Radio Silence

Have any of you watched Apollo 13?  Or do you know anything about NASA and the space program?  I have to admit that most of what I know comes from the movie.  Remember when the moon capsule is coming back to earth?  It enters the earth’s atmosphere and starts to heat up pretty quick. And then….silence.  Houston loses contact.

This, apparently, is normal.  Something about the heat or the atmosphere or the rate at which they’re traveling.  And it’s supposed to last for about three minutes.  Three minutes of not knowing where they are or how they are or when – or if – they’re going to land.  Radio silence.

I recently experienced something like this.  Perhaps the modern equivalent.  I’ve been struggling to finish the revisions for Book 2 – in part because I’m a perfectionist and in part because there has been a lot in my life conspiring to take up all my time.  And in part because the modern world offers a huge amount in the way of procrastination.

So I checked out.  Traveled up into the mountains to a little cabin with no phone, no Internet and no cell coverage.  It’s not quite as isolated as it sounds – there are neighbors on either side, close enough to shout.  And a tiny little town 10 miles away where I could get Wifi at The Saloon and cheap wine at the market.

I wrote.  I revised.  I revised again.  I chose the right words and then double-checked that they fit.  I lay down on the floor and thought about my characters.  I went out into the cricket-filled night and watched the stars and listened to the river and let the subtleties of the story come to me in the still night air.

Radio silence.

Sometimes I felt like I was missing something.  I would have loved to send an e-mail to writer friends to hear how their writing lives were going – sometimes this process is so lonely it hurts and you feel you’re the only one in the world lying there on the floor watching the ceiling fan spin.  And it’s nice to hear someone else say, “This first draft is killing me.” Or “I love my revision, but can you just take a look at this scene?”  It’s nice to see what people are talking about on Twitter.  Or to find out if someone tried to message me on Facebook.  Or just to hear my husband’s voice on the other end of the phone.

Honestly, though, I’m glad I didn’t get that.  I’m glad I stayed in the silence.  For three days.  Until Book 2 was done.

What would you do if you encountered radio silence?  Relax?  Go crazy?  Drive down to The Saloon twice a day?  More?  Revise?  Listen to the crickets?

Finishing the Hat

Due to a scheduling fail, I posted yesterday rather than today - which turned out to be a good thing. Thank you for your gracious and supportive comments!

Which means today, my post will be shorter and less prepared. I first saw Sunday in the Park with George when I was in high school. I love musical theater, and this is one of my favorites. It's a story of art and obsession, a love story, a moment of history. George Seurat was a pointilist in Paris during the explosion of Impressionist art. He created massive paintings by using tiny dots of color. The eye blends them into figures and structures -- turning red and blue into black and white and orange into light. Sondheim captures this in his music.

My reason for sharing this today is because in the play, one of the reasons George's girlfriend leaves him is because he has to "finish the hat". He works all the time. On these tiny little structures, hoping that the combination will make the finished work perfect.

Writers are like that (though hopefully not to the point of shutting out our loved ones). Each word, each phrase, each image, each paragraph has to be placed just so in order to complete the whole. I'm working on a revision right now and spent all of yesterday on one scene.

Isn't writing amazing when you can lose yourself in "finishing the hat?"

A Change of Scenery

I actually wrote this post last Wednesday, before remembering that it was all YAmazing Race all week long.  But I couldn't leave this post in a drawer.  Today -- actually today -- I am at an undisclosed location with a writer friend, and we are both hip-deep in revision.  Change of location - and hours of uninterrupted writing time - can be akin to heaven.


Today I've decided that I need a change of scenery. So here I am, at my local coffee shop, with a 12 ounce mocha, a pumpkin scone, and my laptop. I'd probably be happier if I had a lemon poppy seed muffin, but we can't always get everything we want.

I know writers who do all of their creative work at a coffee shop. And have to say that I think the image of author, hunched over a computer keyboard at a corner table is an appealing one. I'd love to be able to be one of those authors who lists her favorite barista in her acknowledgments. It's just such a lovely scene.

