I’ve been thinking… Scary, I know.

Over the last few months I have found I’ve been questioning my future in the writing world. That’s why my posts have slacked off and I’ve backed away from Friday Fictioneers and my writing challenges.

I like writing. I really do. That isn’t the problem.

It’s the editing and marketing that get me down. I hate both of them (with a fiery passion one might say). I always have and I always will.

Editing in small chunks isn’t too bad, but over the course of a novella or novel I find it to be mind numbing and painful–a headache inducing clusterfuck if you will. I don’t like doing it, but I can’t afford to hire a professional so I’m stuck doing it myself. Last time I checked, the point of life wasn’t to spend countless hours doing things you hate. It’s been awhile since I’ve checked though so that could have changed.

Marketing is a beast of a different color. I hate it because I’m not a people person. I’m shy and awkward and don’t enjoy putting myself out there or shoving my writing down the throats of people. That’s not who I am and I won’t do it. If my books don’t sell because of that then so be it. That’s the way it is. But that also begs the question of whether or not I should even put my writing out there in the world if I’m not going to promote it full force. Currently I don’t know the answer to that so I’m going to keep putting some stuff out there in the ether for all six of you to read. Someday I could change my mind. I really don’t know if or when that will happen, but it might. That’s a warning that someday I might just up and disappear. I’m not saying it will happen, but it’s a possibility.

All of this thinking has led me to a decision, for now anyway.

I’m going to finish the final run through of the Sins of a Father novella, which I’m pushing back to a new tentative release date of October 15^th. It was supposed to be Sept 15^th, but it isn’t ready yet.  I really like the story, but it has been an unbearable bitch to edit. Every time I think I’ve got things in order more problems pop up that require tweaking. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve run through it or how many hours I’ve invested in those 25,000-ish words. I hope the time and effort I put into it shows, but I’m nervous about it. What if it’s not enough? What if you guys don’t feel the same as I do? What if I put all this time into it and no one even bothers to read it (which would technically be my fault because I don’t like marketing, but it’s still a concern)? Also, just so you’re aware. It’s not horror in the traditional sense, but I don’t know what else to call it. Nothing else seems to fit any better. There are no monsters, just a man whose world is unraveling as he travels down a rabbit hole he can’t escape.

After that my primary focus will be on shorter stories. I’m done with novels/novellas for awhile. I’ll be working on a new project similar to 100 Tiny Tales of Terror. It doesn’t have a name yet, but it’ll be either 300 or 500 word stories, the number of which is also as yet undefined, probably somewhere between 30 and 50. After that I’m thinking 15 or 20 1000 worders, but that’s getting ahead of myself. I plan on finding a few anthologies to hopefully get some stories into as well.

After I finish those things I might revisit a longer project, but I’m not making any promises. In fact, I wouldn’t count on it if I were you. I am a man of few words, both in life and in writing. I feel more at home in the world of short stories than I ever felt with the longer ones. They’re almost always better (not to mention way, way, way easier to edit) than anything longer that I’ve written to date.

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The anticipation is killing me

The waiting truly is the hardest part. I’m nearly 3 months into a 4 to 6 month wait. That wait is to see if my novella Sins of a Father will be accepted for publication by Nouvella. I haven’t received a rejection yet, so there is still hope. Even if they end up rejecting it, I’ll end up self publishing so it will eventually see the light of day. Waiting is not an easy thing to do when it comes to hearing back from a publisher. In comparison, writing the novella was easy. Only another 1 to 3 months to wait before I have an answer one way or the other. However it comes into existence, I’d love for you all to pick up a copy and love it as much as I do. Currently, it’s probably my favorite in terms of things I’ve written. I hope it can be yours as well.

In other news, the first draft of Witchwood (the first book in the Winger Chronicles) is finished and it holds true to the saying that “the first draft of anything is shit”. It needs a lot of work, but that’ll come later. I’ve got to distance myself from it for awhile before I look at it again. The first draft was just to get the general idea down. The second draft starts the process of polishing the turd.

Now, I’m going back to working on the Cherokee Johnson novella for the foreseeable future. And by foreseeable I mean the next couple weeks. I’ve only got about 9000 words or so remaining to be written to finish the first draft so it may not even take a couple weeks depending on how much time I can scrounge up this weekend. After that it’s anyone’s guess where my overactive imagination will take me, but it’ll likely be back to the Dark Wilderness novella to start in on the second draft. Although, I’ve got a couple short story compilations I have in mind that I’d like to get working on (one a collection of twisted takes on fairy tales, the other a collection of tales of the traveler. You may remember him from my FF story The Ogre) so maybe those will jump ahead of Dark Wilderness in the queue.

Wish me luck. I’m going to need it!

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Have you liked my facebook page (Adam Ickes – Author) yet? Go on, be a good little minion and give it a like. Don’t worry, I won’t bite. I can’t promise the same kindness from the characters in my stories though.

While you’re at it, you should follow me on the Twitter machine as well, immediately and henceforth: @AdamIckes

Reaching for the stars

Last night I did something I didn’t think I was going to do.

