Or a book title.
Here Comes the Son went through a series of titles before I hit on the punny goodness of the perfect one.
I thought it would be fun to share some of the rejects.
1. Not the Devil
2. Devil on My Shoulder
3. Wicked Satisfaction
4. Morning Son
5. Son of the Morning
6. Son Set
7. Devilish
8. Kingdom Come
9. Wicked Saint
10. Wicked Inheritance
At the time of writing this post, I’m about eight days into my 100 Days of Writing Challenge. The goal? Write 30 minutes every day for 100 days. So far, so good.
Mostly.
Day one through six felt like a dream. Words flowed easily. Blog posts, emails, newsletters, and several chapters in my current WIP.
And then, day seven.
Day seven was a bastard. My executive dysfunction flared its evil head. And as a result, I found myself staring blankly at my computer for hours on end. I somehow still managed two minutes, barely, but it wasn’t my best work.
Day eight was more of the same. This post actually counted for ten of my thirty minutes. The power of this challenge is I don’t feel overwhelmed by it.
Even on a bad mental health day, I can eke out at least ten minutes or even twenty.
And as an added bonus, eking out those ten-minute sprints help me feel as though I’ve accomplished something, which in turn boosts my spirits on days like today.
So, eight days in, this challenge feels perfect for me.
Less stressful than NaNoWriMo, which usually leaves me feeling like a wrung out dishrag. I feel energized. And I’m writing.
Have you ever done a 100 or 365-day challenge? How did it go for you?
One of my goals this year was to watch online education and/or inspirational videos. I got a two-month freebie to Skill Share and wound up watching “How To Start (And Finish!) Your Very Own 365 Day Project” which inspired my challenge and this post. Also, (This link takes you to the videos and also offers a Skillshare Premium free for 2 months. https://skl.sh/2Udq0rI)
I was drawn to this lesson on Skill Share because I recognized the teacher from a sticker shop I love on Esty. After watching, I decided maybe I could get over my spring writing hump with a challenge. And I chose to get really specific.
100 Days of writing 30 minutes a day in 10-minute increments. I can write on a WIP, a blog post, a personal journal, a newsletter, or a letter to a penpal. The goal is simply to show up and put words on paper in some form or another.
Ten-minute increments work well for me because I’m less likely to get completely distracted.
I also set specific times for writing. One after breakfast, one before lunch, and the third can be any time in the afternoon but before dinner.
One other critical aspect is I’m bringing along others for the ride. I shared my challenge on social media, and several author friends are taking part. I’m less likely to fail if I have others joining me.
I am keeping track two ways. One in a bullet journal (see photo below) and two by posting an Instagram photo daily.
Since blogging is one of the acceptable forms of writing, I’ll likely update on my progress and lessons I’ve learned along the way.
How about you?
Have you done a 100 days or 365 days challenge before? Were you successful? Feel free to hop onto my 100-day challenge if you’re a writer.
April is generally considered ‘Autism Awareness’ month. I prefer Autism Acceptance. I do not support Autism Speaks. I do not light it up blue. I am not a puzzle piece.
I thought for my second Monday Blog in April. I’d discuss another aspect of my life as an autistic adult.
One of the greatest dangers that face an autistic adult is not having sufficient information to deal with adult issues.
I’ve noticed a trend where non-autistics tend to infantilize autistics as teens and adults. They treat us as though we’re incapable of making decisions and caring for ourselves. And that is definitely not accurate.
It can and often does lead to a number of issues as we grow up.
One of which is sex and sexuality. I can only speak for myself here and my experiences, though. As we always say, when you’ve met one autistic…you’ve met one autistic.
I grew up in a very sheltered environment. I was the adopted child of closed-minded Baptist missionaries. I didn’t even know autism exited until I was in my twenties. I knew I was different, but not why.
Being sheltered and undiagnosed led to a number of issues. One being a serious lack of knowledge about sex. This all happened before ‘googling’ was a thing. I had no access to information–and no idea I needed information.
That, to me, is the most dangerous thing.
All these instinctual things non-autistics seem to grasp.
I didn’t.
I had no idea how sex worked. How safe sex worked. I had no clue that there were different sexualities.
It seems ridiculous and incomprehensible, but it’s true.
Education is important. CRITICALLY important for autistics.
I had to learn the hard way. I had to educate myself. I made humiliating mistakes. My dating history is littered with bad decisions I could’ve avoided with a little knowledge.
And I’ve completely lost my train of thought. Thanks, Brain. I’ll end this post here.
