If I have to restart my computer (because it got gummed-up again), when I go to restart work on my novel it takes a short check-list.

Normally I leave everything open so I can just sit down I work without digging for my place again

• I open Excel with all my scenes, so I can keep track of where I am, then
• Three Word documents:
  • The actual story: Let Evening Come,
  • my “progress report” document where I make notes about how word-counts, chapter movement and where more background is needed (it’s my way of preventing my “inner editor” from interrupting the putting down of words.  I remind myself I’ll work back through during my final edits, so get the silly thing finished first).
  • my “cut bits” document
    • At least one writer I know says she just cuts and throws away everything she’s not going to use, but I don’t trust myself enough to do that.  (Or maybe it means I think too highly of my work?)

Anyway, I opened the “cut bits” doc last tonight and yanked the scroll-bar to the bottom like I always do (ready to drop the latest cuts from this read-through).  Then I looked at the page-count and nearly spit out my milk: 104 pages.

Of cut stuff.

And that doesn’t even count the cut-stuff from the first couple revisions.

So I’m feeling a bit less-guilty now about the length.  At least I’m making a good-faith effort, right?

Novel status report:

Finished cleaning up scenes 22 and 23 (out of 41)  last night.   They went much smoother than I’d expected, and instead of cutting half of one and rewriting the whole of the other (what I’d been expecting) I massaged in a twist I’d been playing with and it made everything work.

Amazing.

Since this is my first novel everything feels new.  I’m the puppy, spinning about wildly, seeing spring for the first time and not wanting to miss any of it.  I have to wonder if I’ll end up some mellow, staid breed (once I grow up) or if I’ll be more like Joule, perennially excited at each new glimmer, change and opportunity.

~

The latter sounds like the better path for an artist, but just now it also sounds very inefficient and exhausting (did I already say we had our first winter bug sweep through the house this last week?  I was blessed to escape with only a headache, but everyone else has had it worse.)

I had a spike in my sense of urgency to finish this animal, but realized it doesn’t make a lot of difference in my time available.  I’m choosing to be content with regular progress rather than moving toward hand-flapping urgency that can’t accomplish anything anyway.

Wow, that sounds mature.  (Right?  Right?)

When I started preparing for NaNoWriMo the first time I conceived this novel project, I mapped out my expected plot on (virtual) 3×5 cards.

Just checked back in the old folder: 153 of those cards.  Thank God I didn’t try to do that with real cards.  I would have gone crazy before I ever started.

When planning, I padded the story with (optional) stories-within-story, making several characters storytellers with a habit of explaining things through application of traditional tales.

Very soon into the process (not long after I wanted desperately to quit, actually) I realized those stories, while potentially interesting, were less than unnecessary to reach word-count.

~

As I was writing, working hard to “make time” and complete word-count by deadline, I did not write chronologically.

Any time I got bored with what I was writing I jumped to another scene that was more exciting.  When Jay read the whole thing at the end of the month he commented on the breakneck pace of it all, and how much he wished for white-space and breathing room.

Then when I went back to finish I found I had to fill in all sorts of holes.  When I started doing that I realized I wasn’t clear enough about my goals and where I was going, so everything I added felt like mere fluff.  Filler.  Pointless word-count when what I wanted was a coherent story.

My word-count would creep up and I’d instantly mistrust it.  It’s sprawling; growing too fast! and I restructured and re-visioned it, choosing to make these big changes mainly on the insecurity I felt in the story.

And now, with more words than I’d imagined spending on one story, I finally know exactly where everything is supposed to be and how it should turn out.  It makes all the difference in the world in terms of confidence.   I’m getting to the place where actual length means less to me then the quality of the story.

That is, when I’m writing I have no measure of anything other than word output.  Now I’m in wow.

Current scene-count is 42.  Nuts I know.  After the current pass through I’ll go back with the red pen and see what we might do without.  But maybe it’ll all belong.  I’m trying not to think about that now.

One of the things I’ve been working at through this noveling process is maintaining a larger view of reality (whole novel, needs and writing process) while focusing enough on the small bits that I don’t get overwhelmed.

And I got to apply it to living today: did stuff with my sick kids and absolutely *nothing* on the house.  And it all felt okay.  Especially when after they were all in bed I got to watch Chuck with Jay and still clean up two more scenes.

