Wednesday, May 4, 2016

IWSG - Staying motivated. How to keep typing. Plus, an excerpt from that Exotic Dancing Mystery Novel.

It's time for the Insecure Writers Support Group's monthly post! To find out more about Alex J. Cavanaugh's brain chile, click HERE!
My first year of grad school is over. (It's a weird semester schedule. Jan 1st through May 1st) My master thesis project proposal was approved by CIIS's MFA faculty, and my faculty advisor is the amazing Carolyn Cooke
The really exciting part is -drum roll- I finished my novel! It's the most important/ complicated project I've ever attempted. I'm in the process of my first read through.

This is the outline for North Beach. BTW, I hate the fuckwit working title.

Here's a sample of the mystery novel's tone:
(note: Lucifer is a bookseller and paramedic who just has an unusual name.)

The two men reek of Armani White cologne and whisky. It’s one of the colognes we keep in the men’s room at Penthouse Club, a smell I’ve grown to loathe. They must have had a long and blasted evening last night. The right arm of Raymond’s sport coat is slick with a Victoria’s Secret glitter lotion, a.k.a. stripper juice. Probably from one of the all-night bottom-feeder clubs still open after Penthouse closes at three. Stripper juice is forbidden for dancers to wear at both Penthouse and the Gold Club. It not only rubs off on customers, it also makes the two story poles slick and dangerous.
            Outside is Raymond’s blue Ferrari. It’s double-parked. How long is this interrogation going to last? Lucifer is staring at me drop jawed, and I avoid meeting his eyes.
            “How many times was she supposed to meet you in Paris? How much money do you give to her outside the club? She’s been married and divorced. Did she tell you that? She was married when she met you. She’s been using you, mon frere.”
            “Your name is, Ali? You didn’t even tell me your real name?”
            Really? This wealthy grown man who’s traveled the world has to have it spelled out for him?
            “She’s a writer. Did you know that? This has all been a game to her.”
            Isn’t it, though? I’m supposed to feel bad about doing what every dancer is paid to do? It’s not like these men had good intentions for me. Having sex is easy, but true seduction is an art form. The representation is always better than the real thing. Representations are perfection. Whore’s can have real sex and come out scathed, used, even if they’re financially well off. Exotic dancers selling fake sex can make a fortune. It’s like the ‘dachshund author’ who had a paw-signing. Fake books, fake sex, that’s where the money’s at. But some times you have to deal with this shit.
            “You were married?”

Now that I have three months to baby it and pitch it, I've been allowing myself to do this -

And this -

And best of all, this!

Kickin it in the Presidio with my bookseller friend, Anne!
I've also been looking for more freelance writing work on Craigslist. San Francisco Craigslist posts can be both hilarious and mind-boggling.

You have to admit, it's kind of adorable she's too scared to go to a Mac or Benefit counter. Still, come on lady. If you want to emphasize your assets you need to go get berated and belittled by snotty cosmetologists like the rest of us. 

Harvard. Baby. Just. Ew.

I'm working for Public Programs and Performances about every other week. I teach a Writing Workshop Thursday evenings and write a ton, but keeping self imposed deadlines is hard. I'm already missing school. 

How do you stay motivated and typing? Please share in the comments below!