From the very beginning I had planned on self publishing Sins of a Father. From the time the seed was planted in my head to the moment I made the final keystroke, I never even considered submitting it to a publisher. I don’t know why exactly, but I didn’t. I even went as far as getting the proof copy in print, which actually turned out to be a big help in finding a couple errors that I missed in editing.

Anyway, that changed over the past few days while watching my wife engross herself in the story and seeing her reaction to it. I think I may have something pretty decent here and at least attempting to publish through a traditional publisher gives the story a chance to reach a wider audience than I currently can give it through self publishing. I just don’t have that big of a following right now and I’m smart enough to realize it. I owe the story that much. It wanted to be told and I owe it the chance to be heard.

Last night I submitted my manuscript to Nouvella in hopes that they might choose to publish it. If they don’t I can still go the self publishing route, but I won’t know their decision for 4 to 6 months according to their website. That just means I have to work on some other projects now to keep my mind off of whether or not Sins is good enough.  If I bury myself in something else I’m sure that time will fly by. And by fly by I mean drag on endlessly with me wondering what their answer will be. Every night for the foreseeable future, when I lay down I’ll be forced to think things like “did they read it yet?”, “do they love it?”, “what if they hate it?” and all those other things that run through my head when I should be sleeping. I won’t want to think those things, but they will be there and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

Cherokee Johnson and Winger are currently vying for attention now. With NaNo fast approaching I better have a sit down with those guys and see which one wants it more. I don’t want to choose the wrong one and have the other rise up halfway through NaNo and throw a wrench in everything, but even if that does happen they’ll both eventually get their stories told. I had planned on Winger, but Cherokee is making a strong case for himself.

Here’s hoping the folks over at Nouvella like my story as much as I do.

Do you guys have anything out there in the ether waiting to be lift your spirits/crush your ego when it is eventually approved/denied?

The Winger Chronicles – Part 11

I had this post all ready to go, but came home to a surprise in the mail. A draft copy of Sins of a Father was in there. I was pretty stoked, until I found a few little things that need fixed (so far). It’s a weird feeling having a book you wrote in your hands. My wife is reading it now and she wouldn’t let me go to sleep last night because she wanted me to tell her what happens in the rest of the story. I told her she’d have to keep reading to find out.

Second sidenote: Zombie tree is available in many formats now- not just Kindle. Check out the links to the right to pick up your copy.

Ok, on to the post now. This is going to be the last Winger drabble for awhile. We’ll call it a season finale. I’m going to keep up with the Fictioneers, but not using Winger. There is logic behind my decision. I’m going to try my hand writing a longer Winger story for NaNoWriMo and don’t need 2 different Winger storylines confusing me. The Winger drabbles will likely resume in December, or after the first draft of the longer piece is finished, whichever comes first. The Winger drabbles come much later than the NaNo story. To make it to the story told by the drabbles I’d have to write probably 3 or 4 other novels after the first one to get to the point where the drabbles pick up. It may happen. It may not. We’ll see how this one goes first.

In all likelihood I won’t finish the Winger novel in November with it being my first NaNo attempt. I still have a few days, but I feel like I’m not quite prepared enough, though I do have an outline ready to go. Finding the time to write that much in one month will also be a bit of a challenge, but you never know unless you try, right?

If you’re doing NaNo and want to buddy me, my username is adamickes. Very original, I know. Anyway, without further ado, on to the “season finale” of Winger:

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to the lot of you for reading.

Broken (The Winger Chronicles : Part 11)

The slippery rung dug into her armpit. Her fingers clung to her jeans to lock her body against the ladder.

She didn’t move upward again until the orange-brown goo had hardened back into a crusty coating. Even still, her aching hands had trouble gripping the rungs.

As she reached for the next hold, her foot slid from its place below. Tipping backward she screamed. Her fingers grasped at the empty air.

The rope went taut and threatened to pull Winger from the ladder as well. Painful fire radiated from his injured arm, but his grip never wavered.

Below, she cried.

I feel I should explain how the story relates to the prompt this week because it might come up. It was more obvious, but that part got edited away. The more indirect take is that Liv’s spirit is broken, much like the keyboard.

The Dare

I’ve nothing to say other than Charlie got what he deserved.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and everyone else for reading. Oh and feel free to use my little Friday Fictioneers Badge at the bottom if you want. I made it to put on all my FF stories.

As always: comments, criticism, and half drunken rants (especially half drunken rants) are highly encouraged.

Copyright Claire Fuller

(100 words)

“They’re coming,” Randy whispered down the stairs. “Get ready.”

Charlie crouched beside the door and waited patiently for the others to enter the decrepit church.

Leon and Kyle stopped just outside.

“Can’t we just say we went in?”

“We gotta take something from inside. You know that.”

Leon groaned.

Kyle lifted his heavy boot and planted it beside the doorknob. The rotted wood gave way easily and the door shot open.

The knob smashed into Charlie’s ribs and a pained howl erupted from his mouth. Leon and Kyle ran away screaming for their lives, sure they’d angered the ghosts inside.