Writer’s block and other excuses

The summer is almost over, and I haven’t been able to scribble more than ten lines of Still Counting that I feel confident enough to share publicly. Those were the only words that I was able to commit to when I decided to include the beginning of the sequel in the 7 Days and Counting manuscript. Rest of the first chapters ended up in a digital waste basket, and it’s dawning on me why so many writers refrain from revealing their early drafts to anyone.

What began as a mild writer’s block, has turned into a barricade of obstacles, or so it seems in comparison to last spring. For one, my children have become scholars of Miyazaki, Pixar and classic Disney animations. I can only hope they have learned some Japanese and English in the process. They have also expressed their artistic talent by drawing on the walls and furniture, which I’m sure all children do at some point, but the difference is that my children believe this to be desired behavior. Also, publishing 7 Days and Counting is more work than I thought. I chuckle at myself, and my naïve thoughts how I would just finish a manuscript, send it to potential publishers, sit back and wait for the off chance it would be picked up by someone, and they would take it from there. Thankfully, I have met several published authors, and other people in the business, who have corrected my misconceptions of both publishing and self-publishing.

My last excuse is that I’ve enjoyed reading too much to do any actual writing, so before I’m able to provide you Still Counting for a sneak peek, let me recommend a few books you might enjoy while waiting.

If you still miss the short-lived HBO series Carnivale, then pick up Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, and be ready to be transported back to a depression era circus while fighting for a scrumptious apple, a walker over wheelchair and other comforts as an old man in a present day nursing home.

I plowed through Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris this summer, as I’ve read all the novels in the Sookie Stackhouse series, but I have to confess it is more out of dedication to finish what I started than for the books themselves. The HBO series True Blood, based on the Sookie’s world of telepaths, vampires and other mythical creatures, has taken the essence of Harris’ creation and proved that once in a blue moon a moving picture is better than the original written word. Unless you are a true fan of Sookie, and wish to find out how her creator saw her journey, stay away from the books and enjoy the polished, coherent version of her world in the show. In case you haven’t seen True Blood, and any pulp fiction involving vampires and were-animals makes you squint, as if it were twilight, let me assure you it is not just a soap set in supernatural world. The show as entertaining it is, deals with religious fanaticism, racial and class issues and gets away with murder much in a same way as The Simpsons or South Park does, because they are considered to be just cartoons.

There were a few other books I read this summer that stirred up more thoughts than I can fit in a paragraph, so I will dedicate separate posts for those in this blog.

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