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Missing Mrs. Wilson

I woke up this morning, excited that it’s Wednesday. I have logged over 6300 words for my NaNoWriMo novel (which will most likely turn into a very long short story, but that’s okay). I thought a quick post on Wednesday’s word would be a nice little break.

After my laptop warmed up, I clicked on over to Wordsmith.org. Today’s word is nihilarian – one who does useless work.

That’s a terrible stream of words for a writer to read smack dab in the middle of week number one of NaNoWriMo.

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Writing every day for 30 days straight isn’t useless. I know that. What is useless is my right and left hand that keep typing the letters b-o-l-t every other paragraph. Bolt here, bolt there. He bolted again. He’ll get whiplash from all that bolting if my fingers don’t stretch a little further and start typing something different, like bound or hightail it or even just walked away.

What isn’t useless is the strikethrough tool, which lets me keep all those repetitive words, plus the choppy scenes they describe. I wish I had used strikethrough on the first day of NaNoWriMo. I wrote a lovely opening scene with an elderly Mrs. Wilson as she got out of bed at midnight. Then, later that day, her rise at midnight seemed unimportant and took the story in the wrong direction. I hesitated to use strikethrough, since that felt like cheating, like I was padding my word count. So, I deleted about 700 words on Mrs. Wilson instead.

I’ve missed her midnight spirit ever since, which brought home one of Chris Baty’s tips for – and benefits of – finishing NaNoWriMo: ignore the delete key. A NaNoWriMo first draft is a smorgasbord of ideas that hopefully, but may not, go together. Don’t delete anything, because 1) you’ll cross that 50,000 word mark before you know it (and won’t that be a feat!), and 2) the scene you save may turn into another story later on.

I’m hoping Mrs. Wilson didn’t take my cut personally, and she shows up in her slippers again at some point.

 

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Writer Down, but Not Out

In the beginning, it always sucks.

Saturday night I stayed up well past my bedtime and punched out a little over 1000 words. I liked the opening scene, the characters seemed happy with my plot. I crawled into bed and dreamed about the story.

I couldn’t write again until Sunday night, but all day I brainstormed ideas and dialogue and visualized the characters. Midday, my inner-editor suggested I combine the characters from last year’s story with this year’s story (maybe that’s the problem with last year’s novel – right characters, wrong story). It sounded reasonable and feasible. At 8pm, I sat down and punched out another 1000 words.

But, after 2000+ words, I hated the story. It felt flat and the characters sounded forced, so I did the unthinkable during NaNoWriMo. I deleted, not everything, but about half. I let my inner-editor get the best of me.

Last year about this time, I battled the same doubts and deleting temptations . A chapter or two into the story, I threw my main character in front of a car. Then I thought, that’s just silly. Predictable and silly. I can’t possibly write the next 47,682 words from a hospital bed. I went back and downplayed the whole car scene and re-wrote my character riding safely through the intersection.

During my off-writing time yesterday, I read Natalie Whipple’s recent post on writing a first draft, and one tip stuck with me: Write how YOU write. She reminds us, “The only writer you can be is you. The only story you can write is your own. The only way you’re going to stand out in the market is by channeling your own unique voice. So just accept that and enjoy it.”

Day one of NaNoWriMo, I tried to weave a story like I was some great writer whom I won’t name because it’s really embarrassing that I would even think I could write that way. And, as I spelled out the scenes, the characters didn’t like it one bit, and neither did I. When I went back and rewrote in my own style, the pressure lifted and the characters cooperated.

I admit, I still worry the story will play out like a Hallmark movie (no offense, Hallmark, but I’m hoping for something with a little more meat). So, as I turn to my laptop this afternoon, I will be posting two mantras at the edge of my screen:

1) This is only an exercise. If the story reads jerky and nauseating, like a ride on a wooden roller coaster, it doesn’t matter. No one will go to jail, nor will I lose my day job.

2) “Write as you write,” Christi Craig-style. And, forget about crafting the great American novel, for now.

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It’s Midnight Somewhere

Everyone is asleep at my house, except for me. NaNoWriMo begins at the strike of midnight, and I hope to get at least half an hour of writing in before I crash. NaNoWriMo kick off parties are happening everywhere tonight, and while I’ve never been to one, I can imagine the scene.

A door opens into a surge of energy, a waft of fresh-brewed coffee mixed with the smell of cookies and the sight of candy wrappers scattered across a table, and stories of last year’s NaNoWriMo. Cords stream from laptops to extensions to outlets, creating a web of connections between writers. Minutes before midnight, conversations crescendo, and then – at 12:01 – the noise dips to a low hum of hard drives and the curt click of keystrokes. The race is on.

I wish I were sitting with my friends, Dot and Jenny, in Portland, with a pot of coffee and giddy smiles between us. Instead, I face my laptop alone. The cursor blinks at me, and my thoughts bounce from NaNoWriMo to my pillow and warm blanket and sleep. I may be in for a long 30 days.

***

If NaNoWriMo isn’t your thing but you kind of like the idea of setting high goals in compact amounts of time, then check out Linda Cassidy’s recent post. She and a few other writing pals have designed their own Nano contest, one that promises sparkling clean results.

Or, if you’d rather just write – on your own terms – but need a firm deadline on the horizon, here are two writing contests to consider:

The Collagist’s 2009 Flash Fiction Contest
Women on Writing Fall 2009 Flash Fiction Contest

I work better under pressure, so I love deadlines.  That explains why I’m staying up past my bedtime, waiting for the two hands of the clock to flip to 12.

Right now, it’s 11:01 my time. Somewhere on the east coast, it’s after midnight. A host of voices just rose and fell, wooo!