What I’m Blogging

Day Seven, just after 11:00PM, and things are working a little better. I channeled some of the angst about returning to the office and wrote the office scene that I had been avoiding. I guess I needed to get a taste of it again to accurately represent it. Funny how that works, but experience is the best source to draw on.

…maybe I’ll get a few hundred words in…

I’m still behind, but If I can manage to keep this pace up this week and still get the “day” job done, things will be OK into the weekend. Tomorrow the day job is sending me to some god-forsaken outpost of the Gigantic Concrete empire to oversee a new wireless network installation. It’s going to take hours, and my task will be about 30 minutes start to finish, so maybe I’ll get a few hundred words in there. Likely not as plans in IT never survive contact with the enemy, but hope springs eternal.

Excerpt:

“Hey Jack, want to see something really cool?”

I stopped and turned around.

“My wife got me this,” said Charlie, as he bent down and retrieved something from the credenza behind his desk. When he came back up he placed a small scale model of a guillotine on his desk. It was made of wood with a metal blade and looked functional. He reached over to the far corner of his desk and opened the humidor and took out a cigar. I watched amazed as he placed the cigar into bascule of the device, clamping the lunette over the its end. He flipped a switch and the blade came down, cutting the end of the cigar off making it ready to smoke. “Is that cool or what?”

Welcome to day six. A say in which we try to pick up and carry on. It’s been a cold wet dreary weekend here, and in true pathetic fallacy, progress on the novel mirrors nature.

Writing for me requires two things, a state of mind to do so, and the atmosphere to do so in. On “Kid Weekends” I have discovered that I can’t really get the two together. Either the state of mind is not there because I’d just rather be playing and spending time with them, or the atmosphere is all shot to hell. It’s hard to write in the midst of the modern active family; three barking dogs, two kids playing games - TV’s blaring. Discretion being the better part of valour, I decided to give in and let the tides of family carry me away.

As a result I’m in the hole for about 3K of wordsmithing. I’m running a NaNoWriMo deficit. Tomorrow I return to the dread fabric covered box which is my cubical at Gigantic Concrete. Let’s see if I can’t make some ground up today and get back on track.

On Day four, there was an expectation of great things. Lot’s of good things happen on fourth days - “And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven.” See? Days fours have lights and firmament and stuff. My day four? Not so much.

…It’s all about balance and I’ve been woefully out of it…

Day four has been the day where the world comes knocking. Day four is where I have to step back and work some details of living in the real world back into the process of writing this thing. Phone needs to be answered, Dogs need to be fed, plants need to be watered, Wife needs to have some attention and kids need to be picked up for the weekend. It’s all about balance and I’ve been woefully out of it. I made some good progress yesterday, but I stayed out too late last night, when I did get home I stayed up too long doing things of little or no real value. As a consequence I slept in too late and now have way too many things to cram into too little time.

Part of getting into the groove is coming up with a writing schedule. For you bachelor types out there this can be an any time you feel like it approach. For those of us in the ranks of Married With Children Procrastinators Local 1342, a different strategy needs to be formulated. A schedule adopted. A division of time that will let you write when the creativity is flowing, but that also leaves time to take care of those people and things that require our daily attention. The myth of the writer is one of a person locked up and alone in the ivory tower creating a masterpiece. Do Not Disturb. The truth is however, that if you adopt the mythic style, you may find it becoming reality. Writing, like any office job, needs to be in balance with your life, the life you really want, so choose wisely.

Writing has a rhythm. If you haven’t written for a long time it is tough to find your groove. The need to procrastinate or do other things grows strong. It is the Dark side of the writing force. One that leads to stacks of unfinished manuscripts getting moldy in boxes in the cellar. Must not give into the temptation. Even if it’s a trickle we need to keep the flow going. Even if we stare blankly into the paper in the typewriter, or the laptop screen we must develop discipline to do so.

