…and then I waxed the cat

So I spent way too much time today letting the daily ordinariness of life interfere with the creative process. Like most writers, I'd rather do anything than actually write. Writing, contrary to what you might have heard, is hard work. I allowed myself to get caught up in laundry, dishes, moving stuff from the basement, squirrel watching, and reading other people's Live Journals. I didn't actually start writing until almost 2 PM, as opposed to my usual start by noon routine.

On the positive side, the writing itself went well, I am almost finished with a scene that has been giving me trouble for over a week. I managed to write some dialogue I'm happy with, and I feel I've both moved the story forward and laid down some needed information without creating an unwieldy info-dump. So what if it was only 300 words; it was a good 300 words and I'm happy.

Now I just need to figure out where to go next.

And I solemnly swear that I will spend the bulk of the rest of the week working diligently on my story. Right after I polish the silverware...

This is the first draft of "Move Along Home". First drafts provide me with tons of amusement after reading them through the first time around, because I tend to write in a very fast, must get it down NOW kind of way, paying no mind to such trivial things a spelling, punctuation or even good sentence structure (not unlike what I'm doing right now).

Then I read what I wrote and laugh at myself, lest I cringe in horror. I re-write and pass it off to my wife, the wonderful careswen, wielder of the Red Pen of Doom. I make corrections from her notes and suggestions. Then the story is off to workshop, another re-write, once more with careswen, a final correction phase, and out for submission.

It is a bit of a process actually.

Which I need to get back to.

Peace Out
Michael

…and then I waxed the cat

So I spent way too much time today letting the daily ordinariness of life interfere with the creative process. Like most writers, I'd rather do anything than actually write. Writing, contrary to what you might have heard, is hard work. I allowed myself to get caught up in laundry, dishes, moving stuff from the basement, squirrel watching, and reading other people's Live Journals. I didn't actually start writing until almost 2 PM, as opposed to my usual start by noon routine.

On the positive side, the writing itself went well, I am almost finished with a scene that has been giving me trouble for over a week. I managed to write some dialogue I'm happy with, and I feel I've both moved the story forward and laid down some needed information without creating an unwieldy info-dump. So what if it was only 300 words; it was a good 300 words and I'm happy.

Now I just need to figure out where to go next.

And I solemnly swear that I will spend the bulk of the rest of the week working diligently on my story. Right after I polish the silverware...

This is the first draft of "Move Along Home". First drafts provide me with tons of amusement after reading them through the first time around, because I tend to write in a very fast, must get it down NOW kind of way, paying no mind to such trivial things a spelling, punctuation or even good sentence structure (not unlike what I'm doing right now).

Then I read what I wrote and laugh at myself, lest I cringe in horror. I re-write and pass it off to my wife, the wonderful careswen, wielder of the Red Pen of Doom. I make corrections from her notes and suggestions. Then the story is off to workshop, another re-write, once more with careswen, a final correction phase, and out for submission.

It is a bit of a process actually.

Which I need to get back to.

Peace Out
Michael