Thrilled to announce that State v. Claus is now live! You can buy State v. Claus wherever you like: directly from Tuxedo Cat Press (paperback only), from your neighborhood bookstore (paperback or ebook), from your favorite online bookstore (in whichever formats they offer). Read State v. Claus however you like–just head over to Tuxedo Cat […]
I’m closing in on the halfway point of my challenge: Monday will be Day 50 out of 100. The experience feels incredible, and at the same time, it feels strangely effortless.
It’s been a long, long time since I wrote this much. Late in the winter of 2006, when I first rediscovered writing and fan fiction, I dove in. I wrote for hours every night, reveling in the joy of story. I posted my first story in the library of a now-defunct fansite on May 30, 2006, and for the next year, I posted a new story every two weeks. In fact, I spent so much time writing that I fell behind in my billable work and my income dropped significantly. It was like an addiction: I’d be working on a brief, and I’d have a thought about a story in process and I’d open it up, just for a quick look. Two hours later, I’d be no further along on the brief, but the scene I’d edited was much deeper.
It’s incredibly rare for us to have that kind of light show this far south, but people in my town got some fabulous photos. Friends in a nearby town said they went outside several times to watch, to no avail, but they too had neighbors who posted amazing photos.
So I guess it’s all about being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.
I’ve now had this challenge going for 5-1/2 weeks, with nine weeks to go. I’ve blogged about it, but last night, I did something different: for the first time, I called a friend and told her what I was doing.
It could be fairly argued that making that call is no different from telling you, my lovely and supportive blog readers whom I appreciate so much. I think there’s a difference, though. When I write these blog posts, it’s a quick hey, this is what I’m doing. While I’ve known some of you for a very, very long time (looking at you, Kay and Kathleen), most of us haven’t met. It’s unlikely any of you will reach out and hold me accountable. If I drop out of the challenge for some reason, you’re not going to call me and say, “You were doing so well—what happened?” You might wonder why I didn’t make it, but you’re probably not going to text me to ask.
This morning, I slept late and ended up watching church livestreamed on YouTube. After church, I gave into an urge to get back to work on the book. I started a new section that might be the beginning, and then I shifted to another section, developing an entirely different part of the book. Presumably because it wasn’t Official Writing Time, Charlotte declined to join me in the recliner, choosing to nap in her perch instead, Fortunately, Olivia took her place, so I’m pleased to report that Tuxedo Cat Press has continued to provide appropriate supervision as I perform this challenge.
Oliva, Editor-in-Chief of Tuxedo Cat Press
But as it turns out, Charlotte isn’t the only creature of habit. I returned from Mom’s just before nine o’clock this evening. As I puttered around, doing various house chores, I had the familiar urge to write—after all, Official Writing Time was fast approaching. So even though I’d already written my 1,000 words, I settled back into the routine. Sure enough, this time Charlotte joined me.
Charlotte, Managing Editor of Tuxedo Cat Press
One of the things about the challenge that I’m enjoying is the fact that what I write doesn’t have to be gorgeous, polished prose. It’s enough simply to tell a story. If I use the word “really” in the space of two sentences, the world won’t end, because I can fix it when I edit. At this stage of the proceedings, all I need to do is to explore what my characters think and feel as they converse and act. Turns out, there’s a huge freedom to be found in discovering a story one smallish chunk at a time. Eventually, I’ll need to look at the whole piece, identify the gaps, and write the missing material, but that time is yet to come.
Right now, it’s almost scary how smoothly the story is moving. After my struggles with Becoming Mrs. Claus, it’s hard to believe the way this story is flowing. While I don’t believe in jinxes, there’s a part of me that’s hissing, “You fool! Don’t publish a statement like that!” for fear that one day, I’ll sit down to write and nothing will come. I almost didn’t write this evening for precisely the same reason, i.e., a fear of “using up” the story. It’s as though I don’t trust that as long as I keep showing up and writing, my brain or the muse or whatever my source is will continue to deliver story material.
But writing is an act of faith, always has been. The faith that somehow, in the thousands upon thousands* of words in the English language, I will recall or find the words that best express what I’m thinking so that I can communicate that thought to someone else. The faith that those words will create a world so vivid that a complete stranger can enter it. The faith that from those words will spring characters no one has ever before conjured and that somehow, the lives of those fictional people will touch a reader’s heart.
And so, I will not be afraid of double-shot days. Because I have faith in the words.
*Fun fact: the Second Edition of the 20-volume Oxford English Dictionary contains full entries for 171,476 words in current use, plus 47,156 obsolete words.
Just a quick check-in tonight, as I’m now just about one-third of the way through this challenge.
