Archive for ‘Writing Bites’

March 1st, 2010

I’m not dead. I’m writing a novel

by Venomous Kate

I know, I know. It’s been, what, forever since I updated my blog. And, yes, I owe you Caption Contest winners. (Will you take a check?)

It’s not you. It’s me. Or, rather, it’s this damn novel I’m writing. I finished the first draft and gave it a rest while I did some major advance Spring Cleaning of the Venomous Homestead. (Hey it’s not MY fault winter won’t surrender its icy stranglehold!)

There’s something dispiriting about revisiting one’s “inspired” creative efforts and trying to rework them so… well, so they don’t suck.

The very process of revision had sapped my self-confidence, my crotch-tingling certainty I had thought up a tale worth being told. Ergo, I have the shiniest, most fresh-smelling toilets this side of the Mississippi. You read that right: lately I’ve found deposits of poop and dribbles of urine FAR more fascinating than whatever I could churn out at my computer.

Today, though, I finally sat down to (re-) write. According to my calendar, I haven’t done that since December 13. Yeah, I hate re-writing and revision THAT much.

Then I remembered: even God’s first draft was a disappointment to Him, the ultimate Creator. Thus He took the bare bone of his first draft and perfected it.

And that, boys and girls, is how we got Eve.

So, the blogging will resume shortly. Meanwhile, I’m off to investigate this strange crotch-tingling sensation. Send antibiotics if you don’t hear from me by the end of the week, m’kay?

November 7th, 2008


by Venomous Kate

On the recommendation of an acquaintance, I’ve been watching the Amazon “watch it now” episodes of Californication, HBO’s series about a one-hit novelist starring David “I’m a Sex Addict” Duchovny.

Meanwhile, I’ve spent the day struggling to piece together an op-ed piece before my 8 p.m. (Central) deadline. Up until my first glass of champagne this evening (No, I’m not celebrating anything; I just like champagne), I’d manage to eke out perhaps four paragraphs. It would have been more and probably was, without all the deletions and do-overs. But, as with so many times I sit down to write, that little editor inside my head kept screaming at me.

Midway through my second glass of champers, I realized why so many writers are lushes, including Duchovny’s character, Hank, who discovered in Episode 6 of Californication that “Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.”

The reason why writers drink so much is simple: because editors can’t.