Writing on Thursday

The Way It Happens to Be

It's moving, the way life echoes art. And the way art echoes life.

As I was in the shower this morning, thinking about the stuttered place my current novel-in-progress is at, it occured to me how similar my life, right now, is to the one my protagonist is living.

Doesn't mean I'm writing about me. Doesn't mean I'm trying to live like her. It's just there are parallels. Commonalities. Ways in which I relate to her very deeply.

I'm sure my sub-conscious has played a large role in this. Credit must, I'm sure, be given to all those quiet inspirations and implied emotions. It's because she, and her story, are borne of me, and the things I experience, the world in which I live.

If I'm lucky, this realization will help me ease back to it, and enhance the writing. If I'm lucky, it will be cathartic for my soul.

I think it's just the way the world of creativity works.

What do you think?

**

If you missed my announcement on Tuesday, click over to see the news... It's easier than having to repeat myself.

And next Thursday I'll be posting a book review for Lisa Tucker's newest novel, THE WINTERS IN BLOOM. Be sure to come back!

Also, thanks again, so much, for all your support. I really do know the best and most loving people.

I Dedicate This Song... To My WIP

Me and my work-in-progress--especially the first third or so--are stuck like glue. I try to get away, to work on more and other parts of the manuscript, but it keeps pulling me back in.



Writers, how do you keep yourself from revisiting one part too often?
Those who aren't writers but have work or projects of your own, what are your tricks for moving on?

**I'm not a country music fan (yep, this is a country duo), but this song is catchy, no? And what a cute video!

Unplugged

I'm unplugging from the internet this week, so as to focus on my novel-in-progress with no (or fewer, anyway) distractions.

Have you ever given yourself time to disconnect? How did it work for you?

Have a great week, all. :)

Lost: One Voice

WANTED:

`

The safe return of my written voice.

`

Where can it be, do you know?

Is there a place the lost voices go?

`

It's been intermittent for so long now.

But I'd swear I had it just two days ago. Was I mistaken?

Have I done something wrong, did I drive it away again?

`

Maybe I've been fooled. Tricked. Led to think I can do this, but

maybe I can't.

`

It's just so unfortunate, so sad, and maddening, too,

because we had a good thing going, my voice and me. I was so sure.

`

And now, without it, blogging isn't the same.

Special projects are hard; inspiration is far.

My novel-writing is lame, flat, horrible. It's like

I can't

continue--though I've tried, oh, I've tried--because

nothing is cohesive without it.

`

I'm lost without my voice.

`

Still, I guess I won't give up hope.

Please, if you see it, won't you send it home to me?

Genre: Defining My Women's Fiction

I write truth and I write fiction. I like weaving them together, in my women's fiction.

Women's fiction is that which is written with female readers in mind. It's about the protagonist's journey through a story, about her growth, her progress.

I have a theme. I think most writers do.

I've found each of my main characters is on the path of self-discovery. Whether it's someone leaving her job and relocating to start anew, someone realizing it's never too late to change, or finally getting to the root cause of her messy life, it's a common direction. Self-discovery, in simplest of terms.

My current work-in-progress (WIP) is in rewrites. My main character is a woman who's lived her whole life one way and now, as life is fragile, assesses what different would mean. She's on a journey.

Aren't all women on a journey? I think it never ends. We have so much to feel and learn. There's so much to relate.

That's what women's fiction is to me, and it's what I most love to write. It's what I hope my eventual readers will most love to read.

Good Stuff for a Friday

There were great things to be found at Rafael's place this week. First, this picture. A Scrabble-playing dog? Love it.


Then was the idea for an exercise, in which you attribute one word to the characters (up to five) from your current project. One word? Let's see...

Besty: living

Charles: arrogant

Tom: out

Timothy: unfocused

Meggie: fragile

`

Think about your characters. Could you describe their essence with just one word? Just doesn't seem enough when it allows for no background detail.

`

And then, Rafael announced his 1k Word Blogfest. Take a picture, write 1000 words about it, and post it all. If you're interested in participating, visit his blog Neither Here Nor There and let him know. Posts will coordinate on Monday, February 22nd. Sounds like fun, don't you think?

`

Now how 'bout those character words? Leave yours in comments.

`

And have a great weekend!

`

Thanks to Rafael for providing my content today. ;)

Finished!

I finished the rough draft of my second novel!

It took almost 8 months to write. And there is still yet much more work to do. Edits. Rewrites. Fleshing out. Filling plot holes. Tying it all together.

It's almost overwhelming.

But not quite. Because the thing is written, and now I get to move on to the rest. Yay!

Celebrate with me?

