it really has begun

Feeling optimistic today. The wind, the rain, the pineapple, the pot. Two days ago, I put up my encouragement on the wall, notes to myself and quotes. It really marked the beginning of the writing process for the new book.

To digress, the idea for the book came to me in a dream one year ago, and it really excites me to write something that seemed to come in a message. (Book 1 was conceived while battling senioritis triggered by my nerdy-hot British professor.) In that dream, I actually saw the book.

A husky man had delivered a shipment of the books to a very run-down pet store. I reached into a bin that should've held bunnies and picked one up, cleared off the hay. I skimmed through it and saw pictures of the five main characters inside. The gist of the story leaped off the pages (can't tell ya what yet). It was exactly the sort of book I always wanted to read. I remember very clearly that it was written by Morock Spock.

Yesterday, I backed my painted notices on sturdy cardboard and tacked them to wall. Here are the words that will help me beat Morock Spock to it, whoever he is:

I have a dream

Just don't stop

"If you just imagine your criticism, and you put it into a little bundle of sticks and you place that bundle of sticks a foot away from yourself, that space between you and that bundle of sticks is your creative space. How far are you gonna put it from you? You could set it a mile from you, and you could dance all around the countryside. Or you could glue it to your forehead and never be allowed to take a breath." --Antony Hegarty

"A brilliant writer sweeps the reader out of this world into one where the author rules absolutely." --George Dawes Green

Give yourself permission

Steven King, 180 thou is just too much.

A couple weeks ago, while reading Nathan Brandsford's fantastic blog, I read a poster's comment that almost made me barf:

In the otherwise miraculous book "On Writing", Stephen King gives two pieces of advice that seem to be on a lot of agents' no-no lists: (1) he suggests querying with a few chapters written, and (2) he suggests writing 2,000 words a day for three months, giving you a nice 180k word novel. Whenever I see someone mention a supersized novel, I wonder if that advice is behind it.

I almost died. I felt like a big fat idiot.

I read On writing last summer and said to myself, "well I'm writing a young adult novel, so I'll make mine 160,000 words." And I did. It is 160,000 words. Come to find out after discovering Nathan Brandsford and the world of blogging authors/agents/editors/publishers, that 150,000 is the cutoff for first-time adult fiction novelists. Oh crap.

And what was the debut young adult restriction? 100,000 words. I shot myself in the foot.

Why couldn't I have read all this a year ago? That poster's comment shocked me into a regret that lasted two days and spanned every aspect of my life.

Before I wrote my first book, I didn't seek out anything other than King's word-count advice. I didn't even really research the market. I was naive, or lazy maybe. Or maybe I just needed to prove to myself that I could do it.

But it's okay, because I'm here now. And I love where I'm at. In response to yesterday's post, I've found a tool that not only exists outside my brain, but limits it! How delicious.

Word Count makes it so easy for me to feel either accomplished, wordy, or brief. Word Count labels my life. Okay, that was extreme.

I have a way to make my ideas tangible and small. Life is big but my books are small. Duh, right? But listen. If a book were as big as life...umm no...(don't listen). I can't even finish that sentence. All that comes to mind is apocalypse, explosion, and a twenty-year-old man who looks 102 and then dies. Sounds like I've got the premise for my third novel.

So basically, a word count goal limits a writer. Like a canvas would to a painter.

But WAIT! THERE'S MORE! I have another tool.

On Voice. (Darn you Steven King!)

I couldn't even read my first book out loud. It felt awful. All wrong. But I love reading other people's books out loud. I do an excellent Hermione, and a darn good everybody else. Really I do. Except that I'm shy and can only do it for Gabe and Deven.

I couldn't even read my own book out loud to Gabe. What the hell?

I didn't think I was a capable of mastering the complexity of my characters. They were too real to me. I dreamed of someday doing the audio for the book, but I couldn't even read it aloud to myself.

Voice is ESSENTIAL to writing. And it's auditory. It's kinda/sorta outside the brain. It limits me (thank the Lord). It makes my book tangible. I have just had a revelation! Writers must focus on how their audience will absorb the product. This is hard for writers to do. Dancers and performers can look in the mirror. Actresses can do screen tests. Painters can take two steps back. And so on.

Writing is very personal. You can't just sneak a peak. You can't see it from the bleachers or eye it from across the museum room. You have to get up close, and let it fill your head. The writer's tools are all about how your head gets full.

If you hold a book, you probably don't want it to break your hand. Enter:

WORD COUNT!

If it's read out loud to you, you want your mommy or teacher or wife to do fun, entertaining voices. (I love you, J.K. Rowling.)

So yeah, Steven King gets to write books that can send you to the hospital, because obviously he writes some good shit. (Though I doubt he could get me to growl like Hagrid.)

Uh, oh. There's a conundrum. That conundrum being e-books. They aren't heavy. My laptop weighs a hell of a lot less than the university library (fake tans and mow-hawk dreads are heavier than you'd think).

Kindles and iPads enable people to load tons of books on a device they can balance on one finger. How do they choose these books? How do they know if the writer is worth his weight if the item weighs nothing? They get a sample!

It's not just about weight. It's about layout. LAYOUT! I have another tool :)

Long books can't hide. They have .25 inch margins and not enough paragraphs on the page. Well, so do these e-books. If they start making separate, sparser layouts for these e-books, Jacqueline Carrey's books will be as long as the Bible (I'm talkin' to you, Steven King).

