A Mini-Lesson in the Woods

Last week I traveled to Honesdale, PA to participate in a Highlights Founder's Workshop led by the brilliant Carolyn Coman and Stephen Roxburgh. A week in a cabin in the woods with nothing to think about other than my novel-in-progress. I'd been struggling with this book. Everytime I got two-thirds of the way through, I'd go back and start over because no matter which way the story was headed, I couldn't "see" the ending.

I'd always known the endings of my other books, but somehow the fact that I didn't for this book never stuck out for me as a red flag. What I can see so clearly now (in addition to the ending of the book) is that when I'm writing something and I don't know how it ends, what I have is an idea, not a story.

I can keep writing away at my idea forever, but until I know where it's going, I will never create something coherent and satisfying. This is not to say the writing process will then be easy. It may or may not be.

This may seem like a very simple insight, but if you struggle with finishing a novel, it may be an important one.

Okay...back to novelland!

No quitting 'til I'm done

I swear I posted last week. But no, it seems 22 days have gone by. Three weeks. I have every intention of posting more regularly, but then how's that to work when I can't seem to keep track of what day it is.

Today is daughter's last day of camp. She's old enough that I don't think it'll affect my writing schedule to much. She sleeps until noon anyway. Much can be done before noon.

Youngest son's camp ends one week from today. That will make writing trickier as he can not be unsupervised. (And there are many fun excursions to be taken!)

Older son has two more weeks. I will be happy when his camp is over. He's been away for 6 weeks now! I miss his funny sense of humor and interesting way of seeing the world.

But the clock is ticking. I so want to finish this first draft and it's just taking forever. I often think maybe I should just throw in the towel, but I'm stubborn. No quitting until I've finished!

(Sounds like a paradox, but really it's not.)

edited to add: it really has been only one week, only I have the dates set to post backward, so I misread. *blushes*

More on my "new" office

I've actually had access to this room in my husband's office for several months, but didn't fully move in and start working here until about four weeks ago, when my youngest started summer camp.

When he was in kindergarten I often only have about 2 and a half hours to work. It takes about 20 minutes to drive to the office and I usually chose not to when I had such a short window of time.

Now I have five hours (and will have even more when he starts first grade in the fall) and the commute isn't such a significant percentage of my work time.

I love the way that I'm now conditioned to working in this space. I step through the door and my brain instantly goes to my book. It's getting harder to work in other spaces. I had to work at home the other day while waiting for a repair person and was not productive at all. I love being in a space where my only responsibilities are to my book.

And I will enjoy decorating it over time. It's still quite sparse, but here are a few of the things I've added to it so far.

my lovely lamp

art and office supplies with inspirational wordage

cozy reading space

flowery bulletin board

Wall stickers!

And now I must prove that what I said about this space is true, and get back to work.

How Embarrassing

I was sure that it had only been a month or two since my last post, but obviously not. What can I say. I've been working on a new YA that's just been not quite right, not quite right, not quite right. But finally, finally I feel that I might be getting it to work.

I've been working on it for two years now (though I took time away to write Sami's Sleepaway Summer and to do a revision of Louie.) It's hard to leave a book mid-draft. When you come back to it, you are not the same person you were before and for me, I think that often means the story I need to tell is not the same story anymore. And that means a lot of do overs. But this time, I'm almost finished. And I really like the story I'm telling.

I especially like working in my new office.

More on that soon. (Really.)

The Problem with Self-help

I'm an introspective person. I often analyze my thoughts and actions and I'm fairly self-aware in a mostly positive way. All that introspection and self-awareness means that there's no hiding from the fact that I, like many people, have quite a few bad habits and self-defeating practices. Being who I am, this has led me to the treasure trove that is the self-help aisle of the book store. I LOVE these books. I've learned so much from them about challenging my own thinking and being patient with my emotions.

The problem I have is that in my zeal to improve myself, I can often get overwhelmed. There are so many ways I could become better, how can I possibly accomplish them all at once?

I can't, of course. And one of the things I've learned from self-help books is to have compassion for myself. It's hard to see all these flaws and accept that for the time being some of them will not change.

On the other hand, sometimes it's the ideas and stories I tell myself about making the change that are what seem so difficult. In reality, the action itself is easy. Like writing everyday. I tell myself stories about how hard it is to commit to that, but in reality, a small goal, like writing one hundred words a day, is no trouble at all.

That's why I'm signing up for Brenda Ferber's 365 day challenge. It's a habit I think a lot about developing, and now I think it's time.

My father is a psychologist who sees, for part of his practice, people considering gastric bypass surgery. On of the things he works on with them is developing an exercise habit. He's always told me, the most important step in that process is committing to five minutes a day. If you can commit to five minutes a day, and sustain it, you are more than half-way there. Because the real hurdle is the dread of getting started.

So, here I go. Day one!

P.S. My scarf is going great. I'm about 35 inches in. I'll post a pic when it's done.

And the knitter is...

Me!

I did it. I went and bought myself some needles and yarn, took a lesson from my mother and next thing you know my needles were clicking, and a beautiful ball of green yarn became something else.
In my last post, I predicted my first project would be a scarf, but I was wrong.

I made fingerless gloves.

And now my kids all want their own pairs too. I will happily make them after I finish project number two. That off-white yarn in the first picture? That's my scarf. Hopefully it will go as smoothly as the handwarmers.

And unrelated, or perhaps completely related, I've been completely obessed with this video lately. A song/poem by Tanya Davis.


Yes, art, I want you too.

Hobbies and Work

In my teens writing was a hobby. I carried a notebook with me where ever I went and wrote poems as they struck me. Some days I might write half a dozen poems and some days or weeks I'd write none. It didn't really matter. I wrote when I enjoyed it and I enjoyed what I wrote.

In my twenties, writing was a dream. I wanted to be a professional writer, but I wasn't sure what kind. I only knew that I wasn't a professional writer, and I couldn't really enjoy writing as a hobby anymore either. I suffered (in my mind) a lot.

In my thirties, I became a published children's book author. I learned to enjoy writing again. But it's still no longer a hobby. It's work, and I do it everyday, even when I don't enjoy it. And I LOVE this. But I miss having a hobby. A creative hobby.

So I'm thinking of taking up knitting. Something I can do when the mood strikes, but don't have to do if I don't feel like it. My mother is an accomplished knitter, and I've already put in the request for lessons over Thanksgiving. Like millions of knitters before me, I'm sure my first project will be a scarf. I'll let you know how it goes.