The Writer Within

How is your Friday? Mine is as well as can be. The kids are playing at the Y, I've got a few hours free in which to write (and am wasting? it with blogging, I suppose). But I have to get the juices flowing somehow, and this is as good as any other way.

Recently, I sent off the first fifty pages of my second draft to my agent (Laura Rennert, who I whole-heartedly admire). It's in her queue, which makes me half anxious, half excited. You see, I think it's pretty good. Am I over-confident? Right-on? Blind? I won't know till she reads it and lets me know what she thinks. My critique partner likes it, and she's honest, so maybe it is good--for a second-draft.


And now, a glimpse inside Amber's head...

The Writer: Ugh. I have to write the next scene. Or the rest of this last scene. Can't remember exactly where I left off.

The Reader: But didn't you just write two days ago?

W: Yes. So?

R: And you've already forgotten?

W: No, I haven't forgotten. I remember exactly what happened. I just don't remember what I was feeling, exactly. I mean, I know what I was feeling...but the feeling isn't active within me at this moment. And how can I write without filling myself up with the same feeling as before? It'll be false. It'll be inconsistent.

R: First; you're really weird. Second; just re-read what you wrote last time, try to get yourself into the "mood," which is silly anyway, and then re-imaging what was going on, and what will happen. Like you always do.

W: Yes, I've always done it before, that way, but what if this time, it doesn't work? I'd have more success with Sudoku. Unless I get a really hard one. Then I have to cheat.

R: You are so pathetic. Listen. You've paid good money to have this time to write. You will burn in hell if you do sudoku instead.

W: So then what do I write?

R: The next scene.

W: *whine* But I don't know what happens next.

R: Yes you do. It already happened. You're going to re-tell it. Simple as that.

W: But this part is all new. It wasn't in the first draft.

R: It already happened. Re-tell it. Stop this silly blogging and Get. To. Work.

W: I guess we know now which one of us wanted to be the Air Force Officer.

And now we move on...

to Draft Two!*

I am thrilled to be done with the first yucky bit. It's a load of a mess, and the plot is all wrong, but a few very key elements came out of the past YEAR of writing:

I have...
1. Discovered who my main characters really are
2. Found out what the story is really about
3. Cemented the imagery, feeling, and "decor" of the novel in my mind
4. Gotten to know more about the original Arabian Nights stories
5. Grown committed, but not blind and stupid (I hope), to finishing this story
6. Set up a writing routine using a combination of babysitters, day care, Pandora music, and advanced Sudoku Avoidance Techniques

The Story Fairy came by, you see?



I think the most important element, however, is that I really know my main character and I (hope) can portray her voice well. With her voice, I can show you her story. And isn't that what we all want? A rich story told just as the character experiences it? Plot matters, of course, but not nearly as much as the character. Otherwise, it's just a blip in memory.

I want to write stories that persist, and I think if there is the truth of human experience (and large doses of romance) in it, it will.

In other news, I've been thrifting more and more lately and have gotten obsessed with 1950s full-circle day dresses. Next time I wear it, I'll take a picture of myself in my new yellow striped dress. :-)


* Ok, honestly, I didn't exactly finish the first draft. I wrote right up till the final climax. But at that point, I realized all the things listed above. And I found out what is supposed to happen. I was trying to douse the book in lots of twisted, quick-moving plot. It isn't that kind of story. I don't even like to read those kinds of books, really, so why write one? And now that I've thought through what needs to be written for draft two, I am once again in love. The soul of story has returned.

Manuscript Marathon

My friend Laini Taylor blogged yesterday, saying she intends to finish the first draft of her manuscript by the end of March. It's a great idea and a great goal. An important goal. One I need to take on as my own. So, now that's it's out in the open, I must really work towards it, right? I've got a lot left to write to get this WIP completed, and so far, I haven't written a thing this month. (I did a Water Fast over the weekend which left me unable to do anything...More on that some other time.)

