Last night, I spent my sleeping hours…dreaming I was asleep.
…I think my brain is trying to tell me something.
just keep going, dammit
Last Saturday, a friend of mine said he might take a break from the novel for a bit, because he wasn't sure quite where it was going, and he didn't like it very much at the moment. And I told him that meant he was most definitely Not Allowed to put the novel aside for a bit. Put a novel down when you don't like it very much, and you run the very real risk of never picking it up again. And the only way to be quite sure of where the novel is going is to actually write it, and see where it takes you. Plenty of time to assess whether it went in the right direction once you've gotten there.
(For those planning-type writers out there, that last snippet of advice is going to sound heinous and dreadful and like telling small children they should totally just run out into the middle of a busy road without looking first, everything will be fine, and for that matter strangers present no danger whatsoever and while we're at it, in the interests of making sure you fit in at school, have you considered smoking? I can only say I'M SORRY, but I don't plan my stories in advance. In fact, writing them in linear fashion is still kinda new to me, and something I'm struggling with, and if I could come up with a substitute analogy for you pre-planning types I would. Honest.)
Anyrate, the point of all the above is this: I have totally spent the past two weeks avoiding my novel. Because I'm not sure quite where it's going. And I don't like it very much at the moment.
I've had all sorts of reasonable and legitimate excuses. Edits on a short story needed to be done.1 Then when those edits were done, there was no point picking up the novel again because edits on Pledged should be landing on my desk soonish, and if I picked up the novel again I'd only have to put it down again. So I picked up a short story instead, because I don't have any finished short stories to submit and perhaps I could work on that. Only I've just hit a point in the short story wherein I'm not sure quite where it's going, and I don't like it very much at the moment AND ARE YOU SENSING A PATTERN, PEOPLE?
Because I sure as heck am. And, quite frankly, I don't like it very much.
The thing is, the middle of a story is always hell. (I have even heard the pre-planning types opine this, although presumably for different reasons.) This is partly why it's not-very-affectionately known as the muddle, among other names.2 And every single time I attempt a story, without fail, I have to learn this lesson about the muddle anew. Every single time I have to remind myself that it's not okay to put the thing down, the key is to get past this section, however I can. Slog through the words until I find a way out; leave a note "And then something genius happens!" and skip ahead; consume some stimulant of choice and stay up all night; try whatever trick has worked in the past and even a few that haven't, because every story is different, but whatever you do: just. keep. going.
So. Time to figure out a trick that will work for the novel.
- Okay, that one actually is quite reasonable and legitimate, but in the interests of full disclosure I'm including it. Because it was the excuse I jumped on to start this whole avoidance caper rolling, after all. [↩]
- My novels always earn themselves appellations like THAT EFFING CAR-CRASH OF A NARRATIVE around this time. For full impact it must be delivered through tight lips and with narrowed eyes and followed by the phrase WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT IT ANY MORE. Which is promptly followed by brooding silence and then, just when my friends have tentatively moved on to another subject, interrupting them with an angst-ridden yawp and the desperate plea MAKE IT WORK WHY IS IT BROKEN PUT IT BACK TOGETHER FOR ME! [↩]
29 July 2009 @ 17:55 | 6 Comments
oh frabjous day!
Last weekend I nigh broke my back by parking myself in a disintegrating bean bag for the day.
It may not surprise you to learn, then, that the day after all that editing, I went couch-shopping. Today, five short days after I slapped down some cash I haven't actually earned yet, look what's arrived:
HUZZAH COUCH!
The sharp-eyed among you will note the remote control is already in prime position and yes, that is a cup of freshly brewed hot chocolate on the floor. Because watching those blokes lug the couch up two flights of stairs was exhausting, dammit.
(This is, needless to say, NOT one of the $8,000+ couches. Because while I'm sure they're very good couches, and will last the twenty years the manufacturer is offering as per their warranty, I'm just not ready for a twenty-year commitment at this point, yanno? Honestly, couch store, it's not you, it's me…)
25 July 2009 @ 11:42 | 10 Comments
everyone needs somewhere to run to
I've finished the first round of edits on "Shaping Lily" and sent them winging on their way back to the editor — who will doubtless send them straight back with a "Good work! You fixed exactly a drabble of the stuff that needed fixing…here's the stuff you didn't fix back again so you can have another go at that, and while we're at it here's some more!" Because edits are never done in one pass, and fixing one niggle always makes other jagged bits stand out. Writing is in the re-writing, as someone (actually probably various someones) famous has already opined.
