NaNoWriMo, Day 29: The View from the Other Side

Writing on the other side of 50,000 during National Novel Writing Month feels totally different. I'm genuinely surprised by this. There is this freedom I feel in being able to . . . well, write or not write. I found myself yesterday not feeling the need to write, but rather the desire. I was enjoying a long section of a journey for my main character, both the research of the places he traveled to and settling into what I imagined he was seeing, in the locations, and in the expressions on the faces of his traveling companions.

I've found an unwitting ally in writing such passages of journeys to places I have never been. If you can't write what you know, at least you can write what other people have known . . . and filmed . . . and put up on YouTube. After spending a fair amount of time over the last couple of nights setting up the itinerary for this journey, I found myself on Google Earth, studying the terrain, the features, the satellite photos of the areas Walt would go. And then I discovered, inside Google Earth, little YouTube logos which, when clicked, would open up a video in YouTube that the user had somehow bookmarked. Often, the video was taken in the very location on the map I studied. (And almost as often, the video had nothing to do with the location; why a stroll down Olivera Street in Los Angeles was bookmarked in the Canadian arctic, I'll never know. Bad GPS, perhaps?)

And all of a sudden, I was watching several videos made in airports and towns, getting a feel for the look of the roads, the foliage, the weather, any other features that could become details later on. Wow! An actual bona fide use for YouTube! Pretty cool.

Today is the last day of writing, and I really want to push past 55,000, but I've pretty much gotten to the point where I'll need to figure out the solutions to the tough questions that have been hanging over my head, some of which have remained unanswered for several months. I knew that November 30th would be a sort of Day of Reckoning, but I'm glad it's this kind of reckoning, rather than, say, having to figure out how to push out 10,000 words before 11:59 tonight.

The other major decision still to make: whether or not I'll bother attending the Chicago "Thank God It's Over" party on Sunday at Café Iberico. The selfish part of me says I deserveit; the introvert part of me says, "Why bother?"

Good luck to any NaNoers who are pushing today to reach that final goal! I donate some words to you.

NaNoWriMo, Day 28: "Dirt"

I went to bed at midnight last night.

Midnight.

When was the last time I went to bed that early? I can't recall. I'll have to consult my house's security camera videotapes to figure this out. What led to such a lovely treat, such wonderful unconscious bliss for a world-record (for the month of November 2007 at least) six-and-a-half straight hours? Why, I'm glad you asked. This sentence led to that:

Spreading out before them, nothing but permafrost and dirt, a few sad, small patches of green, and on the horizon only water.

A simple, harmless sentence, buried in the middle of a paragraph describing a helicopter lifting off from an island in the Canadian arctic, carrying my main character and three other people. And it is significant only because the word "dirt" was the 50,000th that I had typed in the course of writing Son of a Saint.

So, I've made it to 50,000. Big huzzahs and celebration and champagne, right? Well, not really. After I had changed the logo (in the right column) to the winner's logo, changed the progress bar to the purple badge, and updated the numbers, I couldn't help but continue cogitating on the enormous holes in my story, and how I might be able to build up enough words around the walls to make those holes small enough to only be able to fly a Boeing 737 through. It's not quite a Pyrrhic victory, but it's also not any time to stand at the dais and beginning my Nobel acceptance speech.

You see, here's where the marathon comparison finally breaks down: When I hit mile 25 of the Chicago Marathon, I summoned up every last bit of strength I had and channeled that into my body to get me across the finish line at a sprint; as some volunteer with a few kind words slipped the finisher's medal over my head, I had nothing left, and knew that I wouldn't have to seriously think about running for three weeks — or ever again, if I chose to.

I've definitely picked up steam here at the end, pouring out over 10,000 words in the last four days. And all signs indicate that I've crossed a finish line. But I know I have to keep running — probably for another 20,000 words or more — in order to complete a first draft. The good news is that I haven't had any lactic acid building up in my brain, as it did in my thighs during the marathon. So, provided I can find a solution to my literary quandaries (and I will!), I will keep running until I have a complete first draft.

Then I'll get drunk. Okay, just kidding. But that's what writers are supposed to do, right? When in Rome . . . .

