Remember that journey through "the big Middle" I started a while back? The part a fellow writer (Laraine Herring) compared to driving through the state of Texas? The part I thought could take several months? I believe that I crossed the border today!
Sure, I may have to drive back through a few of the smaller towns, get a closer look at the scenery, and explore a few more side roads to fill in any remaining gaps. And yes, the bridge was out in Crisis City (not quite ready to write that scene yet), so I took a detour for now and vowed to come back in a few days or weeks. But I have officially passed from writing the middle section of the book into writing the final quarter.
In writer's terms, there is a threshold that happens after a major energy marker in the plot. One such threshold occurs after the crisis happens. It marks the end of the middle -- or the beginning of the end. Over the past couple of days, I wrote several of those threshold scenes in which Gabby reflects on what has happened, evaluates her choices, and gathers the resources she will need to make it to the climax and successfully transform. In other words, she has to take everything apart in order to put the pieces of herself back together again.
I suspected it was time to go there when I hit a pocket of resistance on Thursday night and had to fight for every word that made it on to the page. So on Friday morning, I reassessed my own situation and realized that yes, it was time to take another leap -- right into the novel's crisis. Or maybe directly to the resulting fallout.
Strangely, in the midst of all this, I couldn't help but notice the parallels between where Gabby is finding herself at this point in the novel and where the Republican party found itself after the election (a crisis of sorts for them) this week. And of course, what do they (Gabby and the Republicans) do first? Blame everyone but themeselves for what has happened...
The difference is, I get to have some say in Gabby's ultimate transformation. Too bad real life narratives are a bit harder to influence.
So long, for now, Texas!
(NaNoWriMo word count at the end of day 10? 19,607 words. Yee-haw!)
11 November 2012
05 November 2012
Synchronicity
When you're not used to churning out 1,500+ words a day, it can be hard to keep the ideas flowing. But this morning, the universe sent a little gift my way.
I decided to indulge in a crossword puzzle before settling down to write. I haven't been doing the puzzles on a daily basis lately, but for some reason it was calling to me today. And when I got to the clue for 20 Across -- "Second first lady" -- I found out why.
Gabby, my main character, made a guest appearance at the breakfast table, via the New York Times crossword puzzle. For those who may not know, Gabby's given name is Abigail Adams (yes, her dad is a history buff), and crossword puzzles play a significant role in the novel's plot. And there they were, joined together in the answer to 20 Across.
Feeling like Gabby was with me in spirit, I wrote one and a half new scenes (1,362 words) before breaking for a late lunch, vowing to return later in the afternoon to break the 2,000 word mark for the day. But when I got back to my desk, the momentum was gone. What to write? Where to next? (The eternal questions of the non-linear writer.)
That's when the universe threw a little more help my way. A mid-afternoon call from a friend who is also a writer came at the perfect time, a welcome distraction. And, as it turned out, she also provided some much needed direction. When I told my friend about Gabby's surprise visit in the puzzle, she said, "That has to go in the book somewhere!" So after we hung up, I gave it a go.
Another scene was born, and I surpassed the 2,000 word mark. Thanks to a little synchronicity.
I decided to indulge in a crossword puzzle before settling down to write. I haven't been doing the puzzles on a daily basis lately, but for some reason it was calling to me today. And when I got to the clue for 20 Across -- "Second first lady" -- I found out why.
Gabby, my main character, made a guest appearance at the breakfast table, via the New York Times crossword puzzle. For those who may not know, Gabby's given name is Abigail Adams (yes, her dad is a history buff), and crossword puzzles play a significant role in the novel's plot. And there they were, joined together in the answer to 20 Across.
 |
| There she is -- at 20 Across (the first long one) |
Feeling like Gabby was with me in spirit, I wrote one and a half new scenes (1,362 words) before breaking for a late lunch, vowing to return later in the afternoon to break the 2,000 word mark for the day. But when I got back to my desk, the momentum was gone. What to write? Where to next? (The eternal questions of the non-linear writer.)
That's when the universe threw a little more help my way. A mid-afternoon call from a friend who is also a writer came at the perfect time, a welcome distraction. And, as it turned out, she also provided some much needed direction. When I told my friend about Gabby's surprise visit in the puzzle, she said, "That has to go in the book somewhere!" So after we hung up, I gave it a go.
Another scene was born, and I surpassed the 2,000 word mark. Thanks to a little synchronicity.
02 November 2012
3,858 and counting...
As the second day of NaNoWriMo winds down, I am happy to say I have already written as many words as I did during an average week of my 30,000-words-in-3-months writing stretch this summer. And I thought that was a lot of words...
