Make bad art

Photo by Christa Dodoo on Unsplash

I’ve been in a slump recently. Dragging my feet across all metrics, staring at manuscripts, books to-read, blinking cursors on blank pages. I lost it, the urge to keep going, keep writing. Putting one word down, and then the next, seemed so insurmountable. One brick at a time, build that wall.

I think there’s only so many failures most people can take before it grinds them down. The threshold is different for everyone, but there’s a threshold nonetheless. I was confident I’d hit it. Tired of trudging through the muck, knee deep and going nowhere.

And then I ran into this twitter thread, from an account I’d barely ever heard of. For some reason, it flipped a switch. Wtf was I doing? Agonizing over whether my work was good or bad, if it would fit this market or that. I’d lost the plot, started comparing myself to other writers, convinced there was nowhere to go but down.

Fuck it. Make art. Make bad art. Make shit, and then make shit again and again. And when you’re done, start over and make more shit. Just keep making.

I guess sometimes we really do need to hear it from someone else. To see there are others going through the same thing you are. We’re all trudging through the muck together, it doesn’t benefit anyone—least of all yourself—to stop. Keep moving forward, keep making, inch by inch. We’ll build that wall, make some shit, then do it again.

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Anyway, I’m probably self-publishing another novella early next year. So subscribe or whatever if you want to know when it happens.

My Newsletter is now LIVE🚀

I now have a newsletter! You can sing-up here, and you’ll get updates sent directly to your inbox. I also plan for there to be some neat newsletter exclusives, like promo codes, book recommendations, and even occasional video game talk.

And if you subscribe you’ll get blog posts sent directly to your email, so you’ll never miss a post.

Camp NaNoWriMo, 2020

It’s been hard to create this year, though I’m sure that’s true for a lot of folks. As an act of potentially foolhardy motivation, I’ll be attempting Camp NaNoWriMo. I’ve been participating in NaNoWriMo on and off since 2012, and funnily the only time I’ve hit the 50k goal was that first year. I’ve participated eleven times, including both November NaNoWriMos and Camp NaNoWriMos, with an accumulative 181,623 words written. It’s honestly more than I would’ve expected given how many times I’ve flubbed the challenge.

I think NaNoWriMo is great for motivation, even if you (like me) flub the challenge a bunch. Anything that gets everyone together and excited about hunkering down and writing a book is a positive force in my eyes.

This year I’ll be trying to get the first 50k of a sci-fi novel done. I’ve been outlining it these past few weeks, and hope that’ll help me blast through the daily word goals.

Are your participating this year? Jump into the comments below and let me know what you’re working on and what your Camp NaNoWriMo goals are. (Or let me know via Twitter!)

Hello Disaster

Shit’s really messed up now. I’ve been anxiously hiding out at home, peeking out the window wondering how things can look so normal yet be so off. There are those moments where everything just seems okay enough, that maybe I forget for a second what’s happening.

We’re still in the middle of it, even though the term light at the end of the tunnel keeps getting trotted out. Hell, we might still be in the beginning. Chapter One hasn’t ended yet, and the capitalist beast is rattling its cage, urging and yearning to be let free.

I have faith that medical science will beat the shit out of this thing, but I don’t have faith that the gravitational pull of the status quo won’t tear us apart first.

Shit’s scary. I get it. We’re all swimming through a boiling pit of anxiety, slurping down litres of fear with each hurried gasp. Normal is a beckoning comfort zone, it’d be so nice to just hop over, get all cozy. Hmm, normalcy.

That’s not going to happen, not until we have either a vaccine or an efficient treatment. But everybody reading this already knows that. Too bad the people jettisoning us into the fire don’t.

Ten years ago, I joked with a friend that in the future we’d all be wearing colourful gasmasks. I thought pollution and climate change would get so bad that masks would become a necessity, and people would eventually gravitate towards customizing their masks. In a weird roundabout way, I kind of ended up being right but also super wrong.

Now, I worry we’re careening toward a disaster. Chapter Two could end up a whole lot worse than Chapter One. I hope I’m super wrong about that too.

I’ve seen some praise for Canada’s response, and I’m definitely happy this is the place I live right now. But I’m reluctant to call it a resounding success. It feels more like we’ve been tapdancing on the edge of stable, just managing to keep things under control. One misstep and we’re plunging into the fiery depths of catastrophe. It’d be nice if the capitalist beast stopped poking and prodding us.