I got a nice email last night from a fellow NaNoWriMo'er who won a couple of days ago. We had communicated before it started, talked about getting together in local cafés to motivate each other, our laptops back-to-back. But that was the last we contacted each other until she was over the hump and saw that I was close, and then she finally wrote me to cheer me on from a distance. She summed up a lot of my feelings in her congratulatory email this morning:

My goal for NaNo was primarily to train myself to write faster. I've never understood the "shitty first draft" concept that many writers advocate, because I've never been able to turn off my internal editor. I also hoped to be writing a literary novel. Well, I made the first goal; even if my first draft isn't finished yet. it sure meets the sniff test in many sections.

However, this will never be litfic. It's an airplane book, a beach read. Heavily plot-driven. I can live with that, especially if I actually finish it. I can imagine doing NaNo again only if I do keep working on this one.

I, too, characterized Son of a Saint as literary fiction, but it is far from that now. I feel like I'm just learning about my characters. I feel like I'm finally at the point where I can write some cogent character studies, a thorough plot outline. And in the process of going through this behemoth (Microsoft Word says it currently stands at 149 pages) a second time, I can start to infuse it with the kind of potent descriptions, nuance, wit and scope that I have convinced myself I'm capable of creating. (We'll see, Bailey.) The best part about this month is that as it winds down, I'm still hopeful. I don't hate my novel, even in the sorry condition it's in, and best of all, I don't hate writing.

But I'm not certain I'll be doing NaNoWriMo again. Yes, Catharine Amanda, thank you for your comment in my last entry, but I can't guarantee you that I'll be by your side next year when you take this on. Unless you want to ply me with bribes. Actually, I'm not the one who deserves the bribes: the one you need to be talking to is Laura, who has been a saint this month in giving me the time and space to do what I've done.

And thanks to the many of you who have sent me comments, both here and in Facebook, along the course of this month. You can all have autographed copies of my book when it's published. Which should happen around December 3rd. I just need a literary agent and a publicist to each call me, agree to represent me, and begin putting together the book tour. I mean, how hard could this be?

NaNoWriMo, Day 27: The End of a Month, the End of a Character

I've taken to skipping around now, writing a little bit in each of the chapters heretofore untouched. There is this sense of scattered desperation as I dab a few words here, slop on a few more there. (What I should be doing is nipping and tucking, but that's what the second draft is for. I have to keep telling myself this.)

I had read in Chris Baty's NaNoWriMo book about how some people deal with the end of the event: One guy, when he's near the end, starts painting entire chapters with single broad-stroke sentences, in an effort to make sure that his 49,999th and 50,000th words are "The" and "End." At the beginning of the night, I had some idea that I was going to try and do that same thing. But the fact is, it won't happen; I can't stop myself from starting to write a goodly amount of detail when I get into a section I like.

And tonight, I finished the evening with a section I definitely liked, though that will sound kind of dark: One of my characters is killed on Lake Michigan. It is an important turning point for many characters, and it compels my main character to take steps to change the course of his life. (Yeah, and I'm only getting to this event around the 48,000th word . . . so you have some idea how much more there is to still write!)

The character I killed is one that I dearly love, but who has gotten very little attention along the way as I've focused on my main character (which is to say, I've focused on me. I mean, let's be serious: what first-time novelist isn't writing his ol' narcissistic self as the main character?) This character will get much, much attention in the revision.

So it looks like I'll be hitting 50,000 tomorrow . . . and scooting right past it as I continue to try and wrap this puppy up. My problem, however, continues to be that I don't know what's going to happen for large swaths of the book that are not yet written! I suppose it'll be exciting to see how that all turns out.

Right?

Right?

NaNoWriMo, Day 26: A Groove of Sorts

A NaNoWriMo "writing buddy" is bemoaning how much crap comes out of this month-long exercise. I'm feelin' that too. That's what the last week or so has been like for me. But tonight I actually felt like I made some progress. Knocked out almost 3,000 words, but more importantly, there's some stuff here that might actually be useful to the story I want to tell.

I feel like I spend a lot of my time jumping back to previous work and adding ideas/reminders to the "Notes" section for each chapter. I'm thinking all the time of inconsistencies that will need to be cleaned up. Yet another thing to add to the editing process! I tell you, I thought that facing the blank page is scary, but I have a feeling the concept of having to edit thousands and thousands of words is pretty damn daunting too.

