Tag Archives: writing

And the winner is…

…the kids. There was a general outcry (all right, maybe it wasn’t quite that pronounced, more a general wave of frownie faces) when I told the kids I was trying to decide which novel to resume and that it might not be “theirs.” They really wanted me to work on something I’ll actually let them read, so that was that–I am back to work on my youth fantasy manuscript. And surprise–I’m completely engaged in it, much more than I was when I last set it aside a few months ago.

New characters, plot twists, even a new title and a theme, an actual theme, have all been popping in and out of my mind like some crazed literary version of Whack-a-mole. I feel like Neo at the end of The Matrix, when he looks at the agents and sees only code, the entire world laid out before him in insanely pristine clarity. After so many months–let’s face it, closer to years–of working at revising a manuscript, I had almost forgotten how much freakin’ (to quote my kids) fun it is to create a new one.

I just spent two hours working on it and it felt like two minutes. I am filled with joy at rediscovering that feeling.

Writing this book is also different in that I not only can share it with my kids, but I want to; they are, after all, my target audience. Hearing their feedback and pondering their suggestions is turning out to be much more fun than I ever thought it would, though probably not, in reality, as much fun as they thought it would be:

“What did you think of my new title, guys?” “Got any ideas for a good name for my new character?” “What do you think Bibi’s favorite color should be?”

“Really, Mom? The novelist thing was kind of cool at first, but could you just get me a snack and let me get back to Roblox? I’m at kind of a critical moment here…”

Let ’em gripe. I’ll just write it into the book. Mwahahahaha…

Sometimes the Joy’s in “The Done…”

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William Shakespeare is always a great resource for a good quote, and one of my favorites is “Things won are done; joy’s soul lies in the doing.” I like that one so much that I even have a plaque inscribed with it hanging in my laundry room (I put it there in a futile attempt to convince myself how much joy I get out of The Doing of laundry–so far unsuccessful, but I still like the quote).

Generally speaking, I agree with the spirit of the quote–there’s a certain anticlimactic feel, sometimes, in the completion of a task, particularly one in which you’ve invested a great deal of time and energy. For example, I remember when I finished my first full-length work, a novella: I had worked on it for over a year, and when it was finally completed, of course, there was joy, but there was also a brief period of “What now?” that followed–The Doing” had filled my life with joy for such a long time, that it took me a little while to figure out what to do next. Of course, once I moved on to the next project, I was back to being joyful all over again. I know, I’m so fickle–isn’t it awful?

But then there are the other times, times when you’re in the middle of a long-term project (which I am now), when occasionally The Doing isn’t living up to that joyful rep–times when it feels like you’ve been DOING this same project forever (which, of course, you have); it will never be done (which, of course, it won’t); and the prospect of doing any more work on it, even one single paragraph, is enough to make you want to sock ol’ Bill Shakespeare right on his pointy little chin.

Not so much joy there, now, is there?

Those are the days, and today was one of them, when I find it helpful to step away from the keyboard for a couple of hours and focus on things that are finite in duration; things that have visible, tangible results–in other words, things that can be DONE.

So today, I focused on a laundry list (no pun intended) of mundane tasks: a trip to the DMV to renew my driver’s license (that’s a bonus task, because it always provides fresh fodder for new characters); replacing burned-out light bulbs in all the chandeliers (hovering at the top of a 10-foot ladder has a unique way of clearing one’s mind of all distractions); scouring the kitchen sink (ugh–’nuff said). Throw in two loads of laundry (I pointedly avoided looking at the plaque while I was in the laundry room), and I found that my head was cleared, my soul was refreshed, and inspiration had returned.

So yes, while I do (on the whole) agree with Shakespeare that you can find a lot of joy in The Doing of your work, I also find that sometimes, you just can’t beat that feeling that comes from The Done.

But just because I felt the need to engage in some domestic chores today, don’t think I’m planning on doing that laundry thing every day; we all know that that one will never be The Done.

Let’s do the time warp again…and again…and again

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For this twenty minutes, I am forcing myself to take a break from my manuscript. I’m finding, as I’m spending more time on it now, that it is increasingly easy for me to get lost in that other world and lose all sense of time.

For example, when I settled down to work on it on this morning, I anticipated spending an hour or so on it before moving on to other projects. Um. I was shocked to look at the clock just now and find that I’d been writing for over two-and-a-half hours straight. It felt as though I’d only just sat down! Hence the title of this post: I had entered The Time Warp, that magical place writers visit when they are neither here nor there; when their bodies slump carelessly over notepads or laptops, seemingly lifeless but for the scritching of pencils or clicking of keyboards; when the words come on and on, heedless of the passage of time (or the increasing insistence of full bladders, which is what finally broke the spell for me. I think this may be why so many writers I know drink so much coffee while they work: it creates a biologically timed round trip of sorts, forcing you to return to the real world occasionally. This is just a theory, but a plausible one, I think).

