moving
day coming up. Leaving blogger for stacyjacobs.com. Join me there?
Sunday, October 29, 2006
saving
daylight, fall back and all that. What a concept! I'm still pretty uncomfortable, so tossing and turning until my bedside clock had a five in it, at which point I decided to toss it in and re-acquaint myself with my normal routine. Come down to the computer where it says something obscene like 4:15 a.m. Just now figuring out that it's the fall back morning. Duh. Good thing it will be an hour earlier when I finally get tired again and go back to bed. I'm seriously behind in everything, but starting to feel like my old self. My family arrived on Friday, we're together to celebrate the fall birthdays (Zach, Tristan, Grandma, Larry, Mom, George, Joanna, Haley, Jim) ... wow, Kate and I are the only non-birthday'ers. We're BBQing at my brother's this afternoon at his house in Minooka, Illinois (which I believe you'll find on e-podunk.com); on the way out there we'll all stop at the Hallmark store (Walgreens, more likely) to buy birthday cards for everybody, going to do the great birthday card exchange. I anticipate some significant chaos in the birthday card department. Clean up on Aisle Six. My poor story has been sitting in a drawer for far too long. Unless I stumble upon a secret wellspring of writing energy, I won't be finishing this draft by the first of the year. But I'm actually pretty far along, so the situation isn't completely bleak; if I am able to get back on track and spend four or five mornings a week really working, then I'll certainly have a good shot at meeting the goal. I worry that if I don't stay committed to the goal, I won't finish the story. I'll be fine, of course. I'll be getting ready to play championship bridge, I'll be working out, I'll be playing on the beach with my children, I'll be hanging with some of my most favorite friends for Thanksgiving, I'll come back and my upstairs floors will have been re-done, the hall will have been re-painted, my shower may then be free of rot. Then I'll do a lot of laundry and start the planning/shopping/wrapping concerto that plays through the month of December, until, with a contented sigh, I'll kiss my family to welcome the new year. Then I think about Eleanor -- held against her will -- and Barbara and Beckett and ... why do these folks all have names that start with B? That's very strange.... 5:39 a.m. now. I think I'll get to work. Thanks for waiting, I'm sorry I was gone so long. xo
Sunday, October 22, 2006
rooting
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
too much
Talking. When my reading group read through the first chunk of text (roughly corresponding to chapters 1 & 2), they came back and said there was just way too much talking. Too true. My second chunk of text comes up in the workshop tonight. I anticipate more "too much talking." Again that's a good and fair criticism, and one I'm spending lots of time working through. The truth is, I have an ear for dialogue; it comes easily to me. When I'm stuck in a section, I dip into the conversations to see what's going on, and therefore my chapters are pretty dialogue-heavy. This morning I'm reading Lee Child and Elizabeth George for some perspective on effective ways of showing without telling. Seems like something I should know by now. Like I said, I may fail. Booking the spring and summer bridge travel this week. Very exciting. We're actually working on planning a summer at home. Wow. Haven't had one of those ... since who knows when! Taking a short blogging break starting this evening, will be back early next week.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
regular angst
This morning I'm considering it a victory -- I've reached that point in the writing of a chapter where I doubt everything that's written; I'm thinking about my characters and second guessing each and every decision I've made thus far, almost convincing myself to go back and start from page one. That's where I am now. Talking myself out of going back. In fact I think I'm all done with thinking about going back. Now the fun starts. The next step happens when I engage myself in debate about the general merits of the various pieces already on the page. What kind of victim is Eleanor? What does her suffering look like, from the inside out? Or is it not really relevant, what's happening with my victim -- am I writing a story where the character is completely revealed but never actually seen? There's something cool there, but I'm not sure I want to get into it. But wait, that definitely goes along with the bridge setting, doesn't it? And so I go, meandering through the various steps and aspects, until finally I give myself a good old-fashioned scolding, tell myself to plant my sorry butt in the chair and get the work done. Part of the problem, realistically, is that the early sections are still so raw. The voices are indistinct, the characters are, in some cases, unsatisfyingly filled. I tell myself that the best thing to do is continue moving forward, applying what I learn as I go, with the intention of going back through it once it's all on paper and making it right. I think the art comes in the second draft... I know. I may fail.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
the end
isn't finished, but it's off to a great start. Yesterday got away from me, as days often do, so I didn't set about writing the ending until 5:30 this morning. I finished about 4,400 words before the kids got up at 8:30. Since then it's been busy, but I'm well on my way. Those first 4,000 are the hardest, you know?
Friday, October 13, 2006
ambition
My closet is generally choking on pants and towels and t-shirts, usually there are tank-tops and bathing suits dripping from drawers, pajamas are often shoved into an available nook or out-of-sight cranny, so as to be hidden from the mindful eye of She Who Does Laundry. Shoes ooze out of the baseboards. As a sturdy room nobly doing its purpose, the closet would be pitiable -- classically overworked and underpaid; into this trembling structure toss a mountain of discarded tags stashed under and between, silken threads with concealed gold safety pins looking to strike. A collection of fabrics still wrapped in plastic, suited up and ready to do battle, an enemy army of shoes still in boxes, armed and dangerous. Yesterday I cleaned it all out. My cold weather clothes sit quietly in place, calm and relaxed and ready for a productive and peaceful season. Today I write the ending.
