If you’re not interested in writer insanity, you can stop reading now. It’s okay.

I don’t think frogs spit like that.

I should be asleep right now, but two things are keeping me awake. I have a chapter up for my critique group this week. And I was having trouble getting into my scene today.

I’m putting this down, in public, on the blog, because people might find it interesting. Also, it’s like 1AM, so expect the typos to be worse than usual.

I re-joined my critique group recently because I like helping other people. I never intended to put things up for critique for any other reason than turnabout is fair play, and yet, here I am awake. What if they all say the chapter isn’t ready, or it needs work? I’ve reworked it more times than I can remember. Of course, I tend to forget things rather easily, so that might just be three times, but I’m sure it’s more like ten.

I think some, or possibly most, of the anxiety I’m feeling stems from the story itself. You see, when I write, I tend to take on aspects of my character’s personalities, and Nick Baker is just a little bit crazy. He jumps at the slightest provocation. He’s not one to poke around a dusty attic, or sit with his back to a dark room. Hopefully, he will be fun to read, but right now, he’s in my head.

Okay, second reason for crazy, or are we up to three. I worked on re-writing a scene today, and I realized I’d walked off the edge of the world. I’d always intended to do a complete re-write to the end of the current book, but now that the time is here and I find myself gun shy to modify a manuscript I’ve always put so much work into. Everything I write form here on out is just a first draft hanging on 60,000 completed words. The book could be another 10k or 30k or 60k long. I don’t know. Usually, I say this is the fun part, but today, I just got caught a little off guard.

I feel like I’m never going to finish this book. I’m not tired of working on it. Things seem to be going reasonably well. I’m just not working that fast, and there’s a bunch to do.

Yes, I could work longer or harder if I wanted to see things move faster, but I discovered long ago that I have my own internal clock and it is broken. When I’m on, I can give Superman a run for his money, but sometimes the gears just don’t want to mesh. I’m starting to think tomorrow morning’s not going to be a good day. What time is it again? Oh, yeah.

They say that everyone is a little crazy on the inside. I’ve just shared a little of mine, but blogging is an imperfect form of crazy release. I need to start stockpiling my crazy for the forces of good and channeling it into the manuscript.

Something kind of awesome happened the other day. William Shatner showed up on Reddit, and then went on to introduce himself on their /r/startrek. I’m a big fan of his acting, and I think Bill’s just about the coolest 81-year-old in the world. Which is why I was a little surprised when he had some choice words about the site.

The unsavory aspects still exist — I am appalled by some of the immature, horrifically racist, sexist, homophobic, ethnic … etc … posts that are just ignored here.

This kind of took me aback. I consider myself pretty good at getting on the Internets. I’ve gone on 4chan/b to see what all the hubbub is about. I was on Slashdot, Fark, and Digg back in the day. So, I guess I’ve been taking for granted the fact that some people use words that… Well, let’s just say words that, in my day, were only allowed in rap lyrics, and because I am a fat, white man, from me certain words sound offensive no matter what the context.

As God as my witness, I though turkeys could fly.  As God as my witness, I thought that was just the way young people talked these days.

If people use those horrible hurtful words without thinking because those words have no negative connotation to them, I don’t necessarily consider that a bad thing–I drop F-bombs like I own stock in the F-ing company, a sin which would have gotten me stoned (not the good kind) in 1950s America. I’m a big fan of words not hurting people, and I’m all for taking the teeth away from those words.

Here’s the thing that Bill Shatner made me think about: Even if they were meant ironically, if someone reads those words and interprets them as hateful, does it matter if they were meant ironically? And is there is a darker side to this as well? Are there closet racists who hide behind hipsterism, or are empowered because they don’t understand the intent of the words they’re reading?

Hell, I don’t know. I don’t even know if these comments were meant ironically.

As a member of the privileged class–I didn’t sign up for that–I also struggle with racial issues in my writing. Should I mention that I mentally see a character as black? What if I didn’t mention another character was white? Growing up in Iowa, white skin is definitely my default*. Can I say black or should I say African American**? The only thing I am sure I can do is offend someone. Ironically, I usually enjoy offending people, but racially, I’d rather not.

* I think I was seven years old before I saw a person with black skin, and I was very confused. From what I had seen on TV, I didn’t know whether I was supposed to burn a cross or be mugged, neither one of which would have been easy in the crowded Strawberry Point swimming pool. Things only got more confusing when I asked my father about racism, and he told me Irish people were once considered racially inferior. I’d always thought we were just drunks.

** I once went to a party where a drunken gentleman explained to an African woman that she was “African-African American.” She insisted that she was not an American, and therefore she was an African who was black. She then pointed out that there were white Africans as well. The drunken gentleman explained that white Africans were her European opressors, to which she responded, “My father is white.” The conversation ended there.

Why MMMMMMMMMM? Why not MCMIV?

I tend to be bad about taking pride in my accomplishments, so I thought it would be good to do a year in review. 2012 has been a pretty awesome year for me.

I got my first book published this year, and it many people seemed to like it. It might not be the cleanest copy ever produced, but I’m proud of Minion of Evil. It’s a good story and a story I think I would have enjoyed as a reader. And then I got a second book published this year, and it went better than the first. Sure, they aren’t making any bestseller lists, but they are mine and they are out.

Also, I finished two rough drafts this year and did a boatload of re-writes. And despite being sick as a dog for the last 2 months, I’m finally gaining ground on my re-write of Panic No More–I finished three scenes this week.

I was even offered a job as an editor at a startup publishing company. I turned it down though. I’m a fairly decent content editor, but I’m a writer. Right now, I have to focus my energies on my writing.

I think the biggest thing I did was put myself out there. I went to cons and sat on panels (which I was not qualified to do) and did readings (which noone attended.) And I have fans, which is the awesomest of the awesome.

I’m quite pleased with my 2012. I feel like I got a good start in my writing and I am moving in the right direction.