That Snowflake Method

If you're a novelist, chances are you've heard of The Snowflake Method, Randy Ingermanson's proven suggestion for design and creation of a novel. I'd heard of it myself, but had never done much to check it out. Until over the weekend, anyway, when the new year and writerly goals hung all around me like so much... well, snow.

I have two novels-in-progress now, would you believe? (Would you think me crazy?) There's A Gradual Goodbye, near first-draft completion, that I've shared snatches of here and there. I'd wanted to finish by Christmas, but holiday demands were so full and draining, I couldn't. But I'm close, ready to just push on through.

The newest WIP, tentatively titled Celebration, is the one for which this character wouldn't let me rest. The voice became too loud, too strong, to sate with jotted notes in my notebook, so I swallowed doubt over starting another and cannonballed in. I wrote 9 pages and 2300 words in one afternoon, so I know that was the right thing to have done.

But this leaves me with two projects, see? As if it's not overwhelming enough to have one unfinished manuscript. And with the very real need to complete both stories, with no delay, I knew I had to try something more formal than my standard wing it method. Maybe I could give outlining--even if on some very small level--a try. That's why I began some online research, and it's how I gave The Snowflake Method a real-good looksee.

I haven't committed to the complete method. I relish the creative freedom that comes with flying by the seat of my pants as I write. I fear full outlines and formal formats would hinder me. But as I read down Randy's suggestions, Step 3 highlighted seven very crucial points (follow link and scroll). These are points any writer should work through (and revisit) as they craft a novel. (Randy recommends filing the info for each character, but I've found it incredibly helpful with just my protagonist.)

1) The character's name
2) A one-sentence summary of the character's storyline
3) The character's motivation (what does he/she want abstractly?)
4) The character's goal (what does he/she want concretely?)
5) The character's conflict (what prevents him/her from reaching this goal?)
6) The character's epiphany (what will he/she learn, how will he/she change?
7) A one-paragraph summary of the character's storyline

I think spending some time addressing these key points will help me keep both my protagonists and their stories straight, and ensure I'm headed in the right direction with each. I hope for that, at the very least.


Have you tried The Snowflake Method? Tell me about your level of success.

Do you think the points listed above would be helpful to you?

What about other methods?

Lobster Talk

I've had (and love, love) crab. I know its taste, what it takes to get at the meat. No so, lobster, which I've had only a taste of (and didn't care for). Which poses a pickle, because the main character in my WIP has just ordered one for dinner. This scene ties to a lot for my protagonist, and I need to build it right.

Say you've ordered a whole lobster.

How does it come from the kitchen? What's it look like? How in the world do you crack into it? What are those little crab-crackin' tools even called, and do you use the same thing for lobster? How's it taste? Does it come with butter? Anything else? Do you risk shots to the eye, as with crab? Doesn't a cheddar garlic biscuit sound delish right about now?

Tell me what you know.

Fiction Excerpt

From my work-in-progress.

My main character, Besty, is caught in a splendid and carefree moment, one of her first in quite some time. Her adult son has interrupted with a phone call, with his plans for the family trip she's been coordinating...

***

“I’m sending Virginia.”

Besty was weeding her garden, deep in the soil, wearing panties and a faded shirt of Silas’—not a stitch more. No custom gloves protected her smooth hands, no tools littered the bed of flowers. She didn’t have use for them. No want for them, either, not today.

The feel of the dirt, which now slimed the cordless telephone she held between head and shoulder, smudging her cheek, was like raw silk. It was a... an intimate feeling.

“Sending her? What do you mean, Charles?” The warm morning breeze, alive, stirred around her bare legs, making them long to dance.

“To the lake, Mom. I can’t come, but the wife can.”

She heard a tap tap tap, full of motivation, behind his voice.

“Virginia’s really excited about it. I'd bet she’s already packing.”

“That’s wonderful, love. But why can’t you come?” She rose to her feet, spun with experimentation. Didn’t lose her balance, hmm. She’d forever been envious of dancers, who moved their bodies with such powerful ease.

“Here’s the deal, Mom.” More tapping, woven with his voice.

Besty imagined it was the beat; she, the dancer.

“I’ve got procedures that week, there’s no telling how they’ll go, if there will be complications. And of course, there are always emergencies. I doubt things will clear up enough, Mom. I just don’t see how I can take vacation right now.”

“You’re certain?” Breathe, two, three. Breathe, two, three.

“I don’t want to make any promises I won’t be able to keep.”

A rock jammed her heel, puncturing her poise. Chagrin filled the space that had only moments before been occupied by beauty. Confidence.

She dropped to her knees. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am, Charles.”

Novel Troubles in lieu of NaNo

We've hit November!

It's National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo. Or NaNo, the four-letter word you can be certain will be spat from fiction writers' mouths all month.

Writing a 50,000-word novel in 30 days? I've yet to try it. I don't have the guts, the discipline, the time. (Any number of excuses, really. And some good reasons, too.)

