A Writer's Journal

Tuesday, March 30

Here we are, not entirely starting over on the book, but kind of. Keeping fav characters and their lives. Saying bye to less fav characters. Totally reworking plot and structure. One day I will reread the first months of this journal and think, “Oh, poor writer, if you only knew how many of these chapters you’re so proud of now will be ditched.” Will you believe me if I say this makes me happy? Writers R Weird.

Wednesday, March 31

New improved plot coming along nicely. I suppose there is still that small business about writing it all down in book form.

Thursday, April 1

I’m committing an unnatural act: outlining.

Friday, April 2

It’’s amazing to watch the same major characters and plot points drop into different, more natural places in the story. I’m glad I’ll maybe get to keep them. It’s good to find silver linings–since I’m throwing away the 50,000 words I wrote in the past few months. The next 50,000 will be better. One hopes. One does.

Monday, April 5

I came home from Costco with a white dry erase board and four colors of markers! NOW I can plot. Or plotz. One or the other.

Tuesday, April 6

Thinking out loud: So far, I have four points of view in this novel, two men, one woman, one child. I confess that I play fast and loose with pov, and break the “rules.” Sometimes I drop in extra povs and hope nobody will notice. Do not try this at home, children.

But here’s the thing–if a Big Event happens, and if what makes it big is its rippling/widening effect on a lot of people*, then those people may have to be heard up close and personal. So I like to look at it through their eyes. One thing I try never to do, however, is mix povs in a single scene. Other authors get away with even that, though.

Don Maass talks about this in his book, Fire in Fiction, in which he explains how it’s not the size of the storm, it’s the number of people affected by the storm that make it a big event, which in turn can turn it into a Big Book.

Wednesday, April 7

I don’t think I can do it. Outline from beginning to end, that is. The urge to just write is too strong. The outlining thing is beginning to feel as if I’m trying to outline my own life when the truth is I don’t even know what might happen tomorrow. You know that old saying, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans?” That. “Story is what happens when I’m busy making other plot.”

Monday, April 12

I’ve been writing. The first chapter is now a hundred times stronger than the original, and this is a result of a.) writing the original version; b.) throwing away the original version; c.) doing some “outlining,” which consisted mainly of reworking the plot and characters, but not all the way through to the end; and d.) writing a new first chapter. So far, the new second chapter is looking better, too. I’m hopeful. Such is the process. Such is the pain and the relief form the pain. Which is not to say I’ll end up being able to keep everything I’m doing this time. But gradually, I’m getting there.

Monday, March 15
During work: Didn’t feel like writing. Wrote anyway. So glad I did. My poor heroine. She’s in for it, and she doesn’t know it yet.

Hindsight says: should have paid attention to “didn’t feel like writing.” My poor heroine is going to vanish from the book, because it turns out she’s not the real heroine.

Tuesday, March 16
During work: Still don’t feel like writing. Still writing anyway. It’s going to be okay. Not one of those times when I throw everything away and think, “Why did I force myself?” Something not forced about this, even in the mood I’m in. Something wants to be written, despite me, and all I can say is, “Okay, whatever,” and type.

Hindsight: Whatever it was that wanted to keep writing was doing so only to show me it wasn’t going to work, apparently. None of this writing this week will survive.

Wednesday, March 17
Last book, I hit three dry wells before hitting the word-gusher. This time, I hit the word-gusher right off the bat, which felt great. Last week it stopped gushing. Today I know why: I need to go back in time and find out what happened there, before I can go forward again. Whew. ::Puts down dynamite.::

Hindsight: Need the dynamite after all. Going back in time is giving me a different novel. I’m keeping only the small town parts, and throwing Kansas City away.

Friday, March 19
Forgot my writing journal entry yesterday: Doing research, as part of the back-hoeing into the past to be able to move forward into the story. Discovered something so interesting, and important, and am struggling to *really* understand it.

Hindsight: No wonder I “forgot” it, since there wasn’t writing to report.