Oh, and I hate DST.  In case anyone is wondering.

After some work this morning my word-count broke 100,000.

I’m at 100,983 just now.

Can’t decide if I’m excited or appauled.

I reached it.

I am amazed.

Stories I have in plenty; endings are one thing I have a dearth of.

Two next-steps:

First, updating the added strands of story so they all are current with this version.

Second, I have the notes I made as I went along, like, this event needs to be grounded in an earlier hint, and, she can’t be standing on the left and be doing that on the right.

I’ve got nearly 50 pages of notes, and while I know they aren’t all changes I need to make (most is just a dated list of how much work was done each session) I still get a bit psyched out if I let myself think beyond just a page or two at a time.

Spring is not near by any stretch, but here in the North we have reached a different milestone: being able again to open the drapes when we watch Daddy leave for work, and leave them open.

The light is back!

This makes early rising much more natural and achievable.  I’ve spent the last couple days adjusting my internal clock, and I’m all ready to go.  Woo Hoo!  (Of course, I say that here to twist my own arm a bit to do it.)

I met a gal last week who said growing up in Alaska she gained 15 pounds every winter and lost it every spring.

Winter changes your life.  And so does summer.

So I’ve been up early the last several days and have been picking at that last chapter (it’s turned into a total re-write, so it’s a bit slow-going).

I’m reinspired just now, though, because in a pure, words-per-minute way, morning writing is decidedly more productive than evening writing.  For now I can still see how much is being accomplished in terms of word count.

I think it’s the natural sense of urgency that I can only write until the day “starts” at 7a.m.

At night it’s a lot easier (or perhaps I should say “more natural”) to dawdle and stare off into space.

I’m not implying these have no value, but not all of them are productive (even sideways) and they certainly don’t get the story written down.  Every writer needs both kinds of work.

At night, when the fire of creativity is lit, it’s much easier to ignore the tugging and begging of one’s body complaining it’s tired than it is in the morning to ignore a similar tugging of little hands and voices.

Knowing that that is coming– hearing the restlessness in the next room as little eyes watch the clock waiting for that long-anticipated 7:00— has the effect of hurrying me along.  I agonize less over adjectives and race instead to know what happens next?

~ ~ ~

The challenge just now is balancing my theme of teamwork against the need to stay focused on the main character.  The first version of this ending was a mass of names and bodies throwing themselves at the problem, and the importance of Linnea and her contribution in bringing the fight to this (manageable) point was lost in the surge.

On one level you could say I don’t trust Linnea (my main character).

~

She’s not all that charismatic or attention-gathering by her personality or wit, and there have been times when I’ve feared she’ll be overshadowed by her companions, so I feel very strongly she needs to be as distinctive as possible at the end.

So this morning I think I found a way to do what I want to do, and I’m just itching to play with it (but I can’t just now ’cause my brain won’t work that way when I’m juggling kids).  So that’ll either wait till an early bedtime or tomorrow morning.

I should mention, because it might be of interest, that this teamwork vs. the individual dichotomy became most clear while watching Disney’s Dinosaur with my kids Sunday.  That’s a show that tries to be all about teamwork, but it still comes down to the one in the end.

~

Made me think about my goals and how they looked in another story.

Just one scene to finish till I’ve reached “The End” and can start working backwards to make all the details match.

Wow.

I can’t believe this is real.

As in, moving quickly.

I put up more than 2,000 words in the last two days.  Which is really good for me.

Actually the whole of it is one scene– the first wholly new scene I’ve written from scratch since… I can’t remember when (rewriting the one I’d already written didn’t count– I knew where it needed to start and end).

One very. rough. scene.  But it sort of fixes the problem of #1 in my 7 Quick Takes for the novel, so I’ve got one more thing off my immediate to-do list.

By the time I cycle back around to it I should be able to iron out the really lumpy parts and just keep the useful stuff.

I only have three scenes left people—three!— and everything I wrote that month, long, long ago, will have been chewed through at least once.  Everything in this document will be brought into alignment with the final storyline.

I wish now I’d kept track of how much of that month I wrote one-handed, nursing a 6-month-old all hours of the day and night.

And people asked me how I could get so much written when I had a little baby…