NaNoWriMo 2011

Are we crazy? No. Let’s just say we’re ambitious.

Okay, so, three of us gals here are doing NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month is an internet-based project that happens every November and challenges writers of all genres and ages to write a novel in a month (or 50,000 words.) Sounds nuts, huh? Yeah. We think so too, but we’re going to do it, along with approximately 200,000 people from countries all over the world.

Why am I doing this? I’m not quite sure, but feel compelled to do so. The YA novel I’ve been working on needs it. (That said, it’s sorta ‘cheating’ to participate with a project already in progress. However, I’m committing to do the 50k words. Cheating Schmeating. Don’t tattletale.) Committing to NaNoWriMo, I’m giving this story the huge, undivided attention it deserves.

I don’t expect to win a Pulitzer for what I write during NaNoWriMo, but I do expect to have enough words to finish the first draft of this book. That, in and of itself, will make the whole thing worth it. It’ll be worth the anxiety attacks and sleep deprivation. Luckily, I have the IV caffeine drip all set up.

See you on December 1st. xo

NaNoWriMo is this crazy thing. I know that. 50K words in 30 days? What the hell am I thinking?

But see, I work well under pressure, so I kind of think NaNoWriMo is engineered for weirdos such as myself.

My plans are to begin and hopefully finish the first draft of book one of Gaby’s story. It’s dystopian, though that will really hardly matter once we get going, and also faerie-centric. I have some absurd goals, which I’ll post about on my personal blog (example: 15K words by 11/5, for reasons I’ll get into later), but I am extraordinarily amped for this challenge.

No Twitter. No Facebook. No gchat. Just me, my laptop, and words.

See you in December, folks. MWAH!

Word Goal = 50,000
Days = 30
Characters = 6(ish)
Scrapped Outlines = 1
Plot = ½?
Unnaturally calm authors who should probably be having nervous breakdowns right about now = 0

I should be freaking out, right? Normally, this is exactly where I’d be freaking out. Come to think of it, WHY AREN’T I FREAKING OUT? I’ve got 87 different variations of a plot dancing around in my head, I haven’t written more than a couple hundred words at a time in almost six months and my schedule would make lesser women weep (okay, sometimes, it makes me weep). So freaking out would be totally acceptable here.

And yet, I’m not. I’ve been oddly calm (‘oddly’ because calm and I don’t exactly hang out) about the whole thing. Word on the Nano street is ‘no plot, no problem.’ Well, I’ve got this no plot thing wired.

You see, I can't fail. For me, Nano this year IS about getting the first draft of my novel written. And on some level, it is about hitting 50,000 words. But more than that, it’s about BEING a writer again. Making daily writing a habit. Trusting that I know what is best for my characters, that only I can tell their story. Learning to go with my gut. Understanding that there is a time for writing and a time for editing, and that now is a time for writing.

If I achieve these goals, 50,000 words or no, I win.

The plan to get there? Minimal internet. No Twitter. A strong support system. A person to spill my fears to (Jan, I will never stop thanking you.) Lots of coffee. Comfy pants. A quiet room. Google Docs. My characters. And me.

No big, right? We'll find out. See you in 31 <3

We'll check back in once the month is over. We'll let you know if we 'won', how it worked out, and if we went nuts in the process. Or, you know, more nuts than we are now ;)

On the Same Page - The Spark

On the Same Page - a monthly round table discussion on topics relevant to our writing experiences.

The six of us here at White Blank Page are all at very different stages of the writing process. Some of us are still planning, some just beginning to carve out some shape on their blank pages, some are halfway done or almost done--some completely done and starting round two. But regardless of where we happen to be now, we all remember what it's like at the beginning, how we went from being normal, (mostly) functioning humans to these completely distracted individuals who live the majority of lives playing with made up people inside our own minds.

It turns out that though we all ended up in roughly the same place, the ways in which we got there were all very different. And that's the story we're telling today.

The Night Circus Winner!

Well, you guys we just awesome giving me all kinds of upcoming book recs! I added some new ones to my list, so thank you.

