The Book That Wrote Itself
This is the easiest book I have ever written. I thought I’d at least have trouble with the boys, because I usually don’t put young children in my stories, but once I got their names, everything else followed: their voices and personalities.
I haven’t written much about my experiences as a single mom of two little guys, but those years still stand out sharply in my mind, and while I’m writing I can vividly recall how it felt.
So this book seems to be writing itself, even the middle, which usually gives me endless grief. I just wake up every day and know what needs to happen next.
I used to think Hemingway was crazy becasuse he always left off his writing knowing his next scene, what would happen next. For me, I needed to get it all down, so I used to write until I was written out. Now I realize that what that did was burn me out, so that sometimes I didn’t feel like writing at all the next day.
Another thing that resulted from writing myself out is that I’d skip all kinds of things. I never lingered to fill in the details. I just wanted to get the plot down. I was always in a hurry to finish.
And what’s funny is I’m limiting myself to a thousand or so words a day (sometimes I write more, but not more than two thousand) and I’m writing faster and building a better book. I’ve got less than ten thousand words left to hit my target of 55,000, and it feels like that’s about where I am in the story, pretty close to the black moment, pretty close to place where everything feels hopeless for the couple and you have to wonder how in the world they are ever going to get their happily ever after.
I can’t believe August (and school) are right around the corner, but I can believe that I’ll have this book wrapped up in ten days or less…