I’ve been grumpily picking around the edges of my first draft, attempting to release and organize all the detailed scenes and dialogue from the gigantic synopsis and craft a proper book. I’m doing the alarm clock method, committing myself to small increments of sticking my bottom to a chair to do some writing.
Unfortunately, my mind drifts free. I build 1:12 scale dollhouses and have 2 in progress, so my brain drops the book to run around the tiny houses, musing on the electrical system or considering bashing out a wall. Anxiety about the mechanics of putting together all these puzzle pieces is making me back off.
I was sitting at work the other day – well, to be honest, I was in the ladies’ room, of all places – and the ending of the book suddenly dropped into my head completely intact. Hadn’t been thinking about it. I had tried to craft the ending, but it always came out cobbled together and lifeless, so pushed it into the Scarlet O’Hara room where you store the things you’ll think about tomorrow. I’ve been missing the ending and a logistical bit in the middle, and suddenly the ending was just handed to me.
This is basically how all my stories come about. It’s like the old days before Hulu, when you had no control over what you watched. You’re running through channels and a movie catches your eye. But you get only the last half hour. Then, another time you happen to catch the same movie at the beginning, but you don’t have time to watch all of it. That’s how I get my plots, one block at a time and not necessarily in chronological order. And yet the blocks fit neatly into place. I’ve rarely had to discard any of them.
I feel like I’m not really a writer because I don’t sit down and consciously, deliberately make up all this stuff, and seem to have no idea how to work it into a simple book. I feel like an unskilled transcriptionist waiting for dictation! This is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever done!
Unfortunately, my mind drifts free. I build 1:12 scale dollhouses and have 2 in progress, so my brain drops the book to run around the tiny houses, musing on the electrical system or considering bashing out a wall. Anxiety about the mechanics of putting together all these puzzle pieces is making me back off.
I was sitting at work the other day – well, to be honest, I was in the ladies’ room, of all places – and the ending of the book suddenly dropped into my head completely intact. Hadn’t been thinking about it. I had tried to craft the ending, but it always came out cobbled together and lifeless, so pushed it into the Scarlet O’Hara room where you store the things you’ll think about tomorrow. I’ve been missing the ending and a logistical bit in the middle, and suddenly the ending was just handed to me.
This is basically how all my stories come about. It’s like the old days before Hulu, when you had no control over what you watched. You’re running through channels and a movie catches your eye. But you get only the last half hour. Then, another time you happen to catch the same movie at the beginning, but you don’t have time to watch all of it. That’s how I get my plots, one block at a time and not necessarily in chronological order. And yet the blocks fit neatly into place. I’ve rarely had to discard any of them.
I feel like I’m not really a writer because I don’t sit down and consciously, deliberately make up all this stuff, and seem to have no idea how to work it into a simple book. I feel like an unskilled transcriptionist waiting for dictation! This is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever done!