Whew.

(I wonder how many of my posts have that title…)

Just finished section 34 and 35 out of 40.

34 was quite the feat, integrating two previously-separate scenes and “adding” over 3,000 words.

Just in case anybody wonders, my husband built a home-server that (among other things) backs up my computer regularly.  My laptop gets creaky often enough I’d have the heebee geebees about losing these years of work if it weren’t constantly being backed up.

~

As it is I plan to keep this laptop till it finishes dying or until I sell a book and can use that most-appropriate income stream to upgrade.

Stupid Choices

I have no problem throwing my characters into… challenging situations (purple blood, anyone?).  The problem I have is letting them make stupid decisions.

As a young (as in, new-to-this) novelist, I can see I have a hard time separating myself from my characters at times. Writing advice encourages me to get my characters into bigger and bigger trouble–preferably by hard choices backfiring and making worse what they were supposed to fix.  Since that’s the exact thing that would curl my toes in real-life, I find I’m not even sure how.

I’ve been griping wondering for a while how to work past this, and really appreciated a suggestion that is much more usable for me: put the characters in a situation where they must make a decision quickly.  In that context bad decisions would have less shame.  And, to me at least, be more believable.

I mentioned a while back my list of favorites and antitheses when it comes to stories this was one thing on my *dislikes* list.  That is, if I know better how to behave in the world than the character who lives there… well, I have decidedly less patience for events that happen (in my interpretation) just to rack up the tension.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[The original post included a giveaway that is now closed.]

 

Progress

Finished 28, 29 and 30 this weekend.

28 and 30 were *total* slogs. I’m going to have to add a question to my pre-readers questionnaire: Do any chapters make you more tired than others. . . ?

Because they surely did for me.
So glad they’re done.

More Writing Advice (getting started)

Aren’t forums great?  I’ll have nothing to write one moment– no burning desire to put any words down, then a simple, innocent question will spark a whole essay I didn’t know wanted out.

~

Case in point: A question recently from someone on her first book, claiming no training in writing, and wondering how she can compete with the mass of work “out there.”

After re-reading I think my response sounds rather tart, and maybe I should have let it sit an hour before posting… but by then I was afraid answers like, “don’t give up” and “you can do it!” would have been par for the course, then I’d really look snarky.

One of the most liberating things I ever read was a woman describing an author’s pannel she’d been on where another author gave permission to a WWII survivor not to write her story.

Everyone keeps telling me I should write a book, the old woman said nervously.

Think long and hard before you do, the writer told her.  Writing a book is hard work, if you don’t love it you’ll never make it to the end (and might feel like you failed in something important).

I’ve thought of that exchange a number of times when listening to other people talk about the book they want to write, and that’s what I think of first when I hear someone new doubting him/herself.

Self-doubt is not always a bad thing.  Sometimes it is entirely reasonable and accurate. . .  This is a good place to apply discernment in personal interaction, and I beg you other writers to simply ask for encouragement if that what you need!

Of course, a bit of my annoyance may be unfair; some people just don’t know themselves well enough to know which they need: encouragement to go on or permission to let go.

~ ~ ~

Especially with your first book I’d say just enjoy the journey. Because if you can’t, you shouldn’t expect to make a go of this writing thing.

You don’t need “formal training” but you do need to read about writing, and learn from people who know the difference between good and bad writing.

**One thing that really bothers me in/about the arts is the illusion some have that that getting “good” on your own is somehow more worthy or perfect or “pure”  than learning from more experienced people.**

Setting yourself under those who know is quite simply the most efficient way to get bast the basics and begin growing truly innovative because the artist no longer has to design the foundation on which he will build.

Don’t be embarrassed to seek instruction– whether in person or from books.

And if you lower your expectations on this current work of yours, say, to “practice novel” rather than “publishable novel” you’ll get the chance to learn the most important (I’m told) lesson about noveling (*finishing*) without the extra pressure of will anyone buy this?

I’ve read that most published authors did not publish the first book they wrote, so we should check our expectations against that.

Just write. Put words down without trying to look perfect– that comes later.

So here’s the quick version of my advice (as unqualified as I may be to offer any):

  • don’t keep writing if it’s not enjoyable/fulfilling (there’re too many fun things to do to waste time on something you don’t enjoy),
  • actively seek to improve yourself through outside input (don’t assume you have everything you need inside you: no one does), and then
  • just sit down and write without expectations until you can (because of your research and reading) begin to evaluate the quality of your writing.

Then keep going.

**Eventually you’ll also have to get up the nerve to show your work to other writers and see how accurate your perceptions of your own work are (and be willing to be wrong about yourself– in either direction).

But that’s not something you have to do from the beginning. Start with enjoyment. If that’s there, the rest will come more naturally.**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Today’s give-away was for Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

 

WIP

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?

I never lose a book (but I might lose me…)

That is, since I re-did my bookshelves, I’ve always been able to find whatever book I’m looking for.  If it’s mine.

You see, if it’s mine it finds a home among other books of its type so I always know where to go when I’m looking for something.

But library books are another issue altogether.

Library books have no definitive home– because even when I put them dutifully away on the “library book shelf” in the living room their proximity to the ground seems to translate them, substantially, from Something-To-Be-Read (and let alone until read) into Things-To-Be-Carried.

Like all books in our house they are treated with utmost respect, but it is the respect Eliza Dolittle would get from Col. Pickering: genuine, but oblivious.

So I’ve lost the book I meant to finish next (A Curse as Dark as Gold, that I quoted from here), and it’s really annoyed me.  I’ve checked all the usual places and now all that’s left is to wait till this bug finishes its sweep and we dig out the corners again.

~

In the meantime I’ve dabbled with the idea of helping to organize a fundraiser that should take place in about 2 months.

The impossibility of this is emphasized on at least one web site: Nine women working together cannot produce a baby in one month! it insists. In the same way you cannot expect to put together a fundraiser faster just because you have more people.

But I have to wonder about the doom and gloom.

This particular event has been in place for more than 5 years, and involves (in an original stroke of genius) each hostess supplying both the food and guests for her table, so I think what’s left to us would be venue and program, mostly.

I said keep me in the loop, because I want to help the cause (our local CareNet Pregnancy Center) but when I shifted off my brain-storm document and back into my re-write I felt such a distinct chink of a fit it made me nervous.

Not about the fit of the writing, but about the fact that the other work was not.    With my life wound so tightly just now I wonder (almost fear) if I’ve stepped into a tripwire.

~ ~ ~

Found a redundant scene to cut. I’ll work the best parts into the later confrontation. Finished clean-up on 26 and 27.

More Than Half-way

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?)

Does this say something about me?

I hit my favorite used book store’s annual 50%-off sale yesterday.  Came home with 40 kids books (picture books, schoolbooks and YA novels) for 25-cents apiece, and just over a dozen grown-up books for a dollar each.

I also picked up a crate of nice books that were individually priced because they were “special” and among these were

  • The complete Burton translation of The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night (6 volumes in 3 fat books) for $5 on-sale– awesome score for my collection, and
  • Dragons: a natural history
    • Mentioned because this one has already made me start considering whether I ought to change my lindorm’s appearance.  I’ll do a separate post about that when/if it’s confirmed.
      • What’s in question is whether the monster will have two limbs or none.  I have to work the math and see what side is better for the story as I can find either type useful.

Putting all those books away was plenty fun, and I had to laugh when during the process I noticed the audio course Argumentation, Part 1 was right next to an unread copy of Making Friends.

About Ballooning

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.