The last time I participated in NaNoWriMo was in 2007, just after I had left the classroom to devote more time to writing. I had no idea what I was getting into really -- had never even finished writing a fictional short story since second grade -- but if I was going to call myself a writer, I had to prove that I had the writing chops.
And so I set out on day one with a vague idea for a story but no vision of how the plot might unfold. My strategy was just to keep writing the story one day at a time and see where it led me. By day 5 or so, I had switched to a whole different premise and a new set of characters. Through sheer stubbornness and blind determination, I crossed the 50,000 word finish line a couple of hours before midnight on November 30.
This time, I am starting from a very different place. Halfway through a novel and with a plot map that gives me, at least broadly, an idea of where the story will go. You would think that would make it easier, but today's writing session suggested otherwise.
Having an idea of what should/will happen (i.e. the dramatic action) in a scene, does not, it turns out, translate into instant details or lines of believeable dialogue, nor does it tell you at what pace the scene should unfold or how it should end. There is no "just add water" formula when it comes to bringing characters to life.
My biggest challenge this time around will be freeing my inner "madman" from the demands of the perfectionist and letting myself just write. So while 50,000 words provides a measurable goal, what matters more to me is pushing through and getting the last half of the story on paper, even if it is in no shape for other eyes to read. What matters is taking on the messy scenes that build up to the novel's crisis and the powerful emotions they evoke. What matters is silencing the voice that says "It is taking you too long to get to the heart of the scene" or "The reader will be bored by this" and writing it all down anyway. What matters is remembering that I can go back and fix it later.
Two days down, twenty-eight to go.
The last time I participated in NaNoWriMo was in 2007, just after I had left the classroom to devote more time to writing. I had no idea what I was getting into really -- had never even finished writing a fictional short story since second grade -- but if I was going to call myself a writer, I had to prove that I had the writing chops.
And so I set out on day one with a vague idea for a story but no vision of how the plot might unfold. My strategy was just to keep writing the story one day at a time and see where it led me. By day 5 or so, I had switched to a whole different premise and a new set of characters. Through sheer stubbornness and blind determination, I crossed the 50,000 word finish line a couple of hours before midnight on November 30.
This time, I am starting from a very different place. Halfway through a novel and with a plot map that gives me, at least broadly, an idea of where the story will go. You would think that would make it easier, but today's writing session suggested otherwise.
Having an idea of what should/will happen (i.e. the dramatic action) in a scene, does not, it turns out, translate into instant details or lines of believeable dialogue, nor does it tell you at what pace the scene should unfold or how it should end. There is no "just add water" formula when it comes to bringing characters to life.
My biggest challenge this time around will be freeing my inner "madman" from the demands of the perfectionist and letting myself just write. So while 50,000 words provides a measurable goal, what matters more to me is pushing through and getting the last half of the story on paper, even if it is in no shape for other eyes to read. What matters is taking on the messy scenes that build up to the novel's crisis and the powerful emotions they evoke. What matters is silencing the voice that says "It is taking you too long to get to the heart of the scene" or "The reader will be bored by this" and writing it all down anyway. What matters is remembering that I can go back and fix it later.
Two days down, twenty-eight to go.
01 November 2012
Have Map, Will Travel!
Presenting...THE PLOT MAP! In miniature...
...and fully grown.
Yes, after two weeks of intensive plotting -- guided by Martha Alderson, The Plot Whisperer, via her book of that name -- I now have a 6-foot, color-coded map of the novel that will guide the rest of this journey -- through Texas (the middle) and beyond.
Turns out that the scenes I have already drafted make up not just the first quarter of the novel, but most of the first half, plus a few scattered scenes from the last half. Which means that writing 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo in the month of November would get me to the end of a rough draft of the whole novel, or at least very close.
So count me in. Starting at midnight (now), it's full writing speed ahead!
 |
| The Mock-up Map |
...and fully grown.
 |
| The Real Thing |
Yes, after two weeks of intensive plotting -- guided by Martha Alderson, The Plot Whisperer, via her book of that name -- I now have a 6-foot, color-coded map of the novel that will guide the rest of this journey -- through Texas (the middle) and beyond.
Turns out that the scenes I have already drafted make up not just the first quarter of the novel, but most of the first half, plus a few scattered scenes from the last half. Which means that writing 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo in the month of November would get me to the end of a rough draft of the whole novel, or at least very close.
So count me in. Starting at midnight (now), it's full writing speed ahead!