I've been telling myself I'd really kick my WIP into gear instead of participating in NaNo. It's a good plan, but I've been stuck for a few weeks, and the mere promise of progress hasn't unstuck me.

The problem? My story is waiting for me to deal with the aftermath of an unexpected tragedy. (And by unexpected, I mean by me as much as by the characters.) This... thing... sort of happened, and I thought maybe it was a good turn of events, but now I'm unsure. Does it misalign the story? Will it affect the outcome I was after when I started? I think so. To both.

So I've come to this spot in the road. And a writer, at the fork, is to pick that which isn't quick and easy. And I wasn't going to, I just think the whole path may be wrong. I may have to backtrack just a bit. Find a new route, even. And then proceed.

It's a start to my November writing, anyway.

Have you ever tossed an idea, done a little backpeddling? How did you know it was the right move?



Good luck to all who are participating in NaNo 2009.

Come back tomorrow. Something special is happening...

What's What

I don't have a true post prepared today - we were out of town and I couldn't whip one up - but the good news is, it's not difficult to thank you. Your comments after Friday's post first surprised and overwhelmed me, and then took great steps in humbling me. Thank you. You're all such very special people, and I rather like that you've joined this online journey with me. I can't appreciate you enough.

***

Wendy Miller recently "gifted" me with five words and I'll be working them into a written piece of some kind for the next couple days. Come back Wednesday, when I'll post the finished product.

***

And Friday I'll talk about Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, which I finished reading over the weekend - and very much loved. I'll tell you what the book's about, and why it was an important book for me to read in regards to my novel-in-progress.

Now smile! It's only Monday. :)

Stranded

My car refused to go, and so I sat, neighbor to barb-wire and a broken-down barn on a rural highway, waiting for rescue.

I was kicking myself for not grabbing that paperback I passed before leaving home. It's a new author, a new voice; it could have been research, a passing of the time.

Kicking myself, wishing I'd taken my laptop - if I'd only known - since I'd had to up and go, mid-zone. I'd left my WIP hanging. We could have been hanging together.

So I sat there, waiting to be claimed. Wishing this and wishing that, but getting none of it.

Have you ever been stranded? For what did you wish?

Stinky Cheese and Doubt

I admit it. I've been avoiding my WIP like it's a piece of stinky cheese. Like it's a lamp I don't want to dust, or a phone call I don't want to make.

Like I'm a busy person who chooses to spend her downtime doing less productive things, continually shrugging off the needy manuscript.

But also because I allow myself to be overwhelmed. I become stunted by the fact that I need another 50- or 60,000 words, instead of considering I've already succeeded with 20,000. Because the voice of doubt and negativity rumbles loud and long.

Because if I don't work hard, I don't risk rejection and failure of grand proportion.

Sometimes it's easier just to play around online. Or to put an hour's time and thought into a great blog post. And avoid my writing by visiting others to talk about writing.

It's a phase. It's a mood. I have them often. It's part of this way my brain is wired, part of my undisciplined nature. It's part of my struggle.

But it's like a reverse psychology thing. I start to feel guilty, undeserving, untalented. And then it's like I have something to prove. And I write again.

I kicked almost 1000 words out yesterday, and it felt good. I told myself this is all I need. To focus on one scene, one section at a time, consistently. To work toward smaller goals that, in turn, grow one large one.

And that's all I can do, right? It's all any of us can do?

Peace, and Then It's Gone

Last night my family left. And I washed dishes.

It had been weeks, months, since I'd handwashed a dish, save an errant pot. It had been hours, days, since I'd had any time to myself. So I shooed them to the pool and eyed the sinkful of cups and plates and odd things, the ones that hadn't fit in the dishwasher's last load.

Silence--finally--fell over the house.

At the sink, I lost myself in the blue of the Dawn, the slip of the bubbles. I focused on the pull of my hamstrings as they stretched to lock my knees, felt the cold metal hardware as I leaned my forehead into the cabinet. My fingers swam the warm water, not quite as hot as I like it to be.

I'd forgotten how peaceful and relaxing washing dishes could be. I was reminded how important--no, dire--quiet is for this thinker, writer, woman.

I hummed a song. I plotted dinner. I heard my thoughts.

I summoned the main character from my WIP, whom I hadn't seen in at least a week. She stood next to me at the sink; we chatted just a bit. But before I could beg her to stay the evening, my family returned and she made a graceful exit.

The dishes were done.

The peace, gone until next time.

That Ever-Elusive...

Often the timing isn't right. Maybe I'm standing over a skillet of gravy, and won't step away because biscuits and lumps do not go well together. We're two miles from church, two minutes before the service, and I really can't sneak my laptop into the sanctuary. Or my daughter promises this is her last yodel, and I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.

