Twelve Steps to Writing, Fast-Draft Style

Ever hear of NaNoWriMo? It's National Novel Writing Month. Yep, there is such a thing, and it's held every November. The point? To write a novel (or 50,000 words) in thirty days. Why on Earth would anyone want to attempt such madness? To light a fire under those of us who love to write fiction.

"Sounds impossible," you say. "No one can write that fast." For sure, when I first heard about NaNo last year I was one of the naysayers. After all, my own first book, Visions, took eighteen months to complete; the second, Twelve Steps to Murder, was only 2/3 complete after four months.

Well, HA! Not only are people finding this doable, I'll go you one better. Enter Candace Havens' Fast Draft Workshop. The author of several books including Charmed and Dangerous, Candace has devised a class that not only matches NaNoWriMo's goal--it attempts to exceed it by more than HALF. That's right--her course teaches participants to pound out a 70,000-word first draft in TWO WEEKS.

I stumbled across this course by accident and was intrigued. With revisions for Visions still due back from the publisher, I'd already decided to resume work on other projects while waiting. Perhaps, I thought, this workshop could help. If nothing else, it probably wouldn't hurt. With as many story ideas as my brain likes to conjure up, my snail's pace execution definitely needed a boost.

As it turns out, Fast Draft might just be the jet pack my writing needed. After signing up and learning the method, I set to work and managed to accumulate 74 pages on Twelve Steps to Murder with three days of writing effort--hopefully eighty by the end of tonight. That brings my MS within close sight of its major climax and ending sequences.

Not that the process is all sunshine and lollipops. Two things are evident with speed writing. First, even more fleshing out will be required in revision than my former (also known as neanderthal) method entails, which is already a substantial amount. Second, it's darn hard to pound out twenty pages every day, even if you're committed to succeeding. Still, pound out pages I have, and my hats off to folks like Ms. Havens who have used this method to produce numerous published works.

For anyone wondering, Ms. Havens also has a follow up course titled: Revision Hell and How To Get Through It. I suspect this will be the perfect companion piece to the rapid-fire writing extravaganza currently underway. If nothing else, this adventure will help greatly with my upcoming NaNoWriMo project, a chick-lit titled A Grand Seduction that is outlined and ready to rocket out of the gate come November 1.

For more information on NaNoWriMo, visit http://www.nanowrimo.org. If you'd like to know more about the Fast Draft workshop, visit Candace's site at http://www.candacehavens.com and click the "Workshops" button.

Happy writing!

Visions and Dreams

"With the contract for her first novel signed and safely tucked into the mail, the satisfied writer sits back with a cup of tea (Lipton, brewed in the sun with sugar and a sprig of fresh mint), shoves the keyboard aside to put her feet up, and revels in the wonder of a job well done. After all, she's been working toward this moment for almost a decade--she's earned a rest." Right?

Wrong! Now that Visions is set for publishing, the REAL work of a writer begins. Revisions, edits, cover art, galleys, and, of course, marketing must now commence in earnest. Not to mention that work on the next novel, Twelve Steps to Murder, must get back underway as well. Each part of this process spins another strand of raw silk into the cocoon a writer must step inside in order to emerge an "author."

It's an exciting and busy process that will ensure you won't find me browsing eBay for the best deal on laurels to rest upon! You will find me posting updates on the book's progress as it moves closer to release, however...so stay tuned!

Call for Entries: Writing Contest

Here's the skinny on the writing contest I'm helping organize and judge on mysteryauthors.com!

Do you like to write mysteries and/or flash fiction? Enter MysteryAuthors.com's Dead Giveaway Flash Fiction contest for a chance to win a cash prize, and have your work published on a popular mystery site!

Tell us your best mystery in 1,000 words or less, but there's a twist! Your story MUST begin with one of the following sentences, each taken from an existing published mystery:

That looks more like human sacrifice than a wedding ceremony.
--(taken from Driven to Death by Carolyn Rose)

He fought for breath, his heart pounding fast.
--(taken from Cock of the Walk by Wendy Laing)

It lay in wait, blazing eyes of amber piercing the inky darkness.
--(taken from A Kink in the Tale by Lisa Logan)

Amelie would never forgive them for murdering Mathieu.
--(taken from Beneath the Morvan Moon by Courtney Mroch)

Contest opens for entries June 15, 2006. Deadline for entries is August 1, 2006. First prize is 1/2 of total entry fees received and the entry published on mysteryauthors.com. Honorable mention will also have their story published on the site. Entry fee: $5.

For complete rules, information on our judges, and entry details, visit MysteryAuthors.com. Good luck!

My New Year's Non Resolution

Though I've never been big on the concept of the New Year's resolution, I'll admit that this time of year does seem to force enough self reflection for me to have given in to this tradition on a number of occasions. As is the case for many fellow resolvers, I start off with utter dedication, progress to halfhearted boredom, and end with full blown resolution amnesia. This process takes anywhere from three weeks to four months.

