I made the mistake yesterday of thinking I could write the update when I got home after picking up the kids. (hitting self in head) When will I learn? When I got home I had to let the kids ride their bikes. Well, I didn’t have to but at the same time, I had to. You know how it is. They might be smaller than me but they could totally take me in a fight. They often do.

Monday was good. Went to the book store to sit in Starbucks. This is by far my favorite place to write. Something about being out in the public. I think I like being seen. Especially if I like my shoes that day.

Tuesday was also good and also at the book store. I do not remember what shoes I had on. I think I may have been wearing new jeans.

Wednesday: book store but less good. Struggled to eke out the full thousand. Kept looking at the word count and thinking oh gawd.

Thursday, library. Also struggled with getting the thou out but did it. Why? Am a fucking superrockstar, is why. Not unlike these crazy mutherfuckers:

Friday, different library. By now I’ve figured out that I’ve been getting sick and that’s why it’s been a bit of a struggle. Knowing this makes Friday easier. I planned to do two thousand words on Friday but had to run errands so didn’t have time.

weekly word count summarization
Monday 1157
Tuesday 1076
Wednesday 1319
Thursday 1111
Friday 1255

I originally said I was going to write monday to saturday, a thousand words a day but saturdays have not been possible. We have too much else going on. Like, for one, feeding Madison. I can’t write because she needs to eat every ten seconds. It’s time consuming.

I feel like I’m really getting into a rhythm now. I like what I’m putting out and where the story is going. I hit the 18 000 word mark yesterday. Thrilling like you would not believe. It feels like I’m getting into the real gooey toffee center of the thing.

Next week I’m going to start doing 1500 a day. The intention is to work my way up to two thousand a day. I think it’s very doable.

So the plan is this: write the book and when it’s done take 6 weeks off to let it rest. During that time I will work on smaller projects (as in I will not start a new novel during that time) and compile a list of literary agents. When the six weeks are up I will have a sit down with the novel and make editorial notes for the rewrite. Next, obviously, the rewrite. I think three months for that, but not sure. Somewhere in the rewrite process I will begin contacting prospective literary agents. Post rewrite I will take two weeks off and then start anew with a second novel.

So that’s where we’re at. 18 000 words of probably, what, 100 000? Don’t know really. The book will end where it ends. 80 000? 130 000? Can’t say just yet. Either way, am well down the path at this point. Feeling good.

I forgot to do the friday writing wind up. There’s a really simple reason excuse for it: I didn’t write a whole helluva lot this week.

oh damn.

I’m going to start right off saying that I totally fucked the dog on at least one day. I mean, I won’t try to say that I was innocent of all blame. At the same time, I totally was innocent of all blame.

Monday was good. I wrote at home and did the thousand words. Tuesday was also good(ish) and I wrote about 600 words, also at home.

Wednesday I went shopping for fabric to make curtains in my family room (with the express intention of writing at home after the kids got home from school). Zero words. That was totally a fucking the dog day. I didn’t even find fabric and the window remains entirely and utterly curtainless.

Thursday there was a crisis. Dan and I were talking about how we would go buy Jake’s hockey equipment after school and he goes: Ugh. Shopping with the kids. And I went: I can come get you RIGHT NOW and we can go RIGHT NOW and I will write when they get home from school. Hockey equipment: one, writing: zero. But shopping with tired children crisis? Averted!

Friday was the honest to god busy day. Other than the usual ferrying about of children I also had a zillion errands. We were having Dan’s dad’s 80th birthday party that night and I had a ton of stuff to get and then another ton of stuff to clean. I was home ten minutes before our guests. I wore a black dress and after everyone left Dan said that if I was going to wear a sexy black dress all night I better be ready to bend over.

Writing? Whassat?

Needless to say I honestly thought I would make it all up on the weekend. Because weekends are well known to be the time when parents get stuff done without interruption from offspring. You didn’t know that? Oh totally. I wrote three thousand words and build a little ship inside a bottle. While knitting a sweater and reading Shakespeare allowed. Because I don’t want to have stupid children. Obviously.

Summary: 1600 words this week.

Lesson: doing other crap when i should be writing PLUS i will write when they get home from school EQUALS zero

We begin again tomorrow and after I drop Madison and her cousin Sam (am driving cousin Sam) at school I will go directly to place of writing and write AND THEN when I am done ONE THOUSAND WORDS I will do other stuff like go shopping. I want a new bracelet. Silver, I think. And boots. Also, those curtains….

It’s been an excellent week. I am now at 10368 words. I have broken the ten thousand mark. It’s a day for celebration. I think I’ll have a glass of wine.

I’ve been writing a long time. My whole life. Never to any real purpose but I wrote. About 12 years ago I decided to get serious about it. Worst mistake ever, writing wise. I rushed out and bought all manner of book on the subject. Nonsense about sides of the brain and exercises designed to inspire. I kept a notebook on my person at all times.

And I stopped writing. In fact, I hated writing. I tried not to but I did. I’d gone from loving a thing to feeling like it strangled me every time we met. I forgot my stupid notebooks, lost my pens and I hated writing. I tried to watch people on buses. I took notes about the silly things they would say. I did character studies, I begged my right brain to work well with my left brain but the two rarely spoke never mind played well together. One made lists and the ran around dancing on speakers at bars. It was ridiculous.