Bonus round of unrelated yet related things I wish:
– Society didn’t mock adults looking for information that people consider ‘common sense.’
– People wouldn’t say ‘there’s no such thing as a stupid question’ without meaning it.
April is generally considered ‘Autism Awareness’ month. I prefer Autism Acceptance. I do not support Autism Speaks. I do not light it up blue. I am not a puzzle piece.
I thought for my first Monday Blog in April. I’d discuss an aspect of my life as an autistic adult.
The above gif is an accurate representation of how I feel about my brain daily.
True story.
I’ve wanted to write this blog post for over a year but struggled to put my thoughts into coherent words. Something I deal with quite frequently as an autistic. An experience this week made me want to make an attempt yet again–so please forgive any rambling. I’m trying.
I am autistic.
I live in a world that isn’t designed for the neurally divergent.
Let’s be honest, the world was made for the neurally and physically abled person.
The older I get, the harder it becomes to mask my way through life. (If you’d like to learn more about autistic masking, Neurodivergent Rebel has a fantastic video on the subject: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZB38phQNzw)
And with masking becoming harder, it can be a battle to do specific tasks. All the author things I have to do with promo, talking to people, blogging, so many things. It can be overwhelming and some days impossible. I have days where I sit at my desk and stare at my to-do list for an hour without actually accomplishing a single item.
I get comfortable with people and routines, both of which help me climb these hurdlers within myself.
My life has been blessed with a core group of friends who go out of their way to help me…or at least not make my life more difficult.
The trouble is that I struggle with something that feels a bit like imposter syndrome. I know I need help. I don’t ask for it, but when I receive it.
I suddenly feel like I shouldn’t take the help. Like, I not only do I not need help. I don’t deserve it.
This past week offered a prime example.
My point of contact with my publisher is generally one of two people. As my publisher grows, more people are added to the mix. It causes me a lot of anxiety.
My beloved publisher graciously makes accommodations for me, so that I’m able to cope.
The downside of this brilliant kindness is that a negative internal conversation happens. I question myself. I don’t really need this help, do I? I can manage. I’ll be fine. I’m making their lives more difficult.
It’s toxic self-doubt.
I don’t know if many of my fellow autistics struggle with this. I’m sure some must.
I do need help at times. I can manage, sometimes, but at what cost to my mental health and stress levels?
One of my goals this year was to be kinder to myself.
I don’t have to be extraordinary or superhuman to validate my existence as an autistic and person.
(This is one of my greatest issues with inspiration porn featuring extraordinary autistics with amazing gifts. It inspires non-autistics, but frequently leaves other autistics feeling as though they will never be enough just as they are.)
I’m trying to do better.
How do you handle accepting help when you need it?
I thought I’d share the shows I’m currently binge watching on either Netflix or Amazon Prime. They’re in no particular order.
What about you? What are you binge watching this week/month? Do you binge watch at all?
I used to be a straight pantser. (Someone who writes by the seat of their pants instead of plotting with an outline, etc.)
Never did anything, not even writing down character notes, before starting a novel. My mind liked it, but my manuscripts became a bit of a nightmare to edit. It’s hard to keep track of characters, plots, and timelines when NOTHING is written down.
And your memory is a bit shit.
Now, I do better.
I plot a little. I’ll never be a true plotter. Outlines bore me to tears. So, I’ve found a compromise that works.
Stage One: Faces, Names and Places
Three things I usually do before anything else is to pick the location of a story, the novel title, and visual references for the characters.
I’m not a very visual person, so I definitely need an actual image to picture while I’m writing.
Stage Two: Build out a Book Bible.
I use thin A5 Muji notebooks and fill out little character questionnaires for the main characters along with notes about family/friends. I also jot down a loose timeline. I find this helps keep the novel on track, but also with writing newsletters and blog posts once I’m done with the book.
Stage Three: Media.
Before writing, I build two essential lists. A musical playlist, my current WIP has a mostly country music playlist. I also create a TV/movie list. I find watching shows or movies based around the theme of what I’m writing can really help me get in the mood.
For The Royal Marine, for example, I watched a lot of Bake Off. For the Grasmere trilogy, it watched Poirot, of course.
Stage Four: Let’s Play Pretend
This is the stage where I’m usually supposed to be giving myself a writing break, but I’m chomping at the bit to write.
Stage Five: Write
Self-explanatory that involves a lot of coffee, sobbing, and hitting my head against the keyboard.
If you’re a writer, are you a pantser or a plotter?