WORD COUNT, VOICE, and LAYOUT. Readers are going to use these things to help them choose what to buy and decide what they like.

So writers should use them too.

on drunken writers

For the performer, body form and facial expressions are essential tools. The painter actively twists caps, mixes exact shades, and creates life out of brush strokes. The composer must play or hum, or put his ear to the floor. Oral storytellers have bright eyes and intuitive tongues. Only The Writer is without more than his brain, except maybe layout-his eyes weigh the density of white versus black. He writes pen to parchment in his woodsy cabin and his words are copied by someone with a finer hand. He sits at his chair and types. The font is then changed. He has no physical finesse. What matters to him is purely thought, memory and imagination.

All artists' tools need to be rested and relaxed. Dancers must massage and soak. Actors take off their costumes and wash their faces. Painters rinse their brushes and let them dry. Singers must be silent.

Alcohol might make the others sloppy, but with it, the writer has reined in his thoughts. He has confidence and hope where before, only infinity applied. A writer rubs his aching wrists, but what he needs is a tall drink of hazy gray.

Might I suggest a walk instead?

why I love James Waterfall

I have lost complete track of time, but I think it was a week ago that my sleeping schedule went like this.

4hrs of sleep one day. Then 4hrs the next. Then no sleep. Then 12hrs. Then no sleep again.

During the sleepless hours, the whole emotional trope and main plot of my new book came to me. So weird. I've never preplotted before. (Guess I should add that to my list of new behaviors.)

I was writing like a mad woman, developing characters, the rules of the world, going from one event to another, naming chapters I had not written. My brain was on such overdrive that not even 60wpm could keep up. I had to type trigger phrases in a word document instead of ideas, and then fill in the thoughts when my brain had paused.

And since I hadn't been sleeping, I was really wacky. You know the look.

Towards the end of the ordeal, I called up my stepfatherinlaw, James. I told him my dilemma.

Now, most people would tell you that voices in your head, or rather ones that come on misty wind through open windows, are a sign that you need medication.

Not James. He advised that I talk back. Brilliant!

He framed the issue as my relationship with my Muse (I just really can't help but cap it). I must tell my Muse that we can work together, but only so long as I stay healthy and happy, physically and mentally and in my relationships. (That means you, babe).

That I must tell my Muse straight up about my demands. And I did. I wrote my Muse a letter, in my journal. And it didn't feel silly at all.

Why? 'Cause I had James' seal of approval, and its a mighty fine seal to get.

Gabe quote

Gabe says lots of wonderful things. Tonight he said:

God is the explanation for the unknown, whatever the unknown is to you.

opposites

The tropics does some crazy shit to a person. If you don't believe me, watch The Secret Power of Time.

But you believe me.

A list of opposite things has been running through my head since we've moved. Let's see if I can remember them.

CA: Get inspiration from the sea and calm organization from the mountains
HI: Get inspiration from the mountains and get calm organization from the sea.
It is tripping me out! I can't stinking sleep, because I live in the mountains. Wind blows through the open window and I go insane.

CA: Unconfrontational
HI: Confrontational
So I used to avoid confrontation at all costs, even if it meant frantically fretting over everything I could have said for about four days. But now, I just wanna tell the world. Like today, I was at a beach resort in Kahala (where I got to see dolphins do tricks by the way. Yes! Tricks! Back flips. Front flips. Swirly flips. Ohhh, dolphins. They make me cry). Oh sorry. Anyways. These two love birds run right by my towel lengthwise at the beach and spatter me with sand like happy water-loving dogs. I stand up and yell "Excuse me!" as they dive into the ocean, holding each other tight. They don't hear, and I sit back down. But still, I yelled.

CA: I needed a lot of sleep. Gabe needed a little.
HI: I need a little sleep. Gabe needs a lot.
Ya know what, this little item is total bullshit. I need some sleep. Sleep? Who said the world sleep? Ahhh glorious sleep. I need it. Yes I do.

CA: loathed the smell of blogs
HI: has own blog
It still trips me out, still makes me wonder. What is wrong with me? Pity the creature that lies in bed typing on aluminum all about herself. What she thinks. What she wants. Ick. Icky icky ick. All bloggers are just plain icky. And yet, once I got used to the foul smell, I realized that there are many blogs that I just plain adore: the rawness, the look-at-me, the voice.

I'm writing another book.

I just couldn't take it anymore! Nine months of editing drove me totally nuts. It was always questions. Sooo many questions. Should they kiss in this scene? Should she think of him here? Should she think of him there? Is this right? Is this wrong? Is this good?

Is this crap?

It sucked. I hated all those questions. They felt like shattered dreams. The three months I spent scheming up an alternate universe and filling it with fascinating people doing fascinating things came down to plot holes, lost momentum, and caricatures.

Damn them and their two dimensions.

And so, I'm being irresponsible. I am quitting, for now. I'm writing another book.

Currently, its 10 pages. So exciting, I know.

I get to start all over again, create the place, create the people. And when I'm done, I'll resume editing the first book while editing the second book. Oh, shit, then I'll have two books to edit!

They are each the beginning of their own series so...uh oh. Maybe I'll be one of those people with a room full of half-finished series-starters.

Until said room is full, you can find me in denial.