Tag: writer’s butt

But, But, But

Daily writing prompt
How are you feeling right now?
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I feel like I’m on the edge. See, I’ve been writing a novel manuscript. Almost at the end, confrontations are underway. It’s tense and violent. I don’t want to stop writing, but —

Yes, life is littered with buts, those interruptions to intents and purposes. Several buts are engaging me. First, honestly, is my derriere, aka, my butt. I’ve been sitting and typing for about 80 minutes straight, and my butt is crying, “Up, damn you, up. Give me a break.” It’s classic writer’s butt.

My stomach is also complaining that it’s been too long since food was introduced to my mouth. And my coffee is cold. Just two swallows remain.

A war, then, is raging between the Writing Neurons and the Practical Neurons. The Writers want to stay and keep writing. “Damn it, man, you’re on a roll. Don’t stop now.” But the Practicals are urging, “Go get food. Run errands. Get other things done.”

The final piece of it all is time, though. Time is the empress. Much as I want to keep writing, I have real-world commitments to fulfill. So how do I feel?

Well, resigned to the inevitable brought on by the buts.

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Back, Baby

Hold breath. Release.

Order, calm. 

Relax. It’s okay.

Sure. Yes. It’ll be okay.

So it went on Monday. My wife and I left on a car-cation. Just a road trip to Yachats. I wanted to write, of course, but I knew she was jealous of that. She wanted to break out of our regular structure of existence, hence the trip to the coast.

So, with reluctance, I agreed without speaking to her unspoken concern. It’s the kind of thing that works after being married through a few ice ages.

I worried, though, oh, I worried that I’d forgotten what I’d written, where I was in the ms., and what I was about to write or change. It helped that I was on draft number seven of April Showers 1921. It’s probably ninety percent written, with changes being made to sculpt the story, structure the plot, polish the prose, and exercise the pace. Still, I worried that the muses might decide to teach me a lesson because I’d ignored them for four days.

A more rational aspect of me reassured me that all would be well. That piece of me proved correct. I sat down with my computer and cuppa coffee today, opened the doc, and said, “Oh, that’s right. This part is wordy and awkward and needs some lovin’.”

Then I was off. Good day of writing — and editing — like crazy. Good to be back. Time to go on to other things.

Butt’s asleep, ya’ know? Yeah, writer’s butt; it’s the worse. They never warned you about writer’s butt when you told them you wanted to be a writer, did they?

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Incomplete States

Care for a cigar? I’m offering because I feel like a proud father. The science fiction trilogy, “Incomplete States,” became a quadrilogy today.

I felt like changing it to a quadrilogy was a prudent move. The second book in the series was over seven hundred pages and one hundred seventy thousand words. I think it’d be kinder to the reader and easier from a sales and marketing perspective to break it up into two books. So, with a little work, it was done.  One book is three hundred pages, and the other new book is three hundred forty-five pages.

The fourth book’s beta draft is coming along. It’s one hundred sixteen pages, and about thirty thousand words. Between the four books, then, almost twelve hundred pages have been written. I don’t write fast, but I write consistently, and I persist, and that’s the result. I wish I did write faster; there are many other projects I want to begin and finish.

Life interferes with those plans. Exercising and eating is required, along with socializing, house-cleaning, running errands, and so on. I’m pleased with my progress, though. Of course, all of this is the beta draft, so it’s all still fluctuating, driving toward the conclusion. Once they’re all finished, I’ll have a draft, and the next phase of work will begin.

Cover ideas are rising, though. That’s not always a sign that the end is in sight, but more that I’m contemplating the end.

It was a good day of writing like crazy. The coffee drink is long gone for a change, but my ass is annoyed by being in a hardwood chair without padding for a few hours. Writer’s butt is literally a pain in the arse.

Time to stop, go for a walk and enjoy some sunshine, and think about what what to write next.

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