Okay, I will admit to kind of, sort of, maybe just a little bit being disappointed by the lack of apocalypse on Friday. It wasn’t so much that I wanted the world to end, it was more that I was ready for a little hell to break loose. I even went shopping to stock up on supplies, justifying the purchase of 25 pounds of rice with the fact that I really have been meaning to beef up our family’s post-earthquake survival stash.
So the world as we know it is pretty much just as it was a week ago, except that I’m much more prepared for seismic activity.
I think I was just feeling a little overwhelmed by all the Christmas business, and work, and family, and all of it. I wasn’t having any time for my fiction. I guess it’s pretty silly to think that in the face of the apocalypse I would be sitting down to pen a story or two, but such is my brain.
I think we all secretly (or not so secretly) get excited by predicted shake ups because even though we don’t know what would happen, we know life would be different, and the grass is always greener after the end of the Mayan calendar. You know?
Well, Christmas was great. The family is all still in town, but I went back to work today. It continues to be difficult juggling it all, but I did finally make some time for the fiction last night. I left all the relatives upstairs and brought a big old glass of wine to the bedroom where I began the task of mapping out the whole story.
It sounds funny to say that, being so close to done, as I am, but I find it a really good exercise to make a 3×5 card for each scene and lay them all out. I use different colors for things (blue for scenes in cars, white for flashbacks) so that I can see if they are all evenly spaced, or if the story is heavy in certain parts with certain elements. I also find that it pushes me to be very precise with my scene work.
There are some scenes, I’m realizing, that don’t really need to be there. For instance, I have a half-page scene where my character gets ready to go outside. Really, she can just go outside (and it can probably be assumed that she put her boots on at some point). I tend to over write a bit when I’m just drafting. And now it’s time to trim all that fat.
So that’s what I’m working on. It’s tedious and difficult, but the wine helps.
In retrospect, I’d much rather sit with my story and a glass of zinfandel, then fight to defend my 25 pounds of rice from looters who did not have the sense to go shopping before the end of the world.
I was talking to a dear old friend of mine this last weekend. He was staying at our place while he and Daniel took some time to work on a screenplay together. They’ve been collaborators for years.
Anyway, we were talking about where he would sleep on the couch, or downstairs next to the exercise equipment, and I was warning him about the kids being up early. He said he’d prefer the couch. He added that he’s been getting up early anyhow and not to worry. As he is not yet a father I pushed a little – no, really, they get up early. And he totally surprised my by saying that he’s been getting up around 5 every morning to write before going to work.
As it turns out, I’m not the only one who’s on this whole “5am is a great, quiet time to get some quality creative work done” train.
This would be a more impressive story if you understood the extent to which this friend and I (once upon a time) perfected the art of late night drinking. Now here we are, getting up before dawn to write our stories before heading to work like the good, responsible people our professors likely doubted we would ever become.
It was a new found link in a long standing friendship.
I spent the wee hours this morning figuring out what cars my characters all drive. It seems like a silly thing. I almost felt like I was wasting precious writing time, browsing the internet for images of various cars, but the truth is, these little details matter.
This bit of research was prompted by the realization that every time a vehicle comes up in my story I write either “car” or “truck” and leave it at that. The truth is, I don’t care about cars (or trucks) and so any details beyond that seem unnecessary, but really, for most of my characters, what they drive actually says a fair amount about them.
My main character, for example. She lives on a farm. She drives a truck. As of this morning, I know that it’s a white, 1998 Toyota Tacoma truck. It’s a real work horse, but it’s getting older. It’s white because it sits in the desert sun all day – if it were black or blue it would get so hot she would burn herself on it. It’s old because she can’t afford a new one.
Her boyfriend, on the other hand, lives in town. He thinks he’s a tough guy, but really he’s the kind of guy who buys an SUV and then never washes it so that it appears that he takes it off road, but he never does. Ford Escape for him.
My villain gets a red Dodge Ram. A big old thing that looks like it wants to eat other trucks.
I made a word doc and pulled an image off Google for each of my character’s vehicles. I may likely never need to refer to it. Really, it’s not like I’m going to go into all that much detail about the cars, even now that I know what they all look like, but it definitely helps me visualize a scene if the pieces in it are specific and real.
I need to publish more short fiction.
Everyone is always saying that you need to get published in literary journals if you want to prove to potential agents/publishers/audiences that you are worth reading. You have to build your platform. This is what they say.
When my novel was in its nascent stages I was actually sending out short stories, and had some luck with getting them published, but it’s been years. I need some current work to go out into the world.
I was voicing this concern to my writing group last week and they reminded me that I actually do have some short stories that I’ve worked on in the past years, I just haven’t gotten them across the finish line. So I think, when I finish this draft of the novel, I will send it off to my trusted round two readers and pull out those short stories.
When I last sent out the novel for feedback I took two months away from my fiction. I didn’t write at all. And now I’m kicking myself. This time around, I’m hoping to finish two of my short stories while I vacation from the novel, so that I can be submitting them to journals while I do the next round of edits on the manuscript.
It’s a little daunting, but as I was saying in my last post, I am enjoying my current writing fitness. And taking two months off would be no good on that front anyway. So I guess I need to brace myself. No rest for the wicked.
On Thanksgiving I sat down, after the craziness of the day had passed, and took advantage of a quiet moment to write our family’s holiday card – you know, the letter that will be tucked in with the cute little card of the kids doing fun stuff over the course of 2012 and mailed off to family and friends as a well-intentioned but woefully inadequate way of keeping in touch? I’m sure you’re familiar with the genre.
Anyways, I’ve only ever written one of these before, and I will admit to having had a few glasses of wine, so when I went back yesterday to read it over, I was actually amazed to find that I pretty much hit it out of the park on my first try.
I’ve often said that writing is like exercising. You have to do it all the time if you want to have any endurance or skill. And even though I’m not necessarily writing fiction all day every day, I am thinking critically about written content a lot of the time, so that when I do sit down to work on the novel, the words actually come out like I want them to. As a matter of fact, not to brag or anything, but I’m in the best writing shape of my life.
It’s a fact I’m most happy about at 5 am when I sit down to work on the fiction. It’s not historically my best time of day, but I’ve trained myself well enough that once I’m sitting in front of the laptop, the story just flows.
I wish I could say the same about my physical fitness. The Tough Mudder is only two months away and I have completely fallen off the training bandwagon. Ug. There just isn’t enough time in the day. The more I write, the less I run.
So at least when I fall flat on my face in the mud and can’t get across the monkey bars, I can console myself that my novel is coming along nicely.