I'm going to try writing tomorrow while listening to Christmas music. That oughta be an interesting experiment. *grin*

NaNoWriMo, Day 25: A Stretch, But Hardly Home

I talked with Laura tonight about what to do post-November 30th. I told her that I had hoped to continue to devote nights to continuing to work on this first draft . . . just not every night. And that once the draft was done, I'd take a longer break from it. And she was totally cool with that. So that's what'll happen.

I really feel like my writing right now is biding time until I figure out how to get around the blocks I've set up in my plot. I seem to have no problem churning out the words — a dinner conversation can really eat up that quota, you know — but I'm not sure that much of it will stick around. I tell myself that at least I'm getting to know my characters and hit my quota, but that is just so unsatisfying, I can't even tell you.

When I compared this to a marathon, I had no idea how right I would be. I am so in miles 20-25 now, the ones that were torture. Once I hit mile 25 and I knew I could finish, I was able to fly and find some joy. Will that happen when I cross, say, 48,000 words?

NaNoWriMo, Day 24: Up and Over 40,000

I'm grabbing for scenes now, looking for anything I know that I can write. For instance, tonight: A Thanksgiving dinner. I know, how easy, right? But one has to occur in this book, it just makes sense, so the only thing better than writing what you know is writing what you just experienced for the first time. So, some general moments of my Thanksgiving were worked into this chapter.

In this scene, Walt and Sherry are clearly now deep in the love sauce, which is more than what what they had worked out in the previous chapter. So I'm clearly going to need some prose in between that will bridge that gap. I fear more and more that the last week of writing during NaNoWriMo will be spent creating these stones to get me across the river — stones that will be too far apart to easily hop from one to the next. And so I will spend all of my first edit on this draft writing that bridge material. This baby could do some serious expanding in that phase.

I wish I could feel more joyous about breaking the 40,000 barrier, but it feels like I'm flailing with my fingers here.

And no, the time stamp on this entry is not incorrect; I really am that dumb! *grin*

NaNoWriMo, Day 23: Hoping for Miracle Post-Production?

The family went out to see the new movie Enchanted yesterday, but due to the fact that no babysitters were available, somebody had to stay back with Susannah, who was napping. I was the obvious choice, since I had writing to do, and so I reluctantly let them go. (We get to see so few movies these days!)

I got a bit done, about a thousand words, but not what I was hoping for. I continue to struggle with where this is all going, and being overwhelmed with what still must come. Timeline issues are a mess, and I'm trying to tell myself that I can write through them and figure all that stuff out later — that nothing is stopping me from at least getting down the scenes that I know are going to happen. But my head won't let me; I seem to have to know when these things happen in time.

The other major issue: one of the major climaxes of the book is when my main character takes his girlfriend and her daughter back to the place he's been avoiding for the last two decades of his life, for a sort of confrontation of his past. The problem is that I can't seem to figure out what it is that is compelling enough to make him go back there. Thinking about this issue has become a mini-obsession with me, but the more I think about it, the more blocked I feel.

Write what you do know, I think. But I'm struggling with knowing anything at this point.

God dammit! This is a good idea! I know this can be done! Sometimes I just wonder if I'm the one to do it. For all the writing I've done in my life, I suddenly feel remarkably inexperienced. Sometimes the book feels like a huge tease. Normally I don't mind being teased — it can be fun and inspiring. But this doesn't feel like the good tease. This is the jigsaw puzzle on a deadline, with pieces missing. I could spend the rest of the month looking for those pieces . . . or I could just put together what I know, hope it adds up to 50,000 words (pieces), and then hope that I can "fix it in the mix."

NaNoWriMo, Day 22: Feasting, and Back On Track

What a fantastic Thanksgiving this was. Such an amazing feast of food, and it was so much fun to cook all of those dishes. "So many options!" one family member said. "That's what Marck's Thanksgivings are like," another replied. And that made me feel great. I'm sure it's more than needs to be done, but it's fun to try out these recipes and so hard for me to narrow them down. So . . . What the hell? It's once a year. Go for it. And we did. And we kicked ass.