18 October 2012
A Story is Born
from a notebook entry at 5:24 p.m. yesterday after a particularly satisfying work day:
After an exhausting week of mucking through swamps, I found myself fully in the flow today as I worked at my writing desk. Some days I get a taste of that ease, but it has been a while since I have had a day of feeling immersed in it. A day where everything comes together with little or no struggle. Where synchronicities fall like rain. The image that came to mind mid-way through my post-lunch walk was one of scattered pieces of matter swirling around a dark, chaotic universe suddenly and unexpectedly coming into alignment, as if some mysterious force were pulling them together into one big harmonious dance.
It feels so good, this balance of work and play, that I don't want to leave my desk. I just want to bask in this universal flow some more.
What do I have to show for it? A plot line with the story's key energetic markers and a clear idea of where the scenes I have written so far fit into that sequence. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it is. The direction (map) I have been longing for, praying for, seeking and stalking for months has emerged from what I thought was a collection of random scenes.
Today, Gabby was looking over my shoulder and walking by my side, rejoicing right along with me at every discovery.
Is this the birth I have been waiting for?
Gabby was born January 19, 2010 -- the day she first introduced herself to me in a notebook entry -- but her story was born today! And it was pure magic.
After an exhausting week of mucking through swamps, I found myself fully in the flow today as I worked at my writing desk. Some days I get a taste of that ease, but it has been a while since I have had a day of feeling immersed in it. A day where everything comes together with little or no struggle. Where synchronicities fall like rain. The image that came to mind mid-way through my post-lunch walk was one of scattered pieces of matter swirling around a dark, chaotic universe suddenly and unexpectedly coming into alignment, as if some mysterious force were pulling them together into one big harmonious dance.
It feels so good, this balance of work and play, that I don't want to leave my desk. I just want to bask in this universal flow some more.
What do I have to show for it? A plot line with the story's key energetic markers and a clear idea of where the scenes I have written so far fit into that sequence. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it is. The direction (map) I have been longing for, praying for, seeking and stalking for months has emerged from what I thought was a collection of random scenes.
Today, Gabby was looking over my shoulder and walking by my side, rejoicing right along with me at every discovery.
Is this the birth I have been waiting for?
Gabby was born January 19, 2010 -- the day she first introduced herself to me in a notebook entry -- but her story was born today! And it was pure magic.
11 October 2012
Texas, continued
Turns out Texas (see 9/11/12 post) has some interesting and unexpected landscape features. One of them showed up in my dreams the other night as a swampy marsh (or maybe a marshy swamp) that I was wading in up to my knees, trying to find a way out. When I woke up, I didn't understand the symbolism at first, wasn't sure whether it connected to my writing at all, but after this morning's morning pages, there was no doubt. At least not about that.
Yes, for the past several days (or weeks?), unbeknownst to me, I have been wandering around this natural wonder of the emotional landscape, which we shall call The Swamp of Doubt. While I could get back in the car and just drive around it, hoping to leave it behind, I am pretty sure that is not the way to move on. Writing has a sneaky way of bringing up issues or feelings that are best addressed right now, because if ignored, they may turn into permanent roadblocks, or at least irritating energy blocks.
No doubt my main character, Gabby, is going to experience plenty of doubts as she adjusts to life in a new place. Transitions and new experiences -- any kind of change, really -- open the doorway to doubt. How could they not? Which would explain why I keep running into doubt at every turn lately, including in my writing life.
One thing I know for sure? Doubt's got all of the questions and none of the answers. Questions like: Can I construct a plot that works? Do I have enough ideas to sustain a plot? Will those ideas come together in a coherent way? Do I already have the knowledge I need inside or do I need a teacher to show me how to do this? And those doubts, if left unchecked, spiral into a whole universe of other doubts.
The antidote?
Trust.
Belief.
Faith.
And, perhaps, a better map.
02 October 2012
Feedback
The proverbial shoe was on the other foot last Friday. After years of critiquing my students' writing, I decided it was time to put myself on the hotseat. I took a chapter of my novel-in-progress to the Baltimore Book Festival for a free one-on-one feedback session sponsored by the CityLit Project.
I have a couple of what Julia Cameron calls "friendly readers" who have read several scenes from the novel. Their feedback is always constructive and encouraging, and their enthusiasm about the story and the characters gives me the energy to keep writing. But asking for a critique from an experienced writer who knew nothing about me felt like a bigger risk.
Was I doubtful/nervous/terrified beforehand? Yes.
Did I go for it anyway? Yes.
And I'm glad I did.
So on Friday afternoon, after much fretting about what scene to bring and whether it was really ready for an objective pair of eyes (ask my husband, he'll tell you), I sat down with Gregg Wilhelm, the Executive Director of the CityLit Project, who has worked in various aspects of publishing for several different publishing houses. He read quietly, scribbling notes on the pages as he went, and I watched, fidgeting with my pen and reminding myself to stay detached from the outcome and open to his suggestions.
