AntSaint

Firewood and Words

Each spring, we get two cords of split firewood delivered to the house. The resulting pile is nearly as tall as I am, and as long as our car. Unfortunately, all that oak and Douglas fir doesn't move and stack itself in the woodshed 20 feet away.

It's a lot of wood to tackle, and I'm the one who tackles it. But not all at once. I have a system, see:

4 wheelbarrow-loads per day.

No more, no less. Each afternoon now, I get home from work, walk my dog, write some words, and stack some wood. There's a noticeable dent in the pile now, and the stacks in the shed are getting taller.

Everyone has a writing metaphor, an analogy that helps them comprehend and shoulder the load of working on a project, be it a short story or a long novel. Now, I've got mine.

Words are like firewood.

I can't stack two cords of firewood in a day. Probably not even in a week. But each day I can move just 4 wheelbarrow-loads. Eventually all that firewood will be stacked in the shed, ready for winter.

By the same thought, if I work on my novel just a little bit each day — I'm currently going for a cap of 20 minutes — I'll get my novel done. I can't do it in a day. I can't do it in a week. But I can get it done, if I make it manageable for me and for my day.

This winter, we'll be warmed by the work I do now. Someday, I'll have a book ready to publish, by the few words I crank out each day, every day, no matter what.

Damnuscript

Writer's Word of the Day: Damnuscript

Damnuscript: Noun. The unsatisfactory pile of shite that mimics a manuscript and represents a damn waste of large amounts of time. Synonyms include: rough draft, bird cage liner, kindling.

Editing a Rough Draft, or, Lots and Lots of Big X Marks on the Page

Envy not the novel writer, for it is their job to destroy most of what they have worked so hard to do.

And that's just the first draft.

These past weeks, I've been focusing hard on my novel, editing the rough draft and planning what needs to be drafted for the second draft. I'm nearly through the main part of this process — the editing, or, rather, the chopping and axing. It's amazing how many pages of manuscript are so easy to edit — I just skim the page, sigh, and chop a big X through the whole thing.

Next is the harder part, but one I'm looking forward to: mapping out the full arc, and what new content the story needs for that arc to happen.

How are the characters introduced? How does a minor character in this chapter need to play a larger role in a later, pivotal bit of action? Does the main character really —

Oh, sorry there, nearly gave that bit away.

Back to the editing. Here's what's been working for me so far:

• Set a timer for 20 minutes. That's the daily minimum.
• Have either a glass of water or a cuppa tea or coffee; booze I usually save for after the writing/editing work is done for the day.
• Open a legal pad to a fresh page — I like having this parallel bit of paper there, it's been very helpful in mapping out action and arc
• Follow my instincts and ax mercilessly. I don't fully know consciously where the story is going, and that's fine — my subconscious has a decent idea, and it's good at asserting itself.
• X, chop and shorten as needed.
• Grin. This is all to make a better story, and a better rewrite.

Printed Novel Rough Draft... Now What?

184 pages of rough draft manuscript, an inch-thick double-sided stack of 93 sheets of paper, sits binder-clipped and waiting on my desk. The novel itself is incomplete, with heaps of content still needing to be written, and heaps more editing to do on top of all the content both written and to-be-written.

The manuscript, or MS, is at least printed though — So what now?

• Flip through it, then put the manuscript aside for a couple of days.
• Make some general notes, things I know off the top of my head that I want to do. It could be drafting a specific scene, setting up different scenes in a particular order, whatever.
• Hide all pens and pencils. This is essential for the next part...
• Read it. And that's all. Just read it. Don't edit it, don't scribble on it, nothing. Just read it. Read it like a regular reader, who just wants to read a book.
• Once you've read it through, put the manuscript aside for a couple of days. Let the words, the action, the structure, the characters and their interactions, all sink in for a bit. Give your subconscious time to work on identifying what works and what doesn't, what needs changing, what needs leaving alone, what needs deleting, what needs drafting.
• Take all pens and pencils out of hiding (or, if you're as too-good at hiding things as I can sometimes be, give up the search and buy new pens and pencils).
• Read the novel again, but this time, as both reader and editor. Mark up the pages. Cut mercilessly. Note what needs to be moved where, and where new scenes and action are needed.

Once all that's done, it's time to put the revisions to work on creating the new full draft of the novel. And then, it'll be time to do this all over again, but the novel will be that much closer to the final draft.

The Nearly Lost Notebook

For 14 years, I've carried a notebook. I've never lost one. Until last night.

Jodie and I were at the grocery store, and I was using my moleskine as a brace for our grocery list, setting the paper on it as we checked off item after item. At some point I set down notebook and list, presumably to grab some grocery something or other, but when I was done, the list was the only thing I picked up.

It's hard to say how much timed passed between the loss and the noticing of the loss, but the rest of the grocery trip was a practice in not melting down.

My notebooks are very personal, constant companions, containing everything from dreams and dark thoughts, to-do lists and a weekly calendar.

I traced my steps — bulk foods, produce; a likely spot near the spices turned up nada, as did a spot in front of the cabbages. No moleskine.

Luckily, just that evening I had finished typing up all the pages in it so far, so the loss was not as acute. If that content — thoughts on the novel, notes from a meeting with our wedding photographer, ideas for a company asking for some assistance with setting up a blog — had been lost, and hadn't been typed, I would've been damn near inconsolable, which is not a pretty sight.

