At precisely twenty minutes to eight this morning, Sunday the 9th of August, I landed. Not gracefully. More like a loud thud.
I’ve spent the weekend doing what I think most writers, teachers, agents and publishers would advise against. I read the first 56,000 words of my unfinished novel. I made changes, edited, even gave one character a new name. I closed the laptop at about ten o’clock last night and cleared my head with an episode of ‘King of the Hill’. And then I had seven hours of disturbing dreams: crashing airplanes, moving heavy furniture, surrounded by strangers.
When my eyes opened it was a new day. A day not entered into enthusiastically. Completely out of character for me. There’s no doubt about it, I’m a ‘spring outta bed with a song’ sort of gal. But before the coffee was brewed and before my face was washed, I was vexed by the road ahead.
Why am I doing this? Why do any of us do this?
My answer is simple: because the story has to be told. I have fallen madly and deeply in love with the characters on those pages to the extend that I happily rise at the ass crack of dawn and stay up well past bedtime to capture moments of their lives on a blank piece of paper.
I don’t know what ‘outside’ means anymore, and my gym membership card has a thick layer of dust on it. The ten pounds I’ve gained since my 50th birthday in November are inexcusable. My friends haven’t seen me in months – at least not the three-dimensional ones – and that’s inexcusable, too.
But you know – it’s all worth it. The joy I feel from a scene well written, the satisfaction when plot points are resolved, looking in on these people’s lives – people I created – I don’t want to miss that because I gave up. When I’ve written the final chapter, my friends will still be there the ten pounds won’t (the diet begins NOW).
So – with my head far removed from the grump I was only thirty minutes ago I offer myself this challenge – to have the final draft written and the ten pounds vanquished by my 51st birthday. That gives me about twelve weeks to write 50,000 words. Let’s break it down: 4100 words per week; 600 or so words per day – or about 85 carefully crafted sentences. Not a problem. Who am I kidding?
As for the poundage? Tell you later…I’m off to walk The Dish.
Oh, and just so you know it’s not all doom and gloom and “oh woe is me” – I picked up two great books yesterday that might help me through the process:
How to Write a Book Proposal by Michael Larson and
The First Five Pages: A Writer’s Guide to Staying Out of the Rejection Pile by Noah Lukeman
I purchased Lawson’s book because of the hype. I purchased Lukeman’s book because when I began to read
Joyce Maynard’s new book Labor Day, I realized I was already completely engrossed by page seven – PAGE SEVEN!
What is it that drives us in anything? Writing, friendships, exercise they're all the same. We must capture some bit of joy in them in order to make it real for us and worthwhile. The trick I think is to figure out how to juggle it all. Right now, the book is the things driving you. And as you say … that's ok.
Great stuff I can totally relate.