The Time Warp doesn’t always happen for me. Sometimes the writing is a grueling chore, where I count every word and swear that I can actually hear my hair growing while I wait for inspiration, so when I do ‘warp’ away for a while, I am extremely excited and inspired about it. It usually means something good just happened in my book. I think it did this time–time will tell, right?

It’s time to go back now, at any rate: I’ve taken my little break from the manuscript, attended to a few biological imperatives, and refilled and nuked my next cup of coffee. I am ready for my return warp–I hope it didn’t leave without me. See you next trip.

Sometimes you have to open that window yourself…

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Well, it’s been a couple of weeks now, and I’ve moved on. This time around, I had a plan in mind already for things I would do in case it wasn’t grad school again this fall, and having a backup plan has made things a lot easier.

So what am I up to now? Well, on the novel front (which I am still working on, thank you very much), I’ve decided, at least for now, not to go with the mentoring press. Number one, it was much too expensive (at least, too expensive unless I win the grant I applied for–I’ll save that for another blog post), and number two, after having a small, trusted group of terrific readers vet it for me, I realized (again) that the book is just not ready yet.

That realization, I think, was more depressing than being rejected for grad school again, but I’m getting smarter about never jumping out of these metaphorical planes without a parachute firmly strapped to my back. I had a plan already in place–it’s time to see a doctor. Not a psychiatrist, though that probably wouldn’t hurt. No, I have met with a “book doctor,” because this physician just can’t heal herself (or her manuscript) at this point.

I was worried about going down that path–after all, I’m an editor, shouldn’t I be able to do this myself? Um, can a brain surgeon perform his own lobotomy? Helloooo! No, he can’t, and at this point, I know I need another (professional) set of eyes.

Any concerns I had turned out to be fleeting: in a single meeting with this editor, she was able to tease out the one tiny thread holding together a huge Gordian knot that’s been wreaking all kinds of havoc with this manuscript, and I am ready to set it on fire now (figuratively, not literally–are you nuts? It does need work, but I wouldn’t actually burn the darned thing)! What I really mean to say is that I am on fire, filled with renewed enthusiasm for my story, something that’s been missing for several months, so at least for the moment, I feel like I’m back on the right track.

Embarking on another revision is daunting, but I think this will be the one. No, I’m sure it will be, actually, because after I finish the revision, and my editor works it over to her satisfaction, I will declare that it IS DONE and then I plan to publish it as an e-book. I will definitely let you know when it goes live, but first, I’ve got some work to do, and I’m actually excited about it for the first time in months–a very good sign.

On the work side of things, I am giving my freelancing business face a makeover: Stretching my fledgling graphic design wings, I’m working on a new logo, corporate name, web site, getting everything all shiny and updated for a launch later this spring (good to know that tuition wasn’t wasted, at least), so keep your eyes posted for lots of updates about that.

I guess the real bottom line for today’s post is that a lot of doors slammed shut in my face over the past few weeks, and I wasn’t seeing any windows flying open, either. Just giving up and walking away might’ve been the easier (and perhaps saner) thing to do, but whoever realized their dreams by being sane and taking the easy route?

Never, never, never–aww, you know the rest.

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It’s “give up.” The end of that quote from Winston Churchill. It’s “Never, never, never, never give up.” Easy for him to say, he was Winston Churchill.

As you might have surmised (and I predicted), the enduring silence from the university did, in fact, mean that I was not accepted again. Sigh. The timing of when I learned my fate (at least as far as grad school this year) was actually perfect, however: first, my favorite writers’ magazine was doing a whole issue this week on dealing with rejection; and second, my in-laws were coming for the weekend, leaving me an entire house to clean furiously and upon which I unloaded all of my terrible angst.

Once again, there was the standard “blah, blah, blah, lots of applicants, blah, blah, blah, stiff competition, blah, blah, blah, even those put on the waiting list had multiple offers from universities across the country, blah, blah, blah…” Good thing I’m not the bitter type.

So what’s next? Well, since Winston Churchill is, in fact, my hero (he is the king of the lovable curmudgeons, an archetype near and dear to my heart, as well as being the poster child for perseverance), don’t think this will make me give up. It did make me cry, but it won’t make me give up.

I am reaching out to a well-respected book doctor this week, to start working with someone objective to finally finish this manuscript once and for all (I hope); I’m attending a Writers’ Festival this weekend, where I will participate in several workshops about which I’m very excited; I’m receiving more nibbles and interest for various other writing and editing jobs, which is encouraging, although none has yet borne fruit; and I am contemplating launching (formally, anyway) my own editing and proofreading business.

So–I’ve picked myself up (again), dusted myself off (again), and I am ready to begin (again). As my hero said, “Success is not final; failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”

Just call me Captain Courageous. Thanks for listening.