For the record, the book I'm most eagerly awaiting is Lola and the Boy Next Door. I'm counting the minutes. That and The Future of Us by Jay Asher and Carolyn Macker. And I could go on and on...

But instead, I'll get to the point. And the point is, one of you lovelies has a copy of Erin Morgentstern's The Night Circus coming to you. And that someone is...

Lo!

Shoot me your email address and this baby is all yours.

Thank you random.org for making that easy. Thank you all for playing. Thank you to Random House for throwing the awesome party so that we could give this away. Thanks Mom, you were always there for .... sorry, I got a little carried away.

<3 Becci

The Night Circus Giveaway

I want to tell you how cool/crazy good/amazingwonderfulstupendous The Night Circus is. Sadly, I can’t. But only because I haven’t read it yet :) I can tell you that I’m dying to read it. And I can tell you that I’m dying to read it even more after getting a chance to meet the author, Erin Morgenstern, last week.

I got the chance to go to the pre-launch party for this book last week, which was really exciting. And by exciting, what I mean is ‘how cool...oh god, what am I going to wear... repeat after me, Becci, you will NOT do that thing where you ramble off random babble just because you get nervous in groups of people you don’t know... oh god, WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR...’

And that is just a little window into the crazy, folks.

But I went, and it was incredibly cool. The party was held at Verrill Farm in Concord, MA (and I totally took a wrong turn and started driving to Walden Pond... how cool is that?), which is where the book is set. There were tents and strings of lights and circus-y folk. It was really sort of magical.

And there was one very grateful, gracious, lovely author in Erin Morgenstern.

So, I have an ARC of The Night Circus for me, which I will be digging into very shortly. AND, because I think you are all special snowflakes, I have an extra one for one of you!

The book hits stores on September 13th. I’m going to make this giveaway a quick one, so that you get it before then. Heck, you’ll probably even get it while I’m still reading, since I read like old people... well, let’s just say it’s not fast. And then, we can send each other delightful little messages about how much we love it, because I just have a feeling we’re going to.

What do you have to do? Hmmmm. In the comments below, tell me which book, one that hasn’t been released yet, you’re dying to read (before 11:59 PM EST on 9/4). This one? Another one? (This is a nice way to enter, and it’s also a shameless way for me to find out books that are coming up that I might not know of yet. I’m shellfish, what can I say?)

Open to U.S. and Canada only. Closes 9/4 at 11:59 PM.

Don't You Dare Call Me A Writer...Yet.

What the hell am I?

I must ask myself this question, at least, five times a day. I’m clearly having issues with calling myself a writer and telling the world what I’ve committed to do with my life. Maybe this would be better explained with a real life conversation that occurred between me and my husband.

Me: Honey, did you see the writing blog I’m doing with the girls?

Mr. Mel: Yeah, it looks great. I posted it on my Facebook so everyone can see.

Me: :::blank stare::::

Mr. Mel: Yeah, I was so excited for you that I wanted to share. It’s awesome.

Me: What...wait...you...wait. You did...wait...what?

Mr. Mel (starting to look scared): Well...is that a big deal?

Me: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IS IT A BIG DEAL? OF COURSE IT’S A BIG DEAL, YOU IDIOT!! THEN THE WHOLE WORLD WILL KNOW!

Mr. Mel: Well, I think the world knows anyway, dear. You just put it on a blog...with your name...and your picture.

Me: THAT IS TOTALLY DIFFERENT! I’M NOT BROADCASTING IT OVER FACEBOOK WHERE ALL OUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE! DELETE IT! NOW!

Mr. Mel: Wait. You’re writing and that’s awesome, but you don’t want people to know?

Me: ARE YOU DELETING? OF COURSE PEOPLE CAN’T KNOW!! WHAT IF I SUCK AT IT OR FAIL AND THEN EVERYONE WILL KNOW!!

Mr. Mel: Honey...

Me: WHY IS IT STILL THERE?! DELETE!!

Things grow fuzzy in my recollection after this. I think there was more screaming on my part and even more confusion on my husbands. Yes, the Facebook post was eventually deleted.

