N for New Idea, and O for Overproduction: A to Z challenge

Writing and remodelling, the late night edition

Still under it's spell

Turns out, I'm having a devil of a time getting this silly Shiny New Idea to leave me alone for even short periods of time.

I dream about it.

No really, as in, I can't stop thinking about it. This idea is going to drive me insane. And let's be clear, I work a job where I really have to think and I have to think for long stretches of a time. But the second I stand up to go to the bathroom, I'm in another world.

Sometimes the real world is just frustrating in that whole I need a job to pay the bills thing.

*wistful sigh*

How about you? Do you cave to your new ideas, or do you beat them back with a stick? Are they easy to fend off, or are they intrusive, causing you to have somewhat obsessive behaviors around them--wait, that's a silly question, if you wrote a novel about it, you were obsessed. As we all know writing a novel is an act of madness.

right, and in the mean time, enjoy this picture of an iris from my mother's yard:

Ideas are cheap

At least I tell myself that. But then I have an idea.

And here's how that goes

Shiny New Idea: (waving frantically) Hey! Hey! WRITE ME!! No, don't listen to that other idea! Write me!

Me: I have work to do. You know, a contract?

SNI: But I'm a brilliant new idea. You should be honored to have even had me. Do you know how rare we are?

Me: I had a good idea for a whole trilogy last week, what makes you so different?

SNI: I have an awesome title. (holds out hands while nodding)

Me: I don't have time for this.

SNI: But I won't let you down like all those other ideas. I am the IT factor. (widens eyes and nods).

Me:(long suffering sigh) Fine. I'll write you down. That's all I can promise. You'll have to wait in line with the others.

SNI: A line? A NUMBER? Fine, you wanna make me wait, fine. Have ALL THE THOUGHTS! (floods my brain with the whole world, the strange cultures, the twists, the imagery) HA! SEE IF YOU CAN WRITE LIKE THAT!

Me: Alright, I'll put together an outline, but I really do have a deadline. I need some space.

SNI: Okay, I can be patient. (leaks more imagery and some FEELS)

Me: Hey, I said space, okay?

SNI: I just don't want you to forget. I think I'm pretty awesome.

Me: I noticed.

SNI: (leaks more details)

Me: (sigh)

The Joy of The End... for now at least

Ah, there is no more wonderful feeling than typing The End. Even when I know that this silly book is going to continue to cause me pain and suffering (and sweet potatoes, this one caused episodes of abject whining and moaning already) it’s still nice to put the damned thing away for a little while.

I haven’t shared the title of this little gem, but since I’m about to toss it into the revision stew to let it simmer for a while, I thought I’d give it a touch of love as I start to practice pitching (seriously though, it’s a rough draft, so it’s just not ready for anything).

Title: TO SING DOWN THE SKY

Comparison: If you took Captain Jack Sparrow and put him into a blender with Avatar: The Last Airbender and hit frappe, you’d get this story.

Pitch (this is super rough, so feel free to comment):

Tashira grew up in a world where singing is punishable by death. The only people who sing are the sea priests, ancient descendants from the guardians of the seas, and tasked with keeping the world safe from the Kryannians, monsters who live in the depths of the oceans. When the priests arrest Caven, a young man serving on a cargo ship, Tashira begins to doubt the sea priests’ propaganda. When the sea priests burn down her home and send giant mud crabs to kill her, Tashira knows something is wrong with the priests. To get her answers, she defies the priests and sings. When her song calls down a storm, Tashira knows that the sea priests are lying and she’s something the world hasn’t seen in generations: a storm singer.

Now the only problem is staying alive long enough to uncover the other lies the sea priests have raised her on, and the biggest is waiting at the bottom of the sea.

Yeah, like I said, that’s really rough. It needs a lot of work, but so does the draft.

Stats (because I love numbers)

Date started: 4/1/2013

Date ended: 7/13/2013

Time off (for good behavior): 21 days (you know, to start a new job, and interview, and work on another project… normal stuff).

Number of days writing: 84 (commonly known as 12 weeks, no really, it’s uncanny).