There are other things going on this month, too: First, my husband's Spring Break, when we will be driving down to Maryland to visit friends. Then I'll be taking the kids to Denver at the end of the month to visit my parents. (Flying solo with kids. What joy!) Somehow, I must work around or through these breaks to get the thing done.

Writing By

My pages aren't exactly flying by, but time is, and I'm doing my best to make the most of it. It's been a rough week.

Now, have you ever heard that a writer writes best under pressure? Or that she must find her muse in order to write her best?

It's all hogwash. And it's all true. Here's a not-so-secret secret: you write your best when you have set aside the time to write and stick to it. But you also write your best when you've tapped into your muse and are calling upon legions of creative ideas. And guess what? You can do both at the same time. (Even if you're writing on a laptop in the dance studio, while your daughter is twirling away.) (Not that I've done that.)

I've noticed something lately. The writing outcome of the days in which I feel engrossed with my story and the days in which I am merely pounding out the words are not that different. I write like I write, no matter the mood or the excitement of doing so. Why is this? I think it's because I've been writing and writing and writing for several years and have found my "ME" in my prose. I've found the little invisible thread that leads me from staring at a blank page to putting somewhat-decent words onto it. It's a novel idea (ha ha) that I can sit down and write and expect the same outcome in quality no matter my mood.

This is not to say that when I'm feeling depressed I can write every time. Or that when I'm tired, or busy, or lost in thought about a novel I've just read, I can jot down more of my story. Not always. It only happens when I commit to writing a scene or a specific number of words. And many times, I just don't commit to it and end up finding something, anything, else to do.

(It's what happened the past few days, actually.)

So, to recap:

A writer can expect the outcome in quality to be the same whether she is in "the mood" to write or not, as long as she sets aside the time for it and commits to the doing of it.

Negative Talk and Positive Dreams

Last night I had a dream in which I gave up writing my jinni book and began writing about a depressed teenager. I can't remember now what it was that made me fall in love with the new story, but I wrote about fifteen pages of it in my sleep. (Too bad I can't count it for my NaNo stats.)

I do know, however, what made me fall out of love with my jinni book. It's hard. It's starting to feel like meaningless "fluff." I am grasping at straws, trying to figure out what should happen next. I have no idea how I'm going to fill out the next 40k words---in 2.5 weeks!

I spent most of Tuesday writing, which made me

feel accomplished and, well, optimistic. I must have out-written myself, because yesterday I think I might have written 200 words. It was as if my writing brain ran a half-marathon on Tuesday and couldn't get out of bed yesterday. And not only could it not get out of bed, but it bemoaned the future and everything it had written the day before. "It's silly," my writing brain said. "No one will take you seriously if they read this." The day drudged on with me unable to get through an "exciting, adventurous" scene. I wanted depth, and meaning, and where are depth and meaning in a fight with a sea monster?*

Images of well-known editors flashed across my mind, all of them smoking long cigarettes and shaking their heads at my frivolous jinni book.

By then, I despised my little book. And I yearned, desperately, for a reincarnation of my first novel, ROHANA. I wanted to fix that one. I had figured out the plot problems. ROHANA is a deep, meaningful book** and has "literary merit." As I finally slipped off to sleep, I realized that fixing ROHANA is a daydream because it's just easier to revise than to actually write a first draft.

So what would that make me? A Reviser? Surely not a writer.

Writers finish their work. They tackle the gooey hodgepodge of words they have strung together and pad it out with more gooey words. They brave the possibility that someone might see the mess and exclaim that their true destiny is... joining a circus. They finish their manuscripts because if they don't, it will keep poking them in the head, begging to be fleshed out. Nashwa, my main character, would be both insulted and aggravated if I gave up on her. She would slip into my dreams and force me to face her. (And she's a soul stealer and wise in the art of jinn magic, so I would have a hard time putting her back in a corner.)

From now on (or at least for the next two hours), I will put my pride aside and write crap. When the crap dries, I will pull out my Revision Dremel and grind it down into something more presentable. Then I will add more crap, grind it back down...ad infinitum. (Well, not forever, hopefully.)