I was pleasantly surprised when he came back with largely positive comments. He said the scene as a whole was well constructed and complimented me on capturing the personalities of the characters in dialogue as well as through their actions. He suggested that I add a bit more exposition -- some details of the room and of the characters' appearances, things that the point-of-view character would notice -- to set the scene more clearly for the reader. We also talked about some specific instances of word choice that will add polish.
What else did I learn Friday? That I can afford to go a lot easier on myself when I am drafting new scenes. That it's okay to let my characters ramble and to use too many adverbs and adjectives and to let some cliches creep in here and there (kind of like that!). And that for now, I can give the madman more room to create and imagine and breathe life into the characters and the story without worrying about how it sounds or whether it will be good enough. That's what the revision process is for.
I have a couple of what Julia Cameron calls "friendly readers" who have read several scenes from the novel. Their feedback is always constructive and encouraging, and their enthusiasm about the story and the characters gives me the energy to keep writing. But asking for a critique from an experienced writer who knew nothing about me felt like a bigger risk.
Was I doubtful/nervous/terrified beforehand? Yes.
Did I go for it anyway? Yes.
And I'm glad I did.
So on Friday afternoon, after much fretting about what scene to bring and whether it was really ready for an objective pair of eyes (ask my husband, he'll tell you), I sat down with Gregg Wilhelm, the Executive Director of the CityLit Project, who has worked in various aspects of publishing for several different publishing houses. He read quietly, scribbling notes on the pages as he went, and I watched, fidgeting with my pen and reminding myself to stay detached from the outcome and open to his suggestions.
I was pleasantly surprised when he came back with largely positive comments. He said the scene as a whole was well constructed and complimented me on capturing the personalities of the characters in dialogue as well as through their actions. He suggested that I add a bit more exposition -- some details of the room and of the characters' appearances, things that the point-of-view character would notice -- to set the scene more clearly for the reader. We also talked about some specific instances of word choice that will add polish.
What else did I learn Friday? That I can afford to go a lot easier on myself when I am drafting new scenes. That it's okay to let my characters ramble and to use too many adverbs and adjectives and to let some cliches creep in here and there (kind of like that!). And that for now, I can give the madman more room to create and imagine and breathe life into the characters and the story without worrying about how it sounds or whether it will be good enough. That's what the revision process is for.
26 September 2012
Message from the Universe...
Sometimes the universe sends the right words at the right time.
"This is what things can teach us:
To fall, patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that before he can fly."
~Rainer Marie Rilke
"This is what things can teach us:
To fall, patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that before he can fly."
~Rainer Marie Rilke
18 September 2012
Trimming
This week's challenge? An exercise from Louise Doughty's A Novel in a Year: Choose a scene, do a word count, and cut the words by a quarter. Repeat with next scene. After a few days, read the new and old versions to see which sounds better.
Cutting out whole paragraphs, Doughty says, is cheating. Instead, she says to consider each sentence, each word, and ruthlessly eliminate anything that is not absoutely necessary (case in point, there are a couple of adverbs that last sentence could do without).
At first, I thought this exercise was getting too specific too soon, but I tried it anyway with three scenes of different length (from 1 to 3 pages). Turned out that in the process of doing such mindful trimming, all kinds of other useful things popped up. Things like places or characters that need more description, parts that might be better off somewhere else in the story, questions about how a character feels/reacts in a particular moment, bits that need to be added for clarity, moments that beg for more/less tension. Things that will help me make more substantial revisions when I get around to serious rewriting.
What sounded like a task that was all about the word count turned out to be about something quite different. While my left brain was busy counting words, my right brain snuck in and put its creativity to work, re-seeing the scene. And, after spending ten weeks cranking out new material, it felt good to revisit some scenes that I hadn't looked at for a while.
Truth is, I think I like this part of the writing process better than coming up with new material. Or maybe it is just more in my comfort zone after years spent evaluating my students' creative writing.
Just one more reason to keep exercising the madman daily...
Cutting out whole paragraphs, Doughty says, is cheating. Instead, she says to consider each sentence, each word, and ruthlessly eliminate anything that is not absoutely necessary (case in point, there are a couple of adverbs that last sentence could do without).
At first, I thought this exercise was getting too specific too soon, but I tried it anyway with three scenes of different length (from 1 to 3 pages). Turned out that in the process of doing such mindful trimming, all kinds of other useful things popped up. Things like places or characters that need more description, parts that might be better off somewhere else in the story, questions about how a character feels/reacts in a particular moment, bits that need to be added for clarity, moments that beg for more/less tension. Things that will help me make more substantial revisions when I get around to serious rewriting.