Saturday, Feb. 27 No writing, but a bit of scribbling of notes & ideas, plus a little research, on the next book. (Poets’ advice)

Sunday, Feb. 28
After work: I’ll be darned. Now I know why Wayne married his third wife. I really couldn’t figure out what he’d have seen in her, and turns out it was hidden in an early chapter, all along. Really, how does it happen that the author can be the last to know?

Monday, March 1
Before work: Cool dream last night, about my book, I think. Imagine this: Approaching *my* house at evening, I see a magnificent buck standing in the street. I go inside, where my (late) father is repairing something, oblivious to all else A doe and two youg fawns run into the house. Then, oh no! One of the fawns escapes into the back yard. . .
I watch from the porch as the fawn is ringed on three sides by a bobcat, a wild dog, a fox, and a grizzly bear. (They’re standing at a little distance, not much but some, and watching it, as if they are stalking, but not ready to pounce yet. A polar bear appears from the left and rushes toward the fawn, looking as if he will attack it. Instead, they touch noses. The p.b. rises up and makes sweeping motions with its arms, as if to say, “Go! Go, get away from here!”
Note: the grizzly is frightening to the other predators.
On the porch, I am concerned for the fawn, astonished at the p.b, but not that upset about what may happen.
Note: I often write on a similar screened-in porch.
Either it’s my book, or it’s an episode of LOST, lol.

I’m getting the most amazing book epiphanies from the dream. Each of the characters in the dream corresponds to a character in the novel. Also, the dream reveals certain things to me that I hadn’t realized–such as how many double sibling groups I have in this book and how in each instance, one sib goes forth into danger and the other one stays home. So strange. Thanks you, subconscious.

For the next book, I’ve discovered why I’ve had several years worth of fascination with the supposed sightings of black panthers/cougars in Kansas. In looking them up again, I came across a sentence that gave me chills, because of how it may work into the next book. Note: That’s one animal that wasn’t in my dream, but then it also has no place in the current work in progress.

Tuesday, Feb. 2
Middle of work: In writing, is there anything that feels any better than rewriting a scene and having it turn into something much more textured and “right” and satisfying? (p.s. I had another book-dream last night, only this time for the next book. Dream advised against letting book get quirky; need it to stay grounded in real life.)
After work: It’s coming together so nicely in rewrites. ::looks nervously over shoulder::

Wednesday, March 3
After work: Took a scene from one chapter, put it at the front of another chapter, cut most of that existing chapter except for some dialogue, and rewrote the rest. (Baxter Springs scene.) Better now.

Thursday, March 4
Work: Ack. The first 100 pp are now in pretty good shape, and I’m proud of them, but now I’m reading the second 100 and my eyes are spinning. Who wrote this mishmash, and why didn’t somebody stop her? I deleted two boring & unnecessary chapters today (Brooke going to his sister’s house, Terry meeting their family, Kristin meeting his). But I can only rewrite part of these next 100 pages, because before I rewrite the rest of them I’ll need to know what happens further ahead in the story, and I haven’t written that yet. (I’m wanting a chapter from Marcie’s POV, but that seems like too many POV’s, and she hasn’t had one up to now. What to do, what to do? Write it anyway, I think, just to get to know her better, if nothing else. Good enough reason to do it, even if I end up tossing it or giving the pov to another character.)
At least now I can tighten up some things. Lost a bunch of pages, but who cares if the story & writing are better because of it? I was a little worried anyway that I was taking too many pages/words to get to the next section of the book.

Friday, March 5
Sent 99 pp. to brilliant, charming, funny, really really nice editor. Need coffee.
Got coffee. Then wrote 1,000+ words, thought I was finished, then wrote another 1,000.
Satisfied sigh.

Saturday, Feb. 13
Work: mostly thinking about the organization of my chapters in the first half.

Monday, Feb. 15
At work: Ugh. Plotting. Who knew, how did they know, when did they know, what did they do when they found out? Sounds like politics.
After work: had an idea for a plot twist, did some research on churches in Galena, Ks., wrote another 1,000 words. Boring to read this description of my workday, and not all that much fun to do, either. I’m irritable and restless. Considering chocolate.

