Quick, hand me a shovel

Sometimes when I listen to writers talk to large groups about their writing processes and publishing experiences, I am acutely aware of the hype involved. I mean, if I am ever speaking somewhere about my book (should I ever get the thing published), I am POSITIVE I would always tell the absolute truth about how hard to write, and how fun it is at the same time. But I think after a while, some writers begin to think the process was always easy for them. I'm sure after the 10th book it is, but.... They make it sound as if it all just "happens" and that makes me feel like a complete failure. "Writers MUST write," they proclaim. And I think, well, sometimes I must do other things besides writing--like parenting my child.

I firmly believe, being a parent of 12 years, that writing and parenting have a lot in common. There are things no one tells you about, and things everyone tells you about. Unfortunately, some of the most important things are the ones you aren't told about, or which are glossed over, or which they couldn't tell you about it they wanted to.

For writers, it seems that no one can really tell you about the process of writing--how many hours a day you'll need, how much energy, how many rewrites, how many letters or conference meetings with agents and publishers it will take. Those things are so individual, and some so serendipitous that only God knows what your process will be. After that 10th book, you may have a better idea.

Both parents and writers face the question of whether what we are doing is the best thing. We grapple with insecurities about the depth of our commitment, and we spend a lot of time in the middle of the night dealing with issues. Well, I say "we" and I mean "I" do.  If I awaken in the night and my thoughts turn to my novel, I start reworking scenes, or creating new ones, or asking myself if I can make the book deeper and more meaningful, instead of just entertaining. As a parent, I ask myself many of the same questions about the way I'm relating to my daughter--am I paying enough attention? Am I giving her enough depth, instead of just entertaining her?

Writing and parenting--two worlds of insecurity. So when someone goes on and on about how the book just "flowed" out of them, maybe you need to pick up a mental shovel.

waiting for the muse

I worked a bit on my files today--labeling things with a Sharpee so that now you can be asphyxiated  looking for things in the file drawer. Whew!

The book is on simmer--that's what I call it when I'm mulling over a bunch of stuff, trying to figure out how to write a certain section, or determine what needs to be revealed next. A whole bunch of ideas just bubble away until, all at once, something pops to the top that clarifies my direction.  

To change the metaphor:  writing is a lot like walking into doors. Some are open when you come down the hall, some open just as you get there, and some  you aren't sure are closed until you smack into them. Ouch! Not that one right now.  Of course, some are also hidden doors that only open when you accidentally hit the secret button. And secret buttons are usually found only in the process of keeping the butt in the chair and producing verbiage. Then, somewhere in the midst of writing a paragraph, the whole next scene opens up for you. But those doors are rare.