…We write because we need to…

We don’t write because we want to. We write because we need to. If we don’t then we become miserable people who groan about why we aren’t writing. Mind you when we are writing we are miserable cranks as well, complaining about plots that don’t fit and characters we’ve grown to hate, but on some deep level inside we are happy we are writing. Why else would any of us agree to this whole NaNoWriMo thing in the first place? Walker Percy sums it up nicely “Who would want to live with a novelist? A man underfoot in the house all day? A man, moreover, subject to solitary funks and strange elations. If I were a woman, I’d prefer a traveling salesman.”

Excerpt:

“When the wagon and I hit the top of the lower loading dock, the brace that had held the right wheel dug in and started to drag, slowing us down a little while starting to turn the wagon so the back end started to fish tail. The sound of the scraping metal on the asphalt surface of the dock was jarring. The wagon was slowing. I could feel it, but it was no slowing enough. With a second loud thump we hit the edge of the lower loading dock, wagon and boy tumbled over the side towards the ground. I fell in slow motion, hurtling towards the earth, watching in horror as the ground rose to meet me. Somehow I was turned over so that my face was towards the sky - beautiful blue cloudless sky. As far as my eyes could see there was blue and nothing but blue to the outer horizon of my vision. Then came a dull thump. Then came the blackness.”

Day three and I’m still trying to get the groove going. Trying remind the muscles of the cerebrum that they can still remember how to do this.

Day two. Woke up in body only. The spirit resides back in bed, dreaming of book contracts signed and promotional tours where I have to write my name a great deal on the inside of book covers. Need… more… coffee… I need to fix myself back into the present of the space time continuum. Nothing does that better than caffeine.

…Write, rinse, repeat…

Yesterday felt good. Stuff was flowing. Not in a stream of consciousness kind of way, but in a linear tell the tale manner. The main problem I’m having is that my logical side keeps going back for rewrite. while my creative side keeps dumping out more stuff. Example.. I need a character to come in and intervene in a situation, but I haven’t actually introduced him into the plot enough to allow him to take the action I need to take. Halt the Presses! Rewind about a thousand words. Insert whole bunch of new stuff here. It’s a little disjointed and and frustrating.

Perhaps I need to invest in a better outline? Or perhaps I need to just blurt the darn thing out and rewrite later to fiddle with the logical order and consistency bits.

Excerpt:

“At that instant I heard a the sound of snow crunching on snow, as Jason pushed a large ball of snow in front of the culvert entrance behind me. I started to crawl forward towards the light of the other side of the tunnel but by the time I reached the other side I could see the large snowball drop into place blocking the exit. I was trapped. The tunnel was much darker, only a faint glow of light through the snow that was blocking my way. I could hear the laughter of Jason and Bill muffled through the snow. I was angry. The red hot kind that only comes with betrayal. I pushed against the boulder of snow blocking my path. I beat on it with my fists. It didn’t budge. It remained completely immovable to my small hands. Anger and frustration started to give way to fear. Fear of being trapped, fear of being encased in a snowy grave, fear closing in all around me.”

Second days are hard. Second days have us basking in the accomplishments of the first day. Second days have self congratulatory indulgence written all over them. Second days, if left unchecked, can develop into the last day. We can see the finished work, but we procrastinate and say, it’s easy, It can be done any time. The trick with second days, is to dig in, move forward, and make a third day. Write, rinse, repeat.

The accouterments of writing are all here: laptop, note pad, pot of coffee, bottle of aspirin, comfortable slippers, pipe. If I was Hemingway, I’d need a bottle of JD number 7, but I think that’s more appropriate for the second week.

…it was a dark and stormy night…

I have everything I need. I even have time. Precious time. I am on vacation this week. No distractions from the office, nothing to focus on except characterization and plot. All I have to do is start typing the damn thing. Can you already sense the hostility? By the end of this month, I fear I will hate my creation, and like that other creator of a monster, I will end up like Dr. Frankenstein trying to destroy it. Either that or the other members of my household will be forced to attack me with torches and pitchforks. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

For now, I just need to start, so here goes. “It was a dark and stormy night.” Hmmm. Perhaps I should catch the next muse. That last one seemed a little rickety.

