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.
30 August 2012
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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