What did she say?

If that title sounds familiar, thank you.  It means you may have read the post I did about two years ago with the same title.  I figure two years is long enough for a rerun.  If you missed that post or (which I’m sure is more likely) you simply don’t remember that far back, I gave a brainstorming example.  Sometimes when I’m stuck on a conversation between characters, I’ll start writing whatever pops into my head until something actually sounds good. 

In the book I’m currently working on, two characters named Gabriel and Ruth are reminiscing about a silly dance they used to do when they were kids.  Gabriel asks why they stopped doing the dance.  These are some of the responses I imagined from Ruth.

“It stopped being about mocking your parents pretty quickly.”

“Was it ever?” Gabriel asked.  “I mean, we were just having fun.”

“How many times did we do that when your parents weren’t even in the room?”

“Too many times to count.”

“I’m sure we looked even more ridiculous than your parents.”

“No, I think they looked sillier because they were old and we were fourteen.”

“That dance was always stupid.”

“Stupid fun is the best kind.”

“I still don’t know if they did that just to be mocked or if it was the way they really danced.”

“I don’t think it was either.  I think it was a spur of the moment thing.  They didn’t care if they got mocked by a couple of kids.” 

Which of these responses did I choose?  None of the above.  I only start listing a bunch of possible lines when I’m really stuck.  And sometimes I’m still stuck when I’ve exhausted the list.  But... this is only the first draft.  There is still hope for better inspiration when I’m editing the scene.  It’s early enough that I could even delete this troublesome conversation altogether.  I’m hoping for inspiration.

A Day in the Life

I don’t like the term Writers’ Block.  And I really don’t like the reason I don’t like the term.  Writers’ Block sounds external, like something that happens to make writing difficult and leaves the writer little control over when it strikes.

This has not been my experience.  My experience of slow or stalled progress is that it is usually my own darn fault.  I’d love to get to the end of an unproductive day and chalk it up to Writers’ Block, but I know I can’t.  My prime writing time is weekdays from 9 to 2 because that’s when my kids are in school and my house is quiet.  This is how I recently spent those hours. 

8:50 am   I’m sitting down with my notebook a bit early and am excited about this ambitious start to my day.

8:51 am   I pick up a book someone left on the couch near me, just to read the description on the back.

9:22 am   This is when I realize I have spent a half hour reading the description as well as the first few chapters.  The worst part... it’s a book I’ve already read.  I put it aside to focus on writing.

9:30 am   There’s a box of wooden train track pieces in the room.  Because they’re there, I keep envisioning a layout for them.  I’m not going to actually build a train track when no one is home to play with it.  Why can’t I stop myself from looking at the pieces?

9:47 am   I am completely disgusted with myself because I’m still thinking about train tracks.  I haven’t written anything, and I’m not even thinking about my characters.  I’m thinking about train tracks and how it probably would have taken less time to just build a track than I’ve spent thinking about NOT building one.  I decide to take a break for lunch.  I am aware that it isn’t even 10 am.  There is logic in this decision though.  If I eat now – when I’m already not getting anything done – then I won’t have to interrupt all the work I’ll be doing later to eat.

11:18 am   Turn off the TV.  I got sucked into something I was only going to watch for a few minutes while I ate.  What has happened to my morning?  I stare at the clock as though it has betrayed me.

11:19 am   Time to get serious.  I could still write an entire chapter before 2 o’clock.  That wouldn’t be too shabby.

11:20 am   I have written a sentence.  I’m still annoyed because I’m patting myself on the back as though a sentence is some sort of accomplishment.

11:53 am   That one sentence is still the only thing I’ve written, and I’m no longer congratulating myself.  In fact, I’m not sure I even like that sentence anymore.

11:57 am   I have crossed out and rewritten part of that sentence.  I’m trying to convince myself that I didn’t go backwards.  Perhaps it will save me editing time in the future.

1:08 pm   Now that I believe reviewing counts as getting work done, I’ve spent an hour reading some of the chapters I’ve already written.  I didn’t change more than a word or two, but at least I’m thinking about my book now.  Having the last events of the story fresh in my head should help me write the next part.

1:32 pm   My eyes keep getting drawn to a fleck of something on the carpet while I’m thinking about what to write.  I feel a sudden urge to vacuum.

1:41 pm   I will be able to concentrate much better now that the room is tidier.

2:05 pm   I hate that sentence.  Not because it’s the only thing I’ve written all day and not because it’s a bad sentence.  I hate it because I’ve now read it at least a hundred times trying to get it to spur the next thought.  All for naught.  I put the notebook down and wish I had someone or something other than myself to blame for having only one sentence to show for the day.  I wish Writers’ Block didn’t just sound like an excuse. 

Square One

Sometimes I feel as though I’m always at square one.  I am always starting over.  This is a problem with writing books.  I don’t get a lot of time to enjoy a finished project because I’m too busy starting another one.  There’s always another book to write.

My next book is almost done.  This will be the third book in my children’s fantasy series.  It’s going to be called Brelin and Wisherton and will release near the end of May.  Almost done means the book is getting some final proofreading.  This is the stage where I get help, which means I’m not actively working on the book.  I have to work on something so I’m planning out what’s next.

What is next?

I’m glad you asked.  I’m planning to do another series.  These books will be set in another fictional small town, more like Hartford than Thompsonville.  Yes, they will be love stories.  Yes, I’m having trouble naming the characters.  No, I don’t have any ideas on a title either.  This all feels very familiar.

I’ve been at square one before.  I’ve been at square one many times before.  The cycle keeps repeating.  When that Wisherton book releases, I’ll be looking at a few scribbled pages and a ton of work.  This won’t give me much time for celebrating the previous accomplishment.  It sounds kind of demoralizing, doesn’t it?

It’s not.  There are certainly times when having to start over is no fun, but writing a new book is not one of them.  Square one lets me entertain ideas too ridiculous to actually use.  Nothing has to make sense until I start making decisions.  I get to daydream until I’m picturing what will eventually become my favorite scenes in the book.  I like square one.  I may have a whole lot of work in front of me, but I haven’t started it yet.