I've Been Workin' on the Railroad....

Okay... perhaps it's not that bad. In fact, I am rather proud of this week's accomplishments, all things considering.

I made my writing goal last week by Thursday (This week: 3600. Onward Ho!) and decided not to push it. Not knowing how much time I would be able to devote to either endeavor over the course of the weekend, I had decided to take a little time during the long ride out to a friend's wedding (CONGRATS AGAIN, JAMES AND AMY!!!) and work on some editing. And boy did I ever. Between the car rides there and back, when I wasn't driving, I was able to finish most of chapter one. I added a little over 3000 words -- which is great because I eliminated a lot, probably about 3000 words or more (and if I continue with the edits that I've been contemplating will be just the start of an entire overhaul of the next four chapters and the elimination of most, if not all of chapter two). I was surprised at how easily it worked. Some trips I find I can't do anything at all, while others have some crazy abundance, maybe to make up for the ones where I sit for seven or more hours in the car (or bus or plane or train) and ask my SO over and over again "are we there yet?" (I fear for the day we have children. He may lose it. Seriously.)

Here is where my confidence lags, though. I honestly wonder if I'll be able to keep this level of productivity up now, and if I do, will I run out of whatever it is that's been buoying me these last few weeks during NANO? Perhaps, perhaps not.

I would feel a little better, going into NANO if I felt some things were off my plate. And if I did more research into what I'll be writing for NANO. It wasn't something I could work on this weekend, because until Sunday night, I was without internet. I suppose part of this shaky confidence is knowing that what I did (and have been doing) is frankly insane in the light of what Jenny and Ginny are doing. What do I think I am, trying to edit and write at the same time?

But, on some level I saw it as a kind of "free time." I'd already done my goals for this week.

On the other hand, if I'd used that free time to work on my current writing story, would I have gotten 3000 more words out of myself (doubling my goals and getting me that much closer to having this finished before NANO)? Or would I have had a car ride of staring at the lovely turning leaves but asking myself as my power slowly dwindled -- on so many levels -- are we there yet?

So, I suppose the ultimate question I'm posing is, is it smart of me to have taken this route this week and divided my time between two worlds, as it were, which may or may not get me closer to eliminating one of the balls in the air in my right hand? Or should I have taken a more decisive step towards finishing the story I'm still writing, thereby moving that ball from my left to my right?

What do you think?

Going Back, Going Forward

So, in order to reorder my creativity, I've decided to make a two-fold alteration this week in my usual process: I'm going to write one of the future scenes in my active-writing story (thank you for the suggestion, Mike!) and go back to do some editing in an old one.

I like the idea of changing things up. I think a week-long trial won't kill any of my hopes to keep things moving in my main story and I'll get a little more work in on one of my finished stories.

I am a little worried about going back to editing.

I remember this amazing glow when I finished this novel. It might be akin to the feeling you get when you've given birth. (I don't know as I've only recently done the first and never the second -- well, perhaps some day, just not yet.) You've spent months putting energy, focus, and emotion into building, creating this thing piece by piece, block by block, and once you've gotten there there's relief and pride and accomplishment. I did this. I made this. Wow.

The wonderful flush has worn off – and has been for some time now – and now I'm looking back at this thing I've made and every time I look at it, I realize I'm faced with a challenge more daunting than finishing my first novel length work. Editing my first novel length work. I've had a first read through. And a first run of edits. And I've had my moments of cringing and asking myself "how am I ever going to make this work?" Well, I feel better about it than I had when I went through my first run of edits, but as I look into it again, I know I've still got a long way to go.

I've kept a running list of positives (Relatively cohesive! Interesting mythos! Fun characters!) to go along with the negatives in hopes of keeping some perspective. And maybe to give me some things to remember for the future.

Yes. I admit it. I am enamored with the comma. It is (apparently) my foremost punctuation device. It's something I'm working correcting on now: I found a paragraph editing the first round with only two sentences in it. A paragraph that lasts half a page because each sentence goes on with Lyttonesque fervor. Beautiful images, though. I have no doubt that I will find more run on sentences as I go through it another time.

My plot line is a little muddled, and even after the first round of edits, I'm still trying to work that out. But, I have a few ideas after time being away from it, and I'm hoping to see what I can do to make that work.

Well, it'll be something of an experiment, but I'm hoping it goes well. If anyone else has any other suggestions about how I might be able to get my creativity going again, drop me a line.

Here's to this week.

Jumping in With Both Feet - A Writing and Editing Lifestyle

One of the things I've found in the last year and a half of working on my stories is that I can't just dip a toe in. It's all or nothing. And I can only have one major project running at a time.

