Write, That's What She Said
Several of you have asked me how my writing class is going. The answer? Swell! There were 10 of us during the first class, but the weak have crapped out and there are now 8 writerly hopefuls, plus one fantastic instructor.
The class is an 8-week course on REVISION. Not writing per se. And yet, revision requires great amounts of writing, I’m realizing.
Revision is what I needed, so that’s why I selected this class. I have the “finished,” 2-year-old manuscript that needs to be fixed in myriad ways, but I wasn’t sure what those ways were. Well, I’m starting to find out.
One of our “homework” assignments is to work (that is, write/revise) 90 minutes per day. We then have “accountability” time at the beginning of each class to confess/brag about our writing time. Oh, and any excuse short of your own death is inadmissible. As our instructor pointed out, nobody can do the work for us. If you make it, you have to work for it. You have to make writing a priority. If necessary, she said, get up at 2:30 in the morning, write for 2 hours, and return to bed.
Of course, Charlotte was awake and screaming during precisely those hours the very night the instructor suggested this, so I felt great self-pity. If I can’t find free time in even the most extreme example the instructor could concoct, then I may very well be screwed. But, when ego is on the line, I tend to manage stepping up my efforts.
I decided to use my lunch hour at work to write, instead of frittering away the hour gallivanting around downtown Bethesda or reading Carolyn Hax columns. Or, horror of horrors, working. So that was 60 minutes.
Also, with Chris gone last week, I skipped the lying-around-killing-my-brain-watching-TV time. Once the little bedtime resister’s screaming ebbed (we’re reestablishing Charlotte’s sleep training, fyi), I had a quiet house to myself. What mother of young children wouldn’t envy a QUIET HOUSE? Thus I could write. In peace. Except when Chris called. Which was surprisingly often.
As a result of just these two little schedule tweaks, I’ve been able to log an average of a couple hours per day working on my manuscript.
Because our instructor is right. To make a book good, you’ve got to do the work. You have to MAKE IT GOOD. Sure, SOME luck is involved in landing an agent or publisher, but you won’t even have a shot if the manuscript isn’t GOOD.
And how is the writing going? Awesomely. Truly. First, I have the advantage of having had a 2-year break from the damn thing. I’m seeing this baby with extraordinarily fresh eyes. That’s very helpful for spotting the crappy parts.
Second, with what I’m learning through my class, I’m able to cut stuff that I knew wasn’t working but that I had labored endlessly over and thus had been too attached to. My sentimentality over parts of my writing has held me back—and our instructor said something (quoted from someone else) I found utterly profound: “Love your writing. But don’t fall IN LOVE with your writing.” In other words, don’t get so attached to a passage, a scene, a plot point, or even a character that you irrationally refuse to let it go. Otherwise, you allow it to poison your manuscript. I’ve been cutting 10 pages of text at a time in some case, and often rewriting it with something totally new. And better. Meanwhile, chapters have been reordered, characters strengthened, superfluous words cut, and so on.
There are, of course, a finite number of hours in the day. I didn't want my blog to get put on a back burner, so before the class started I cleverly stock-piled a few blogs posts ahead of time. Don't be shocked. Or dismayed. I'm not the only blogger who cheats this way.
Wish me luck, dear readers, as I try to save my manuscript this summer. I'm having oodles of fun in the dorkiest way possible, but it IS an enormous amount of work. If nothing else, I'm getting quite the writing education . . . .
The class is an 8-week course on REVISION. Not writing per se. And yet, revision requires great amounts of writing, I’m realizing.
Revision is what I needed, so that’s why I selected this class. I have the “finished,” 2-year-old manuscript that needs to be fixed in myriad ways, but I wasn’t sure what those ways were. Well, I’m starting to find out.
One of our “homework” assignments is to work (that is, write/revise) 90 minutes per day. We then have “accountability” time at the beginning of each class to confess/brag about our writing time. Oh, and any excuse short of your own death is inadmissible. As our instructor pointed out, nobody can do the work for us. If you make it, you have to work for it. You have to make writing a priority. If necessary, she said, get up at 2:30 in the morning, write for 2 hours, and return to bed.
Of course, Charlotte was awake and screaming during precisely those hours the very night the instructor suggested this, so I felt great self-pity. If I can’t find free time in even the most extreme example the instructor could concoct, then I may very well be screwed. But, when ego is on the line, I tend to manage stepping up my efforts.
I decided to use my lunch hour at work to write, instead of frittering away the hour gallivanting around downtown Bethesda or reading Carolyn Hax columns. Or, horror of horrors, working. So that was 60 minutes.
Also, with Chris gone last week, I skipped the lying-around-killing-my-brain-watching-TV time. Once the little bedtime resister’s screaming ebbed (we’re reestablishing Charlotte’s sleep training, fyi), I had a quiet house to myself. What mother of young children wouldn’t envy a QUIET HOUSE? Thus I could write. In peace. Except when Chris called. Which was surprisingly often.
As a result of just these two little schedule tweaks, I’ve been able to log an average of a couple hours per day working on my manuscript.
Because our instructor is right. To make a book good, you’ve got to do the work. You have to MAKE IT GOOD. Sure, SOME luck is involved in landing an agent or publisher, but you won’t even have a shot if the manuscript isn’t GOOD.
And how is the writing going? Awesomely. Truly. First, I have the advantage of having had a 2-year break from the damn thing. I’m seeing this baby with extraordinarily fresh eyes. That’s very helpful for spotting the crappy parts.
Second, with what I’m learning through my class, I’m able to cut stuff that I knew wasn’t working but that I had labored endlessly over and thus had been too attached to. My sentimentality over parts of my writing has held me back—and our instructor said something (quoted from someone else) I found utterly profound: “Love your writing. But don’t fall IN LOVE with your writing.” In other words, don’t get so attached to a passage, a scene, a plot point, or even a character that you irrationally refuse to let it go. Otherwise, you allow it to poison your manuscript. I’ve been cutting 10 pages of text at a time in some case, and often rewriting it with something totally new. And better. Meanwhile, chapters have been reordered, characters strengthened, superfluous words cut, and so on.
There are, of course, a finite number of hours in the day. I didn't want my blog to get put on a back burner, so before the class started I cleverly stock-piled a few blogs posts ahead of time. Don't be shocked. Or dismayed. I'm not the only blogger who cheats this way.
Wish me luck, dear readers, as I try to save my manuscript this summer. I'm having oodles of fun in the dorkiest way possible, but it IS an enormous amount of work. If nothing else, I'm getting quite the writing education . . . .
Love this. Good job, friend, I'm very, VERY proud of you. You're going to make that manuscript SHINE!
ReplyDelete(And I TOTALLY stockpile my blogs. I regret nothing. :) )