…It’s like the Japanese Archery version of writing, hitting the target by not aiming at it…

So here I am on the first day of my vacation, waiting for the NaNoWriMo to kick off. I’m gathering thoughts about what to do, what to write, and at elevenish on a Saturday morning, the most important thing of all, what to eat with my coffee. Can I have kippers for breakfast? Apart from the Supertramp flashbacks, I have been reading what other NaNoWriMonauts^™ are planing and taking heart. Some are just as messed up about it as I am, Some have a plan. In the spirit of panicked authors everywhere a little planning plagiarism is in order.

An Odious Woman (no, not my ex wife) has a rather good plan with an outline and some snappy pointers. This is definitely a plan I will take note of.

My first permanently linked bloggernaut pal Rachel not only introduced me to the Odious Woman (again, no relation to my ex), but also passed on a link about the snowflake method of writing a novel. All good reading, all good advice

For the counter point, however, credit must be given to Pep for his Nike-esque “Just Do It” approach of sitting in front of the keyboard and typing for 30 days. It’s like the Japanese Archery version of writing, hitting the target by not aiming at it.

Procrastination n 1: the act of procrastinating; putting off or delaying or deferring an action to a later time 2: slowness as a consequence of not getting around to it. This is were I’m at. This is the neighbourhood where I live at the corner of ShillyShally Ave. and Cunctation St. The cup of my dilatoriness runeth over, slowly, but over nonetheless.

…Memo to me, get on with it….

I can’t seem to get into gear on any new undertakings. I’m trying my best to gear up for NaNoWriMo but I’m bored. The book said this would happen. The book said that It’s the tell tale sign of the “pre-creative urge”. If you ask me it’s just annoying.

I spent the day at home. Sick. Wife is sick too. I had a vast resevoir of time with which to do something. Write an outline. Do some character bios. Think about a plot line. But did I make use of any of that resevoir? Nope. I let the resevoir go to the dogs.

I spent the day fiddling with fiddly bits. Update some HTML here, change a logging parameter on a router there, surf a few blogs here and there. Fiddling. Time burned away, and at the close of the day? Nothing to show.

Memo to me, get on with it.

Getting ready for the NaNoWriMo requires getting my mindset back into a place where I’m actually thinking about writing again. One of the things that is helping me out is an encore reading of this book;

Pickard, Nancy and, Lott, Lynn. 2003. Seven Steps on the Writer’s Path: The Journey from Frustration to Fulfillment. Ballantine Books. ISBN 0345451104.

This book has been a kind of epiphany for me. It is not so much a book about writing, it is a book about being in the mindset to write. The author’s trace the various stages that writers go through which they number as seven (hence the title). Those stages are; Unhappiness, Wanting, Commitment, Wavering, Letting Go, and Fulfillment. Each stage is explained with examples from the lives and experiences of authors great and lesser known. This book could well be about any topic as it’s great strength is in helping the reader visualize the goal and removing the self-imposed barriers. I may never write anything for publication, but I’ve gleaned a great many nuggets of wisdom for dealing with plain old life.

Available from Amazon Canada, UK and US

Well November is fast approaching and the thoughts of writers turn to the insanity of the NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month. This will be my second kick at the can. Last year during the insanity that was International Greed Enablement Corp and the beloved one, I started and quickly got no where.

This year only the name of the insanity has changed. I have no more time on my hands at Gigantic Concrete and the pressures and the demands of the job are, shall we say, strenuous. But sometimes there is value attempting what you know deep down inside is crazy. This will be my subordinate clause too far.

So what is this craziness you ask? Well nothing more than crafting a novel of at least 50,000 words in the space of one month. Yep 50K in 30 days. That’s only 1666 or so words a day. Easy right? Well if you are so inclined to follow the literary lemmings over the cliff, then select the link to the right and dive in.