I consider myself lucky that I have a husband that believes in me so much that he wants to share with everyone he knows that his wife is a writer. However, I’m not a writer. Technically.

I touched on this in my bio actually. Having a career as a writer is so far out of the realm of what I anticipate, I don’t entertain the idea much. Yes, I write. I love it. It’s who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. I’m trying to make something out of that love inside me, but I don’t know where it will go from there. Why put myself out there, label and all, when I don’t even know what I’m doing? On the other hand, according to my husband, why shouldn’t I share?

Oh wait. Don’t answer that. I know the answer. My favorite f- word. Well, second.

F-A-I-L-E-D.

If I tell everyone I’m writing, that I’m a writer, I set myself up for all kinds of expectations. At this stage of the game, I think my very fragile ego wouldn’t be able to take disappointment. I’m a very sensitive, delicate flower (or so I’ve been told on a few occasions.)

Hypothetical: Let’s tell all my family and friends I’m dedicating my time to writing a novel and when I possibly have nothing to show for it some day, they can all conclude I’m a big, fat failure. They can look at me with a sad look and say, “So, are you still doing that writing thing?”

Can you see my hesitation?

Okay, so maybe I have a teeny problem with self-deprecation.

Then this other conversation happened yesterday.

Best Friend: So, what else have you been spending your time doing?

Me: Ohhhhhhhh. Nothing much.

Best Friend: Do I have to drag it out of you? Your husband told my husband you’re writing a book.

Me: Oh! Well...I...I...dunno.

Best Friend: Why didn’t you tell me?! This is fabulous! You’ve always had a gift for writing and I’m so glad you’re doing something with it.

Me: I...just...was nervous telling anyone.

Best Friend: Why?

Me: Because what if I fail?

Best Friend. What if you don’t?

Me: The chances of...

Best Friend: (interrupting) Mel...But what if you don’t?

Everyone needs a best friend like this.

Writing... LIKE A BOSS.

"If you write every time you feel like it, you will have pages. If you write everyday, you will have a book."

Reading that quote the other day was a major brick-to-forehead moment for me. Because, I mean... duh. Obviously it's true, but I've just never thought about it like that. I think about writing as this organic ~artistic~ process, and approach it the same way; I write when the inspiration is there, when I feel motivated, when the characters are the loudest in my head. 

And maybe for some people, inspiration and motivation are there all the time--or even just at the right times--but for me? Inspiration and/or motivation hit in the middle of meetings, or at three in the morning, or out on the football field during my son's practices. It's never at the right moment, never when it's practical or easy for me to drop everything and escape into my little room of quiet focus. (By the way, do those rooms exist? I need one.)

What I've begun to do is approach writing like I would a second job. I've scheduled as much time as I have on a daily basis (which, admittedly, during August football season--with its three hour practices every evening, oh joy--isn't much). I've set aside a place for myself to write--a place where I am not allowed to do anything but write. I've set a deadline and some attainable progress points to meet along the way.

Pimp My Novel has a really excellent post up about this very thing, and I intend to print it out and stick it to my wall.

It feels good. It feels focused. I need to realize that no one else is going to make me write. Whether I finish this project or not does not matter to anyone but me. No one else will regret it if I don't. No one else will live with that lost potential. Just me. So I need to be my own boss about this.

So I'm gonna write like a boss. Awww yeeeaaah.

Lists and Bad Days and Tim Riggins

“The human animal differs from the lesser primates in his passion for lists.” - H. Allen Smith

WORD.

It is a running joke between me and my closest friend that there is nothing I love more than a good list. Shopping lists, lists of books, to do lists, lists of songs, more lists of books, lists of my lists. Okay, not really the last one, but now that I think about it, it’s not a bad idea.

In my day job, lists are essential. Lots of things to do, lots of details to remember, and only one me. So my desk is a veritable wonderland of lists. On paper, online, on one of three dry erase boards.

The thing is, lists work, at least for me. When I have one, things feel more organized and less chaotic. And let’s face it, between the full time job, the husband and two kids, and attempting to write a novel, organization is key.