So I've decided that this year, while others are vowing to lose that five (or fifty) pounds, be a better person, and earn more money, my resolution would be about not doing anything. My vow of "Non" resolution will hopefully be simpler to achieve than previous years' goals, as it is often easier to do nothing than something. I speak from experience.

Now, this isn't to say that I've decided to shut myself inside a time capsule in suspended animation and emerge victorious (and no doubt stiff and sore) in 2007. Rather, I have compiled a list of things I will NOT be doing this year. For instance, I will not get angry (or possibly vengeful) when cut off on the highway. I will not bother with fad diets that may or may not work--temporarily. I will not be too busy to stop and play with my two-year-old, her teddy bear, and her Lamb Chop puppet. And, I will not worry about people, places, and things that I have no control over anyway.

In 2005 I spun my wheels, putting in nineteen hour days and more to make sure I was doing enough to get ahead, to make up for my medical leave, to make up time and money to people who really couldn't have cared less about my sacrifice. Perhaps this new policy of NOT will prove to be the missing board I need under my wheels to gracefully move ahead, rather than sinking deeper in the mud every time I step on the gas.

Idea Overload: Adventures in (trying to finish) Editing

Well, as further proof that I am perpetually too excited by ideas for projects to stay focused on just one, I've been working on an article when I should be editing my fiction manuscript, Visions.

People often ask writers, "How do you get ideas?," not understanding that once one learns to think like a writer this is never an issue. Inspiration tends to strike around every corner--the hazard is in trying to juggle the overstock. These I hastily jot into a trusty four-inch spiral notepad--I have a Palm Pilot but typically stick to pen and paper lest fleeting ideas leave before I can switch the PDA on and try to remember the Graffiti equivalent to the letter K.

The inspiration now competing with my book for shotgun seating began as a conversation with a coworker. Both of us being film buffs, we were lamenting the endless smorgasboard of leftovers Hollywood has been dishing up in the form of remakes, sequels, prequels, and spinoffs. Neither of us had any hard facts to this effect, but we FELT it. Suddenly I decided this sixth sense warranted further investigation, and the idea for an article was born.

The first draft of Visions had just been gingerly tucked in for a pre-editing hibernation period when the idea hit, so I felt I had spare time (after a fashion) to undertake the new project. Makes a good story, anyway. Days stretched into weeks, then we picked up and moved, and suddenly the manuscript began whining for attention from its lonely box in the corner. So now my writing personality is split into fiction/nonfiction components, with research, interviews, and queries fizzing away part of the day, the fiction manuscript suffering brutal strokes of my editing pencil the rest.

Then there's my recent arts and crafts binge, which I blame on idly clicking a Netscape.com Cool Site of the Day...crafster.org. Saw a tote bag made out of woven magazines and have gone purse crazy making these out of family photos as well as magazines for fun, family, and posterity. I need a crafting intervention, and I need it now.

In any event, though my desk looks like a paper mill exploded and the dining area has enough fabric, magazines, and supplies to warrant an entire crafts fair, the work progresses on all fronts. The book is fifty pages into its second editing revision; research for the article is complete, the query written, and interview questions being undertaken; my newfound craft will help solve the dilemma of what to get the womenfolk on my Christmas list.

And I swear that once this article's finished I won't start anything new until after the book is finished and query sent out. Except there's this neat window hanging from dried orange slices I need for my kitchen. And the other day I had a fun idea for a story about a haunted clock. And then there's that great idea I'm going to have tomorrow. ack.

On Head Banging and Writing

I’m ashamed to have it noted for all posterity that my previous entry was circa February. All I can say is this: one moment I was giddily blogging about the ceaseless joys of writing, the next I was in an emergency room trying to remember whether I had any allergies (and incorrectly reporting the baby’s as my own). Leave it to me to suffer a concussion at my own hand, not by anything glamorous like having saved an old lady from an oncoming train, but by answering a telephone at work in too big a hurry. CLANG.

Not just any concussion, either, but one that brought with it all the wonders of Post Concussive Syndrome: a fabulous ride through the murky depths of trying to relearn how to braid my hair, remember whether I’d brushed my teeth thirty seconds earlier (wet toothbrush suggested I had), and the ever popular "Will I Ever Be Able To Write Again?" Well, I’m here to tell you that there’s no better Blog Crusher than the inability to think, let alone write, in complete sentences. (While I will allow for the fact that some material out there suggests this does not stop everyone, that’s a topic for another time.)

I found it interesting to note that, once the CAT scan came back negative, my biggest fear was whether my writing had suffered a fatal blow. Sure, it bothered me that I could not view a computer screen nor read a book for the first few weeks, and had to wear glasses to manage it for weeks after that. Of course, the jumbled spaghetti-toss that had become my thought process did not bode well for someone in the midst of a college semester. And no, I didn’t tap dance over being forced to sit in the dark to combat a light sensitivity that even moles would respect. Still, what was really keeping me swirling in a swamp soup over the whole affair was wondering how far down the mountainside of writing progress I’d slid–and whether the equipment I’d been honing for years was too damaged to regain the loss in altitude.