What sounded like a task that was all about the word count turned out to be about something quite different. While my left brain was busy counting words, my right brain snuck in and put its creativity to work, re-seeing the scene. And, after spending ten weeks cranking out new material, it felt good to revisit some scenes that I hadn't looked at for a while.
Truth is, I think I like this part of the writing process better than coming up with new material. Or maybe it is just more in my comfort zone after years spent evaluating my students' creative writing.
Just one more reason to keep exercising the madman daily...
11 September 2012
Now Entering Texas...
Thanks to Laraine Herring, author of Writing Begins with the Breath, I now have a name for where I am in the novel-writing process. She calls it "the Texas Period," thanks to the time she drove across Texas with her family and thought it might go on forever. It's just like reaching the middle part of writing a book, she says, "where the enthusiasm of the beginning has waned, but the end is not in sight, and you really, truth be told, have very little idea of what you've got to work with (though you're sure it's junk)."
All judgments about Texas aside, this metaphor captures the middle phase of writing a novel perfectly. Some days I am cruising down the wide open highway with the wind in my hair, while other days fellow travellers fly by at blistering speeds as I sweat and labor just trying to keep up with the tumbleweeds. Last week, I pulled into a scenic overlook (do they have those in Texas?) to look back at where I've been so far and to preview the road ahead. This week, I'm taking a little detour to revisit some older scenes and do a little trimming to tighten them up. But I'll be back on the road soon, foot firmly on the accelerator (didn't they just up the speed limit to 85 mph on one Texas highway?), generating more of these middle pages.
The first time I read Herring's book, almost two years ago, I jotted a note in the margin of this page: "Haven't crossed the border into Texas yet." So it's nice to know I am making progress. Maybe it's time to post a map of Texas on my writing room wall and pin one of those little cars from the game of Life to it. Then every time I write -- whether it's a few paragraphs or a whole chapter -- I get to move the car a few miles.
Whatever it takes to keep the motivation flowing...
All judgments about Texas aside, this metaphor captures the middle phase of writing a novel perfectly. Some days I am cruising down the wide open highway with the wind in my hair, while other days fellow travellers fly by at blistering speeds as I sweat and labor just trying to keep up with the tumbleweeds. Last week, I pulled into a scenic overlook (do they have those in Texas?) to look back at where I've been so far and to preview the road ahead. This week, I'm taking a little detour to revisit some older scenes and do a little trimming to tighten them up. But I'll be back on the road soon, foot firmly on the accelerator (didn't they just up the speed limit to 85 mph on one Texas highway?), generating more of these middle pages.
The first time I read Herring's book, almost two years ago, I jotted a note in the margin of this page: "Haven't crossed the border into Texas yet." So it's nice to know I am making progress. Maybe it's time to post a map of Texas on my writing room wall and pin one of those little cars from the game of Life to it. Then every time I write -- whether it's a few paragraphs or a whole chapter -- I get to move the car a few miles.
Whatever it takes to keep the motivation flowing...
07 September 2012
Out of Doubt
No need to send a search party. I wrote my way out of the vortex this morning. (Still a little dizzy, but on my feet again.) So what worked?
One: I opened the door to the main character's flaws by asking what has/what will she fail at? We all fall flat on our faces at times, much as we try to be perfect. The more we aim for perfection, the farther there is to fall. Good to remember that characters are better, and miles more believable, when they are not perfect.
Two: I chose to be grateful for the resistance I felt yesterday. Yes, grateful. Much as I hate to run up against it, resistance is almost always just the universe's way of reminding me to let go and get out of my own way. So I expressed my gratitude for being able to see that there are gaps, some of them quite large, in the plot and in the characters' lives that I couldn't see before. And then? Questions about missing pieces began to pop up. Questions like where Gabby's favorite place/place of refuge is and what she was obsessed with, or at least highly curious about, as a child.
Three: I went back to a scene I felt was powerful when I first wrote it and looked there for clues about what else might happen. Asked what implications that scene had for other parts of the story based on what it revealed about the characters. That opened the floodgates, encouraging me to search other key/favorite scenes for clues. By the time I put my pen down today, the gaps had transformed from uncrossable chasms into potential bridges.
Lesson to carry forward? When doubt creeps in, take a deep breath. Don't force answers. Invite questions.
One: I opened the door to the main character's flaws by asking what has/what will she fail at? We all fall flat on our faces at times, much as we try to be perfect. The more we aim for perfection, the farther there is to fall. Good to remember that characters are better, and miles more believable, when they are not perfect.