Slow Progress is better than No Progress

What? I’m not updating my blog to avoid working on my current WIP, you’re updating my blog to avoid working on my current WIP.

Um, er, anyway.

I’ve always valued the slow and steady approach. Doing a little bit here and there adds up over time, and I try to apply this to my writing. Sometimes hitting word counts can feel like grinding stones. During these lull periods, I tell myself that it’s okay to do a little. Even just 100 words, because by the end of the week I’ll be 700 words ahead than if I’d done nothing. This has worked for me, allowing me to make slow and steady progress even during those low periods.

But sometimes, sometimes, this turns into an excuse. It’s fine to be at a low point, and it’s fine for that low point to last as long as it needs to. But eventually we’ve got to start crawling our way out. This is different for everyone, there’s no universal answer and anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something. I can only tell you what works for me, and hope it helps.

Carving out a dedicated writing time helps me immensely. Every day at whatever-O’clock I’ll commit to sit down and write. Plus, I’ll give myself an increased word goal, nothing too far out, but something within reach. And over time I try to slowly increase it. Usually, these two things together help get me back on track. Whenever my word count suffers, it’s almost always accompanied by a frantic hyper-focused worry about This Month’s Negative Thing. And my writing schedule during these times fluctuates, chores and everything else seemingly rising in priority.

That’s when I get in the Writing Vault and shut the door. Carve out that time with an iron will. Setup turrets that will pelt any intruder with a fusillade of nerf darts. No one can withstand a nerf dart barrage. The routine gets me back on track, it becomes like brushing your teeth. Just another thing you’ve got to do, otherwise ick.

That’s what helps me. Maybe it’ll help you, or maybe it won’t. Everyone’s process is different, but I hope this can at least point you in the right direction.

The Novel, Slow but Steady Progress

I’ve been slowly chipping away at what I’ve only referred to as The Novel for a while now. I started writing it way back in 2017, but really it probably started in 2016 with The Book of Jewels. The Novel takes place in the same world, but the technology has been up-jumped to a steampunky version of the early 1900s. The core conceit started as a very self-indulgent “steampunk with orcs!” bellowed from the depths of Wouldn’t That Be Cool. But it’s evolved beyond that, having Hrusk—our half-orc half-gnome main character—butt heads with weapon manufacturers and corrupt authority figures. All while swinging swords and shooting bolters.

The book is tentatively titled A Tusk too Many.

I think it’s getting close to being done. I’m currently rewriting the final chapter, and then I’m going to go through the whole manuscript to make a bunch of little changes here and there. After that I think it’ll be done. Then the question is, what do I do with it?

I’d considered putting it out on submission and trying to get a literary agent, and maybe I still will. But something about the story feels off, I don’t know if it’s the plot or the characters or what. And the thing is that wherever this loose doohickey is that’s messing with the story’s guts, I can’t seem to find it. It might need a total rewrite. Like, start with a new blank page kind-of-rewrite. Ultimately, I think there’s a good chance I’m going to end up trunking it.

So why finish? Why keep writing it if I know it’s tittering on a knife’s edge, likely to end up in the digital equivalent of a dusty attic? Because I believe in the idea of finish your shit. It’s important to go through the whole process from beginning to end, there’s a lot to be learned by simply doing. And I think I’ve already learned a lot writing this book, hopefully that’ll make the next one better.

GOBLIN DESSERTERS, a micro-RPG about trying to not get eaten by ogres

I felt inspired by HONEY HEIST and CRASH PANDAS, and CriticalRole’s one-shots of the former and the latter, so I decided to go ahead and try to whip up my own micro-RPG. I had a lot of fun writing it, and hopefully it’s also fun to play. This is my first time doing something like this, so I’m sure there are plenty of flaws in it. But, I figure the only way to get better is to put it out there and see what people think. If you give it a try please do send me a message and let me know how it went!!

GOBLIN DESSERTERS

Welcome to GOBLIN DESSERTERS, a world where monsters rule and humans are at the bottom of the food chain. You are a goblin soldier on the frontlines of the century long goblin and ogre war. But you’ve had enough, what’s the point in dying for a war that never ends? You’re going to desert and find yourself a nice little haven where there’s all the human meat you can eat. But you’ve got to make it out of the frontlines first.