Average number of words per day: 881

Number of times I whined about how much it sucked: Yeah, I can’t count that high, I’m busy toasting the end of a rough draft here.

Number of Shiny New Ideas that tried to tempt me away: 2

Number of words I plan to cut when I get back to this draft sometime in December? All the words.

So there you have it folks. Start to finish, one rough draft. How do I feel? Well, it always feels great to pound out the words “The End,” but I can honestly say that this was one of the hardest books to write ever (I say that every time because This Is the Hard Part). The whole time I could see my failings as a writer while I was writing it. It was strange to see it as such a terrible, flawed thing. Usually, when I write a rough draft, it’s a fast and easy love. All I want to do is work on it. This one saw me questioning everything about it: Is this good enough? Was Act I long enough? Did I include enough description? Too much? Is the dialogue good enough? Does my non-native speaker sound to much like he’s from India? Does he sound british now? Oh god, shoot me before my pirates start saying “shiver me timbers.” 

Okay, it might not have gotten that bad at the end, but I would definitely call that draft an over glorified outline. It’s going to gain about 20K in new material alone. Then I’m going to rewrite the whole thing. Yeah, I talk about efficiency because I have none. ::shakes fist at sky:: Process, why are you so lugubrious?!

And there you have it, Too Much Information. How about you, do your first drafts feel like they’re written with Umbridge’s pen, using your blood as the ink and scribing the words on your soul? Or are you a happy go lucky writer for whom first drafts are all kittens and rainbows? I used to be kittens and rainbows writer, but not anymore.  

Oh look! SHINY!

I know I’ve talked about how I consider myself lucky that I have more ideas than I’m ever going to be able to write. I’ve also mentioned that I feel like the way I get my ideas is entirely unprofessional, like I should be able to totally train up that whole idea generating part of my brain.

Nope. 

Not a chance. 

See, when a shiny new idea strikes, it just plows me over. There I am driving down the road, and BAM! Shiny New Idea, one fully formed novel downloaded into my brain from the Zeitgeist. Seriously, I stopped to write the query letter synopsis for it. 

It really was that fast. One minute no idea. Next second, a fully formed novel complete with protag, antag, sidekicks, and minor villains. The WHOLE THING! Like seriously, how can I even think a whole novel in a second? It’s completely impossible. 

And yet, I’m now penciling in appointments with Alicia Rodriguez (my MC, who comes complete with a full background story including exs, college and an overbearing grandmother who just wants her to marry a nice Latino boy). 

Did I mention I’m currently in the process of writing about pirates! I don’t have time for a news reporter with a black belt in Judo! 

*sigh*

And then, my new MC has the gall to suggest she get upped in the queue. Umm, no, sweetie, I’m finishing with the pirates. Then you. I promise you’ll get your turn. 

So yeah, pluses: I never have to worry about where next idea comes from.

Draw backs: I might need a stick to beat my Shiny New Ideas into line.

How about you? Do you nurse your ideas along, or do the stalk you down dark alleys for inappropriate times (like just before job interviews)?

Inside my head (you might want to wear a hard hat).

I get the vast majority of my ideas while I work out. I know, the shower is the typical location, but what about me has made anyone think I’m normal? Right, so the sweaty, driving pace of cheap rebeats apparently drives the ideas straight from my sub consciousness into my frontal lobe (my only guess is that it’s some form of self defense against the mindless droning beats of pop music generally four or five years behind the time).

When these ideas strike, they are so complete, it’s almost impossible to ignore them. Sometimes they come complete with book covers and titles. Sometimes, even chapter titles. Thus is born the Shiny New Idea (SNI).

The only problem is when there’s a WIP currently on the typing block. Then there’re fireworks. It’s like a cage match between the SNI and my WIP and the cage is my head. And from somewhere, that movie announcer voice starts to narrate.

“Only one can survive.” And other cheesy movie tropes ensue.

Today, I was a good writer, and I put that SNI into a bin for later use. WIP wins, for today, but the road is perilous.

Then I thought about all the times that I’ve had this cage match in my head. I thought about all the times SNIs came jumping out of the corners of my mind to distract me from my real work. It’s a miracle any book gets written. I mean I have to fight these ideas off right and left. I’m not perfect; I’ve ditched WIPs for SNI in the past.