Two: I chose to be grateful for the resistance I felt yesterday. Yes, grateful. Much as I hate to run up against it, resistance is almost always just the universe's way of reminding me to let go and get out of my own way. So I expressed my gratitude for being able to see that there are gaps, some of them quite large, in the plot and in the characters' lives that I couldn't see before. And then? Questions about missing pieces began to pop up. Questions like where Gabby's favorite place/place of refuge is and what she was obsessed with, or at least highly curious about, as a child.
Three: I went back to a scene I felt was powerful when I first wrote it and looked there for clues about what else might happen. Asked what implications that scene had for other parts of the story based on what it revealed about the characters. That opened the floodgates, encouraging me to search other key/favorite scenes for clues. By the time I put my pen down today, the gaps had transformed from uncrossable chasms into potential bridges.
Lesson to carry forward? When doubt creeps in, take a deep breath. Don't force answers. Invite questions.
06 September 2012
Some Days...
This morning, the I-Can't-Do-This vortex opened up and tried to swallow me whole.
Some days at the writing desk are like that.
Some days at the writing desk are like that.
04 September 2012
Evidence of Progress
On Friday, I printed out the latest set of scenes, chapters, and other fragments, and laid them all out -- sorted into groups based on which part of the plot they develop. They took up most of a queen-sized bed.
Then I did a little victory dance.
(It is important to celebrate along the way!)
Next, I attempted to put them in some sort of order that will make sense. That was a bit more of a challenge. It also got a little bit messier. (There are more pages on the floor on the far side of the bed.) Good thing we don't have guests coming this week...
Turns out I am not a linear writer, at least not for the purposes of this story. So when Stephen King likens writing a novel to an archaeological dig in his memoir On Writing, I totally get it. I feel like there are parts of a dinosaur skeleton scattered all over the guest bedroom, and like it is my task to reconstruct it as I uncover more and more bones of the story.
Wouldn't it be easier to just write the story in chronological order? (I ask myself that question all the time.) Perhaps. Perhaps not. Truth is, I don't always know what's coming. Sometimes, the characters surprise me when I let my imagination take the lead. So, at least for now, the outline (which I prefer to call the storyboard) is a work in progress too. A constantly shifting puzzle of colored sticky notes.
What next? Ask questions. Find gaps in the story. Draft more scenes to fill them. Rearrange the pieces again.
And so it goes...
Then I did a little victory dance.
(It is important to celebrate along the way!)
Next, I attempted to put them in some sort of order that will make sense. That was a bit more of a challenge. It also got a little bit messier. (There are more pages on the floor on the far side of the bed.) Good thing we don't have guests coming this week...
Turns out I am not a linear writer, at least not for the purposes of this story. So when Stephen King likens writing a novel to an archaeological dig in his memoir On Writing, I totally get it. I feel like there are parts of a dinosaur skeleton scattered all over the guest bedroom, and like it is my task to reconstruct it as I uncover more and more bones of the story.
Wouldn't it be easier to just write the story in chronological order? (I ask myself that question all the time.) Perhaps. Perhaps not. Truth is, I don't always know what's coming. Sometimes, the characters surprise me when I let my imagination take the lead. So, at least for now, the outline (which I prefer to call the storyboard) is a work in progress too. A constantly shifting puzzle of colored sticky notes.
What next? Ask questions. Find gaps in the story. Draft more scenes to fill them. Rearrange the pieces again.
And so it goes...
30 August 2012
Writing and Re-writing
More from this summer's reflections on writing...
Wednesday, July 11: This writing process is a lot like weaving. Each morning when I sit down to my writing work, I wonder which thread, which color I will pick up today. And I wonder how, or if, it will change the pattern in the fabric. Most days, I still feel like I can only see the knotted side of the tapestry. I wonder at what point that will change?
Factoid from last night's news: Ernest Hemingway rewrote the last sentence of A Farewell to Arms 47 times. Two of the rejected endings shared on the news were big, weighty philosophical statements. The one Hemingway chose instead focused on action rather than beating the reader over the head with a moral. The character leaves the hotel and walks out in the rain.
By Hemingway's count (according to an interview with The Paris Review in 1958), it was only 39 times. Not surprising, but still inspiring to first-time novelists like me. I can't even begin to imagine what the last line of Crosswords (working title) will be. But I'm pretty sure I'll know it when I see/feel it. It will feel/sound just right.
The ending Hemingway was satisfied with?
"After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain."
So simple. So clear. So artful.
Wednesday, July 11: This writing process is a lot like weaving. Each morning when I sit down to my writing work, I wonder which thread, which color I will pick up today. And I wonder how, or if, it will change the pattern in the fabric. Most days, I still feel like I can only see the knotted side of the tapestry. I wonder at what point that will change?