Creating Your Character

Name: Are you Grimgut Orgreslayer? Hexa Wolfsbane? Canker Cutthroat? Or maybe just Bob, there’s nothing wrong with Bob. Give your goblin a name!

Motive: Why are you deserting? Are you afraid of dying? A pacifist? Or a veteran who’s seen enough? Or maybe you’re just looking to settle down on a nice human farm. What’s your motive for deserting the war? And do you have an end goal?

Appearance: Goblins in GOBLIN DESSERTERS come in all shapes and sizes, whether it be scrawny, rotund, burly, sinewy or anything in-between. One thing they all have in common is green skin and big pointy ears.

Stats: You have three stats:

• BRAWN: This is all things physical, like pushing, lifting, jumping, biting, punching, kicking, swimming, and climbing.

• BRAINS: This is all things that require mental aptitude, that includes dexterous tinkering, discerning some clever bit of information, and being able to manipulate a conversation.

• RESOLVE: This is your ability to resist fear. Each goblin has three fear points, when you fail a resolve check, you lose a fear point. Lose all three fear points and you become scared.

Assign one of the following numbers to each stat of your choice. 4 (this is what you’re good at), 2 (this is what you’re okay at), and 1 (this is what you’re bad at).

When you do anything in the game, you make either a BRAWN, BRAINS, or RESOLVE check. Roll a number of d6 equal to your stat. Dice that roll 1s, 2s, and 3s are failures. Dice that roll 4s, 5s, and 6s are successes.

Difficulty of Checks:

• Normal - 1 success needed

• Hard - 2 successes needed

• Very Hard - 3 successes needed

Fear and being Scared

Goblins are prone to being chickenshits. You have 3 fear points. Whenever something really fucked up happens, the GM will call for a RESOLVE check, if you fail you lose 1 fear point. When you lose all your fear points you become scared, and start screaming and flailing and running, and generally having a very loud freakout.

Your goblin friends can attempt to restore a fear point to you. They can either slap the shit out of you (BRAWN check), or try to talk you out of it (BRAINS check). They make a BRAWN or BRAINS check versus your RESOLVE check, if they have more successes than you have failures, you regain a fear point, if not then you continue to have a meltdown.

Ogres want to EAT YOU

Goblins might be easy to kick around, but they’re damn tough to kill. The only way to kill a goblin is to get eaten by an ogre.

Ogres are giants that tower over goblins, and they’re also really hard to kill. Cut off a limb and it’ll still try and wobble toward you. The only way to kill an ogre and all its appendages is to crush its skull.

When an ogre grapples you, you and your goblin friends will have a series of chances (at your GM’s discretion) to break free. But if you pass the threshold of an ogre’s gaping maw, you enter last chance.

Last Chance: Once you’ve passed the toothy threshold you have one last chance to save yourself. Your friends can’t help you with this, you’re on your own. Describe what you want to do, roll whatever check the GM deems appropriate, and pray to your goblin gods. If you fail, that’s it, your goblin’s dead.

Optional Rule: If your goblin dies, then you take control of an ogre. Your ogre has 5 BRAWN, 1 BRAINS, and no RESOLVE because they cannot become scared.*

Bonus Dice

There are a few ways to gain additional bonus dice to your rolls.

• Do something cool.

• Use an item creatively.

• Be especially savage.

• Get weird.

• Impress the GM.

Items

Your body is littered with little pouches, sacks, and hidey holes. You can carry as many items as you want. Choose three items to start with, or roll a d20 three times.