It made me strangely thankful to my favorite authors. They’ve surely had this cage match dozens of times in their heads and managed to pull WIP-that-became-a-cherished-novel out of the ring before SNI could pummel it into shreds.

So yeah, thank you awesome writers who write awesome books. I am in awe. Now back to work (“On Friday, Friday, Friday!” Oh shut up you stupid announcer voice).

Falling in love... again

When I put my WIP on hold I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to get back into it. I was such a fool to think it might lose its shiny luster. I’m back into it (it’s my Christmas gift to myself while I try to figure out where to go with my dissertation), and I’m loving it more than ever. I still don’t know where some of it is going, but I know the ending and a few important stops along the way. I even know what the sequel would be (erg, brain, why do you do that to me? I need the first story before we can think of the second story).

I know it’s boring to listen to people wax poetic about all manner of silly things, but there is little worse than writers going all over the moon about their WIP, so thanks for sticking around till the end. Here’s a funny for those of you who play Skyrim (or are at least familiar with the soundtrack):

and if you're still trying to figure it out, here's a taste of the epic music behind the funny. 

Patience

But first:

I’ve entered Weronika Janczuk’s contest for an autographed copy of MISERERE: AN AUTUMN TALE, Teresa Frohock’s debut dark fantasy. Check it out here: http://bit.ly/lL7kFw.

It looks like a great book, but as I haven’t read it yet, I don’t know. I’m definitely going to buy a copy if I don’t win this one.

And how fitting that my post on patience got interrupted. I think I can sum up my entire relationship with the virtue of patience in three words: I have none. 

Oh sure, I can wait my turn in the grocery store, and I never, ever hurry waiters, checkers, clerks or service people of any kind. That kind of patience I have in spades. No, I’m talking about the patience one needs in writing. That’s what I lack. 

I have these stories, and I so desperately want to tell them that I just can’t wait. I can’t wait to jump right in and get to the action of telling a story. I hate setting up the world, but I love the stories I get to tell there. I actually go through and read books where I think the author has patiently set up her(his) world to best execute a story. I read them as a constant reminder of what I should be doing, and I have the full knowledge that I’m not. I can’t wait to get to the good stuff in my story. I’ve gotten better over the years, and strangely, this is one of the areas where academics has really helped. It’s not enough. I want to get to the end of the book now. I’m inpatient. 

I’ve had another strike of lightning, a whole book has leapt into my head (Title, characters, everything, and I’ll put something down about this book when I start writing it), and I can’t wait to get started, except, here I am in the middle of telling another story. So I’m biding my time trying to be, you know, patient with myself. I’m trying to give my WIP the time and space it needs, because it’s a great big story with lots of fun and wonderful characters. I have to describe new places all the time because my scenes are happening all over the place, and I need a stage for my stories. Still, I have this other story that’s beating down the insides of my skull. Talk about tearing out my fingernails one by one, it’s complete torture. 

Then, because that wasn’t enough to tax my sad little abilities of waiting to getting around to telling my SNI, I changed the first chapter of my query bait. That means I have to go through the whole thing to make sure it’s consistent. So, the ‘free’ time that I usually use to write, and would be using to write this story that’s currently occupying my time, I’m reading through a manuscript I’ve nearly edited to death. 

So, all my writing is on hold while I make sure I have an internally consistent manuscript (it’s a really big deal in academics to have internally consistent models, so much so that I can’t bring myself to query without a read through to be 100% certain that I don’t have a blatant mistake in there now. It’s that important to catch the two references to the different first chapter). 

Before I can get to my shiny new idea, I have to finish off reading through my query bait, finish my first draft of my current project, then I can begin to think about putting my SNI to paper. I’m going to go bald with the anticipation to tell this story. 

Okay, probably not. I’ve managed to hold myself in check before, but this feeling like I can’t wait to start writing something is a good sign. A really good sign. 

“Patience, yeah, yeah, yeah, how long will that take?” –Tae Kwon Leap, the Frenetics