Camp NaNoWriMo: Day 11

Campnanowrimo

It’s day eleven and progress is slow going still.  By day seven, I knew I wasn’t going to reach my word count goal.  That’s when I realized something important–word count goals just don’t work for me.  Instead of following the advice of the eight gazillion books and blog posts on writing that I’ve read over the years, I’ve decided to try things my way.  I’m going to shoot for hours spent writing rather than number of words written.  My new goal is 50 hours of writing.  As of this writing, I’ve accomplished just under eight hours, so I’m still behind.  Over the weekend I hope to play a little catch up by putting in as many hours as possible. Wish me luck.

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The Book-In-A-Year Project

The Book-in-a-Year Project

For years I’ve had one goal and that’s to write a novel.  Yet, I haven’t come close to reaching that goal.  I have a pile of unfinished projects, notebooks filled with ideas, and computer files filled with even more ideas and outlines for projects.

But still, no finished novel.

I have had a few obstacles – crappy job, going back to school, dealing with cancer, quitting school, paying down debt, going back to school, getting laid off from crappy job, finding new crappy job.  These are viable excuses to a degree.  The reality is none of them are enough of an excuse to have kept me from writing.

As of today, I am committing to writing a book in one year.  My goal is to finish a first draft, revise it and by the end of the year (preferably sooner) have a polished book to submit to agents and/or publishers.  To help get me started, I’ve signed up for CampNanoWrimo, which begins July 1st.

The project I’ll be working on is the romance that I started last year during April’s CampNanoWrimo.  I’d completed close to 30K words last year but was nowhere near finished. A few weeks ago I began rewriting it, but as I’m writing this blog post I think a better idea is to just continue adding to the manuscript I’ve already begun, rather than start all over with a new first draft.  My goal for July is 25K words and I’ll be posting updates throughout the process.

There is never going to be a “right” time to write a book.  There are always going to be excuses and obstacles, so you either have to commit to it or decide you’re never going to write a book and move on with your life.

I’m making the choice to put in the time and effort to get it done and my deadline is June 27, 2019.

No. More. Excuses.

Don’t Believe Everything You Think

My Inner Critic's Name is Sheila and she's an asshole

Don’t believe everything you think. Go ahead. Reread that sentence a few times and let the idea marinate inside your cranium for a bit. It’s an interesting concept.

Don’t believe everything you think.

Sounds easy, right? Not quite. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. Especially if your inner critic’s an asshole.

About a week ago, I started working on a new writing project–a romance novel that I’d set aside about a year ago. Elements of the estranged sister story that I’d been planning out at the tail end of last year were eerily similar to that tossed aside romance, so I decided to go back and finish the original story. With a little searching, I found the file on one of my flash drives and read the close to 30K words that I’d written. It’s the start of a crappy first draft, but some of it’s really not that bad. However, I hate the opening scene so I’ve decided to scrap it and write a brand new one.

Beginning a story is something that I struggle with and it’s when my inner critic–aka Sheila–is most active. Here’s how a typical writing session goes:

Me: After ten minutes of staring at a blank Word document, types the word “the”, stares at it for five minutes, deletes it, continues to stare at blank page.

Sheila: “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

Me: Types the full name of main character. Stares some more. Notices the thick layer of dust that’s blanketed every surface in the room. Contemplates searching for a Swiffer duster.

Sheila: “Can’t figure it out, can ya?”

Me: Squirms around in seat, sighs heavily, deletes main character’s name.

Sheila: “You’re never going to pull this off because you CAN’T write. I only tell you this because I’m your friend and I care.”

Me: Closes Word document, shuts down computer, goes to bed and lies awake agonizing over the thought of not being able to write. Decides to give it up.

Sheila: “I knew you’d see the light. You’re no Nora Roberts and you never will be. Come to terms with it and move one. You’re a bad writer and no one cares what you have to say.”

Me: “Go to hell, Sheila.” Four hours later I fall asleep. Wake up next morning, hop in shower. An idea strikes!

Sheila: “You’re wasting your time.”

Me: Takes world’s fastest shower and races to computer. Opens up Word document and types the following:

No matter how hard she tried, Kate couldn’t shake the shroud of impending doom that had plagued her all morning. 

Sheila: “Whoa…wait. Where’d that come from?”

Me: “Not bad, huh?”

Sheila: “Meh. Though I will admit you’ve piqued my interest. But you’re gonna have to come up with more than just one measly sentence. And I doubt that you can.”

Me: Rereads sentence, decides it’s a good enough start, and begins tapping away on the keyboard. Over the next forty-five minutes, three pages emerge.  They’re rough, but it’s a start. I sit back and smile and I’m feeling pretty darn good. “Hey Sheila, how do ya like me now?”

Sheila:  Radio silence.

That’s actually a watered down version of what happens.  Sheila can be brutal.  Sometimes it’ll take days for me to come up with the right words to begin my story and, more importantly, silence Sheila.

The point is, no matter how harsh my inner critic tends to be, I have to ignore it, otherwise I’d probably never leave the house.  Reminding myself that it’s nothing more than my own insecurity rearing its ugly head allows me to distinguish between what to believe and what not to believe.

Sheila will always be there, invading my thoughts, trying to keep me from moving forward.  There’s nothing I can do about that.  Ignoring her, telling her to fuck off every now and again, and proving her wrong are the best defense I have against falling for the BS and believing what I think.