Month: December 2009

Time comes in small pieces

I was determined to work on the book today, and actually managed to make a little progress. Well, at least what I edited, reread and rewrote didn’t make me gag. And I added a little bit, too. I love the idea of having an entire solid unbroken chunk of time to work in, but that is not the reality of the days before Christmas at my house. I was lucky to get as much done as I did between rings of the kitchen timer and dashes down to the kitchen to see if my ingredients were ready for the next step of the assembly process.

Now, I suddenly have the house to myself and peace and quiet and I’m restless and can’t focus. When my writing time was broken into small pieces, it was easier to get something done. Now that time yawns ahead of me, the task I’m facing seems to have grown exponentially and is no longer inviting me to come and play.

This is my current writer’s mess. I understand it. It’s part of the unwinding process from a very hectic end of semester and several days of errand running and writing and rewriting to-do lists. My writing rhythm is like my life rhythm. Full of stops and starts and little things checked off of long lists.

It’s time to draw back the expectations. I did well this morning and into this afternoon. Now I have some peace, maybe I should just enjoy it and put the writing on the list for tomorrow. I’m still unwinding. I need the space and time to breathe, too. I’m not built to change gears so smoothly.

I’ll enjoy the quiet now.

First Draft Blues

Not every word needs to be a gem. Not in the first draft anyway. So why is it so hard to get the words on the page? I’ve got I’m-thinking-way-too-far-ahead-itis and it’s getting in the way of the writing.

I know exactly how I want my project to turn out, so I keep trying to get the work to a finished level on the first try. And I need to stop. I know if I keep on this road, I’m not going to even want to put fingers to keys and I’ll stop writing altogether.

Putting the words on the page was easy to do when I was writing NaNoWriMo. My self-editor was banished to the outer limits and I happily typed away at my story. Nothing was really at stake. I knew my NaNo story was unlikely to have a life after the month was over.

But this current project is different. I’m excited about it. I think about it every day. It’s consuming all my spare thinking time—well, what little there is among the holiday planning, finishing my teaching chores for the semester, and family. I have a goal to have it published by spring and I know it’s doable. (Yes, I’m self-publishing, but that’s another story.) In other words, this time I really care.

Okay. Enough. Right now, I’m giving myself a good mental kick in the pants to forget perfection and just get the words on the page. I’d love to hear your strategies or “been there, done thats” because I know what’s next is not going to be easy. But for now–

Kick. Ouch! Onward.

Filling the NaNo Void

Okay. NaNoWriMo has been over for almost two weeks now and how much writing are you doing? Are you writing every day? Or has your word count since November 30th dwindled to an embarrassingly low daily average?  If your daily writing pattern has changed back to a not-very-inspiring normal, I’m betting you are not alone. It’s hard to keep going when such a great incentive has run its course.

I have a solution, but here’s a little background first. I’m part of a small writers’ group that meets once a month and during July this year, we set ourselves a challenge of writing every day. We kept our personal goals to ourselves, but we let each other know by the end of the day (and sometimes very close to midnight) that we had reached our goals by sending an e-mail with the word “done” in the subject line. The idea came from an article that I read in a writers’ magazine. An author said that this is how her writing group works every day.

For the month of July we met our goals, did lots of writing, and enjoyed reaching our “dones.” However, in August most of us went back to our everything-else-is-more-important-than-writing modes and … well you can imagine the rest.

If you’re missing NaNoWriMo and would like an incentive to get some writing “done,” I’m proposing a Twitter hashtag #ididthewriting. You set your own writing goal. It may be as simple as just thinking about the book and doing some brainstorming. It might be 500 words a day until the chapter is done. And you are free to adapt the goal to your life and writing needs at the moment and to not tell anyone what it is.

The purpose is to give yourself a daily reminder that you are a writer and to honour that by doing something writerly every day. If  you’re not on Twitter, post a “done” comment on my blog page or on an email to me at wright underscore writer at hotmail dot com. Now’s the time to think about what you want to do with your writing life and join me at #ididthewriting.

When you stop writing, who loses?

How long can you stay away from writing? I might last a day or two, or even a week, but the days I’m not writing are not good days. And, I hate that it’s just not that hard to put other things in my life that, like the gas in Boyle’s experiment, expand to occupy all the space–and leave no room for the writing. But they do, and writing doesn’t just take a back seat; it doesn’t even get on the bus.

Because I’m a teacher, the temptation is to take papers to grade wherever I go so I’m busy during the various “waits” in my life. Why aren’t I holding a pen and paper instead and working on my story? The reality is that the marking will always be there and I will always make time for it because it has to be recorded and returned in a timely manner. Writing, on the other hand, has no demands on it. If it’s not done, the only person disappointed is me.

I’ve decided to stop being disappointed. If food will get cooked and groceries bought and laundry washed, then why aren’t my words being written? It’s as important to me as all those things—even more, since I’ve never felt my soul was particularly well fed by folding towels, choosing pears, or putting a pot roast in the oven (although I do enjoy the results.)

I think writers need their own Declaration of Independence; one that honours the pursuit of writing happiness and celebrates it. Here’s mine: I declare that writing is essential to my life and I will make time for it every day.

There, that feels better.

Writing and Nerve

For me, filling the page takes a lot of nerve—and I don’t think I’m alone. First I have to get past the shrill nasty voice that says, “How can you possibly think that you are capable of writing anything new or interesting about this subject?” I don’t like her very much, but she visits most days I sit down to write. I’m getting better at pushing her out of the way, but she generally gets her say before I do.

And even when I get past her and start to write, her little creepy cousin perches on my shoulder and whispers, “Are you sure?” every time I finish a paragraph. I don’t like her very much either. But she eventually shuts up as I get rolling and start to feel that I’m on the right track. It can be a long wait sometimes before the writing drowns out the voices, but when it does, I swear I even sit taller in my chair.

At the beginning of a project, I’m up and wandering away from the keyboard every 250 words or so, hoping, I suppose, that the voices will be gone when I get back. No such luck. But each time I sit back down, it’s a little easier and when everyone finally shuts up I can write for a long stretch without a break and begin to feel like a writer again.

My voices are their loudest and most persistent when I’m not regularly at the keyboard. And that’s been the state of my writing life lately. I’ve got out the calendar and once again carved out some daily writing time. If I tame the voices daily, their whining gets shut down until they don’t even bother to visit. Then the writing becomes a pleasure—still hard work and still second-guessed regularly—but a pleasure.

And I start today.

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