The Writing Moment
I finished writing a novel the other day. But — there’s often a but inserted into the writing process, but that’s true about a large quantity of life matters, like, I love you, but — this tastes good, but — we can vote for him, but —
This but was about the ending. The first ending didn’t work so I set it aside and developed number two. Here is the but which you know is coming. Ending number two was dissatisfying. Too transparent and expected. Curses. The ending circulated through my mind as I progressed through the routines of the last few days, and then, ah hah! Yes, I’d gone the wrong direction for the ending. With that realized, I established the essence of a new ending, one which seemed like a natural and yet surprising outcome, and one which validated the novel’s underlying theme.
Now I need to take that from sketchy scenes in my head to words in a chapter. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
The Writing Math
I finished writing a novel today. It’s the first draft, so work will be required, but after that, you’ll be able to find it in a bookstore, library, computer, or in someone’s hand, pending editing, finding an agent or publisher, or self-publishing, and time.
It was fun work. Rewarding. I’m one of those pantsers, so I write a lot to learn a little. In my case, I wrote 200,000 words. I’ve already identified ten chapters for removal. See, besides being a pantser, I’m a wanderer as I write, rewriting, polishing, and editing as I explore the story. Still, more editing is needed for continuity, pacing, all those pesky grammar elements, and all the things that create a better novel.
Its total word count did surprise me. I knew it was a big book as I wrote it — come on, I’m in the forest, but I know how deep in the woods I am and can see all those trees around me. I was more surprised because I only actually put ass in seat in front of keyboard about two to two and a half hours per day. I started this thing about seven months ago, and time was taken off. for family emergencies, vacations, social obligations, and spousal duties. But seeing that final number prodded me to rush to a spreadsheet and do the numbers.
You can see, I didn’t write many words per day or hour. It’s amazing how much it adds up. Perseverance and persistence counts.
Now I need to pause, celebrate a little, and then begin executing the next phase. Cheers
Doug Marlette Said
Today’s writing quote comes about in a little different way. Each day has a slice of time spent searching and reading about writers and books, and lists of those things. I enjoy stories of how writers found their paths and what obstacles they overcame. Those tales sustain my muses. I’m always behind on reading, dashing up a treadmill that never lets me catch up. I’m fortunate to have met some wonderful writers and editors, and I’ve casually dropped some of their quotes into my posts.
Today comes along those lines. A friend of mine is a struggling writer and a former editor who deals with some health issues related to his mind and disposition, conditions which deliver heavy doses of worry to his friends and family. After he and I chatted over drinks one day, he told me about editing The Bridge by Doug Marlette and gave me a copy of the book to read. This week found me unearthing that novel in my list of books to read. I’m pretty astonished that my friend, a reserved but friendly man, was involved in bringing such a book to the shelves.
Anyway, as part of reading the book, I researched and read about the author. So here is a quote. Cheers
Friday Change
Slow for a Friday, the coffee shop was relatively quiet. The baristas’ joking behind the counter was actually heard across the business.
Only three other patrons occupied tables. Regulars, he knew their names, drinks, and faces. He supposed that they knew the same for him. Maybe not. Maybe they weren’t as observant as him or didn’t care.
A thin sigh passed his lips. He was supposed to be writing but it was one of those days when procrastination stopped him like a mudslide blocking a road. He was a little bored, tired, and restless. I’ll begin in a minute, he told himself, and noted the time. Yeah, like he was really that disciplined and focused. More coffee will help, he decided.
Reaching for the cup, he glanced at the coffee shop table. The blond wood – he didn’t know what kind it was – had a dark knot which resembled a mustache. As he chuckled at that, he spotted two small symmetrical knots above the mustache. They were like eyes, he mused, sipping coffee.
The eyes blinked at him.
His body quailed with alarm as his mind shouted, “What the hell?” He set the coffee down.
A new knot rose, forming a mouth below the mustache.
He looked around the coffee shop. No one was near. He wanted to show someone as validation for his sanity, and then pulled out his phone to photograph the small developing face. As he raised the phone for the photo, the mouth moved.
“Help me,” he heard. “Help.”
Pulling back, he lowered the phone. Friday was about to change in ways he’d never planned.
Michael Seidel, writer 