Progress: Inch-by-Inch

"All I know is that if I sit there long enough, something will happen." --Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Starting a new project often stirs up trepidation in a writer. Doubts arise, negatives nag, the blank page looks so...well, empty. Where's the joy, the anticipation--the discovery?

The answer lies in taking it an inch at a time. And literally using a one-inch picture frame as a reminder. This is another gem of an idea from Anne Lamott in her book Bird by Bird.

"What I do at this point," she writes, "as the panic mounts and the jungle drums begin beating and I realize that the well has run dry and that my future is behind me and I'm going to have to get a job only I'm completely unemployable, is to stop. First I try to breathe...and I finally notice the one-inch picture frame that I put on my desk to remind me of short assignments.

"It reminds me that all I have to do is write down as much as I can see through a one-inch picture frame. This is all I have to bite off for the time being....after I've completely exhausted myself, I remember to pick up the one-inch piece of my story to tell, one small scene, one memory, one exchange...finish this one short assignment."

I'm taking this advice to heart and now have my own one-inch frame close by to remind me. Go away, nags and doubts. I have a plan. All I have to do is think small assignment and concentrate in the moment on it.

What's your plan to stick to your project until its completion? Any tricks up your sleeve, or inch-by-inch secrets?

_______________________________

Broccoli and Intuition

"Trust your hunches. They're usually based on facts filed away just below the conscious level." 
                                                                                                                 --Joyce Brothers

photo: scx.hu

A group of us friends get together periodically for a meal and movie, hosting in our homes in turn. We've done this for so long, toddlers have grown up and gotten married. Sometime ago we decided to do themed dinners--starting with international meals where everyone brought a dish linked to a chosen country. From that idea we moved to more unusual themes. For example, for this last get-together our hostess emailed: "It's the middle of winter, and we need a little sunshine. Let's do 'lemon and lime.'"

For my part I researched and came up with an elaborate recipe called "lemon spaghetti." It involved said spaghetti, steamed broccoli, carrots, and red bell peppers, and a lemon-yogurt dressing. And then I came down with a nasty head cold. My instincts told me I was not going to be able to go, let alone make this dish.

Hubby (who was not sick) stepped up. "Can I adapt the recipe, make something easy?" he asked. "That way I can take a dish when I go." We settled on steamed broccoli with sauteed garlic and a splash of lemon juice. Sufficient for the occasion and, it turns out, well received.

I only share this because the incident reminded me of a favorite passage from Anne Lamott's popular book on writing, Bird by Bird, in the chapter called (fittingly), "Broccoli." 

She writes: "There's an old Mel  Brooks routine...where the psychiatrist tells his patient, 'Listen to your broccoli, and your broccoli will tell you how to eat it.' And when I first tell my students this, they look at me as if things have clearly begun to deteriorate. But it is as important a concept in writing as it is in real life. It means, of course, that when you don't know what to do, when you don't know whether your character would do this or that, you get quiet and try to hear that still small voice inside. It will tell you what to do..."

In other words, rely on your "intuition."

Intuition (n.)--"the act or faculty of knowing or sensing without the use of rational processes; a perceptive insight."

Ms. Lamott goes on to say that intuition, however, won't kick in if we quit too soon. You sit down, she says, at say 9:15 a.m. and you only have your rational mind to guide you. Then, if you're having a bad day, you crash and burn within a half hour and give up. But "if you stick it out, the image or situation might come to you that would wedge the door open for a character, after which you would only have to get out of the way. Because then the character could come forward and speak and might say something important...and your plot might suddenly fall into place."

"You get your confidence and intuition back," she adds, "by trusting yourself. You get your intuition back when you make space for it...You might have to coax it (since intuition is "a little shy")...(but) try to calm down, get quiet, breathe, and listen...Train yourself to hear that small inner voice."

Tips then on tapping into our intuition:

Stay in chair.

Don't quit.

Stick it out.

Trust yourself.

Make space.

Get quiet.

Breathe.

Listen.

And, in conclusion, "Listen to your broccoli. Maybe it will know what to do. Then, if you've worked in good faith for a couple of hours but cannot hear it today, have some lunch."

Ha. Did you know you could learn so much about writing by embracing a hunk of broccoli? How much do you depend on intuition in your writing? Have you consciously tried to train yourself to hear that small inner voice? Have you given your intuition a name?

Next assignment: Name your intuition, and tell us why that name "speaks" to you!

_________________________

Wrestling the Octopus of Revisions

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor." --Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

She's done it again, Anne Lamott has--she's helped me with an aspect of writing. This time, the subject is revision. She even puts a face on it. Tell me if this doesn't describe our wrestling matches with words!

In Bird by Bird Lamott writes: "There's an image I've heard people in recovery use--that getting all of one's addictions under control is a little like putting an octopus to bed. I think this perfectly describes the process of solving various problems in your final draft. You get a bunch of the octopus's arms neatly tucked under the covers--that is, you've come up with a plot, resolved the conflict...gotten the tone down pat--but two arms are still flailing around. Maybe the dialogue (doesn't) match, or there is that one character who still seems one-dimensional...But you finally get those arms under the sheets, too, and are about to turn off the lights when another long sucking arm breaks free..."

Now I know why I feel so exhausted--I've been wrestling with an eight-legged creature here. And each of its legs needed its own bell-ringing go-round and could not be ignored. Whew. Then, about the time all seemed  settled, another leg would wave wildly again, and I'd have to revisit the problem. The legs I wrestled with include:

1) Voice. Is it consistent, authentic, and appealing?
2) Characters. Do I really know--and connect with--them?
3) Tension/Conflict/Narrative. Is there a good balance?
4) Point of View. Have I stayed true to it (in my case, third-person limited)?
5) Description/Sensory Details. Have I used them effectively to help draw the reader into the story?
6) Mastery of the Craft (showing not telling, active not passive, weeding out of redundant words/phrases, etc.). Have I identified--and corrected--most of the weaknesses?
7) Plot. Have I patched all the holes?
8) Story. Is it the best it can be? When do revisions end and queries begin?

When do we know when we are done?

Ms. Lamott goes on to answer this very question: "...even though all the sucking disks on that one tentacle are puckering open and closed, and the slit-shaped pupils of the octopus are looking derisively at you...and even though you know that your manuscript is not perfect and you'd hoped for so much more, but if you also know that there is simply no more steam in the pressure cooker and that it's the very best you can do for now--well? I think this means that you are done."

So, as I finish my last few pages of revisions, I am staring down the octopus and telling him we are done. Finished. Kaput. Go away! Well, at least until the next round...

In the meantime, here, among other books on writing and the many fantastic blogger posts that came to aid me in my corner of the ring during this process, are some links that I'm sure you'll find helpful, too: "Revision Checklist," Nathan Bransford; "What the Fiction Editor Looks For, Part 1" and "Part 2," Rachelle Gardner; "Revision is a State of Mind," Mary Kohl; and "Ten Mistakes Writers' Don't See (But Can Easily Fix When They Do)," Holt Uncensored.

What arm of the revisions octopus has been waving in your face lately? Do you enjoy the sport, or have to fight your way out of the tangle?

"There is always too much: Any good book spills over the sides, overwhelms the structure created

to contain it. Now you have to have some backbone and keep the book honest to its cause." --Philip Gerard

*photo courtesy of sxc.hu/