Pausing for a twitter rant

I've been working pretty hard on my novel. Really, I have. But I need to take a break to write something else. Every day Twitter becomes more of a time waster for me, and here's why. While there are plenty of people who post plenty of interesting things, there are WAY too many people who fall into the following categories of complete uselessness:

The Quotes Tweeter
This is the person who has nothing to say, and simply posts quotes from famous people, usually quotes that we've heard a million times before. "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent," Eleanor Roosevelt. Oh, thank you. Never heard THAT one before. Good thing it's a decent quote, because these offenders appear to have a Word file that they copy/paste the damned quotes from. One person that I recently unfollowed had a repertoire of about 30 quotes that were in heavy rotation like a bad Miley Cyrus single. If you have not one original thought, quit wasting bandwidth.

The #followfriday #follownow #followjustcuz Tweeter
These people endlessly tweet the names of other people you should follow. Hundreds of them. Sometimes thousands. I recently followed someone who was recommended by a #followfriday tweet, only to find that THAT person was also tweeting nothing but #followfriday tweets. I don't mind the occasional follow suggestion, but 200 in one day? Oh, the humanity.

The Product Link Tweeter
These are the ones who send out 100 tweets a day containing nothing but links to their Zazzle items, Etsy items, and eBay auctions. The Zazzlers are the worst by far. Not only will they tweet a link to every product that they've created, but every sale they've had. Sure, go ahead and toot your horn over a sale of a few hundred party invitations. But one magnet? One keychain? "Woo hoo. Just sold ONE postcard on Zazzle. So excited I can't stand it." Well, that would make two of us that can't stand it.

The TMI Tweeter
Seriously, no one cares what flavor of soy milk you put in your latte, or that you had a bagel for breakfast, or that you now have to go to the bathroom. No one. Trust me.

The Facebook Crossover Tweeter
These are the ones who have their Facebook comments automatically sent to twitter, so their tweets consist of a comment, followed by a link that takes you to their Facebook page, where you will find the exact same comment. 'Nuff said about that one.

Over the past few months, my twitter use has definitely been shifting. While I still follow my friends, I now use twitter more as a source of news and information, and of course, comic relief. In looking at my follow list, the majority are celebrities. Why? They understand the proper use of twitter as a marketing tool. They pop in with one or two well crafted tweets a day, and get the fuck outta there. I get the information I need, and nothing more. Or I get a good laugh at a really great joke, or at their bad grammar, or in some cases, the sheer stupidity and/or arrogance of their tweets. But even the most illiterate of celebrities knows to keep it under five tweets per day. And yes, I HAVE unfollowed a few obnoxious celebrity overtweeters, or celebrities who were quite clearly paying an assistant to do the job for them (Pee Wee Herman, I'm talking to you).

Of course, the downside to all of this is that I have no followers. Oh well. There's more to life than having twitter followers. Or is there? This brings me to the last offender.

The "I have ______ Followers" Braggart
Oh yeah, they're out there. People who actually post on their web sites and blogs, "Click here to follow me on twitter. (1500 followers strong.)" Yep, I've actually seen people list their twitter following on their Linkedin resumes. Call me skeptical, but I kind of doubt that there are employers out there looking for people who spend all day on twitter. Okay, maybe Pee Wee Herman is.

Now, off to tweet about this blog entry, and watch my 75 remaining followers jump ship.

I think this one speaks for itself

Any blog entry that I might attempt to write about this subject is likely to turn into a ten page tirade, so I'll let the photo do the talking.

I feel honored to be among the thousands of progressive thinkers who have joined the NoH8 campaign. Spending a Sunday afternoon at Hollywood United Methodist Church, surrounded by more than 500 hate-free straight and LGBT people, and being photographed by the gifted Adam Bouska, was an experience I will never forget.

I've been writing like heck these last few weeks. Now, more than ever, I want my message to be heard. So off I go. I have a novel to complete!

He regarded her . . .

For some reason I am able to write pages of dialogue without even thinking. Maybe it’s because I like to talk, and putting words into a character’s mouth feels natural. Maybe I should have been screenwriter, because I can write the dialogue, but I’m stuck like glue when it comes to action. Even though I can picture what my characters are doing, I can’t find the words to describe their reactions and movements. Really, how many ways can you say that someone smiled, or laughed, or frowned?

I read a lot of novels for comparison – some very good, some very bad, some downright awful. One of the downright awful ones was Pamela Anderson’s “Star.” Throughout the entire novel, her characters had only one action, they “regarded” one another.

A typical conversation between Anderson’s characters went something like this (and I'm paraphrasing):

He regarded her, then said “Hello.”
“Hello,” she said, as she regarded him back.
He regarded her some more, as he thought of his reply.
While she waited, she regarded him intently.

You get the picture.

By the third chapter I was ready to write a letter to the publisher recommending that the title be changed to “The Book of Regarding.”

Okay, so I know I can do better than that, though, so far, not by much. But how many ways can one describe a sigh or a smile or a sip from a cup of coffee?

Well, color me STUCK.

I know one thing, I will never, EVER, have my characters regard one another.

The Fire Inside

I’ve always loved Bob Seger. I listened to a lot of different music as a teen, most of which I'm now horribly embarrassed about, but not Seger. No doubt, he’s an American original who made some pretty fantastic music. But his songs also spoke to me, and as I write my novel, they speak to me still.