Nashwa, as I see her

One other thing: I will not look at published authors' websites today and worry that I am not successful because a) I was not 17 when I wrote my first novel, b) I don't have a beautiful writing cottage with a magic window, and c) I don't have thousands/hundreds/a couple of snarky followers.

* A wise woman told me today that even "fluff" books have meaning---if it makes a child fall in love with reading, then it has meaning.

**Or so I like to think. I mean, it's my first book-baby, after all.

Writing in the Darkness of Morning

Catchy title, no? Wish I could come up with titles like that for my books!

Last night, just after the kids were asleep, I moaned and groaned about how I haven't had any time to write lately. Hubby said, "why not write now?" and I complained that I was too tired. Then he said, "well, if you go to bed now and wake up at 4:30, you'll have eight hours of sleep." I agreed, but only with his math.

Then I checked my email, got lost for a bit in facebook, and then decided I should be determined and write this book. Even if it means I need to wake up at 4:30 in the morning. (I had just read Laini Taylor's blog about determination and writing.)

It took a while to fall asleep, and I was up at least three times with the baby (but just barely...I don't think I wake up all the way). Then, just before the alarm went off, I woke up. When it started beeping, I pushed hubby out of the bed (baby was on the other side of me and I was NOT going to risk waking him up), made myself some tea and a bottle just in case my husband needed to feed the baby. By a quarter-to-five, I was at my desk.

Did I get much written? Well, no, but I did scan through my last written chapter and kept my internet time limited to information directly related to my book. Today was practice.

But I will get it done. There's something beautiful and sacred about writing in the last shards of shadows.

Yes! Almost 2,000 words!

Although my daughter did not nap*, I managed to sneak away to ancient Arabia for a few hours. I sipped orange-mint tea and found out that my MC is going to have an annoying but adorable friend tag along for a bit... Fun!

*She does not nap because she thinks she's grown up, hence the photo:

Any Writing Today?

Sadly, I didn't write this weekend. It's only party my fault, though, since kiddo #1 was running a high fever and I had to take her to the ER. (She has bronchitis and is as defiantly-not-napping as usual today.)

I thought I might get some quiet time today in which to write, so while the sick one was eating lunch and the baby was playing on a blanket, I cleaned house and set up a perfect writing spot away from my computer. Then, after lunch, I put #1 in bed, nursed #2 to sleep (and then had to transfer him to the swing), and ate my own lunch. Since then, I have been running in and out of #1's room and placing her gently back into her bed. Grrrr.

What's a mom to do?

If she does nap, the baby will undoubtably awaken at that precise moment.

So now, in order to write tonight, I'll have to skip my yoga class, which I had been looking forward to.

Please tell me, if you are a writing parent, that these days get better. Don't tell me they will continue for ever. I just can't handle that.

*sigh* I need a video monitor.

The Thinking Place

Where do you do most of your plotting? At your desk? Eating dinner? On a long run?

Since my devoted writing time is limited, I have to force myself to think about my book throughout the whole day. The best times are when I'm cooking, folding laundry, nursing, or in the bath. (For some reason, the bath tub is the best place for me. I get the best ideas there. Why is that?) If I'm constantly immersed in my own little writing world, then when I get that hour to sit down and really write, I spend less time warming up. The same is true if I write every day--it's easier to slip back into the story.

On the best days, I put in a CD playing music that relates to my story (currently: Loreena McKennitt's Nights at the Alhambra) and the kids and I dance, sing, and play around the house listening to it.* Then, whenever I can escape and not get distracted by blogs, facebook, and twitter, I write down what has been rolling around in my mind all day.

My husband doesn't know it yet, but I'm escaping the house shortly after dinner to slip into my other world and pound a bit on my keyboard.

* No, the baby doesn't sing and dance yet, but he is just about to start rolling all over the place. I'd rather he'd just stay put and warble.