Writing Goals

Writing Goals are cute. They're so cute you just want to pinch their little chubby cheeks.

Until you totally blow your Writing Goals. Then you just want to smack them around.

Here's a typical list of writing goals I see on the Internet:

1) A page a day min.
2) Continue notes for freaky Evil Clam of Death novel.
3) Write another scene for Son of Serpents script.
4) Continue edit of Snowball in Hell story.
5) Continue Doofuswald novel.
6) Edit You Can't Write So Give Up column for Whoreads.com.
7) Edit Shameless Rip-Off story for fanfiction.com

And that's only for a two-week period! Whoa! Over-achieve much? Now this might be a bit ridiculous coming from someone with seven equally ridiculous-sounding goals on her own blog, but you don't think I'm actually doing all that stuff, do you? Plus eat and sleep and raise my kid and talk to my husband and ... oh yeah ... work? Actually I'm only doing one ("Writing a short memoir"). The rest are there for show.

(By the way, I should point out that Goal #6 above is a column for Who reads.com, not Whore ads.com. Just to be clear.)

So maybe these Writing Goals I'm reading online are for show too. I hope so. But then I hate multitasking. I can barely type a blog post and drink a bottle of Snapple.

(Oops, I just spilled Snapple on my keyboard. dddkkkkkkkkkkke)

OK, back on topic. You'll notice that my goal list is not called "Writing Goals" but "Projects on My Mind." My writing actual goals are a bit more process-based:

1) Do one writerly thing a day. Writerly things are defined as reading my writer mag, reading writer blogs, posting a writer blog post, sending out a query or contest entry or — gasp! — actually writing something.
2) Go write in a cafe one day a week.
3) Set up a writer schedule and stick to it.
4) Work out three times a week.

Goal #4 doesn't sound like a writing goal, but it is, because if I don't work out, then sitting at my computer for any length of time gets painful and — surprise — I quit writing.

So there you go. I start out making fun of writing goals and then make some myself. But that's the kind of knee-jerk, reactionary opinion that Killer Robot readers have come to expect, even in the short lifetime of this blog.

What Next?

Well, I mailed off my entry packet to the Aardvarks and now I'll just wait. Ron has his sights set on the $600 first prize, but I will be happy receiving two critiques and a "Thanks for Playing" letter.

It's a little sad that I feel such a sense of accomplishment from mailing off a contest entry, but it's been that kind of day/week/year/writing career. Talk about lowering one's standards. But truly, the stars were not aligned (are they ever?) to help me enter this contest. My husband's broken arm, my son's birthday party and an out-of-town guest made the first six weeks of 2010 a little frantic. Then, five hours after my guest departed, I came down with a horrific cold. I managed to crawl to my workplace on Sunday and work on my synopsis and four chapters. On Monday night, Ron played Grumpy Editor and proofed my entry while I chugged NyQuil and passed out. This morning, I spent the first two hours at work putting together the damn picky little packet. So there.

What next? Well, I'm going to put Killer Robots aside for a time and work on some nonfiction. I'd like to develop a short memoir about our move to San Francisco. One of the good things about having a life-changing, mind-scalding experience is getting a good story out of it. It's also supposed to build character, but I have doubts. In my experience, traumatic events don't build people's character -- they just make people twitchy and paranoid and prone to muttering in the subway.

Pretty Nervous Writing Aardvarks

Today I'm indulging in time theft at work, putting together my entry to the good folks of the PNWA, the Pretty Nervous Writing Aardvarks. They are a picky picky picky bunch. Next year, they'll want the entries notarized, with an 8X10 glossy and a urine sample.

So I'm banging out a 5-page synopsis of my novel and trying to produce Word documents with the appropriate information in the corners. (But NOT my name. The Aardvarks are very serious about this. Throughout the guidelines they repeat do NOT put your name on your manuscript. Do NOT put your name on your manuscript. Dear God and for the sake of all that is holy, DO NOT PUT YOUR NAME ON YOUR MANUSCRIPT. Now I'm scared to death.)

I'm also flirting with disaster since the packets must be received by Feb. 19 and because of President's Day I can't mail the thing until Tuesday. And so my literary ambitions are at the mercy of the U.S. Postal Service, which hopefully won't take more than four days to send a big envelope to Washington state.

The Killer Contest Robot

The Killer Contest Robot has rolled into the room and will only be appeased by a double-spaced contest submission. Thankfully, I have a contest to enter, thanks to Fog City Writer.

Now $50 seems like a hefty chunk of change, but somebody has to keep the Pacific Northwest Writers Association in whiskey and toner cartridges. Every entry receives two critiques, probably a nice "Thank you for playing but killer robots creep us out" note. If you win, you get to wear a ribbon at their conference in Seattle. Woweee.

This contest accepts entries in a dozen categories, including short memoir. I probably won't finish it in time for this contest, but I'm thinking of writing a short memoir of our move to San Francisco. Memoirs seem to be hot these days, the more traumatic the better. Not to minimize anybody's bone-deep suffering or anything, but I'm still having flashbacks to that frantic day we left our house in Michigan. Shiver.

Beep Beep, Here I Come

Welcome. Against my better judgment, I've begun a writer blog. Lucky you.

Experts say if you want to be taken seriously as a writer, you have to have a blog. Frankly, I think the best way to be taken seriously as a writer is to write something good. If your writing is dull, then I don't care how many comments you get on your latest love letter to your muse, your writing is still dull.

I also fret that starting a writer blog will leave less time available for — you guessed it — actual writing. In fact, I worry that by starting a writing blog, not only am I compromising my own writing time, but the writing time of other writers who should be writing instead of reading my blog. It's a vicious blog-write-read-write-blog circle and it will lead to tears, I know it.

So why am I blogging then? Certainly not so I can take my writing more seriously. I already take it seriously enough, which might surprise anyone who's actually read my work. My characters are often odd and eccentric, if not hopelessly loony, and my situations stretch credibility.

Instead, this blog is about organization. Organizing my projects, my priorities and my thoughts. Right now I'm juggling half-a-dozen writing projects in various stages of completion. I don't have problems coming up with ideas — my brain's lousy with ideas — but turning those ideas into completed works.

But this brings me perilously close to writing a Serious Writer Blog, and the world doesn't need another one of those. Next thing you know, I'll be debating fonts and who wants that?

Cue the Killer Robots. The blog's name comes from my first (and still unpublished) novel, a science fiction story. Every time I was stuck in the plot, I added a few killer robots to shake things up — with odd results. But I maintain that every story needs a killer robot. Life is hard enough without taking your writing seriously.