Just keep writing...

Took some badly needed time last week to…write. I had something I don’t usually have during the summer—several free days with no kids. The boys were at Boy Scout camp, and to take my mind off the myriad bee stings, sudden tornadoes and electrical storms I worried might befall them, I decided to try writing a “Book in a Week.” I already had an outline for my historical, “Cole for Christmas,” with about three chapters written, so Monday morning I hunkered down with copious amounts of iced tea and went to work. Except for the occasional phone call, email, and frequent visits to the bathroom (see aforementioned “copious amounts of iced tea”), I did nothing but write.

For anyone who’s thinking of giving this insane writing exercise (or it’s less “wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am” sister, Book in a Month) a whirl, here’s what I learned from the experience:

° DO lots of finger/hand/arm stretches, body stretches, too. Typing as much as you can in a week will be taxing!
° DO check your writer’s ego at the door—it ain’t gonna be pretty. Don’t expect Shakespeare from this speed typing, mental diarrhea exercise. It’s going to be messy, with lots of tell-don’t-show and choppy narrative void of verbs but heavy on adverbs.
° DO remember YOU WILL BE THE ONLY ONE TO SEE IT. It’s okay if it sucks—I have whole paragraphs that read, “She goes up stairs, he goes, ‘where you going?’” For now, just write.
° DON’T rewrite. My favorite movie line is from an obscure 1976 film about a cross-country race called “Gumball Rally.” At the start of the race, one of the drivers rips off the rear-view mirror and tosses it out the window saying, “What’s behind me is not important.” In this first pass, that’s true. I know it’s hard, but RESIST the urge to go back and fix things until you’re done.
° DON’T worry about snappy dialogue—in one scene my Regency period hero calls the heroine a “Dame” (in 1940s lingo, not some reference to peerage) and later suggests they “get it on.” I wanted to get the gist before moving on, can always fix it later.
° DON’T forget you let the dog out into the blistering late-July heat—three hours ago.
° DON’T worry about Research. At this point, research doesn’t matter (unless you’re planning to have a nuclear bomb go off at Waterloo, then you might want to see if that’s feasible). If you head to the Internet to find the right kind of carriage the hero might drive—a barouche or a phaeton—the next thing you know you’ve lost precious minutes and even hours clicking around in the wondrous playground that is the World Wide Web.
° DON’T imbibe copious amounts of iced tea—go for something less diuretic.
° DON’T forget to eat, lest you keel over onto the keyboard and accidentally hit “Delete.”
° DO remember you WILL rewrite (after you complete the first draft). You WILL fix all those irritating problems, the grammar boo-boos, the research faux pas, the anachronistic language, etc.
° DO keep typing. To paraphrase Dory in “Finding Nemo,” “Just keep writing, just keep writing…” Before you know it, you’ll have a chapter, three chapters, half a book, and maybe even a complete first draft—in a week.

The week was exhausting but rewarding—for both the boys and me. They earned merit badges and my youngest a rank advancement; nobody got lost or electrocuted, though one scout cut his finger and needed stitches. I plowed through about 35,000 words and came about two chapters from completing the entire first draft. I’ve got the leg cramps and stiff fingers to prove it—and a satisfied smile! Now, if you’ll excuse me, the iced tea is kicking in again…

Janet—No power in the ’verse can stop me!