summer is supposed to be a time of relaxation, of sunshine and sunscreen, of picnics in the park, of beaches and pools, of long, lazy hours that blend together.
or maybe that’s just the summers of my childhood because i can’t recall a summer like that in recent years. nowadays, i’ve barely added the white back into my wardrobe post memorial day before the fireworks are popping and labor day shuts down any fantasies i had about going to the beach. it’s one thing after another — work, trips, sports, friends, family, etc — and pretty soon, the leaves are changing color and i’m putting the blankets back on my bed.
so where does that leave me time to write?
it doesn’t really, so i have to remember to make writing a priority, to squeeze in the words any way i can: on a lunch break. on the train. before bed. when i’m tired. when i’m happy. when i’m bored. when i’m busy. when i’m cold. when i’m sick. when i’m healthy. whenever, wherever i can.
FWIS (from where i stand) is a monthly feature i’m doing with jessica corra and bria quinlan. all three of us are YA writers in different places in our journeys. (check out their links for this month’s FWIS from their points of view.)
today’s topic: writing time
my writing time of late has felt a bit like that picture — scattered and spread out.
i started off WIP #3 with a bang. i got through 21K in about 4 weeks, which while not much, is some sort of record for me. but then i left tire marks on the asphalt as the brakes kicked in. i haven’t written anything in about 3 weeks. i’m not sure why those brakes were applied or how to undo them.
i’ve continued to do some RESEARCH:
i’ve read a bunch of books in a variety of genres (ENDER’S GAME, THE WITNESS, THE GURNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY, A NEED SO BEAUTIFUL, UNDER THE NEVER SKY, and IN A FIX, to name a few) in hopes of igniting my brain.
i’ve FLESHED OUT some of the other characters in my WIP. my PLOT outline is skeletal, but in working order. i’ve napped. i’ve eaten. i’ve exercised. i’ve watched DOWNTON ABBEY and just started SHERLOCK (love it!). i’ve talked on the phone. i’ve emailed. i’ve performed a complicated series of sacrifices (aka spring cleaning + putting my room AC unit in the window) all in the hopes of paving a path back to creativity.
all the gears are lined up. all that’s left to do is for me to put my butt in the chair and write — and yet — it keeps feeling like this:
today i found lots of beautiful skies that i wanted to collect but couldn’t.
i don’t know if it’s because i don’t have any real deadlines or if it’s because i’m waiting for a sign before i begin again. i do know that i have no idea what size or shape or color that sign will be. i’m also not sure what that sign will say, but hopefully it’ll be something along the lines of, “it’s time to start writing again, your highness” instead of something more like a slap across the face.
though that would certainly get my attention.
how do you use your writing time? is it productive? creative? full of you staring out the window? what do you do to get the momentum going again? how do you deal with a lack of deadlines? have you ever been slapped? (if yes, how come?!?!)
brother G’s youngest turned 4 yesterday (4 on june 4 — golden birthday!) and he (G) sent out the following picture the day before:
maybe turning 4 will improve his fashion sense?
one of the most wonderful things about kids is when they reach the age where they can and do dress themselves. the combinations of shirts and pants and socks and tutus and tights and shoes they put on is awfully endearing.
it’s also how they learn (a) how to put on clothes and (b) which clothes match, or not, depending upon the intended end result.
they figure out (a) by if they’re mobile in their clothes and they understand if (b) is correct by judging their parents’/siblings’ reactions. much laughter probably means they should turn around and try a different combination of clothes from the closet.
which got me thinking about writing.
we first have to learn (a) how to write and plot and create and dream and (b) if the story, plot, characters match.
we can figure out (a) by writing and writing and writing some more and we’ll know if (b) is working based upon the reactions of our critique partners, agents, editors, beta readers, real readers (depending upon what level of publication you’ve reached).
but the most important thing i realized from my nephew’s current fashion sense is that the beginning/the learning/the figuring out of clothes/writing is messy, crazy, and silly, as it should be. the only way to learn what’s right is by doing what’s wrong. it’s also very important not to take life or your outfit or your manuscript too seriously because where’s the fun in that?
cheers to mismatched socks, plots, and birthday cakes.
Abigail Mumford 