Factoid from last night's news: Ernest Hemingway rewrote the last sentence of A Farewell to Arms 47 times. Two of the rejected endings shared on the news were big, weighty philosophical statements. The one Hemingway chose instead focused on action rather than beating the reader over the head with a moral. The character leaves the hotel and walks out in the rain.
By Hemingway's count (according to an interview with The Paris Review in 1958), it was only 39 times. Not surprising, but still inspiring to first-time novelists like me. I can't even begin to imagine what the last line of Crosswords (working title) will be. But I'm pretty sure I'll know it when I see/feel it. It will feel/sound just right.
The ending Hemingway was satisfied with?
"After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain."
So simple. So clear. So artful.
28 August 2012
...and Unstuck
A few days later, I got around to articulating, in writing, what had me stuck:
Thursday, July 5: Realized Tuesday afternoon that that's what it looks like when the goal of 600 words per day gets in the way. Because I was so set on getting 600 new words on the page, I wouldn't let myself play or entertain any other ideas, wouldn't let myself read something else to see how another author handles the scenes in between, etc. Nope, just sat, butt in chair, and spun in place. Did mental jumping jacks trying to churn out a new scene or idea that I wanted to run with instead of writing and exploring. Instead of jumping into the action somewhere and seeing where it took me.
The a-ha moment about how to get unstuck arrived a week later, after I got fixated on the word count yet again:
Thursday, July 12: I need to spend less time thinking of the "just right" (note: I purposely did not say "perfect") scene to write and just get down to writing. Why? Because I've noticed that I often do multiple takes of the same scene. It goes like this: I start a scene, run out of energy/words or think of a different way to approach it because of something that surfaces/emerges as I write, and I start over with Take 2, borrowing only some of my favorite lines or snippets from the first take, if any. Which brings me right back to a writing truism (from Louise Doughty's book A Novel in a Year) written on a hot-pink sticky note above my computer monitor: "Often, the only way to discover what happens next is to start writing and see what comes."
Some mornings, that is easier said than done. But it's great advice!
Thursday, July 5: Realized Tuesday afternoon that that's what it looks like when the goal of 600 words per day gets in the way. Because I was so set on getting 600 new words on the page, I wouldn't let myself play or entertain any other ideas, wouldn't let myself read something else to see how another author handles the scenes in between, etc. Nope, just sat, butt in chair, and spun in place. Did mental jumping jacks trying to churn out a new scene or idea that I wanted to run with instead of writing and exploring. Instead of jumping into the action somewhere and seeing where it took me.
The a-ha moment about how to get unstuck arrived a week later, after I got fixated on the word count yet again:
Thursday, July 12: I need to spend less time thinking of the "just right" (note: I purposely did not say "perfect") scene to write and just get down to writing. Why? Because I've noticed that I often do multiple takes of the same scene. It goes like this: I start a scene, run out of energy/words or think of a different way to approach it because of something that surfaces/emerges as I write, and I start over with Take 2, borrowing only some of my favorite lines or snippets from the first take, if any. Which brings me right back to a writing truism (from Louise Doughty's book A Novel in a Year) written on a hot-pink sticky note above my computer monitor: "Often, the only way to discover what happens next is to start writing and see what comes."
Some mornings, that is easier said than done. But it's great advice!
On Getting Stuck...
Having just finished a 10-week stretch of generating new material for the book, I am taking this week (and maybe next) to type up those new scenes and take another look at how things are shaping up. I also plan to revisit and revise a handful of previously written scenes to align them with changes in characters and events that have happened as the book (and my writing) evolves. As I do that, and as I come across some of my reflections on how the writing was going at the time, I'll post a few of those past entries until I catch up again to the present...
This one is from Monday, July 2 (but is not an uncommon Monday experience in my world):
Ah, what a difference a day makes.
On Friday, I could hardly bear to leave my writing desk. I was so excited about what was happening, so full of questions and possibilities and what-comes-nexts...and this morning?
Stuck.
Bravely dove back into another attempt at the cafeteria scene, first day of school, the one one I had worked up a whole set of questions about at the end of Friday's session. I got no further than a page before I could feel my energy draining, the wall going up. That feeling of forcing it, of a drip instead of a steady flow of words onto the page. Of me, trying to manipulate Gabby (my main character) into some preconceived hole (or role) or situation. Like trying to ignite a fire with a soggy match.
All I wanted to do at that point was put my head down and sleep. (Okay, yes, I took about a 30-minute surface nap before the little voice in my head got me up and moving again. "Do something different," it said.)