I was barely out of high school and struggling on the streets of Hollywood when “Hollywood Nights” was released. The song was pretty much a lyrical void, but every night I would make the three mile drive from the TV station I worked for, to my piece-of-shit Hollywood Blvd. apartment, and blast “On those Hollywood nights, in those Hollywood Hills.” It sounded pretty awesome.

Later, as I embarked on a novel about a female rocker, “Turn The Page” a song that once seemed ridiculously cliché, suddenly resonated with me. I couldn’t appreciate it when I was younger, but I get it now. After Seger decided to walk away from the business for eleven years to be “normal,” and raise his kids, I got it even more.

While I do spend a lot of time listening to Seger’s earlier catalog, no song has ever touched me the way 1991’s “The Fire Inside” has. I’ve loved that song from the moment I first heard it, and still listen to it almost daily. Seger has said that he really labored over that song, and it shows. Thought provoking lyrics, and one of the finest videos ever made, make this song one to look for. Find it. Buy it. Enjoy it forever.

So thank you, Bob, for speaking to me, and inspiring me, and continuing to motivate my writing.

Dreams die hard
and we watch them erode
But we cannot be denied . . .
The fire inside
~ Bob Seger

I’ve tried SO many times to let my novel die, to let the dream die, but I can’t. It’s the fire inside.

Side note: the phenomenal keyboard work is Roy Bitton of the E Street Band.

Back on the horse!

Okay, I've been bad. REALLY bad. Totally blew off my novel and haven't written a thing since back around, oh, six months ago. I had actually come to terms with the fact that I'm not a writer. If I were, I'd be done by now. Heck, I'd have been done five years ago.

Well, a few things have come up recently that have reignited my desire to write. One, my favorite teacher, Gayle Brandeis, is teaching a Master Class at UCLA, and I'm not qualified because I don't have the requisite completed manuscript. That sound you hear is me slapping myself for being so stupid.

Also, some other issues going on in my life have made me think about the novel a little harder. Do I REALLY want to give up, maybe die with the regret of an unfinished manuscript? And I'd be lying if I weren't thinking about the possibility of actually getting published and making some money. After losing every dime I have to this recession, I could certainly use it.

I've been in touch with some friends from past writing classes, and we're going to form a small writing group and get things rolling. Most of us can't afford UCLA at the moment, but we can afford to lend support to one another, which is enough to motivate me and help me to get the lead out (literally, since I do a lot of my writing the old fashioned way).

SO . . . I dragged out the manuscript over the weekend and am now going over it to see what I need to concentrate on. Hopefully I can kiss this writer's block goodbye.

It's Been HOW Long?

I can't believe it's been over two months since I started this blog. I should mention that this was done as an assignment for my last writing class at UCLA Extension, "Writing for Social Change" with Gayle Brandeis. That class ended two months ago, and I haven't written a word since. I've been busy, and confused, and a whole lot of things that have killed my desire to write.

BUT, the good news is that I'm starting to think about my novel again. My characters are starting to creep back into my brain, as they always do when I take a break. This is a good sign. While I still don't feel the desire to sit down and write, I know that it will come back to me soon.

Feeling optimistic.

Knowing when to quit (or not)

I’ve tried several times this week to work on my novel, and I can’t manage to put anything worthwhile onto the page. But this isn’t your typical writer’s block. This is something different. I’ve reached the point where I’m starting to feel like this is one giant exercise in futility, and I don’t know how to pick myself up and keep going.

I have this sense of being back in a college biology class, and having to write a research paper on some Brazilian Tree Frog. I'm only writing it so I can cross the finish line and get the diploma, but beyond that, just have no interest in what I'm doing.

I’m starting to feel the same way about my novel, like it’s a task. I started working on it some seven years ago, when I was suffering from depression and needed an outlet. Now that same depression is back and telling me that I’m wasting my time.

The question I’m pondering is how do you know when it’s time to cry “uncle” and surrender to the knowledge that you just can’t do it? Seven years, and I’m probably not even 25% of the way there. Even if I poured my heart and soul into it, and devoted every waking hour to writing, I’ll likely be well into my fifties before I even have a first draft. I wish I could be Stephen King or Danielle Steele and write a novel in three months, but I just don’t have that natural ability.

And realistically, is there any chance of finding an agent who will represent a middle-aged woman who has just completed her first novel, that is, assuming that the first novel is even worth reading beyond page two? Not being a celebrity or disgruntled Presidential aid with a juicy exposé, I’m thinking no . . . no chance. A snowball’s chance in hell.

The optimists of the world will tell you to never give up on your dream, that you’re never too old, bla bla bla bla. I disagree. I think it’s okay to give up. Why spend your life pushing for something that you really, truly JUST CAN’T DO?

When I was in High School I wanted to be an actress. I tried. I even got a few small roles and my union card. But it didn’t take long to figure out that I lacked the “it” factor. You know, that special something that lets the Jennifer Anistons and Kate Hudsons float to the top. I recognized that it was never going to happen for me, no matter how hard I tried, so I moved on and had a successful career in advertising. Giving up was the right thing to do.

Of course, there’s always the personal satisfaction of being able to say, “I wrote a novel.” But I have to wonder of there’s any satisfaction to be had after the writing turned into a ten-year chore. At that point, I think I might be feeling relief rather than satisfaction.

And yet, here I am, able to write endlessly about losing my desire to write.

Go figure.