Downside to Writing - Life

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

Ray Bradbury

I'm writing my second novel. For about six years now. Back in July, I isolated myself - Butt in Chair - for an entire week in an effort to recover and organize the work I had only touched a few times in the past few years. I had success. I whittled down 50,000 words to 36,000, organized my notes, made new ones, adjusted my characters' needs, wants, thoughts, and paths. Silenced my writing friend's swinging whip and sent off a new chapter by week's end.

With brief interludes caused by real life, I now have 46,000 (goal 80,000 - 90,000) words and a main character long past stuck in a wheat field in South Dakota. She's now in Montana, further entrenched. More important, I've figured out my antagonist's secret. Knew she had one, just wasn't sure exactly what it was.

I love it when my mind is in the scenes on my pages and the day sweeps by like only a few minutes. It takes so long to get into that mind frame, yet only a moment for it to go away and a complete disconnection to occur while my two worlds attempt to rejoin.

Stepping back from the lives I've created in my writing and running smack dab into the people I live and socialize with catches me off guard. Like I'm caught floating from cloud to cloud, dilly dallying the day away. In my world of fiction writing, my characters are bigger than life, where they do and say things I never would have the guts to do or say. When I live in their world, I am someone else.

The shift to Earth is not easy as words - in verbal format - fail me. Most often, they come out damn wrong. My real world becomes one I don't fit into - like getting a large octagon through a small oval. Makes me want to stay in my written world. Much easier when I'm controlling everything - if that makes any sense.

Ever feel that way? And not just in regard to writing?

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - I'm Going Swimming

Eighty percent of success is showing up.

Woody Allen

Friday - 1:39pm

In reference to my last post, so eloquently entitled Butt in Chair, please note that the photo presented here shows that particular chair pushed into its resting nook at the table. For you see, dear E.S. Carlson, I took on your challenge. I've written a new chapter in my novel in progress. (Six years in the making?) Look in your email inbox for you will find not only the next chapter, but an additional reworked 30 some previous pages leading up to it.

Alas, my heroine, dear Lily, is out of the wheat field in South Dakota and long past her panic attack. Still in South Dakota, but, oh, in such a different place.

This week I took a huge mess and pieced it back together. I spent Monday, Tuesday and half of Wednesday reacquainting myself with what I'd written over the past few years. Then I read all the journals of notes I'd taken, my character sketches and their long lists of conflicts. I reviewed some of my research and resource books.

I spent Wednesday reorganizing what I wanted to keep of the writing, throwing out some 20,000 words which held scenes that no longer will occur in my story, along with what I first thought would be the ending.

In the words of the most talented Anne Lamott in her book Bird by Bird - I'm 36,000 words into a very "shitty first draft." (If you haven't read Bird by Bird, I highly recommend it - even if you are not a writer.)

Even though I'm no longer certain where my protagonist Lily will end up, I do know it will be a most interesting ride. And I'm so glad to be back with her on that horse, er, Airstream trailer.

Even better, I know what I will write tomorrow. And the next day. My goal for the remainder of the summer, except for a couple of side trips, is to plow through all the way to the end so that I can spend next school year rewriting and rewriting and...

Thank you, ES, for the ultimatum and thank you to my blogging friends, new and old, for your support. Happy am I. I put much more pressure on myself when I'm alone, focused, challenged. Of course, things have certainly calmed down in my summer, which helps.

Cheers to my family who has left me to myself at the lake this week. (Hope you guys got the laundry done, watered my plants, went to the grocery store, fed the cat... yes, we have a cat.)

Dear Family,
Looking forward to seeing you this weekend.
Bring food and toilet paper.
Love, Mom and wife

Up to me to keep it going, but right now, I'm off to float for the rest of the day.

P.S. Can you believe it? I just sent ES that email and before I've finished this post she has already sent me her next set of pages. That woman is a slave driver. Chop, chop.