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missterius · 5 years

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2018 Writing Wrap-Up

And again we get to the part of the New Year where I post a bunch of stuff about writing that’s more for me than anyone else.

I didn’t get around to sharing anything during 2018, not because I didn’t like anything that I wrote. Mostly because I think I’d want to start a new blog for writing-related things - this blog is enough of a mess already without adding my writing into the mix - and I just didn’t have the motivation to set it up.

With that, let’s get into it!

Total for 2018: 171,410

Firstly, may I just say that that word count is completely insane. I included a journal that I wrote about my life this year, which I normally don’t do (but this one was written discussing everything going on in my chaotic life looking back on awhile when I didn’t journal, so it’s more narrative than most of my journal writing), which definitely helped boost the number of words. Still, this is over twice what I wrote in 2017! I write more than I think I do, because I’ve been feeling like I haven’t used writing enough as an outlet. I think 2018 has proved that sometimes I don’t realize how much I actually write.

The focus this year remained mostly on short stories. There was a lot of writing based around silly concepts that start out completely ridiculous and then take a dark turn at the end, casting the main character in a different light. I’m trying to be more versatile with my characters, making them more shades of gray than black and white. One other thing I noticed is that I really like writing multiple short stories based around the same characters/world. I love tying things together, or leaving endings open for potential sequels, even in short stories.

While I really do like a lot of what I wrote during 2018, and it’s hard to pick out highlights without including too much, I did notice looking back that my 1st person POV tends to sort of be cookie cutter. The characters may differ, but they use the same kind of language and thought processes as each other. I’m guessing this is because I don’t write loads in 1st person POV, so that may be a goal for 2019.

The longest thing I wrote this year was a WIP novel, Creature of Scandal, which I wrote during NaNo and hit 50,000 words on.

Okay, with that, I’m going to get into the highlights:

‘He shot me a panicked look, but what could I do? Did he want me to tell a priest that sitting the two of them at the same table was a bad idea because this grown man and his grown ex were acting like middle schoolers dealing with drama for the first time in their lives? I almost wish I had...’ ((Supposedly) Good Catholic Kids)

‘Mass that morning had gone nicely up until communion, when a girl named (Censored) decided to prove that I can’t get a day’s rest, even on the Sabbath.’ ((Supposedly Good Catholic Kids)

‘I’m stuck on a pendulum called Grief Swinging between agony and emptiness. When I feel anything, I feel everything. But otherwise, I feel nothing. Nothing is heavier than I thought it would be.’ (From an untitled poem I wrote after my childhood dog, Cinnamon, was put down)

‘Charlotte Wilson wanted more out of life than to be playing gigs at college bars. Her music deserved to be reaching the ears of the forlorn across the country, not just the drunk students swaying off the beat. As the last chord of her song died out, a cheer rose up from the small crowd. Charlotte didn’t feel much better. These kids looked for any excuse to cheer when they were this plastered.’ (Creature of Scandal)

‘It had been thirteen years since the last time Charlotte had met with her mother. She’d been seventeen, preparing to graduate from high school, when she’d got the summons. Invitations from Marie Green never felt optional.’ (Creature of Scandal)

‘“How do you know I rejected her?” Joon asks defensively. With another laugh, Seok sends Joon a knowing look. “Seriously? You haven’t gone on a single date for as long as I’ve known you. You’ve been working here for how long now? For years? You never make trouble. You’re never late. You’re the least troublesome employee Haneul’s ever had.” Joon narrows his eyes. “You work for Haneul, too.” Seok grins, “And I’m sure the old man regrets it every now and again. But come on, you aren’t exactly a wild guy.”’ (Flowers and Tattoos)

‘Soo Yun is furious. She is furious at the prophecy and at the prophet and at her fellow countrymen. Her family has suffered ridicule at the hands of their neighbors for decades. She has grown up in poverty, begging and stealing to survive under the judging eyes of the townsfolk. And now, the prophet has the audacity to name her the savior of their nation. To rest the burden of ending the reign of the emperor on her shoulders. To force her to serve those who refused even to look her in the eye. Soo Yun is furious, and she will have none of this.’ (Forsaking the Stars)

