness may lead to forgetting. But if you can't distance yourself, it turns you into this person you don't recognize. And you worry that if you can't get away from it, you'll never be yourself again.

Logic dictates that there is a way back from most anything. And I find that logic is once again engulfing my brain and bringing me back to a place of reason. A place where there are problems and there are solutions and no matter how difficult a situation seems, there is a way to conquer it. But every once in a while, emotion grabs hold and I spiral to a place where I wonder about hate and its consequence. And I wonder if there will come a time when logic is just out of reach and I won't be able to come back.

Writing about it helps. So, I write. And writing puts the emotions on a page where I can read it, analyze it, and come back to reality. As long as I can write, I'm less afraid.

Let's hope I can always write.


-Liz

Holey Shit

Do you ever feel like you're trying to dig yourself out of a hole with a spoon? You're six feet under and all you have is your determination and a crappy tool. You look up and see a mountain of dirt and a tiny pinprick of light. And you have to ask yourself, "How the HELL am I going to get out of here?"

I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet.

I'm sure there are better metaphors for what I'm currently experiencing, but that's what I've got at the moment. I'm not getting any points for creativity, but it's something people can relate to. Well, I hope it's something people can relate to. I'm having problems communicating at the moment.

I've become the villain in someone's story. I know that I can't really control that. People have their own opinions and their own views and their own way of dealing with things. But I'm having a hard time dealing with this fact because I am, at heart, a writer. I write people's endings. I shape worlds. And while things aren't always pretty and perfect, I know that it's all going to work out in the end, because I'm not mean enough to deny even the worst characters resolution. I wish it worked like that in real life.

I'm generally not a mean person. And I've never had a problem communicating. I can communicate until I'm blue in the face. In the past, this was enough. Making my point was enough. What the other person did with that information was up to them. But for some reason, I'm not finding it enough anymore.

I've never wanted so badly for someone to understand my side of things. For them to agree with me. I don't want to be the bad guy. I don't want for things to crumble over a difference in opinion. I want to come to some sort of understanding and to have things work themselves out. But no matter how much I bend my expectations or compromise, the other party doesn't seem willing to do the same. And what are you supposed to do when you're bending over backwards and the other person won't budge?

Let it go.

I know I should let it go. But I'm not a mean person. I don't want to be the villain in their story. I'm even willing to remove myself from their story if necessary, just so long as I'm not the reason it all went wrong.

But real life isn't as easy as writing. And writing is hard.

Who the hell came up with that story?



-Liz

Gobble, Gobble. Bang! Yum :-)

If you can't tell, I've got turkey on the brain. It IS almost Thanksgiving. I'll be working the holiday, but there will be food aplenty, so I'm still excited. And who doesn't love the opportunity to stuff themselves silly and be plagued with minor self-loathing the next morning?

I know it's been a while since I've posted anything, but there's been a lot going on. I'm officially a resident of Colorado! I was living here before, but I recently bought a house, so now the state is stuck with me. I think we're growing on each other.

I'm still a writer. I haven't written anything lately, but it still stands to reason that I can, therefore I am. Or something like that. I've had grand ideas and shitty ideas and everything in between, but I lack the time to put my butt in a chair (or the floor, or on a bed) and get to it. I know it sounds like an excuse, but twelve and thirteen hour days don't leave you a lot of time to argue. Sometimes sleep is more important. Especially when you're sick.

Yes, I'm diseased again. You know, for the fifty-seventh time. This time I have pertussis (whooping cough to the general public) and have since the middle of summer. The damn thing just doesn't want to go away. But we all know that my immune system is, for lack of a better word, "special" so it's not like this is a surprise. I've bounced from one antibiotic to another and back again, making things better, and then much worse. But I'm getting used to it. And there are worse things you can have, like tonsillitis, which I had a couple of weeks ago.

So, I'm still alive. I'm still plotting. I'm still terrorizing the nation, but in a non-illegal sort of way. And I will write again! In the meantime, I have horses.



-Liz

Don't Fence Me In

If any of you have ever dreamed of being a cowboy, I highly recommend trying it out as an adult. It's hard work, with long hours, and little pay. But it's awesome on a level that even your ten-year-old self would approve of.

I'm cooking more than wrangling these days, but I'm working and living on a ranch, so that makes me a cowgirl. I have the boots and everything. I'm also exhausted and I've had no time whatsoever to write. Okay, that's not entirely true. We do a campfire every Friday and read "original" (aka found on the internet) cowboy poetry. I did write a poem or two. I probably will write more. And if I ever have the time (or the energy) this is the type of place I could get a lot of work done.

I'm still not sure what will happen at the end of the summer, but it looks like I'll have a job if I'm interested in staying on. I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I get there, seeing as how all of my family is on the other side of the country.

I'm getting an amazing amount of material. The scenery is beautiful and we have a steady stream of guests to keep us entertained. So, I think in the end, this change will benefit my writing. I'm certainly healthier, and that was one of the main reasons I stopped writing regularly in the first place.

This is me, in Colorado.

Breathing.

In cowboy boots.

Be jealous.



-Liz