My point? Getting there. I do have one, I promise.

So, after reading about my adoration of lists and all things organized, one would imagine that when I’m writing, my outline is my bestest best friend that I snuggled with and loved up on and relied on to keep me sane.

One would be incorrect.

In fact, outlines scare the bananas out of me. And the the strange thing is, I’m not really sure why. And outline has a lot in common with a list, right? It helps with organization, gives some course of action, yada yada yada. I should be all over an outline like a donkey on a waffle.

But I’m not. Maybe it’s because outlining is really hard?

Why, oh why, must I suffer for my art? (Said a la Scarlett O’Hara, complete with my head thrown back dramatically and the back of my hand resting on my forehead).

Outlining is hard for me. The process is basically the antithesis of how I write. It’s all overview and high level and light on details. Details are my world.

Or maybe it’s because I feel like it takes some of the magic out of the writing process. I have this illusion (i.e. delusion) that authors go into a room with nothing but a coffee pot and a toilet, draw the shades, write like the keyboard is on fire and emerge three weeks letter with a perfect, fully edited work of literary genius.

In reality, I know that’s not true. But the writer in me is also a dreamer. And the dreamer in me doesn’t seem to want to accept that this is work. Hard work.
I know some authors outline, and some don’t. So why not be one of the ones that doesn’t? Why not just be a fly by the seat of your pants type of gal? (Moment to moment, that’s me. Yes, I’m quoting Pretty Woman at you).

It doesn’t work.

Historically speaking, without an outline I get halfway through (that’s me being generous with myself) and I can’t remember what I envisioned happening anymore, I can’t make decisions about where I want it to go. I get stuck.

Of course, historically speaking, with an outline I feel stifled and locked in and I can’t remember why I wrote down that I wanted those things to happen in my story. I get stuck.

And I really don’t want to get stuck on this. I love my characters (obsessively so) and I want what’s best for them. I don’t want them sitting in the middle of a half finished manuscript saying ‘Wait! Where are you going? What happens to us??” I can’t bear the thought of them suffering. Unless, of course, said suffering is part of the story.

So I bit the bullet. I outlined.

Of course, I then immediately changed my mind on so many things that I had determined were completely static. I was so certain of something one minute, but when I looked at the outline as a whole, I found things that wouldn’t work.

Just a guess, but I think a few of you are going to relate to what came next.

My head kersploded. I feel apart. I became this utterly useless piece of whiny writer.

Because if the things I thought I knew turned out to be false, then how do I know what is true? If I found that many flaws while writing the outline, how would my story survive writing the book??

And the answer is simple. (By simple, I mean that it took me three weeks, several emoils (emails full of whine and flail - many thanks and apologies to my WBP girls and Jess and ALL the other recipients), and some serious denial partying with Riggins*.

It won’t. The story as I imagined it when I first came up with the idea won’t make it through this process.

So I’m quitting writing to watch Friday Night Lights full time? No. Although, brutal truth, I contemplated it a lot in the last few weeks, and almost decided to hang up my hat. And in those truly dark moments, I emailed just one person and said ‘I want to give up.’

Thankfully, the people in my life know me well, and love me regardless. Because the response was exactly what I needed to hear (thank goodness for Meri).

Recharge your batteries. Do what makes you happy. Read. Watch a show. Snuggle. You'll find your way.

You’ll find your way.

And that way? It’s not in the outline. There is no map from where I am now to where I’ll be when I finish. There are no step-by-step directions to guide me. I need to learn that anything can change. I need to decide what are the pieces my book can’t live without, and which ones can be sacrificed. I’m not scrapping the outline, but I am looking at it for what it is.

I’m going to learn to work without a net. I’m going in the direction that feels right at the moment. Sometimes that will be the right path. Other times, I will wind up at a dead end and have to turn back. I’ll make choices without any idea if they are the right ones. I’ll fall. I’ll fail.

And I’ll find my way.

*FNL footnote: What is it about a beautiful, broken boy? Tim Riggins is perfect. That is all.