A search for a little point-of-view advice led me back to a comment I had shared with a writer friend of mine just last month, something my yoga instructor said that fits a writing practice just as well:
"Find the magic zone where mental effort and exertion meet surrender and letting go."
Yes, that is what is needed today. Back to creating, dreaming, imagining, playing, and yes, back to the work of writing!
This one is from Monday, July 2 (but is not an uncommon Monday experience in my world):
Ah, what a difference a day makes.
On Friday, I could hardly bear to leave my writing desk. I was so excited about what was happening, so full of questions and possibilities and what-comes-nexts...and this morning?
Stuck.
Bravely dove back into another attempt at the cafeteria scene, first day of school, the one one I had worked up a whole set of questions about at the end of Friday's session. I got no further than a page before I could feel my energy draining, the wall going up. That feeling of forcing it, of a drip instead of a steady flow of words onto the page. Of me, trying to manipulate Gabby (my main character) into some preconceived hole (or role) or situation. Like trying to ignite a fire with a soggy match.
All I wanted to do at that point was put my head down and sleep. (Okay, yes, I took about a 30-minute surface nap before the little voice in my head got me up and moving again. "Do something different," it said.)
A search for a little point-of-view advice led me back to a comment I had shared with a writer friend of mine just last month, something my yoga instructor said that fits a writing practice just as well:
"Find the magic zone where mental effort and exertion meet surrender and letting go."
Yes, that is what is needed today. Back to creating, dreaming, imagining, playing, and yes, back to the work of writing!
24 August 2012
Herding Commas, Phase II
Forgive me, readers (if you are still out there), it has been almost four years since my last post...
Lately, though, that little voice in my head has been encouraging me to go back online. I first heard it at the end of June, and recorded the idea in my June 29th morning pages: "The past few days, my intuitive voice has been urging me to create a forum, probably a blog, through which I can capture this writing journey -- the experience of writing a novel for the first time -- and share it with whomever cares to read about my writing adventures, mis-adventures, and a-ha moments. A way to start a dialogue with my friends about what my writing work is like, or a way to start up a dialogue among other writers who are on a similar path."
Not sure whether this was just a new way for me to procrastinate (i.e. avoid the hard work of writing a novel) or a legitimate (ooh, that word is charged now thanks to a certain congressman) creative urge, I settled for recording my reflections on the journey in my writer's notebook to see if it would persist or fade away.
Almost two months later, the voice is still there. Still chattering away about how I should (re-)launch the blog. So this morning, having reached my goal of writing 30,000 words over a 10-week period just yesterday, and wondering how to commemorate the occasion, I decided to listen.
I agreed to bring my reflections on the journey out of the notebook, at least for a little while, to see how it feels. But not before making a promise to myself that the moment this begins to feel like a daily performance -- like last time, when each entry began to feel like a neatly packaged essay I was writing for English class -- it's back to the notebook.
I want these entries to be a celebration of the messy, dynamic, ever-evolving process I engage in for four hours every morning. I want my words to provide whoever is watching a glimpse of that elusive beast called the writing process in all its wildness. And I want to remember what this process of writing a novel felt like along the way.
And if anyone out there wants to come along for the ride, I would love the company.
Lately, though, that little voice in my head has been encouraging me to go back online. I first heard it at the end of June, and recorded the idea in my June 29th morning pages: "The past few days, my intuitive voice has been urging me to create a forum, probably a blog, through which I can capture this writing journey -- the experience of writing a novel for the first time -- and share it with whomever cares to read about my writing adventures, mis-adventures, and a-ha moments. A way to start a dialogue with my friends about what my writing work is like, or a way to start up a dialogue among other writers who are on a similar path."
Not sure whether this was just a new way for me to procrastinate (i.e. avoid the hard work of writing a novel) or a legitimate (ooh, that word is charged now thanks to a certain congressman) creative urge, I settled for recording my reflections on the journey in my writer's notebook to see if it would persist or fade away.
Almost two months later, the voice is still there. Still chattering away about how I should (re-)launch the blog. So this morning, having reached my goal of writing 30,000 words over a 10-week period just yesterday, and wondering how to commemorate the occasion, I decided to listen.
I agreed to bring my reflections on the journey out of the notebook, at least for a little while, to see how it feels. But not before making a promise to myself that the moment this begins to feel like a daily performance -- like last time, when each entry began to feel like a neatly packaged essay I was writing for English class -- it's back to the notebook.
I want these entries to be a celebration of the messy, dynamic, ever-evolving process I engage in for four hours every morning. I want my words to provide whoever is watching a glimpse of that elusive beast called the writing process in all its wildness. And I want to remember what this process of writing a novel felt like along the way.
And if anyone out there wants to come along for the ride, I would love the company.
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