Well, That Didn't Go As Planned
Tuesday, April 20. 2010
So my intent was to have the first draft of Bring Me to Life complete by my birthday. My birthday was yesterday. Life has kept me from doing just about anything on that novel for a couple of months. Discouraging.
I haven't felt well for a couple of months, which has made it harder for me to motivate myself to actually do things. I really feel as though I've been in a kind of stupor for most of 2010, and I can't really point to a good reason why. I've needed energy drinks just to function. Life shouldn't be this way.
I've sat myself down and given myself a stern talking-to, but it's not clear to me whether that will help. Still, my outlook on my ability to move forward has improved in the past few weeks, and I'm ready to give it another go. I'm not going to set a goal right now, because I'll be likely to miss it. I'm just going to get myself writing again and see what I can accomplish.
Don't know if anyone at all is reading this anymore, but if you are, please wish me luck and words...
So my intent was to have the first draft of Bring Me to Life complete by my birthday. My birthday was yesterday. Life has kept me from doing just about anything on that novel for a couple of months. Discouraging.
I haven't felt well for a couple of months, which has made it harder for me to motivate myself to actually do things. I really feel as though I've been in a kind of stupor for most of 2010, and I can't really point to a good reason why. I've needed energy drinks just to function. Life shouldn't be this way.
I've sat myself down and given myself a stern talking-to, but it's not clear to me whether that will help. Still, my outlook on my ability to move forward has improved in the past few weeks, and I'm ready to give it another go. I'm not going to set a goal right now, because I'll be likely to miss it. I'm just going to get myself writing again and see what I can accomplish.
Don't know if anyone at all is reading this anymore, but if you are, please wish me luck and words...
I haven't felt well for a couple of months, which has made it harder for me to motivate myself to actually do things. I really feel as though I've been in a kind of stupor for most of 2010, and I can't really point to a good reason why. I've needed energy drinks just to function. Life shouldn't be this way.
I've sat myself down and given myself a stern talking-to, but it's not clear to me whether that will help. Still, my outlook on my ability to move forward has improved in the past few weeks, and I'm ready to give it another go. I'm not going to set a goal right now, because I'll be likely to miss it. I'm just going to get myself writing again and see what I can accomplish.
Don't know if anyone at all is reading this anymore, but if you are, please wish me luck and words...
Another November Come and Gone
Tuesday, December 1. 2009
...but I'm closer to finishing a novel!
This November, I chose not to engage in the traditional 50,000 word spew, but instead to work on getting last year's spew closer to a shoppable state. I set a goal of spending 50 hours specifically on the novel this month, and I did (barely) make that goal, hitting the 50-hour mark at 10 pm last night.
Fifty hours doesn't sound like a lot, but dedicating that much time to the novel was more difficult than I'd expected! The novel's now at about 54,000 words, which means I added little in the way of new scenes to it this month. Instead, I trimmed a lot of fat, rewrote much of what was there, and, most importantly, spent a great deal of time staring off into space and ordering this novel's universe and its inhabitants in my mind. This time was invaluable. Now, in place of the "frozen puke fountain" I generated during NaNoWriMo 2008, I have much of a real novel, and copious notes to inform my way as I write it to its conclusion.
I should have done this a long time ago. Real life keeps getting in the way. But this year, rather than taking a break at the end of the writing flurry that is November, I'm pressing on.
In December, I plan to spend sixty hours on writing. The only difference is that I'll allow myself now to spend some time on short stories and Critters, both areas which suffered last month from my novel-centricity. Still, the majority of that time will have to be allocated to Bring Me to Life...if I want to finish it by my next birthday.
Yes, that's the new long-term goal: turn the 54,000-word WIP into an 80,000-word final manuscript by 19 April. I can do it, if I keep at it.
And I'm starting—no, continuing—the process today.
...but I'm closer to finishing a novel!
This November, I chose not to engage in the traditional 50,000 word spew, but instead to work on getting last year's spew closer to a shoppable state. I set a goal of spending 50 hours specifically on the novel this month, and I did (barely) make that goal, hitting the 50-hour mark at 10 pm last night.
Fifty hours doesn't sound like a lot, but dedicating that much time to the novel was more difficult than I'd expected! The novel's now at about 54,000 words, which means I added little in the way of new scenes to it this month. Instead, I trimmed a lot of fat, rewrote much of what was there, and, most importantly, spent a great deal of time staring off into space and ordering this novel's universe and its inhabitants in my mind. This time was invaluable. Now, in place of the "frozen puke fountain" I generated during NaNoWriMo 2008, I have much of a real novel, and copious notes to inform my way as I write it to its conclusion.
I should have done this a long time ago. Real life keeps getting in the way. But this year, rather than taking a break at the end of the writing flurry that is November, I'm pressing on.
In December, I plan to spend sixty hours on writing. The only difference is that I'll allow myself now to spend some time on short stories and Critters, both areas which suffered last month from my novel-centricity. Still, the majority of that time will have to be allocated to Bring Me to Life...if I want to finish it by my next birthday.