Starting to find a little ass-kicking power on the writing thing again, too. I spent some time earlier in the evening jotting down events that need to happen in certain scenes, and when I sat down to seriously write tonight, I was able to get some words flowing again. Not a 4,000-word day by any means, but tonight I feel like I might be able to do that again. Sometime.

My focus now is on keeping the plot moving. Today is the first day of the last week of this event, and I'm keenly aware of how far I must still go to get anywhere near the end. I don't mind glossing over moments, as long as I leave enough bread crumbs to be able to get back to them later. It's all about my getting this first draft done.

I mentioned to someone tonight that I wasn't sure I could stand to still be working on this first draft into December. "Actually," I clarified, "I'm not sure Laura could stand it." And Laura, who was standing nearby, said, "Oh, I wouldn't mind at all." So maybe that was something like permission to keep writing past 11/30 to get that first draft done. That would kind of break with the spirit of NaNoWriMo, but in the end I would be happier that I managed to include at least a bit of everything that needed to happen in the story, with time to flesh things out in the coming months.

Nano Wrimo, Day (21) Off

I think my life could not have picked a better day to get so crazy-busy that I would skip writing. I had the advantage of having hit Wednesday's quota on Thursday, and Laura and I took Wednesday off in order to prep for the Thanksgiving feast. Which is a beast of a feast. So with everything that had to be done in prep (including a sink-unclogging that featured gunk getting sprayed all over my wife's freshly showered face — a story that I hope she'll find some humor in someday, but that ain't today so you'll have to wait for that one), I really had no problem not making time to write.

So I used my day in the bank, and I'm still on quota. Now I'm up against it today, and I'm hoping that we did so much prep last night that I might have a half-hour or hour or so to sit down and do some very specific outlining of the remaining work. 'Cause let me tell you . . . I've got two people who are kind of in a dysfunctional place in their relationship, and I need to get their asses together somehow. (Amanda -- thanks for the comment; I'm trying to work exploding penguins into their romance.)

I've had all these scenes floating around in my head — little moments, almost like memories of a life that I've never led — and I need to find a home for them. My hopes have been that today is the day they get anchored to a section of the book. And then, hopefully, I'll have some idea of where I'm going with this and I can start cranking out the words.

My hopes of doing this project might have been dashed last night by the confluence of a number of events. We finally finished food prep (and kitchen cleanup) at 1:45 a.m. and got ready for bed, only to find that Zuzu had woken up. And more than just a middle-of-the-night disturbance; a serious wake-up. She does this sometimes, and when she does she's completely disoriented and convinced it's time to get up for the day. She insisted on something to eat, and then complained of (growing) pain in her knees. A bowl of fresh pineapple and two teaspoons of kids' Motrin later, she was finally settling in.

Cue the dog. Our family from St. Louis brought their King Charles spaniel with them. Lily is very much a part of the family, and we love her to death. She's never been a problem before, but last night it was clear to her from all the crying and getting-of-food that other people were awake. So she began this methodical single bark every 10 to 15 seconds. I stumbled out and "talked" to her. And she quieted down, and I finally was able to fall asleep . . . with Zuzu slapping her arms out and regularly hitting me in the face.

CRASH! Something came piling through our bedroom door and collapsed on the ground. "I'm so scared I'm so scared I'm so scared I'm so scared!" Piper screamed, and piled into bed on Laura's side. Serious nightmare action. I took the opportunity to move Zuzu back to her bed, where she woke up just enough to demand a little backrub before she fell back asleep and let me go.

Ah -- back in bed, just falling asleep, and . . .

"Woof!"

Out to the living room to remind Lily that, no, no one was really up, and sorry for fooling her.

Blissfully asleep . . . until . . . What was that sound? Something way off in the distance . . . which if I'm not mistaken . . . wait, it's getting louder as I wake up . . . Yeah, that would be the house alarm. Sister-in-law Heidi had gotten up to take Lily out for a walk and had forgotten about the alarm system.

