Here's what I did:
I wrote a book. Another book. Sort of.
I wrote 80,792 words (I'm counting "The End") on a novel that has had two false starts and, ahem, some history (see my previous blog post).
I had promised myself (and you, my faithful blog readers) I would write the rough draft (a.k.a. CrapDraft) in 14 days. It did, in fact, take me 18 days.
I did not do the whole "write ten minutes while you're waiting for the teakettle to boil" business. If I didn't have a decent block of time to write in (at least 2 hours) I didn't start. I didn't wake up early (well, once I did and decided that was for the birds). I didn't stay up late.
I did growl, snarl and hold up my hand to ward off the various members of my family. "You get nothing from me until September 21," I repeated time and time again.
I did attend my high school reunion and drink heavily. I am worried about the 7K I wrote while still hungover and riding in the passenger seat on I-64.
Not too worried, however--I refuse to worry until September 28th at the earliest. October, after all, will be for editing--or, in my case, rewriting the entire thing, including doing copious back research to see if half of the crazy stuff I put in this draft is even feasible.
This is what I've learned about myself in the process of crapdrafting: I write bigger. My characters get gored by boars and caught in Borneo mudslides. They kick each other in the guts and pull each other out of whirlpools in hurricanes. They swing from the chandeliers while engaged in other, well, activities. Sooner or later, I know, I'll have to calm them down.
But not before next week. This week I will simply strut around, struttingly.
I would edit that sentence--and decimate my em-dash population--if it were next week. But it ain't, is it?
Monday, September 7, 2009
I'm at it again: I'm binging on writing.
As part of the RWA's Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal chapter's 60 Days to PRO (RWA status) program I've signed onto Candace Havens's Fast Draft loop. In the next 14 days I will pound out a rough-and-dirty draft of the novel I've started, stopped and restarted again.
No excuses this time. No blaming anyone else. Once I'm off the starting line I will slog my sloppy ass all the way to the finish.
I won't blame the Famous Author who told me the conflict between the hero/heroine would never work (The choice at that point to shelve the book for nine months was mine and mine alone). I won't blame the Venerable Agent who told me to restructure it as a novella (The choice to shelve it again was, again, my choice).
This time, I won't blame anyone--including myself--for this book not coming to the page (Nor, for that matter, will I tell anyone anything about this WIP until the draft is done. My learning curve isn't very steep, but I do have one.)
To the page it will come, dagnabbit!
What I've finally come to realize after nigh-on 40 years of living is that I'm a binge-purger. Cleaning the kitchen every day makes me dull, slow and stupid. Give me a dumpster, some empty boxes and a couple of gallons of bleach, however, and watch me rip open and cleanse a garage at speeds that make the roadrunner blush.
So, too goes it for writing, at least for that initial draft: I get more done--hell, I get IT done--when I shut down, focus and type till my wrists scream and my butt spreads to fit the shape of the seat.
So Tweeple, don't expect much of me on twitter. Friends, my facebook status isn't likely to be that fascinating this week. And Ohio Valley chapter members please forgive me if I knock over all the folding chairs in the meeting squeezing into the room next weekend: You'll know it's because I was writing on the floor.
I will sneak over to read my comments, however, so let me know--have you ever NaNo-ed, Fast-Drafted or followed any other plan to dump the words on the page? And do you share your WIP with others, or keep it top secret until it's a fait accompli?