I didn’t realize that the damned books were the problem. Every natural instinct I had as a writer went out with the bath water after I read those books and while I needed something they were not it. I spent years feeling like a jackass because here I was well read on the business of writing and I could not write more than ten words without wanting to poke my eyes out with my the corner of my laptop.

Throw in there the growing and birthing and raising of two babies and what you’ve got is a formula for giving up writing altogether.

Only, I couldn’t. I don’t write because I want to make money writing (but it would be nice! I would not say no!) I write because even if I were a doctor (the other thing I want to be when I grow up) I would write. I put words together in my head even when I do not have paper. It is an obsession for me. And those books made me feel stupid.

This summer I decided that this fall would be my time to get back to it and even though I was excited I was also sick to my stomach. Nothing good had ever come from getting back to it. I once quit my job to write full time and while I did grow and learn I also hated it. Nearly every second.

A few weeks ago Dan and I were talking and he said something about a book Stephen King wrote about writing. He said he’d heard good things.

I haven’t read much King. Once at the cottage I got into Bag of Bones and really liked it but I think that may be the only thing of his I’ve read. I’m not a fan of the genre.

But I got the book. Much as I knew it would be a waste of money. All books on writing are.

Except for one small itty bitty thing. This book is awesome. In fact, this book makes awesome look lame. This book has restored my love of writing. Because Stephen King doesn’t carry around a notebook everywhere he goes and stare at people in line at the bank. I mean of course he stares at people in line at the bank. But because it’s fun and not because that’s what writers have to do.

Stephen King writes the way I am naturally inclined to do. His office is not littered with Post It Notes detailing the plot and subplot and character studies of his entire novel BEFORE the novel is written. Stephen King writes the way a person should write, the way that I am in fact writing now. Only twelves years of wasting my time. No big deal. Carry on.

I’ve never written ten thousand words of one project. Until now. That five digit mark is thrilling. I don’t know how my book is going to turn out. I have no idea if it will be any good. I don’t know how much if of what I am writing will actually stay in the book. And that’s all okay. How can I know when it’s not finished yet. How can I say it’s good when it does not yet exist. The point is, I’m writing it. I am getting story down on paper (computer hard drive) and for the first time ever I am really enjoying writing fiction. Be damned the other books I read. They were all written by people who were not successful novelists. Funny, that.

For anyone thinking about writing I seriously recommend you get this book. It’s not only helpful but also a good read.

In additional writing news, I’ve started a rewrite of a piece of short fiction I wrote years ago. It was the story I submitted for the Mentor Program I was a part of in 2000. I’ve since lost the original copy but remember it well enough for a rewrite. Dan thought of it the other day and suggested I do so. I too had been thinking of it and started work on it Wednesday. I can tell you this: it is called run. I’ll finish it next week, take a week to let it settle and then do a rewrite and start submitting.

Ten thousand words, guys. Pretty big deal for me. What’s funny is a year from now when I am working on my next novel ten thousand words will seem like nothing. Ten years from now it will be a real hoot.

Oh and I was totally kidding about the glass of wine but turns out one of the girls I go walking with has invited us in for drinks after our exercise this evening. A glass of wine shall indeed be enjoyed. And I will silently toast to my success. It’s been a good week.

It’s Friday and time for the weekly novel writing update. As I said a few days ago, my goal was to write one thousand words a day six days a week for the next three months. I started mid-week because that’s when the kids were back at school and have been successful every day. On Wednesday I worked at home, Thursday at the library and today at Starbucks in the local Chapters book store.

Wednesday was easy. I haven’t written a thousand words of fiction at one sitting in such a long time. I was shocked at how quickly and easily they came. I had my music on because the kids were home and the words just flew. What a great way to start.

Thursday started shitty. Libraries have never been my favorite place to work. They are at once too quiet and too damned loud. There was a woman there with two teenaged boys who were odd, to say the least. I don’t think they had any developmental issues. Rather, I think they were just kind of jackasses. One sat a few tables from me the whole time shouting out names of places. Florida! Kansas! Germany! Antactica! Thankfully I was already in the groove when he started up because otherwise I’d have had to leave or something. I made a mental note to always bring my headphones so that I could plug in and fire up iTunes.

Today I decided to work at the book store. I had to pick up my next book club selection:

I hear it’s really good and from the two sentences I’ve read so far I think I’ll enjoy it. I’ll let you know. I’ve never read his other book but it’s on my night stand waiting for its turn as well. I’ve only heard good things so I’m looking forward to both.

The bookstore was a great place to write. There was an outlet right next to my chair in Starbucks in case my computer died and required plugging in. I forgot my headphones but it’s alright. Once I get into it I can’t hear anything that’s going on around me. Takes about ten minutes to get into that headspace and then I’m fine.

So three thousand words this week. No hardship getting them done. Feels good this time. I said to Dan today when I was done: This is so much fun. That’s what I’ve wanted it to be. Writing has always been something I did because I just had to. I couldn’t not. But when I decided to do it seriously it started to feel like a crap sandwich. I hate crap sandwiches. They’re such crap.

Next week I’ll tell you about a book I just read that got me feeling this way. Got me feeling happy about writing fiction again. Writing your first novel doesn;t have to be painful, it turns out. And I’m so glad. Because if I wanted to do something that sucks and feels like work I’d have a job like the rest of the world and dammitalltohell, i so am not meant for a jobby life. Ick.