The reason is that a story is a lot like a mud puddle. You have to jump in with both feet to see how deep the mud is. You have to get absolutely coated in it. And that's how you know how much of a story you have, when you've surrounded yourself in your world building, you've got your mounds of research, your plotlines and all. But, if you're jumping in with both feet into the one mud puddle, you are also only testing the mud in one place at one time. You can't physically be two places at once. And figuring out that I can't be in two metaphysical places at once has certainly taken a lot of learning.

I had, up until last year, had a few stories going all at once. It divided my time and allowed me an escape hatch if one story seemed to be having trouble. And that's great, except I wasn't finishing things. Some things would go on the side burner permanently. Others, I'd probably get a few paragraphs in at a time -- wonderfully written paragraphs, but that's all they were.

You're not really getting muddy if you have a toe here, a toe there, and fingers in two other different puddles.

So, now, I have one story that I'm writing at a time. One puddle, ankle-to-neck deep. (At least, I keep hoping I won't find that I'm in over my head... ::winks::)

But what does this mean for editing? As I've said in my profile, I'm writing one story and editing two others. And that's a lot of mud to sling.

Ginny and I were talking about the best way to approach edits and I told her, I still believe it's about jumping in with both feet. There really is no best angle to get into it from, and it's hard to see just what kind of mess you have until you're knee deep in it again: then, you'll be able to see how much needs to be changed.

Even though I'm standing knee deep in my new story, and am still working towards the goals of my new story, I'm still coated -- metaphorically-speaking -- in the mud of my last two projects. And they've had time to soak in. But, I still make sure that I work on only one of those story edits at a time.

So, for each story, I jumped in. I did a read through. I made those changes I knew I needed off the bat. I marked places that I was unsure about, then I sent it out and set it aside and let it percolate. Each one in their own turn.

They're not done, of course, and won't be until they're published, but I have those pockets of mud mapped. They're on my radar. I'm not losing them, and while more rain refreshes them, they're still mine. I've left my mark on them and they've left their mark on me.

And distance, whether it had just been put aside after the first edit or sent out to friends to read and respond to my own comments, really has helped to create some clarity in things that had been, at the time, as clear as mud.

But you can't know until you jump in.

At least, that's my take on it.

Going it (NOT) Alone

I've always had mad visions of writing alone in a garret apartment. Sipping a cup of tea, as I type on my computer or revise my latest masterpiece. The solitariness of this never seemed to bother me, in fact it sort of enthralled me. That is, until I had to put all this into practice.

See, my quiet desk, my solitude, my tea all rather lost their lustre when I realized the daunting task I was undertaking (alone). I'd written loads before I left University. Mostly literary short stories and poetry-- but I'd never written a novel before. So, for about four years I faffed about starting and half finishing at least as many novels or projects.

It wasn't until 2008 that I really began to understand why I was failing constantly. See, I'd learned a lot about the craft of writing (and yet-- there's still so much to learn!) but I hadn't learned how to structure my time. I didn't have a writing habit. I didn't understand what that was, really. When I had an idea I puzzled it over in my head, I jotted some notes, and then in two sittings I wrote out the whole mess. But writing a novel, that took time. That took some sort of game plan. That overwhelmed me.

So, I asked my friends how they got through the process of writing a novel. Jenny suggested her patented 2500 words a week method. Essentially, the idea is to set a small goal, say 2500 words a week, and then consistently hit this goal. The idea is that as you keep hitting your goals and as you go along you build a novel out of small targets and then increase these targets. Towards the end of my novel I was averaging 10,000 words a week. So, I gave this a whirl last April and was shocked as over the next few months my idea grew into a 50,000 word project. I eventually decided not to continue with this project over NANOWRIMO, but the progress I made reminded me that I could do anything-- if I just put the time and effort in.

Last year Jenny, Angel (my other writing buddies) and I took up the siren song of NANOWRIMO. I'd half-heartedly attempted it back in 2007-- but had only managed a paltry 10,000 words. This year, with the successes I'd had thanks to my 2500 words a week target I felt confident that I could actually hit 50,000 words in a month (crazy as it had taken me 3 months to hit that goal before). Nonetheless, we decided to set up a private blog to measure our successes, taunt each other into writing a little bit more, and post unedited snippets. The results were astounding. Jenny, Angel and I all crossed the NANO finish line for the first time.

It was then that I realized the one lesson I could never have been taught at University. A writer needs a group of friends, a group of people who understand the process, who can give you a good kick in the ass when you need it. In short, a writer needs some sort of community. Which is how we realized that it would be good fun to go 'public' with our ideas, and see if there were other people out there looking for a community-- a group of like minded 'lone wolves'.

So, here's my question-- what's your method? Do you have a set amount of hours or blocks of time you keep to each week? Do you have a word count you strive towards? Do you have some other method that works wonders? Because frankly, I'm always interested in learning new tricks.