Last night, instead of turning back to the poor oft-abandoned faerie novel as I should have done, I worked on a short story. Poor faerie novel: it has been picked up and put down so often it's surely going to have some serious continuity issues. And probably a good few narrative drive issues into the bargain. (Poor me, who will need to fix them!) All my stories get abandoned at some point, because my brain likes to switch to a different problem when I hit the middle of the story.1
Tonight… tonight I cannot decide what to work on. And I am getting distracted by Apple Dictionary only being in American English. Why is there no Australian English dictionary? Or at least a British English dictionary? I DO NOT SPEAK OR SPELL AMGLISH, APPLE.
- The one story which was written without any periods of abandonment, even minor ones, is Shadow Queen — although it did have its periods of stalled work while I grumbled and glared at it and muttered under my breath about recalcitrant plotlines. [↩]
23 July 2009 @ 18:10 | 2 Comments
today i sat in a beanbag for 8 hours (it was the best day evah)
Today, determined to finish the first pass of edits on "Shaping Lily", I decided to track my progress throughout the day. In the interests of accountability, you understand.
Read on at your own peril. You have been warned.
9:17: Realise I've been dicking around on the internet far too long already, mostly reading through 6 insane discoveries science can't explain (yet).1 This is not a promising start to my revisions. Quickly check my to-do list, and remember in a panic all those bloody things I promised myself I'd do today. Realise edits on Lily is therefore not the first thing I have to do today. Decide edits on Lily are the first thing I'm going to do today anyway.
- I knew about the antikythera mechanism, but didn't know about the others. Really like the pipes. And
the bloopCthulhu. [↩]
19 July 2009 @ 18:49 | 9 Comments
i will never in my life earn enough
Regular readers of the blog may have garnered that I, not having one at present, need a couch of my very own, to love and nurture and call george loll about upon.
Last week I happened to mention this to a work colleague, because I knew he had recently purchased a couch and I thought, in my cunning apathy, that if he had done any couch research I might be able to simply mooch off his results and buy1 find a couch I wanted quickly. You know. Like, sometime this year.2
Said work colleague was startlingly helpful, and swore he'd done lots of research, and just happened to have a catalogue of the place he'd chosen as having the best value couches and he'd drop it over to my desk for me. Which he did, so quickly I rather suspect he might actually have some kind of ability to mess with space and time.
And that night I oohed and ahhed over the catalogue, and was suitably alarmed by the face that the catalogue neglected to list any prices whatsoever and sure in the knowledge this meant I didn't earn enough to be able to afford even LOOKING THROUGH the catalogue, let alone buying anything out of it. I was supported in this opinion by the fact that the work colleague had paid $2,500 for his couch.
This, I thought to myself, is an awful lot of money for a couch.
But perhaps it was because he chose a leather couch. Surely, if I went for a smaller, less leather-clad couch, there might be one that only cost, say, $1,000?
Er.
No.
Today I dropped into the store, since I was walking past, and what did I see?
A ROOM FULL OF $8,000+ COUCHES.
Who has $8,000 to spend on a couch? Who has $10,000 to spend on a couch? If I'm paying that much money for a couch, it better be a TARDIS in disguise, or at least be capable of vacuuming the floor and solving the world's energy crisis at the same time.
- I won't be buying a couch quickly. I must save up some ready monies first. Which is difficult when I keep ogling, and purchasing, boots. [↩]
- THIS YEAR? How hard is it, I hear you cry? Not very at all, is the answer. But it's not a matter of how difficult it is, nor even how little time I may or may not have. It's a matter of whether I can be assed, people. [↩]
15 July 2009 @ 18:25 | 6 Comments
house of cards
Last night I stared at "Shaping Lily" with my edit letter in mind, and wondered if it's possible to fix what needs fixing without pulling the story to pieces.
It was a totally vain endeavour, of course, and I knew this at the time as well, but it appears to be part of my process. There is a point in my process — just after I've received feedback on a story but before I've actually started any (further) revisions — when the story hangs in the balance. A point wherein I basically sit staring at the story, hesitating, thinking a lot but achieving nothing. Or nothing material, at least.
