I always wrote, but it wasn’t until I met Donna H. in freshman year of high school that I really dove in deep.
Donna was also a writer, and nothing can crank up the phone bills like two 14-year-old writers in the age before email. We were the reason both of our parents invested in call waiting.
Our writing process evolved organically. It was a constant churn of ideas, writing, editing, more ideas, more writing, more editing, until finally we had completed something we were happy with.
In this manner, we churned out 11 novels in 18 years. Some of them were even good.
They were all fan fiction, but we learned a great deal by writing them. And all the while, our intertwined writing process became as necessary, and as unconcious, as breathing.
Then Donna died.
Her death was hard in so many ways, but one of the hardest was learning to write without her. It was like I had lost one lung. Breathing was neither easy nor unconscious anymore.
But life goes on, and a writer must write. I pushed on, pushed through. And I have published three books and two short stories without her.
This week, though, the ghost of our writing process ran me over. I had an idea that really excited me, so much so that I typed it all out first thing in the morning, after it stewing in my mind during a largely sleepless night.
I wanted to share it with Donna. And I couldn’t.
I have writing buddies, people I am comfortable sharing my works-in-progress with. People whose opinions and critiques and friendships I value. But I have never found another “idea” person. Someone I can rush to in all my enthusiasm and have them listen, join in my enthusiasm, and then tell me if there was anything to the idea, or if I had jumped the shark. Because as excited as Donna would be, she would never hesitate to tell me if I’d gone off the rails in some way.
And then she’d help me figure out how to keep the core of the idea, the piece that had gotten me so excited in the first place, and make it work.
I no longer have THAT PERSON, and I felt the loss keenly. I don’t think it’s something you can make happen. It happens organically, somehow you just click.
I thought I had figured out how to write alone.
Looks like I’m still learning.
Settling In–CoronaLife Day 915
Whew! Back to School Night was Tuesday, and it left me drained. Having to give 2 speeches will do that to me. An introvert writer who hates public speaking?! Who would have guessed?! Plus just being there for 5 hours was a lot.
So today I didn’t do much. Just necessities, like getting my kid off to school, ordering groceries, and saving an unaccompanied toddler from running into the road. (She had Houdini-ed her way out of her house.)
However, my overall progress on Veritas has been good. I am past the halfway point, so I can see the end.
Some of the remaining scenes will be among the hardest to fix, but I feel that the thought and fixes I have put into the scenes leading up to now will help guide me correctly through them.
I hope to get back into it today, and continue to chip away. I will have a pretty clear week ahead to make headway.
Then the Book Fair will be upon us and that week will see little writing. But that’s okay, because it will be full of kids with books!
Now that we are settling into school, I hope to settle into a writing rhythm where I can get something done every day.
I usually set my goal to a chapter a day. For me, that’s about a thousand words. When I am revising, I very often can get more than that done, but by setting realistic, achievable goals I feel better about my progress.
How about you? Are you settling in to Fall?