But I'm afraid I suffer from a guilt complex. I'd feel guilty spending money every day on coffee I can make perfectly easily at home (I used to be a barista, after all). I'd feel guilty sitting at the table all morning with just one coffee drink.

Not only that, but I'd have to be way more productive to justify the cost.

However, I do reserve the right to a $4 coffee when no other options are available to me. When I have been at home for 4 days straight, pounding away at the same 5 pages, and my arms start to ache from sitting in the same position. When I start talking to the dog, as he snores in his basket beside my desk. When I begin to wonder if maybe my time would be better used cleaning the toilet than writing the same 5 pages. That is when I get over my guilt complex and spend the day somewhere else.

And I find that that change scenery, the simple act of sitting at a different table, and listening to different sounds, can actually make a difference. I've had scenes just flow from my fingertips as everything around me disappears and my coffee grows cold. I've had words and sentences appear in my mind, perfect and indisputable. I've had characters speak to me in voices so clear that it's more like taking dictation than writing dialogue.

Plus, this is probably the best mocha I've ever had.

Friday Five -- Random Thoughts

Today's Friday Five is going to be totally random because I woke up late and have to enter the revision cave as soon as possible.  So, here we go, in no particular order:

1.  This is one of the best posts on the business I've seen in a long time.  With what is one of my favorite quotes: "The prize in this pie-eating contest is more pie."

2.  I've been reading James Scott Bell's book Revision and Self-Editing (while in the revision cave), and talking with the Boys in the Basement every night.  Stephen King coined the term, but Bell goes so far as to suggest leaving little suggestions for the "Boys" to work on overnight while you sleep.  I think of my "Boys" as the Untouchables -- kick-ass Treasury-types, smoking cigars and doing good.  Last night they brought me a dream in which I went out to lunch with John Green.  Sure, it didn't do anything for my Book 2, but it gave me a little ego-boost...

3.  I hear it's snowing in parts of the US.  Rumor has it that snow will come to California next week.  I can't tell you how happy this makes me.

4.  Viking, the imprint publishing GILT, is part of the larger Penguin Group.  BORN WICKED, A debut by a Penguin sister, Jessica Spotswood, will be on shelves next month.  It's a great read, with a wicked twist on history, and I'll be giving away an ARC next week (come back!).  In the meantime, check out the trailer.

5.  Happy Friday, everybody!  I'm completely out of random, because I need to go writing a kissing scene like that one...

Imperfections

Does anyone else do this?  You're getting ready to go out, putting on nice clothes, great shoes, doing your hair (I straighten mine.  My 14-year-old self desperately wishes she had straightening tongs, so my present-day self uses them whenever I want to look nice.  If you could see my 8th grade class photo, you would totally understand).  And, of course, makeup.  Stand back.  Look in the mirror.

What do I see?  Not the whole picture -- the nice clothes and decent straightening job.  I see the little frizzy bit over my right ear that I can't tame.  I see the little pill coming up in the shoulder of my sweater.  I see the spot just starting to appear on my forehead above my left eyebrow.

I see the imperfections.

I do the same thing when cooking -- the broccoli is overdone, the sauce is too thick, there aren't enough potatoes to serve my family (in the entire world.  My family loves potatoes.  This is not an imperfection, this is a fact.)

And again in my writing.

I just got my edit letter on Book 2.  And I have to force myself to go back and re-read the first sentence: "Let me begin by saying I loved it!" Because the next nine pages are all about what needs to be fixed.

The imperfections.

It's hard to have the imperfections pointed out.  It's like someone standing in front of you and saying, "You look great, but did you know you had a huge spot just above your eyebrow?"  There's nothing I can do about the spot (maybe a little concealer -- and about three days worth of hiding beneath low-brimmed hats).  But I can do something about the imperfections in Book 2.

And it's good to have someone else point them out.  Because I get so close to my work I can't always see them myself.  Some of them are like that spot -- I know they're there, but I desperately hope everyone else will ignore it.  But I need them pointed out to me.

These imperfections need to be fixed.  It will make the book better.  It's just hard to look them in the face.