Over the years, I’ve learned that every book I write has
something to teach me. The first one, which remains close to my heart, showed
me that I could see a project of that
scope through to the end. Waltz with a Stranger taught me about perseverance, about getting back in
the game even in the face of distractions and disappointments. A Song
at Twilight taught me about taking risks
and trying new approaches in storytelling--because how else does one grow
as a writer?
This last one? Taught me about focus. In a way, it was a little like learning the lesson
of Waltz with a Stranger again,
but with a difference. Waltz
derailed twice due to Real-Life Stuff and I stopped work for several weeks.
This time, I kept going--through a four-month stretch that was like fifty miles
of bad road, which I now refer to as “The Summer of Suck.” Progress was slower,
but it never completely ceased, and by mid-October, things had calmed down
enough that I could retreat into the writing cave, roll a boulder in front of
the entrance, and FINISH THE BOOK!
Real life wasn’t the only source of distractions. One thing
I can say about myself as a writer is that I seldom have trouble finding things
to write about. If one idea fizzles,
another one--or ten--will come along soon enough.
That can be a mixed blessing
when you’re trying to stay on point. Because, true to form, these Shiny New Ideas
proliferate like bunnies and show themselves at the least convenient moment.
There you are, toiling over your current project, sweating, straining, and
cursing it up one side and down the other, and there they are, flashing their
little white scuts at you and demanding your attention. “Here we are! Wouldn’t
you rather chase us than work on that boring old thing?”
Resisting that siren song is always hard, especially when
the words are flowing like cement and the Muse has decamped for sunnier climes
and left you to struggle on alone. And when you’ve reached the point in your
manuscript where you’re heartily sick of your characters and tempted to dispose
of them all in an earthquake or a volcanic eruption.
And that’s when you need to remind yourself that the book
you’re now struggling with and possibly even hating was once a Shiny New Idea
too. An idea that you loved passionately enough to pursue and pin down, and
that you promised to see through to the end.
Keep going. Keep writing. Not just until you’re finished,
but until you fall in love again with what you’re doing, because the rewards
are infinite.
And once you get to the last page and write “The End” or
“Fin” or whatever flourish you use to mark the conclusion, go forth and bag
yourself some fresh plot bunnies!
Pamela Sherwood
I so needed this blog today...THANK YOU!
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome, Carolyn! Glad this blog was able to help!
ReplyDeleteThat is so true, in everything, it is how you finish.
ReplyDeletePatoct
And if you finish! Once you do, you're a big step ahead in the game.
ReplyDeleteSo true! It really is a marathon, not a sprint. Little by little, day by day, word by word.
ReplyDeleteAnd obstacle by obstacle, especially if you hit a rough patch. But so worth it when you finally limp across the finish line!
ReplyDelete