‘“We could keep him in the store, and he could help guard the door!” Natalie suggested, eyes wide as she beamed at the dragon as though it were a puppy. “Guard us from what?” I demanded. “The only thief I’ve had since I took over this store is him.” “I’m calling him Midas,” Natalie announced. And I knew it was hopeless.’ (Swindler of Fortune)

‘Ned had never been to this part of the country before, but he’d heard stories of the Bodmin Moor - stories of ghosts and beasts and tales of King Arthur’s rule. He’d always chucked it up to superstition and myths, but staring out at the dreary landscape through the rain-streaked glass, he could almost believe that something supernatural lay out among the granite jutting up from the ground.’ (Untitled short story)

‘“You must be desperate to seek me out,” Aubrey told him. It wasn’t a question, so Ned didn’t give an answer. Aubrey continued. “The people of St. Ives have deemed me to be mad. Tell me, Ned Abbott, do I seem mad to you?” Had anyone asked Ned that question upon first seeing the sailor, he’d have answered, without hesitation, that, yes, the man appeared in all senses to be completely mad. But sitting in front of him, there were several words Ned might use to describe Aubrey Skewes. Intimidating. Intense. Powerful. But mad was not one of them.’ (Untitled short story)

‘The sight was a startling one. A demon in a Best Buy break room? That’s just about the last place a demon should be. I might’ve been paralyzed with fright had I not started to associate that awful screechy sound with the middle-aged woman I’d had to deal with the day before, who was convinced we should replace a laptop a year and a half past its warranty.’ (The Customer from Hell)

‘I was left with a husk of a demon at my feet, and ten minutes still left on my break.’ (The Customer from Hell)

‘Inside, the barracks were a minefield for Cristoval to navigate, each interaction with other officers a potential detonation. There was also a frenzy of activity, the kind of chaos that could only come from men finally released from the strictly controlled environments they worked in for a day that would be fully their own.’ (How Far Can You Carry This?)

‘Enoch slowly begins to fill out the form, making sure to grumble audibly under his breath. Had he realized the afterlife would involve such an incompetent bureaucracy, he’d never have bothered dying in the first place.’ (The First Haunt)

‘The sounds of celebration, the shouts and laughter and music, clashed with the steady pounding of Rin’s heart, her breath that came in gasps, the blood-curdling scream her lungs were begging her to unleash. The smiling faces of strangers seemed to taunt her, their casual enjoyment a slap in the face to Rin’s horror. Her attempts to reach the front of the crowd became an obsession, ducking around people became shoving them aside in her desperation. As she pulled to the front, Rin doubled over the bar separating the masses from the performers.’ (The Sensation of Falling in a Dream)

‘Fear was different now...[It] wasn’t intense. It didn’t paralyze her, or set her mind spinning. It held a silent presence, like an examiner during a test. It manifested in paranoia, in a deeply instilled distrust. It didn’t make her eyes tear up, it made them shift. It didn’t make her run, it made her hand hover near the holster on her thigh as she took careful strides.’ (The Sensation of Falling in a Dream)

‘Clara, who had been trying to take a drink, nearly spat out her coffee. Managing to choke it down, she burst into a laugh. “Let me off easy? I just asked where you got your degree from, you didn’t have to deliberately dress up your henchmen in my least-favorite color! If you don’t have a doctorate, you have no excuse to title yourself Doctor Revenge.”’ (Out to Lunch)

‘“You’re unbelievable,” Clara laughed. “Until next week, then, Mr. Revenge.” “See you next week, you second-rate mastermind.” Clara threw her head back and laughed as she walked away from the café.’ (Out to Lunch)

‘With a tug on the back door, I discovered our mystery house-guest. Ms. Schofield from down the street still had her hand up to continue knocking. When she saw me, she threw open the screen door and moved past me into the house. Most people in my small town are close, but few are close enough to barge into our house without so much as a ‘hello,’ and certainly none of those on the list would be the seventh grade science teacher, Ms. Schofield.’ (The Caffeine Prohibition)

‘“Where’d you look?” my dad yelled from the kitchen over the sounds of something sizzling in the frying pan. “Mostly local corporations,” I responded, closing the lid of my laptop and leaning forward onto the breakfast bar. “But if I don’t get any calls back, I can always update my resume and apply elsewhere.” “Update your resume?” my mother frowned. “You know, I’m sure I’ll get plenty of job experience as a drug dealer,” I joked. My mom rolled her eyes while my dad chuckled from the stove.’ (The Caffeine Prohibition)

