It’s been a lazy writing week since my last post, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been working on the project.
1. I got kicked in the face by the flu. Knocked me out for two days, and it’s about the only thing that keeps me from putting any thought into my work. Through the fever and lethargy, I did manage one related thought, however: I wonder when my print order will be complete?
2. Turns out, it was done in a day. I work for Thomson Reuters, and our Copy Center gives us a nice deal on personal printing. I ordered six copies of the 373-page manuscript and had them spiral bound with plastic covers. They’re now taking up considerable space on our table as I prepare some mailings.
That’s like, a hundred little stories, which feels like a nice way of restating it.
This notice surprised me in my WordPress app the other day. I certainly don’t feel like I’ve written that many posts or sent some 50,000-words into the Internet ether.
That means I’m posting about every two weeks, which is more frequently than I expected (although when I look at the history, my schedule is more erratic than that). And I’m getting 30 views per post, which isn’t much if you’re a commercial website, but for a guy who’s just creating a little content to give people a peek behind the writer’s curtain, I’m happy with the results.
Data and metrics are fine and all (is this guy an English major?), but I went into this website project with different goals:
- Updating people on book’s writing progress
- Marketing the project
- Giving myself another creative outlet when the manuscript needed a break
To these ends, the website has succeeded. Beyond that, it’s been fun, which is often a better motivator than anything else.
However, it can be challenging, too. The writing style is different, and unlike the manuscript, it needs to be polished now. Well, polished-ish. None of that writing and rewriting for a year stuff I’m doing in the book. Similar to the book, some days it feels like work; on others, it’s a pure creative pleasure.
What’s he been writing about?
We got a text from our neighbor this morning. His daughter loves to cook (she gets it from him) and was enthused that we were enjoying the things she made. They both like to share, and my wife often makes something in return. Here’s what the text said:
Her response to you using her frosting: “Yay! That makes me happy! Let’s make big fat noodles next, everyone likes noodles.”
As you might expect, my response was encouraging, and not just because I really do like big fat noodles. I saw that she loved cooking and I never want her to lose that passion. Simple as that.
As a parent, it’s not that hard to recognize the importance of helping your child find something they like, and then foster a love of that within them. It’s not just about developing a relationship with them, but it’s about helping them find things that bring them joy and might guide them their entire lives. This morning, I was reminded of the important role that adults – not just parents – play here. Continue reading
This post is approximately 500 words, and it has something for writers and data geeks!
The Summer of 2018, I started to get worried. I was 2 1/2 years and 170,000 words into the book. Writing wasn’t starting to feel like the all-consuming (in a good way!) thing it had been. I talked about this back in my October 1 Writing Update, and how I felt I was getting back into the rhythm. I had decided to make the time to write because I was suddenly aware that I hadn’t been. As you’ll see below, it still took some work.
This is going to sound weird, but sometimes I had to remind myself that I was writing a book. How does a person forget about 170,000 words? Sigh.
To fix this, I needed to 1) have a reminder and 2) shame myself a bit. A daily alarm or BUJO had had limited success: I’d just snooze away the reminder or turn the journal page. I’m a visual guy, and my memory is heavily dependent on reminders right in front of my face. In late June, I started tracking my daily writing in a notes widget on my phone’s home screen. Now, several times a day, I could see how much I was writing. Or as was the case for a long time, how much I WASN’T writing.
Because I’m data guy, I turned my tracking sheet into a chart (but just for this post). Correction, an embarrassing chart. These are all the days my fingers were typing away. Continue reading
December 11, 2015 is more of a ceremonial date because I’m not sure how much writing I did at the start. Did I sit down and type, “Tildy sat up so quickly her head swam” – the first sentence of the first chapter – that first day? I don’t think so. I’m pretty certain I didn’t have her name yet. If memory serves, I started with the prologue, which has a boatload of too much historical context in it.
I recall thinking about a new direction for my story over the Summer of 2015. I started parts of it twenty-five years ago and I still liked much of the world I’d created. However, I needed to inject something into it: something to make it appeal to a broader audience and something to reinvigorate myself as a writer.
I wondered what kind of books the real world needed. It occurred to me that we could use more stories with empowered female characters, and they had to appeal to girls and boys. As simply as that, I was running, sprinting, in a new direction.
The writing came suddenly. One day I wasn’t writing; the next day I was.
Three years later, and more than a thousand hours of effort, I’m coming up on 190,000 words, which is about 100,000 more than I intended. I’ve also removed characters, places, and scenes to cut another 30,000 words. And I’m pretty sure I’ll have a bit more culling to do. Continue reading
This is post is approximately 650 words, many of them silly nonsense, but limned with a sinister tone, I hope.
I like fun and I like whimsy, and I like them mixed with horror. In the appropriate proportions, of course. Without the proper balance, a story is either too dark or too goofy. It’s something I’m managing in certain parts of my current manuscript.
I think this penchant comes from fairy tales I read in childhood. They’re cautionary stories, of course: stay in bed, eat your peas, don’t lie! They all promise horrible fates to children who fail in some regard. Take Little Red Riding Hood, who was devoured by a slavering wolf before a woodcutter sliced open the beast’s belly to free her.
In deliberate contrast to the horrors of the story, the pages often featured colorful illustrations of cherubic tots venturing obliviously into danger. After a few similar stories, we all knew something bad was coming, despite the innocence of the art. And we loved it. As kids, we were practically watching them through half-covered eyes, gleefully anticipating their demise as we imagined their chubby little legs carrying them toward certain doom. Continue reading
This post is approximately 500 words, and it argues in favor of using many words, even when a single one would suffice.
Recently, I was reviewing a passage in my manuscript that reminded me of a word I’d forgotten. I’m an English language geek, so I like collecting words, even if I don’t always put them on display. Rather, many are crammed into the attic in dusty boxes sealed with cheap tape (feel free to analyze whether this is a metaphor for my brain). In this case, I hadn’t used the term, but it did motivate me to reacquaint myself with it.
It’s a word I think many people will appreciate because it describes something we love: the distinctive smell that follows the rain. The scent is evocative, both to the head and the heart. If you’re like me, you take walks to fully enjoy the experience.