It is not meant to be.

But occasionally, everything works in my favor. I happen to be in the same room as my computer, trying to increase output on my WIP, and all factors align. I've harnessed the necessary discipline, nothing more pressing snatches my time, and I find it.

The Zone.

My fingers, linked directly to my whirring brain, turn nimble. My creativity is sharp, and it buzzes somewhere within my head. My characters speak; I transcribe. The next scene unfolds, and the words are in reach, ready to be picked and plucked. I step away for a moment, tend to a need, and fall back into place without losing momentum.

The Zone is mine.

(I wish I could own it regularly.)


Tell me about your zone.

Hey Howdy and How Do You Do?

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

But I had to break away. It was a need to define my writing processes, and put to use what I discovered.

I learned some pretty pertinent stuff, like that I write better when I edit as I go - that is, take time to really make sure I'm saying what the story begs of me any given moment, instead of rushing through, just for the sake of getting it out no matter its quality. That works for some; I understand now, not me.

I realized it's best to keep my projects quiet. My momentum is steadier, and I hold up better to my own expectations and accountabilities than I do to those of others. That said, I've omitted the word count statuses in the sidebar, and plan to post only generically about my WIPs - at least during the creating and writing stages.

My output spikes when I write during morning hours, and if I change up my location every few weeks.

What I've always known is, my dependence on your support and encouragement is high. I couldn't write and dream if I didn't have all of you lifting me up and helping me along. And that won't change.



Have you ever taken the time to really discover who you are with your writing? What methods do you identify with?

How Much Do You Share?

For those of my readers who are also writers, I have a question. I know how I operate, but I'm curious to see what others do...

When it comes to a big project, I'm thinking particularly of novel-length, how many of the details do you share with others? Are you one who keeps mum about everything from the storyline to the progress you're making, choosing not to relinquish updates to anyone? Or do you talk things through with one person or more, because you like to share, or feel you work better through your project that way?

For me, I'm hesitant to give too much detail, either because I'll "jinx" myself, or look silly before my idea has fully developed. But I can't keep everything in. I have to give the basic rundown to my parents and a friend or two. I have to have that initial feedback to kick myself into drive. And I periodically update my husband ("I hit 1000 words and a new chapter today!"), or run a scene by him, ask for input.

How do you work? What do you share?

Slow Start, Gaining Speed

It's been tough, getting this new WIP off the ground. Lots of things have distracted me and, on top of that, I struggle with all the feelings one faces at the get-go, when the entirety of a full-length novel stretches before you. Can I do it? (Again? What if I'm a one-timer?) Will everything I hope for it mesh? What if this is a poopy idea? Etc., yada yada.

I've been happy with the first chapter. It sort of reads like a prologue might, because it's a look at the main character (MC)'s childhood. I love the background it gives, and it sets the tone for her adulthood.

Chapter two was where the trouble began. I was having issues transitioning into her "here and now," her adulthood, and had a couple false starts. Yesterday I deleted what I'd written (for the second time), and sat here at my desk, staring at the blank screen. And I waited. (Which isn't what King would have suggested...)

I wanted to "watch" what would happen in the story. I wanted to see it; then I would know it was right. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long; a scene came to mind, and I ran with it. I hashed out 990 words (about 6 pages), and completed the chapter! Not my biggest lump in one run, but it felt like major progress. Heck, it was! And, one of the best parts, I know where to head with chapter three.

I feel like I've jumped that first hurdle. It's behind me now, and I can better set my sights on the next one.

They get easier as we go along, don't you think?

To the Eleventh Month I Say 'Goodbye'

November was a tough month. I don't know that I've ever had so many separate occurances and emotions join together to create such turmoil. But it's over.


Today I welcome December with flourish. And maybe fanfare. Seriously, I may break out the sparkling grape juice; I've never been so glad to see the calendar page turn.

While I know I can't see what this month may hold, I'm determined to make it as amazing as I can. I'm going to love my family and friends with my whole heart, make my home a warm and welcoming place, offer smiles to strangers, help whomever I can, and fling myself head first into writing.

A good springboard from which I'll jump into my writing was news of acceptance for one of my flash fiction pieces. Surprise at the Salon will be published at The Chicklit Review this week or next. It feels really great. I'll post more details and the link when the time is write. Erm, right.

And I've made a big decision. Life After Death, my WIP, is going to be scrapped. Put in a file, is more like it, for another time maybe. And after giving myself permission to make such an executive decision, to change my mind, I feel good. Instead, I'm going to start something totally new. A new month, a new space, a new WIP. It's an novel idea (har, har) that came to me a couple weeks ago, and I'm just gonna let it fly, see where it takes me.

I'm looking so forward to it.


What will you do this December?