Don’t give up on your first draft

Recently I hit a wall with my writing. I had been sprinting along, getting the words down, seeing the end of my first draft in sight. Then I noticed my sprint had slowed to a jog. Before I knew what was happening I was kicking stones at the side of the road whining like a 3-year-old saying, “My legs are tired.”

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

Apparently I am not the first person to have this experience. There are thousands of incomplete first drafts in drawers all over the world. It seems I am not the only one who finds starting of a project easier than finishing it.

Part of my problem is I thought that when I reached 85,000 words I would be pretty close to completing my first draft. But 84,000 words in, I realise I have probably got a good 15,000 to go. This has involved a reassessment of time frames and required me to pluck a whole bundle of new energy out of thin air.

Another issue is my love of editing. I am so looking forward to this part of the process that I wasn’t even 20,000 words in before I started saying, “I wish I was finished so I could be editing now.” As I have mentioned previously, patience is not my strong point.

But more than these factors I came to realise that the voices in my head that once told me, “Yeah, this is great, keep going,” had started saying, “Seriously? Why would anyone want to read that?”

On reflection I realised the loudest voice had sprung to life after someone from my writer’s group had critiqued my work. She had questioned the believability of the character in my book.

Given the book I am writing is a memoir, and the character is me, it had started a chain reaction of self doubt about my writing, my ability to share a story in a meaningful way and whether or not I had the right to exist on the page (or at all, but that is another blog : ).

I found myself wanting to justify my “character’s” choices to her, to give overly elaborate explanations as to why I acted the way I did. It was driving me absolutely nuts and made me feel like giving up on my book.

So I took a break for a week. Spent a load of time on twitter. Read some novels. Then I told that voice that this first draft is not for publication so it really doesn’t matter what goes on the page. I don’t have to show anyone if I don’t want to.

This process has been very freeing and has helped me realise that some people are going to connect to my book and my character, some people are not. That’s the way it is with all creative offerings.

This whole process has been really helpful in strengthening my resolve to write the book I want to write, not the book I think someone else wants to hear. There are more than 7 billion people in the world, surely some of them will relate! 

Have you had an experience like this? How did you keep going with your first draft?

Too much analysis is killing my reading buzz

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design

I love reading. Fiction, non-fiction and of course, memoir. But it wasn’t until I started writing a book that I have found myself analysing books as I read them.

Do you remember what you were like when you first started uni? I was the strident know-it-all in the corner of the party boring everyone to tears reiterating something I barely understood.

After growing old enough to realise I knew next to nothing about next to nothing, I had thought those days were behind me. But alas, the uni student is back. Luckily for most of my friends the conversations I am having are mostly going on in my head as I read. They go something like this…

Uni me: Wow! That was the point of no return. Do you see how there is no way the character can keep living his old life now? I could think of about five different way this could go now.

Reading me: Shut up, I am reading.

Uni me: Look at the way they split that story to create suspense. I think I need to split some of my stories like that.

Reading me: Shut up, I am reading. But now I am also thinking about my own book, which I don’t want to do right now because I am reading.

Uni me: That was the moment of transformation at the end of the second act. See how the character has had to change into someone they never thought they would be…

Reading me: Great. You have completely distracted me from the storyline and I am now anxious that my book doesn’t have any moments of transformation. Could you give it a rest? Seriously. I just want to get lost in the story. Is that too much to ask?

Books have always been an escape for me. I know lots of people have always filtered their reading through layers of intellectual construct. They demand beautifully formed prose and impressive feats of literary mastery or they are just not interested. Blockbusters and page-turners are beneath them.

Not me. I think of reading like eating. Sometimes I want a fancy dinner of delicate quail eggs with truffle and proscuitto. But sometimes I feel like a bit of spag bog, or a whole block of chocolate for dinner. (What can I say? I’m a pig.)

Though I can glory in the perfect poetry of the written word, I love story more. I always forgive less than perfect writing if the story captivates me.

I don’t want the analysis part of my brain switched on when I read, at least not the first time through. It is extremely annoying and it is killing my reading buzz.

Do you have to keep that voice in check when you read? Am I the only one who has eaten chocolate for dinner?

I am not Stephen King

 Patience is not one of my strong points. That’s why I loved Stephen King’s advice from his memoir, On Writing. Basically he says when writing a book you should churn out two thousand words a day and keep going until the book is finished.

Charged with enthusiasm over how much I could achieve at that pace I publicly announced my intention on facebook that I wanted to enter my book into a memoir competition on September 22^nd. Nothing like a bit of social pressure to help motivate you toward achieving a goal.

Seriously, how hard could it be? Very hard it turns out. Much harder than I expected.

Some days the words pour out of me and I am filled with a passionate drive, knowing that this book will be finished and I will be published. Other days, when I fall well short of my self imposed targets, I wonder what level of delusion has possessed me to attempt this task.

I wish I was one of those people who could get up at four in the morning to dash off a couple of thousand words before heading to the gym and then home in time to bake nutritious goodies for lunchboxes. But honestly, just reading about those sort of lives makes me so tired I want to go straight to bed with a cup of tea and a good book.

I am still wobbling around trying to find a way to fit in writing my book, engaging with twitter, reading books on writing, reading books not on writing, occassionally writing my blog and always looking after the kids.

What I have come to realise during my stumbling attempt at first book writing is that I am not Stephen King. I know. A shock, right? Still, I am determined to do justice to the story I am telling. For me that involves writing a first draft (as quickly as I can manage), resting the book for a while, then editing, then sending it out for feedback, incorporating feedback, resting again, then reading and editing until I am satisfied that the book is as good as I can get it.

None of these processes can be worked around. All of them take time. So I am just going to breathe and keep on going. Oh, and I will try to write blogs more regularly. After the school holidays. Deep breath. I think this book might be teaching me about patience.