So, that was the end . . . I was up! All of which is to say that I'm not really feeling very creative at the moment, and any free time that I was hoping would be used for novel outlining will most likely be used for catnaps on the couch while the turkey cooks.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

NaNoWrimo, Day 20: An Excerpt That Will Never Make It Into the Next Draft

My wife sat across from me at the island in the kitchen tonight, looked deep into my eyes, and said those Three Little Words:

"You look tired."

That's Exhibit A.

Exhibit B is a sample of the evening's output. I think it perfectly captures my frame of mind about this novel right now.

“For someone who works in a gallery, you have very little art,” she noted, sliding in to the dining nook.

“I work there. I don’t buy there.”

“So why no wall stuff?” she asked.

“I don’t like lots of stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” she smiled. “When you travel light, you can skip town faster, right?” He wasn’t sure what she meant by that. He dried the dishes and put them away. “Could I maybe have a glass of water?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said as he took a couple of tumblers from a set Cynthia had brought, rescuing it from languishing in the Stockman basement. He brought the waters over and sat across from her.

They sat in silence for awhile. She studied the grain in the table, visible through the fading pale yellow paint. He looked up at the light fixture above them, noticing for the first time that the wattage could stand to be stronger. Back to their drinks, where they both took sips at the same time, set their glasses down at the same time, and laughed at their mirror games.

“So . . .” she began.

“Yes?”

“What shall we talk about?”

“I really haven’t a clue,” Walt said.

Silence again. A dumpster top slammed shut on the alley, and three stories above, Walt thought he saw a ripple on the surface of his glass of water.

“Do you think,” she suggested, “that we would talk better . . . that maybe this whole scene would go better . . . if we just moved over to my place? I mean, at least over there, there are more people to interact with. My daughter, her best friend, the best friend’s parents.”

He absently ran a finger around the rim of his glass.

“Yeah. Sure.” He got up from the table. “Let’s do that.” He took her glass back to the sink, not bothering to rinse it out before meeting her at the door.

In case you're wondering, things didn't go any better at her place.

NaNoWriMo, Day 19: Eyelids, Don't Fail Me Now!

I am unbelievably tired today. I feel like I've been sleepwalking through my whole day. My word count tonight reflects this. On two of occasions, I have dozed off with my fingers on the keys. I really just need to get some sleep.

I wish I had more of a lead over my word count going into Thanksgiving. I also wish I had a better idea of where the plot was going. I really need to sit down and do some organizing or the whole thing is going to fall apart.

NaNoWriMo, Day 18: En Fuego

So, I didn't get to a café today. It just wasn't going to work with all that we had to do today, and with Zuzu's nap schedule. But I think it worked out okay.

A big shout-out to Laura's mom for taking Piper to go see Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium this afternoon. And for Laura, for really falling on her own sword when she then took Piper with her on a trip to many department stores for returns and a little shopping. That left me at home to write as Zuzu took a long nap. (Yeah, thanks to you too, little girl.)

The result: I got into the prep school prank flashback today, and absolutely heated the keyboard with my typing. Part of the reason that this section went as well as it did is because it's based on an incident I experienced in college; all that was left was some huge exaggeration and making everyone involved a little more evil or a little more filled with goodness, and voila . . .

I knocked out almost 4,000 words today.

It's nice to actually be a bit ahead of the game for a change. Laura wants me ahead so that I can actually take Thanksgiving off. Me, I'm feeling more like I need to get these words behind me so that I have a chance in hell of actually reaching the end of my story sometime in the first week of December!

Anyway: Mucho thanks to a very supportive family. It makes a huge difference in this married father of two actually being able to get this thing done.

NaNoWriMo, Day 17: Chaos Now, Order Later.

I can start to feel the building pressure of the holidays intruding on my time to write: This afternoon, Piper was settled in watching Nanny McPhee and Zuzu was asleep. Primo time for writing, right? Except that I spent the whole time doing menu planning for the time when my Laura's brother's family will be here. More time will be spent doing this tomorrow as well, though I've promised myself (and Laura has backed this up) that I will get away for a couple of hours. Maybe back to Café Ambrosia, where I had such a productive afternoon last weekend.

I've gotten Walt through the flashback to his breakup with Jacqui, which is really only a device to get him to tell about his past. I can think of many pieces that I've left out, but they'll probably come up in the next scene, which is another flashback, this time regarding his time at a boarding school where he had to hide his history from his classmates.