The nice thing is that the routine is indeed a routine. Even with the day’s various issues, including completion of a surreply and dealing with a bathtub that simply Will Not Drain, the evening proceeded in its now-usual fashion. Dinner consisted of the last of the grilled chicken, accompanied by forbidden rice and carrots, with dessert comprised of the last of the ice cream, a cookie, and grapes, all while I watched the finale of season three of the Spring Baking Championship.
Charlotte was getting concerned as I sat on the sofa, watching television and eating grapes. I tried to explain that it wasn’t even nine-thirty, but apparently, her routine is that when I finish dinner—no matter how early or late that may be—it’s writing time. When I didn’t take my usual place in the recliner, she went ahead anyway, curling up on the back to wait for me. Once I’d seated myself and pulled up the footrest, she jumped down and ensconced herself between my thigh and the arm of the chair.
I finished my original challenge last night–1,000 words per day, every day for a month. It sounds like a lot, and I suppose it is. Completing the challenge probably would have been more exciting if it had been the top of the mountain, not Base Camp #1. Even though I’ve never done anything like this before—an entire month of writing 1,000 words of my novel every day, not missing a single day—the fact is that I’m not quite a third of the way through the first draft.
No, I don’t mean I’m going to stop my 30-day challenge on Day 29.
I mean that I’m debating my next challenge.
Earlier today, I looked at the calendar. Seeing how close I am to the end of the month, I was thinking idly of what to do next. Keep going for another week? Another two weeks? Maybe even another month?
Then, I happened upon a post I wrote in September, 2017, entitled “One Hundred Days.” I had no memory of writing anything with this title, so I went back and read it.
It seems that in 2017, I apparently felt I needed a nudge to write more. I found an article where violinist Hilary Hahn posted that she had practiced the violin for 100 consecutive days. It turned out that there were all sorts of 100-day challenges on the internet. So, I decided to commit to writing for 100 days.
When I posted a few days ago, I mentioned the advice which is so controversial among writers and aspiring writers, namely, that a writer must write every day.
I hate to break it to everybody, but based on the past four weeks, I have to concur.
I have now written at least 1,000 words every day for the past 28 days. I can’t say whether I really thought I’d do it or not, because the truth is that I didn’t ask the question.
Instead, I just wrote. Every day since April 1, at some point I’ve opened up my Surface and written at least 1,000 words of my new book. Most times, I’ve done it in my recliner, with tea on one side and Charlotte on the other. I didn’t question whether I felt like writing, because if I had, there likely would have been at least a couple nights when I’d have said no, like the night when I was falling asleep as I typed.
But my draft is coming along. I have a much better sense of the story now than I did a month ago. Back then, I had no idea whether what I was thinking of writing about would hold together. So far, it’s holding. And I believe it’s working because I’m writing consistently, picking up the thread every day before I can lose momentum.
There’s a part of me that can’t believe that I’ve met my goal for 22 days.
There’s another part that can’t imagine stopping before the book is done.
I’m especially proud of having stayed on track this weekend. On Friday night, I was away at a Bible study retreat. I don’t usually go away overnight; in fact, this was the first night I’ve voluntarily been away from home since the beginning of the pandemic. But I went prepared to stay on track: I took my Surface, my notebook, my flash drives, and my computer glasses. By nine-thirty, I was set up on the spare bed in my room, and I wrote my 1,000 words, plus some.
Somewhat surprisingly, it was the next night that was more challenging. I was home, and Charlotte was sulking in the bedroom, which meant I wrote alone in the living room. The problem was that I was exhausted. I literally dozed off at least four times, waking to find that I’d kept typing in my sleep. This would have been fine, except the words—and yes, I was typing real words—didn’t make any sense. So I had to delete them and press on. I hit 1,000 words on the nose and called the night done.
Char was still sufficiently miffed that she didn’t join me last night, but tonight, she was in the living room, waiting for me to settle in for writing time so she could join me. And so, I’m back to my routine: tea, music, recliner, Charlotte, and writing. It’s a nice routine, and I wonder that it took me so long to find it.
We’re into the second half of the month, and I’ve met my word goal every day. So far, so good.
If I’d been thinking, I’d have noted how many words of this book I’d already written before I started this challenge so I could know exactly how far I’ve come. As of tonight, the first draft is 20,523 words. I know I’ve written at least 16,000 words this month, but the truth is that I routinely go at least a little bit over the 1K daily minimum. So all I know right now is that if I continue to meet my daily goal, I’ll have another 15,000 words written by the end of the month, for a total of just over 35,000 words of my first draft.
P. Jo Anne Burgh 