1. Broken sword hilt: It would be nice if it had a blade, but you could still use it to bludgeon someone to death.

2. Wooden shield: It’s really just the top third of a tree stump with a bit of rope, but it’ll get the job done.

3. Metal armour: You’ve tied old, dented pots and pans together to make...armour?

4. Food rations: Dried manflesh is a great post-cry pick-me-up.

5. Ogre heart: You’ve heard this can be used with old magic, but you’re not sure how.

6. Werewolf skull: A trophy or heirloom? Either way, it’s dang cool.

7. Black powder: Who thought it was a good idea to trust you with explosives?

8. Chicken: An adorable live chicken. You’ve heard that humans used to eat them, barbaric.

9. Gyrocopter certificate: You won it in a raffle, so you’re pretty sure that means you’re a qualified pilot.

10. Vinno homme: Delicious wine made from the finest pulped human meat. You can even taste the bone fragments.

11. Map: A map of the surrounding area. Handy.

12. Tinker box: A little box filled with precision tools, good for fixing gizmos and picking locks.

13. Hungry sac: A membranous sac filled with teeth, it’ll eat anything you put inside. It’s kind of scary.

14. Orb of annihilation: Cool name, it’s a black marble.

15. Executioner’s axe: It’s big, mean, and sharp.

16. Crossbow: It’s string is made of unicorn hair, and anything shot from it catches fire.

17. Lightning rod: It’s a long metal pole.

18. Jewelry: A handful of rings, earrings, and necklaces. Pretty.

19. Your baby teeth: Why would you keep these?

20. Incubus snot: Snorting this stuff gives you a hell of a high.

Special Items

Special items are unique, often magical, and usually do something cool. These are hidden throughout the world, good luck finding them!

Magic wand: Six inches of hard oak laced with pixie dust and dipped in a phoenix’s earwax. Point in a direction and hope something good happens. Roll 1d6 and see what happens from the list below.

1. A lightning bolt shoots down from the sky.

2. Whatever you’re pointing at turns into a bunny.

3. Whoever you’re pointing at develops really bad indigestion.

4. Summon Cerberus, the three headed hellhound of Hades.

5. Your pouches are filled to bursting with gold coins.

6. Teleport the ogre king to your location.

Excalibur: A legendary magical sword, used back when humans thought they were tough shit. This blade can cut through anything, literally.

Warhorn: A hollowed out Minotaur’s horn covered in magical runes. When blown, every creature within earshot becomes horribly confused, as though they’re trapped in a labyrinth.

Sunspot lantern: An elegant brass lantern that never goes out. There’s a piece of the sun trapped inside, so don’t open it—ever. (When opened everything in the vicinity catches fire.)

Dragon scale armour: Not only is it protective, but it also lets its wearer breathe fire. And it’s cozy.

Alchemical concoction: A vial filled with peculiar rainbow coloured fluid, it’s unsettlingly viscous. Drink it and roll 1d6 to see what happens from the list below.

1. You’re filled with adrenaline, too much of it. You go into a rabid rage.

2. You see the entire universe, the end times, and the beginning of it all. You immediately learn the solution to one problem you are facing.

3. Everything around you slows down, time has stopped. Wait, no, time hasn’t stopped, but you’re moving incredibly fast. You gain super speed for a short duration.

4. You feel light, like you weigh nothing. And why’s the ground  receding beneath you? For a short duration you’re as light as a feather.

5. You feel heavy, like you weigh a ton. And why are you sinking into the ground? For a short duration you weigh a metric fuck-ton.

6. This potion thingy isn’t agreeing with you, and you feel sick. You vomit acrid sputum in a direction of your choice, slathering the area in acidic fluid.

*Edited on July 10, 2019: Changed this to be an optional rule. I realized that having players take on adversarial roles against each other isn’t fun for all groups.

The Difficulty of Playing the Long Game

I was reluctant to post this. After rereading it, I realized it has a negative tone that I don't like. I think it's indicative of the headspace I was in when I wrote it. But, maybe sharing it will help a few folks realize that they're not the only ones struggling with insecurities while we wander down the long road that is Artist's Avenue.

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It can be hard doing something for a long time and not getting much back in return. That’s what it’s felt like writing for the past few years. It’s also frustratingly expected. The first few years are trudging through mud, all the while you might be planting the seeds of what will become a beautiful grand oak. Or you’ll learn too late that your soil is trash and nothing will grow.

You’ve got to have an unwavering focus on a moving target. It can feel like running in place, watching that target drift away. Like you’re really not good enough after all.

I haven’t been self-publishing anything for the last few years because I didn’t have it in me to play the long game. It was too much money for books no one would read. So I tried a different approach, submitting to traditional publishers. But it feels like I’m not writing fast enough. I want to be writing 1,000 words a day, making the equivalent of one novella a month. It never quite works out like that though. And it feels inadequate, but maybe part of this whole process is learning to go slow.

The novella I’m working one right now is pretty dang cool. I’m not sure what I should do with it when it’s done. I’ve been thinking of self-publishing it, and I don’t know why. I’m not good at marketing, don’t think I want to be good at it. My self-pubbed work always does poorly, never breaks even.

Maybe that’s part of playing the long game too. Just keep trudging, keep digging, make it at a loss because it doesn’t matter as long as you’re creating. I dunno man.