While the answer to this may be obvious by virtue of my humble return to this blog (or, perhaps not), it has brought about some reflection on my part as to why this part of my life was so important. Why must I be able to write? It’s not my bread and butter, nor even the financial equivalent of an olive on my table as of yet. And, while some may consider it self-defeating to downplay one’s hopes, I am practical enough to wager that within my writer’s soul I do NOT hold some genre-defining Tolkienesque masterpiece, nor a H.G. Wells glimpse into a future which will inspire scientific discovery, nor a work of Lovecraftian horror so chilling and astute that it would become a high marker on the totem of frightful comparison. In light of this, it is doubtful that my removal from the writing community would hold any major repercussions for society. Yet, when I am caught up in thoughts of my current work, a future idea, or, as noted above, the thought of NOT writing anymore, it carries a tantamount importance which consumes and, at times, startles me.

I suspect the answer has as many facets as a diamond, and I shall turn that crystal over in my hands for further examination as time permits. For now, I have settled on this one facet of who I am as a writer: someone who must tell a good story, and who relishes the challenge of defining the world around her in new and (hopefully) thought-provoking ways. Or, perhaps I’m just trying to get out of household chores. There’s always room for another facet.

No Really, I Meant Literally

Something funny happened to me on my way back from writing class the other day...

Well okay, something happens to me after every writing class. I get happy. No, happy doesn't cover it, really. Giddy is a better word choice. Doesn't matter what we did in class, either. Whether it be a low energy day or a Writing Is Great session, by the time I pull into work (creative writing bumps against my work shift twice a week) I feel like I'm marching onto the center platform at the Olympic Games. Halfway down the hall, the sensation bubbles up until I want to spin around, arms held aloft. Then I remember where I am. Work. Hospital. The place with a special ward set aside for grown women who spin themselves about in the halls. So I refrain and the gears begin to downshift. Poof! Mood wears off. Rinse and repeat next class.

This not being a common thing for me, I felt obligated to Email my writing instructor. After all, if I must risk admittance to the Special Ward every time I leave class I think the college catalog should post a warning label about it. Bless her wondrous, creative soul, she replied saying I have good ability for using words to express feeling. While I don't mean to shun a compliment from a writing teacher, I do believe she thinks I was engaging in word play. No REALLY, Teacher, I Want To Spin Around After Your Class. Literally. Telling here, not showing.

Do I want to pursue this further? I'm going with no. For all I know, the school has a Special Class for students who tell their teachers they want to spin around. But I've learned a valuable lesson about myself. Writing Really Makes Me Happy. Yeah, pretty simple. But many of life's greatest truths are.

Crossroads As A Way Of Life

Just about everyone can relate to the concept of periodically coming to a "crossroads" in life, where the fork in the road will forever shape destiny. In my own journey, however, these crossroads are such an annoying constant that my path corkscrews into an endless spiral with little hope of moving forward. True, some may say life is about the journey rather than the destination, but at times the dizzying twists and turns of fate get tiresome.

The latest fork in life's road is school. Again. For the past two and a half years I've been in the process of pursuing a two-year nursing degree--a pursuit which will require another two and a half years to complete. At this halfway point I stopped to regroup, largely because the more I write--and learn about writing--the harder it is to give the bulk of my mental energy to a career with good financial prospects but which dangles so far from my dream.

This semester, expected to be my last before the grueling nursing curriculum, I decided to march ahead on BOTH sides of the road. I am taking a science class that will do my transcripts good, but am also flirting with DreamLand by using a writing course to meet my Humanities requirement. Yes, I've taken several already. But this will force me to "have" to find time to write while still plodding along the responsible path.

I know what you're thinking. (Not the part about me being crazy.) With one foot planted firmly on each side of the forked road you're wondering how long I can travel before my legs have stretched too far and I must finally snap along a single path. So am I. But, for a while at least, in the midst of classes on bedsores and botulism I will have an island haven to retreat to. I wonder if I can come up with a good Haiku about nursing school?

Blogging 101

Welcome to my learning process! I've finally managed to take the deep dark plunge into the whirlpool of blogging. Yes, I realize this places me a bit too far behind the knife to consider myself on the cutting edge. You know what they say about the plumber having the worst plumbing in town? Well, the same holds true for this web designer--my own sites are always the last to get updated.

Yesterday's live radio interview with KIC Internet Radio was great fun! Kelli was a wonderful host and I enjoyed reading my story The Christmas Present. Doing the live read this way took me back to the days of the old radio serial dramas. Thanks to all the listeners who Emailed in from around the country during the broadcast with questions and comments. I had a great time.