Yes, that's the new long-term goal: turn the 54,000-word WIP into an 80,000-word final manuscript by 19 April. I can do it, if I keep at it.
And I'm starting—no, continuing—the process today.
This November, I chose not to engage in the traditional 50,000 word spew, but instead to work on getting last year's spew closer to a shoppable state. I set a goal of spending 50 hours specifically on the novel this month, and I did (barely) make that goal, hitting the 50-hour mark at 10 pm last night.
Fifty hours doesn't sound like a lot, but dedicating that much time to the novel was more difficult than I'd expected! The novel's now at about 54,000 words, which means I added little in the way of new scenes to it this month. Instead, I trimmed a lot of fat, rewrote much of what was there, and, most importantly, spent a great deal of time staring off into space and ordering this novel's universe and its inhabitants in my mind. This time was invaluable. Now, in place of the "frozen puke fountain" I generated during NaNoWriMo 2008, I have much of a real novel, and copious notes to inform my way as I write it to its conclusion.
I should have done this a long time ago. Real life keeps getting in the way. But this year, rather than taking a break at the end of the writing flurry that is November, I'm pressing on.
In December, I plan to spend sixty hours on writing. The only difference is that I'll allow myself now to spend some time on short stories and Critters, both areas which suffered last month from my novel-centricity. Still, the majority of that time will have to be allocated to Bring Me to Life...if I want to finish it by my next birthday.
Yes, that's the new long-term goal: turn the 54,000-word WIP into an 80,000-word final manuscript by 19 April. I can do it, if I keep at it.
And I'm starting—no, continuing—the process today.
Can I Not Write?
Monday, November 23. 2009
Every once in a great while, something literally takes your breath away—you "forget" to breathe for a moment while your entire brain (presumably, even the bits normally just keeping the beat for you) is occupied in assimilating, understanding, appreciating what you've just witnessed. Breathing, a necessary component of simply living, takes a back seat temporarily to something the brain sees as far more important.
I think writing's like that for me.
It's been said that a "real" writer is incapable of not writing, that she's driven to do it above all else, that it's as essential to her well-being as breathing. That's been a worrisome idea for me, because there are long stretches of time wherein, though I would like to be writing, I just don't. Apparently, I'm not sufficiently driven by the basic need to write—I'm capable of not writing, therefore I must not really be a writer.
I've come to believe that the problem in my life is far too many things that "take my writing away." Putting words to paper is an essential part of my existence; I've proven that fact to my own satisfaction. I take great joy from the formation of eloquent prose, from setting scenes that are compelling, from working events to "aha" conclusions. I love to write. But I've been allowing myself not to do so, to put writing in the back seat for just a moment while something more important is going on.
No more.
I'm using this November's press toward 50 good hours of noveling to jump-start my writing future. Here's to getting priorities right, and spending more and more time on writing going forward.
Every once in a great while, something literally takes your breath away—you "forget" to breathe for a moment while your entire brain (presumably, even the bits normally just keeping the beat for you) is occupied in assimilating, understanding, appreciating what you've just witnessed. Breathing, a necessary component of simply living, takes a back seat temporarily to something the brain sees as far more important.
I think writing's like that for me.
It's been said that a "real" writer is incapable of not writing, that she's driven to do it above all else, that it's as essential to her well-being as breathing. That's been a worrisome idea for me, because there are long stretches of time wherein, though I would like to be writing, I just don't. Apparently, I'm not sufficiently driven by the basic need to write—I'm capable of not writing, therefore I must not really be a writer.
I've come to believe that the problem in my life is far too many things that "take my writing away." Putting words to paper is an essential part of my existence; I've proven that fact to my own satisfaction. I take great joy from the formation of eloquent prose, from setting scenes that are compelling, from working events to "aha" conclusions. I love to write. But I've been allowing myself not to do so, to put writing in the back seat for just a moment while something more important is going on.
No more.
I'm using this November's press toward 50 good hours of noveling to jump-start my writing future. Here's to getting priorities right, and spending more and more time on writing going forward.
I think writing's like that for me.
It's been said that a "real" writer is incapable of not writing, that she's driven to do it above all else, that it's as essential to her well-being as breathing. That's been a worrisome idea for me, because there are long stretches of time wherein, though I would like to be writing, I just don't. Apparently, I'm not sufficiently driven by the basic need to write—I'm capable of not writing, therefore I must not really be a writer.
I've come to believe that the problem in my life is far too many things that "take my writing away." Putting words to paper is an essential part of my existence; I've proven that fact to my own satisfaction. I take great joy from the formation of eloquent prose, from setting scenes that are compelling, from working events to "aha" conclusions. I love to write. But I've been allowing myself not to do so, to put writing in the back seat for just a moment while something more important is going on.
No more.
I'm using this November's press toward 50 good hours of noveling to jump-start my writing future. Here's to getting priorities right, and spending more and more time on writing going forward.
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