‘“It’s my sister!” he shouted, pounding a fist against the arm rest. “She’s never accepting of my career path. Constantly nagging me about when I’m going to settle down. Always trying to set me up with her single friends. I’ve had enough!” With that, the evil Doctor Revenge the public saw as a raging madman – the one responsible for the chaos of the Christmas Tree Lighting Fiasco of 2014 – was reduced to Mr. Henry Weldt, a brother fed up with his sister.’ (The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

‘Only then did Mr. Weldt look up and make eye contact with me. He gave me a dark look, the one he’d perfected to terrify people. But he wasn’t in costume now. We were in my office, where the only superhuman was the woman jotting down notes and talking with clients.’ (The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

‘A few minutes passed, and a knock sounded on the cockpit door. Deidre removed the strap holding her to her seat, and she crossed the room to open it. Atticus stood on shaky legs. “Excellent work!” he applauded. “I wish I could’ve been of more help, but I know about as much about these flashy ships as I do about the Buvocury System. But I see that the two of you handled it fine.” ---------------- “You can fly this thing?” Deidre shouted over the sound of the gunfire. She adjusted her scope and aimed for the bunker. “I thought you said you knew as much about flying as you did about the Buvocury system!” Amara added from the copilot seat. Atticus nodded. “I do! I spent twenty years in the Buvocury System working on ships like these!” Silence fell over the intercom. When Deidre managed to speak again, she demanded, “Why haven’t you told us this?” Atticus grinned wildly. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know!”’ (Untitled short story)

‘There was a pause, then Marlow forced herself to turn and start up the stairs. Over the railing, she watched as Rin returned to the street, never quite able to fit into the crowds. She smiled ruefully. They were not friends. But she still felt bound to Rin somehow. Allies. Teammates. None of the words felt quite right. Not quite friends, but something different. Trying to find the word, Marlow took her key from her pocket and made her way into her apartment.’ (Christmas in Aubergneux)

|Blood TW| “Have you been using my scissors?” I ask, keeping my gaze away from the blood staining his carpet, his shirt, and his hands. But it’s tough. There’s even a little spatter of it in his hair. Geoff’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, yeah dude! I was just cutting out paper snowflakes earlier. They’re right over on my desk.” He starts to move back into his room, but I clear my throat. His hands are caked in blood. Geoff only now seems to notice this and nods at me as he wraps a towel around his hand to pick up the scissors. “Thanks for letting me borrow them, man.” “Sure thing, Zodiac,” I say, and Geoff shuts the door to his room again. (My Serial Killer Housemate)

|Death TW| Back at the house, I decide to confront Geoff about it. “So Mr. Cortland has died under mysterious circumstances, apparently.” Geoff doesn’t even look up from the recipe card he’s on. “Wasn’t me.” “You always say that, and I never believe you.” I set the bags of groceries on the counter and begin to put away some of the food in the fridge and freezer. Geoff shuts the box of recipes with a click. “Look, he’s a rich guy who treats him employees horribly. You’ve got to make a lot of enemies in that field.” “I wasn’t aware the toaster oven industry was so cut-throat,” I remark drily, and immediately regret my choice of words. (My Serial Killer Housemate)

A week after the dinner party, I am lounging on my couch, watching Netflix, when I hear the front door open. Being pretty sure that Geoff is in his room, I roll myself off the couch and crouch beside it, glancing around the side to see who it is breaking into my house. Despite Geoff’s best efforts in tracking down the copycat, he’s had little luck so far. Meaning I’m still at risk. As it turns out, Geoff left earlier to pick up some groceries. He spots me on the ground and squints for a minute, trying to piece together what I’m doing. I try to play it off as relaxing on the floor. I don’t want to let him know how much the idea of being the target of a serial killer is getting to me. “Did you get more bread?” I ask casually. “Yeah, they had a deal on split-top wheat,” he answers, still frowning at me. (My Serial Killer Roommate)

#writing #2018 writing wrap up #2018 #writers #short stories #novels #dialogue #NaNoWriMo

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