Tag Archives: First Drafts

Ta Da! The End!

[Video Transcript]

You know, writing is a very solitary and grungy business, and most of the time, even on your best, most wonderful writing days, you’re usually alone.

But today is a really special day for this writer.

As many of you know, I have been working on my first draft of my second novel, The Water Bearers, for several years now and earlier this month, I set up a deadline for myself, that I would finish that first draft by the date of my birthday (which is actually, as it happens, coming up the day after tomorrow).

Well, I’m happy to say that I have actually reached that milestone and today, I wanted to share it with you.

So bear with me. You get to share this with me today. Bear with me, I’m not a camera person. Here we go. Are you ready? One, two, three–Ta da! I did it!

Of course, as any writer knows, the first draft is just that: It’s a first draft. There’s much more work to be done in terms of editing and polishing it and making it worthy of publication. So I’m not foolish enough to think that my work over here is done.

But I think that today, I’m just going to savor the moment and celebrate the completion of this part of the process–all 405 pages of it. It’ll probably be a lot shorter than that when it’s finished, but today, I’m just going to enjoy. So–Cheers!

Counting Down!

As I mentioned in my last post, I’m getting close to finishing the first draft of my second novel, The Water Bearers. [Cue applause. No, seriously, click here to make the applause start.] I’ve been working on it intermittently for years, so seeing it finally come to a close (at least the shitty first-draft stage of it) is pretty exciting.

But I also know that, as it is for many writers, procrastinating–even this close to the finish line–remains a hazard. Therefore, I’ve set up a countdown clock to try to keep myself accountable. I invite you to check back in, follow my progress, and help me count down to (for writers, anyway) those two most magical words in the English language: The End. And hey, as long as you’re here, I wouldn’t kick a few kind words of support to the curb, either. Just sayin’…

In the meantime, as a thank-you for all your support and patience, here’s the excerpt I promised; I hope it leaves you wanting to read more. But if it doesn’t, just remember what Ernest Hemingway said:

And now for your excerpt:

The Water Bearers

THUNK

The noise shook the car and jolted Bibi awake. As her eyes flew open, she could see the window had been smashed. The pocket of air around her face held for a moment more. Bibi had time to take one last gulp of air then the pocket collapsed. Thousands of gallons of water roared through the broken window all at once, throwing Bibi back against the car door and pinning her there.

Still holding her breath, Bibi tried to free herself from the pressure of the water’s onslaught, tried to turn her head to see where her father and Sabrina were—but couldn’t. The realization that they might already have died terrified her.

—Moby? Moby? Are you there? Are you there?

Over and over in her mind, Bibi called out to Moby; there was no reply. Her chest constricted rapidly as her need for air grew more desperate. Her head started to pound under the relentless pressure of the water that now completely filled the car.

I don’t want to die like this, she thought. I didn’t even get to go back to school yet.

The car gave a terrific jerk, then a second. Bibi squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating solely on keeping the last bit of air in her lungs. Her entire body was pulsing now, a frenzied rhythm hammering through her veins: Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, BREATHE—

She did, at last. Her mouth wrenched itself open against her will and every molecule of air that had ever existed vanished. Painfully cold water filled her mouth, her throat, and her lungs, burning as she gulped and swallowed convulsively. Bibi thrashed wildly, helpless to stop herself from breathing, drawing the icy water deeper and deeper into her chest. Her flailing grew weaker. A sudden wave of brilliant clarity stilled her limbs, and Bibi understood that she was about to die.

Daddy! Da—she called silently to her father.

Then Bibi’s world went black once again.

Growth Phase

Well, it’s been a couple of weeks now, and it’s time for me to stop the mourning and get back to work, which I’ve been doing. I’m really pleased with my progress on The Water Bearers: In the past week alone, I’ve written 10,000+ words, more than I did all summer. (In my defense, I was having too much fun with my kids to spend much time writing.)

It’s good to be back in the groove again and feeling productive (Did you notice my new background? I’ve got bright, fresh dandelions now, instead of an old, grey seed; speaks volumes about my spirits). I’m hoping to finish off this first draft by the end of the month. I don’t know if I’ll ever publish it, but I promised my kids (and myself) I’d at least finish the damn thing. Right now, it’s acting as a giant, metaphysical cork, stopping up the work on my other manuscript that I’d really prefer to be doing.

I thought about posting an excerpt here, but when I turned off my laptop (after saving in eleven different places), it went into update mode (“Update 1 of 2,372 now in progress).

Yeah, saving doesn’t do diddly squat for you if you can’t access it during the updating process. Perhaps an excerpt next post.

At any rate, my current plan is to finish it by October 2, a giant stress-relieving birthday present to myself. We’ll see how well I manage my goal this time around (because I completely f**ked up my summertime one). Stay tuned!

All My World’s A Stage

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It’s time for another peek into my work-in-progress. Last week, I introduced you to the members of the Barnes family, the folks at the center of my new novel. You may have noticed their names are a bit unusual. Just as with my cover, there’s a story behind that, too:

Their mother, Ellie, had been convinced that within her children lay the seeds of greatness. This belief had manifested itself in her choice of names, and so, each child bore the name of a great and powerful leader: Elizabeth, Hannibal, and Alexander.

Portentous though they may have been, the boys’ names were decidedly difficult for young Miss Elizabeth Barnes to pronounce properly (immediately upon learning to babble, she’d shortened her own name). Bibi formally christened her brothers early on: “Dis Nibble,” she’d proclaimed, ruthlessly jabbing the sleeping Hannibal in the head, “an’ dis Lex,” giving little Alexander an equally enthusiastic thumb to the eye. Much to Ellie’s enduring chagrin, Bibi’s names for her brothers stuck fast.

Less than fond of the twins’ tiresome company to begin with, Bibi crowed with glee upon later discovering more fitting (in her mind, anyway) namesakes for her brothers: Superman’s evil arch nemesis Lex Luthor and the fictional mass murderer Hannibal Lecter. (Bibi’s prodigious appetite for books led her more toward the macabre and violent than to the fluffy and pink.)

A friend asked me last week what, if any, feedback I was desiring as I share these bits and pieces. I guess I’m not really looking for any–yet. You see, this stage of writing a book is magical. It is the stage where anything can happen: characters can live or die, be heroes or villains; voyages can be made or forgotten; plots can drive themselves right off a cliff or reach right into my chest and grab hold of my pounding heart. It’s the moment of anything-is-possible.

At this stage, I’m not worrying about feedback; I’m reveling. Feel free to lay your comments on me, but as far as formal feedback goes, I’ll wait and ask for that when I hit the editing stage and feel less like I’m flying and more like I’m drowning.