Because as soon as I start — as soon as I select a single thread on which to work — the entire story will unravel and in the process a whole slew of other things that require fixing will fall out, and what was once a story will become instead a mess of shredded words scattered haphazardly over my desk. And I will have to examine every word, singly and in context, yet one more time, as I try to weave it all (seamlessly!) back into a cohesive narrative.1
All that sitting and staring has its place as well, however. It's a moment of waiting, of zen before the battle frenzy, which fixes the big picture in mind before I get lost in the minutiae.
Which is what it's time to do now.
- This metaphor would probably be much stronger if I knew anything at all about sewing, or weaving, or knitting. [↩]
14 July 2009 @ 18:31 |
i can see my future, and there are edits in it
Today I have exceedingly good news: I have sold a story to ASIM. Tentative publication date is April 2010.
For those playing along at home, I wrote the first draft of this story in January 2005, during my stint at Clarion. (Actually, since it was my week one story, I probably started it, in some brief and jotted form at least, in late December 2004.) I can't remember what I called it at the time (probably something genius like "Untitled"), but it's since acquired the title "Shaping Lily".
The story was inspired by the meeting of two ideas: an epic(ish) quest fantasy story wherein the main character was a little old lady, and Web of Light, by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law. (And in seeking out that link for you, I've only just gone and gotten myself lost in browsing Stephanie's site. Again.)
It's a quaint little story, and one I'm very fond of, so I'm glad it's found a good home.
And in updating my spreadsheet which records these things for me, I've belatedly realised I have exactly one short story currently doing the rounds of submissions, and nothing else to offer. I do have a handful of short stories in serious need of revising (some of my Clarion stories are still languishing, for example — although I think they'll stay languishing, except for one, which may turn into a novel. Like I need yet another novel idea in the queue. Still, too many ideas is a nicer problem to have than not enough ideas, I suppose).
H'm. Perhaps it's time to work on revising or drafting a short story or two.
11 July 2009 @ 11:36 | 8 Comments
i hate to say it, but you're perfect together
Tactic: set the alarm clock for five minutes later. More sleep!
The world's answering gambit: garbage trucks. Ten minutes earlier. Ugh.
World: 1, Deb: 0.
Bit of a slow effort, writing last night, because I got distracted by playing with Scrivener. I suppose I could argue that I didn't get entirely distracted and skip writing altogether, and it would be a true argument, but a weakish one nonetheless. Bad author. No biscuit. No wonder the world sent me garbage trucks this morning by way of punishment.
Actually, it's occurred to me that I haven't spoken much about my writing on this blog of late. Or, in actual fact, quite some time. I suspect this is because I'm in the alpha draft of the faerie novel, and I'm one of those writers who isn't comfortable talking about a story until I've got something pinned to the page. My alpha drafts are usually shockingly incomplete, the equivalent of snagging a butterfly by the wingtip. It's an imperfect process, to say the least, because at best a few scales are going to shake loose and the snagged butterfly is going to look a little tatty. Sometimes the damn butterfly would rather rip its wing off than be caught, and I'm left with nothing but a ragged handful of dreck.
I would far rather be one of those efficient, organised types who nets the butterfly and pins it through the heart in one go, but of course I'd rather have wings of my own and buckets of gold to boot, for that matter.
7 July 2009 @ 16:30 |
i'm going back to the start…
I woke up off-colour yesterday, and felt too sick to do much of anything…so I cranked up Scrivener (at long last) and tried to figure out whether it would work for me.
I'm still undecided. I suspect I erred in attempting to discover how it works while in the middle of a novel, rather than starting fresh. I transferred most of the text of the faerie novel across into a scrivener file, and discovered that Scrivener feels the novel is almost 6,000 words longer than Microsoft Word thinks it is. Interesting… This evening I discovered a second way of counting words in Scrivener,1 which tells me the novel is only 200ish words longer than Microsoft Word's tally. I do not understand yet why Scrivener feels the need to count words in two different realities simultaneously. Or which one I'm supposed to trust.
Either way, I've written basically 50,000 words of the faerie novel so far…and the faeries have only just turned up. That's a whole lotta non-faerie faerie story to start off with there.2
I suspect I'm not going to like the rewrite of this book very much.
But then, that could just be the dreaded muddle talking. Here's hoping, eh?3
6 July 2009 @ 20:50 | 4 Comments