We checked with staff, but no one had heard of a small black notebook being turned in. Resigned, Jodie and I finished our shopping. On the way to checkout, I thought I'd check once more. Over at the produce, two women were pushing a buggy.

"Go ask them," I thought.

"Excuse me," I said, "but did you happen to see a small black notebook?"

Their faces lit up. "We did! We were going to give it to the cashier when we checked out!" one said, as she reached into the buggy and handed me my small black moleskine.

After many thanks, I joined back up with Jodie and showed her the restored treasure.

But still — thank goodness I'd typed those notes. Here's to staying on top of typing up what's been scribbled.

Working on the Novel

These past few days I've been re-establishing the work-on-my-novel groove that I tapped into during November's National Novel Writing Month. Here are the steps I've been taking:

• Taking some time each day — even as little as 10 minutes — to work on the novel. This could be as simple as jotting down some notes on scene ideas, but no matter, it's a little bit of time, each day.
• Map out character interactions, feelings, tensions that could be explored and developed.
• Outline the novel's action. What would the story be like if it were purely linear? Or linear but bouncing back and forth between different character interactions occurring at the same time? What would the story be like if the story jumps between past and present, progressing the main story but filling in back detail and history?
• Keeping my confidence up. Writing a novel in 30 days (well, ok, it was a bit less for me) has been a huge confidence boost. I remember that achievement, while also looking ahead at all the work between now and the day that I know I have a finished draft, ready for publication.
• Speaking of publication, I'm keeping that in mind, but not too much. This is a book I've always wanted to write, and I'm finally, actually writing it. I do want to see it published, but right now, what matters is the writing. And then the re-writing. And then some more re-writing. And then we'll see.

The Weirdness of Being Back

For 2 weeks, I've hardly done a thing. I haven't ridden my bicycle (or motorcycle). I haven't written, haven't blogged, have hardly even checked email. I haven't chopped firewood or planned a house project.

I've relaxed (well, and done a bit of wedding planning).

But now I'm back, back to work, back to biking, back to writing and blogging.

I forget how weird that feels, how stiff the body and the mind.

I know too, that Antsaint has run a course — and it's time for a new one. A different path, or rather, just a new extension of the same path.

Here's to finding out what it is. Here's to body and mind limbering up, for a new year, for new days.

2 Days After NanoWrimo

It's been a couple of days since I crossed the 50,000-word mark of Nanowrimo, and it's been a good time:

• Took Monday night off, do some errands and cooking and catch up on life
• Tuesday and today, I've written between 500-1000 words each day
• Compiled a list of other content about the novel that I want to draft scenes for

It's been a relief finishing Nano, but also a little weird. The pressure of the deadline is off, and the new challenge is not some huge daily output, but consistently doing something, every day. I may take Thursday and Friday off writing, the better for me and Jodie to enjoy the holiday weekend, and during December I know that I intend not to touch the manuscript, though I may still continue to draft up scenes.

What happens next? It's hard to say, and I don't know. At some point I'll have written up all I think the novel needs for now. At that point, I'll put down the manuscript for a month or two, to get some mental distance from it, and then come back to it for the first editing and rewriting.

Day 23: 50216 of 50,000 - 2008 Nanowrimo

Today's Novel Writing Stats

Sunday, November 23, 2008

• Word Count: 2588
• Total Written: 50216
• Total Remaining: 0
• Avg. Words Per Day: 2183
• Time (minutes): 75
• Avg. Time (minutes): 61

Notes & Observations

I did it. On Sunday, November 23, 2008, I crossed the 50,000-word finish line, and won Nanowrimo. Not that I really win anything, mind, except the joy at actually having a manuscript. But that's more than enough for me. For now.

And now? Now I think I'll keep going. There's still a week left, and there is still much I'd like to draft out. So I'm going to keep at it, until I feel done.

Jodie – this is all for you. Thank you for believing in me, and for kicking me in the arse whenever I've needed it. I love you.

Excerpt

"For a moment he closed his eyes and his mouth; still floating in the middle of the column of golden light, raised his legs and bent them at the knees, as if he were crouching in mid-air, and at the same time he brought his hands to his chest, palm-to-palm and finger-to-finger. He bent his forward, towards his touched hands.

He could no longer see the world, but he knew the world. He was the world.

He could no longer see the people around him, but he knew the people around him. He was these people, all these people, every person."

Day 22: 47628 of 50,000 - 2008 Nanowrimo

Today's Novel Writing Stats

Saturday, November 22, 2008

• Word Count: 1736
• Total Written: 47628
• Total Remaining: 2372
• Avg. Words Per Day: 2165
• Time (minutes): 45
• Avg. Time (minutes): 60

Notes & Observations

Thought this evening would only be around 1100 words, but I hit a good grove and got more than the minimum. No other thoughts today – I've got beer to chill and, soon, guests to welcome. But the end is in sight!

Excerpt

"He took one last look at the woman, and for a moment his eyes teared up. I never really knew her, he thought, a mix of pity and anger and disappointment welling up in his. But now I know all I need to know.

He turned and walked towards the roof stairs. He had opened the door and set his foot on the first stair, when a bullet hit him in the shoulder, he heard the loud report of the pistol shot, and then the force of the impact knocked him forward, off his balance, and he fell down the stairs into darkness and pain."