It occurred to me tonight that my chapter outline might have a real problem: After Walt and Sherry get to know each other in the present, I have three chapters — two of them fairly long — where we leave the present. That's a lot of time without the reader dealing with the relationship they're supposed to care so much about. Or that I thought they were supposed to care so much about; maybe that's too much of an assumption on my part.

I looked briefly after finishing writing tonight at how I might rearrange these sections. And then I realized: Why bother? All of the content is good and necessary, so who cares right now if it's not in the right place? The important thing is that it's out. I'll figure out the right place for it later. Hell, for all I know, maybe the break from present-day Chicago for so long smack-dab in the middle of the book might serve as a sort of "halftime show" (maybe I should have Janet Jackson show up and flash the reader?) before things get cooking on the downhill.

This book is looking to clock in around 60,000 words. This is what I'm thinking right now: While I'm at over 29,000 words, I think this is about the halfway point. The problem is, I'm feeling very low on story ideas right now. I'm not sure how I'll find the creative energy to fill in these gaps; it's just not coming like it used to.

So, you know what? I resolve to only worry about what I can write tomorrow. Beyond that, I'm just going to have to trust that I'm going to work out the issues in my head and find the scenes that need to be there. What else can I do, really?

NaNoWriMo, Day 16: The Second Half Begins

I had to stop writing tonight when I woke up to discover that I had "typed" six lines of the letter "k." I had fallen asleep at the keyboard with my hands on the home keys, and my right middle finger had pressed just a little too hard.

As would be expected, I've come down a bit from yesterday's euphoria. To offset that let-down, a fun lunch with some writers today got the juices flowing in very different ways. I liked the balance of confidence sitting around that table, nicely mixed with "We really don't know 100% what we're doing but we're doing it anyway." Nice to look around at the other people who jumped off this cliff with you, take your eyes off the ground rushing up at you, and realize that you're all in this together.

I'm nearing the end of this easy-to-write section and can already feel some tension about the next section, a flashback taking Our Hero all the way back to his boarding-school experience in his teens. Maybe I'll have him learn how to cast spells in a giant castle with constantly shifting staircases. For some reason that sounds familiar, but I'm going with it.

I feel like I have more valuable things to write about tonight in this blog, but I continue to fall asleep here, so actual thought will have to wait until another evening.

Hey. By Monday, I should be well over 30,000 words!

NaNoWriMo, Day 15: Look At Me, I'm A Chiropractor!

Many years ago, before I knew much about medicine and doctors and such, a good friend of mine told me about this miracle chiropractor she had been seeing.

"I don't know how she does it," Beth said, "but this guy can just . . . very gently . . ." as she demonstrated by placing a hand on my neck, and seeming almost to tentatively squeeze it, ". . . move something. And all of a sudden, it's like he has restored the bloodflow to that part of my body. I feel this sense of freedom, of things opening up. It's the closest thing to a miracle I've experienced at a doctor's office."

In the shower this morning, I was thinking about how stuck I've been in my story, mired in the relationship between my two main characters. And then I realized something, and made a simple decision: I'd leave that chapter unfinished and simply move ahead to the next chapter. Which, according to the outline, involves a flashback. Not just any flashback: it's the one where Walt spills the beans.

And let me tell you: that one, simple, gentle decision has completely freed my mind, my fingers, my muse. Because tonight, when I finally sat down to write (sadly, much later than I had hoped), those words came tumbling out like . . . like Jasmati rice out of the bulk dispenser at Whole Foods!

Alright, but the words I was writing were better than that crap simile. Trust me.

Anyway, it's been a fun night! And the best part is that I'm stopping with so much more to go! I could have easily broken 28,000 tonight if I wasn't still recovering from the cold, and if I knew I needed to conserve a little strength for the weekend and the writing to be done then.

But the good thing is that I've left myself right in the middle of this fun scene, and I get to continue it tomorrow! So I should have another banner day tomorrow night.

Halle-friggin'-lujah! I know I'm not out of the woods, by any means — I still have many thorny issues to grapple with. But it is such a relief to experience that sense of "typing on air" after several days of typing with mini-dumbbells duct-taped to each finger.