Writing

So. I have lots of ongoing projects, which I keep relatively separate from the immediate day-to-day things like running a household, raising a kid, growing a kid, church stuff, and working at a full-time job. What are these projects? One is this blog, which keeps me tuned into my own writing voice and style but in mercifully small chunks. Then there’s my other blog, Sharing the Shelf, where I let myself expound on one of my favorite things in the world—books!—so I don’t lose that lit crit part of my brain. I also have the online book club I started a year ago, which has been surprisingly successful, plus my own long, long reading list.

Yes, I’m one of those mommies who does things apart from what she HAS to do. Trust me, I’m far saner for it.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have a big fat writing project—a young adult novel—that has been in the works for about 5 years. It has taken me so long that I’ve had to update the clothes and technology described in the manuscript. Because this was my first shot at a book-length project that ever got traction, and because I didn’t really know what I was doing, this project has constituted a long mess of writing and revision, writing and revision, writing and revision. Having a kid and moving twice didn’t help.

I attended that 3-day conference in Pittsburgh about a week before conceiving Charlotte, and last summer I took that 8-week course in revision. I’ve done much research, sat through many workshops on the CRAFT of writing, read lots of young adult books to stay updated on the genre, read books on editing and writing, talked to agents who effing terrify me, and I’ve done a truckload of revision as a result, but the trouble is, I have to apply all the new stuff I learn to a very imperfect, first-shot-at-writing-a-novel manuscript. I realize SO MUCH just doesn’t work—sometimes stuff I've spent days creating—and I have to delete, rewrite, reorganize, recast, rework, and on and on. It’s a lot of work, it takes a LOT of time, and it cannot be rushed or half-assed.

Time. You can see my conundrum, yes?

In October, I had the opportunity to join a group of sassy, sailor-mouthed writerly women in weekly critique “workshops.” I jumped on it, and the four of us gave feedback, encouraged each other, and made fun of Danielle Steel. In January, work got nuttier as we launched our busy season, in February I learned I was knocked up with Lorelei and soon was in the throes of morning sickness and exhaustion, and in March the LONG 7-week process of building our deck while my dad dwelled with us started.

So, in late February, I informed my writing group that I had to take a hiatus. Something had to give, and in the back of my foggy mind I knew that temporarily shelving my writing/revision was a mistake, but I was just out of time and oomph. I could barely carve out the time to edit and prepare my group’s manuscripts, let alone progress on my own. The girls were SO understanding and swore on stacks of writing manuals and chick lit that they’d NEVER give up my spot to someone else (others were quite interested in joining at that point, but we had become clannish), and I went on hiatus.

At first, I wisely used Charlotte’s Sunday naptimes (Saturdays were too busy) and first-trimester insomnia to get caught up on my group’s feedback and edits, which had definitely piled up, and to also integrate the VERY thorough feedback of a friend of mine in L. A. Then our computer crashed, and with it, my manuscript. I had an old version in my e-mail, but I had logged hours and hours of revising and rewriting the past couple of weeks. I just couldn’t see how I’d recreate it. With morning sickness hitting in full force, I let myself give up for a while. This wasn’t a matter of losing a freshly written chapter that I’d just need to rewrite and it would be BETTER the next time around. My loss was a matter of reworked organization, rewritten scenes, oodles of grammatical or syntactical edits, clarifications, and the occasional new scene or transition scene. All lost.

Well, Chris was absolutely determined to save my manuscript. The computer was SO far gone, but he knows some pretty tech-savvy guys (and he’s very knowledgeable himself), and the man spent hours trying to get the hard drive to work just long enough to pluck that single file from the clutches of our technological disaster.

He eventually talked to a guy at our church who is extraordinarily knowledgeable about computers, and he knew of a tiny tech shop a couple cities away that makes the Best Buy tech geeks look like your computer-inept grandma who can’t click a mouse. Chris set up an appointment and took our piece-of-poo computer to them. He explained the situation and everything he had tried. The Miracle Worker shook his head and explained that it was really a longshot that they could salvage anything, in which case they’d have to send it to Canada for even further dissection and analysis. Chris called me and explained that we’d be looking a couple thousand bucks for the Canada option. How badly did I need that manuscript?

I said no to Canada and prayed for a tech miracle. About an hour later, while at the grocery store with Charlotte, Chris called me. “They did it,” he said.

“Don’t screw with me,” I said. “Don’t joke about this.”

“Sweetie, I’m not joking. They got it. It makes no sense, and the guy was totally shocked, but somehow the hard drive started whirring and he was able to get in there long enough to get your manuscript.”

I shrieked in the middle of the store aisle, and Charlotte mimicked me.

It turns out that they managed to wave their magic wands just long enough to also get everything else—music and pictures included. The majority of this was already backed up on our external hard drive, but not all of it.

I had to acknowledge that a major, major writing roadblock had now been cleared. Now I’d have to come up with different excuses to not write.

As weeks passed, my writing group girls would occasionally check in and gently guilt me to keep working on revision, to which I always responded with a litany of excuses, mostly time-related. I helped one person out here and there as she prepared to pitch to an agent, and I tinkered on my own manuscript a teeny tiny bit. From afar, my L. A. friend also did her duty to keep me moving forward, or at least feeling guilty for not moving forward.

And finally, with some recent nudging from a couple of the writing group girls, I told Chris that although I wasn’t sure how to squeeze it in, I needed to make time for the group and my writing again, which would require him to reacquaint himself with the dishwasher. He enthusiastically agreed, especially since he was also one of my writing naggers, he has always been my biggest writing supporter, and he knows first-hand the extent to which a newborn will turn our lives upside down come October. I mean, it’s now or never. Really.

So, I’m back! The girls SO SWEETLY welcomed me back, with zero judgment. The manuscript is back on front-burner status. I’m not sure what I’ll push to the back burner. Maybe blogging. Maybe reading. Maybe sleep. Eh, whatever. I’ll figure it out.