Tuesday, Feb. 16
After work: Necessary, productive, tedious, COMPLETELY annoying afternoon of moving clues around. Me, cranky? ::Bites heads off bats:: Why do you ask?

Wednesday, Feb. l7
After work: Today was fun. At my library, I took two free hours in a room with a long table. Laid out 20 chapters on the table & walked around them, getting a feel for the movement of the story. Switched a few around. Sensed what was missing in a few others. Stuck notes to some. When I was done, everything felt a whole lot better. Afterward, I researched goats on the web, yes I did, and then went to Starbucks and wrote a scene with four goats in it.
Bats got off lucky today.

Thursday, Feb. 18
After work: Ups and downs. Good morning at the Library Table. Good afternoon of writing and fixing things. Enjoyed researching the trailer Jimmy and Wayne live in, and then describing it on the page. Found I had Rex revealing something in Chapter 2 that he contradicted later. Changed the physical description of a deputy. Got started inserting new tension in Chapter 7. But I got too tired and plunged into doom and gloom. It took Boston Rob on Survivor to tell me I had a case of crybabyitis. Oh god, too true, lol.

Friday, Feb. 19
After work: Finally! I know what goes in that one chapter with the empty pages. Getting these first 200 pp. ready to go to my editor is taking a lot of thought and work. It’s going to feel good to finish them and feel ready to move on to the second half of the book.

Saturday, Jan. 30
Before work: the middle muddle just broke through into sunshine. I figured it out by thinking about what Don Maass wrote about my own book, The Virgin of Small Plains, in his book Fire in Fiction. It’s not the size of the storm–weather or otherwise– it’s the breadth & depth of its impact. It’s funny when you learn from somebody else’s analysis of your own work.

Sunday, Jan. 31
Day off. Sneaked away to do one of my favorite things–see a matinee movie alone, just me and my diet coke and my slightly buttered popcorn. A movie is one of the few things that can get me out of my own head when my mind is deep in a book.

Tuesday, Feb. 2
Before work: Back into it for realz today. It’s going so eerily fast that I’ve promised my editor half of it by the end of March. Everything between now and then will consist of polishing and filling in the first 50,000 words. I don’t dare think how unusual it is for me to be this far along this soon. Mumbling to self: Printed out 150 pp., got my post-its ready to go, starting thinking about all the things I need to check for, already have some ideas about how to tighten a couple of scenes, expand others. I may go hide in a private room in my library to do this intense work. I suspect I’ll emerge with around… 200 pp. which I’ll turn over to my editor while I start rough draft scenes for next 200.

Wednesday, Feb. 3
Before work: At library, itchin’ to edit.
After work: Sixty-two pages later. . .Geez, I wonder who slipped all of those clunky sentences into my manuscript? The same one who left out the conflict in two pivotal scenes, I suspect. If I ever find out who did it, she’s in big trouble!

Thursday, Feb. 4
Before work: There’s a romantic scene I loved writing. Now, I’m distressed to find it’s boring. Lacks dramatic tension. I need to tear it open (ala Maass’ Fire in Fiction) and find the tension. As I write this I suddenly realize exactly where it is. *He* says something that my original version has *her* accepting too easily. She should feel surprised and uneasy.
After work. Well, the first 62 pages are now 59 pages. Not a bad net loss, really. I’m pleased. Didn’t get to the romantic scene today. Oh, boy, they’re in for it tomorrow.

Friday, Feb. 5
Snow, but not enough of it to use as an excuse for anything.
After work: Deleted about a thousand words, substituted about a thousand better ones. So much of writing a novel feels like running on a treadmill moving backward, just trying to stay standing and not fall behind too much. This is not a complaint, believe it, or not, it’s just life in the novel lane. I’ll be on this backward moving treadmill for a while before it reverses direction and shoots me forward again.