Not romantic, I can assure you . It's hard work, tons of it, and just when you think you're done you're really only 25% there. I'm starting to buckle under the pressure of having my first draft done for my novel, Scared, due by November 15th. So in the midst of taking care of my responsibilities at my day job, going to soccer games and basketball practices and so forth, I sneak away every chance I get to write. That's what I did all day today. In the office, in the corner of Borders for a bit, and now late into the night at home. I'm sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, listening to my Itunes so I can tune out the world, and going for it!
I must admit I have a bad habit of surfing the internet when I get bored or the plot gets stuck. Tonight, I'm glad I did because I read my good friend, Claudia Mair Burney's blog. This is what the life of a writer is all about after finishing a novel. Read this: (By the way, don't let her fool you. She's brilliant, amazing, and an accomplished writer!)
"Sometime just before 7pm I sent The Exorsistah to my developmental
editor. I can honestly say that I have never struggled so hard, or felt
so completely lost during the writing of a book.
Maybe some of
you will write and say, "You feel that way every time. I can show you
transcripts of our chats." But you'd have to show me, because it always
feels like this was the worse one ever.
Some of you have read my
rough drafts, and you know they are unapologetically rough. It's in
writing like a nut job that I find the startling and surprising. I have
to allow myself to go wherever I want to go. Sometimes I have to see
how a scene feels, even if I will likely scrap it. In my drafts a whole
lotta scrapping goes on.
I couldn't grasp this story though. It
slipped out of my hands whenever I tried to hold it. Characters walked
around confused, wondering what to do, and I couldn't tell them. I
wished I could. I'm not joking when I say I have no skill. I'm a cheap
story teller that has found myself in a world that I'm certain I don't
belong in.
I feel awful.
There's like this tremendous
crash, and a mild hysteria that takes hours to dissipate. Maybe days. I
think, "This one will ruin me." At some point tonight I will cry my
eyes out. I may be crying right now. I won't say. Read the rest by clicking here."
