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pegkerrwords: 170
Total: 13270
Stopping because: past my bedtime. And because I can't quite find what I wanted to find in research comparing blood and seawater.
Mood: Dismayed and cranky. Gawd, I'm never going to make it out of this scene alive. Will it seem as endless and boring and pointless to the reader as it seems to me? Am irritated because I want to think of some incisive similes and the ones I'm coming up with are crap. [e.g: "He stood up again and stared at her with a trace of annoyance, as if she were a design he were trying to draw and he couldn’t quite get the scale right." See what I mean? Sucky.] It occurred to me that I had decided previously to make Solveig a Myers-Briggs ISTJ, but I keep writing her like an ENFJ, because that's closer to what I am. So went back and tried to adjust her reactions. Not satisfied that I succeeded.
Still too tired to write the explanation I had meant to give you all about the fish and yoga, and why suddenly it seems important to have Solveig know a little about yoga (probably no more than me, really, which is precious little). I may get over this conviction in a day or two, and then I'll never have to write it up and explain it to you all.
You know, this really isn't the best time of day for me to be writing. I'm more of a morning person. But I don't have any choice about it, with the work schedule I have, a fact which doesn't help.
(Do people really find these glare reports of the slightest interest at all? is this book as boring to you all as it is to me? Actually, I suppose this means, in a backwards sort of way, that the book must be going well, because this is a stage that all writers must go through when writing a book they will end up finishing. Lois calls it the "miserable middle." Except, of course, that I haven't written nearly enough to call this the middle of the book. Shoot.
Total: 13270
Stopping because: past my bedtime. And because I can't quite find what I wanted to find in research comparing blood and seawater.
Mood: Dismayed and cranky. Gawd, I'm never going to make it out of this scene alive. Will it seem as endless and boring and pointless to the reader as it seems to me? Am irritated because I want to think of some incisive similes and the ones I'm coming up with are crap. [e.g: "He stood up again and stared at her with a trace of annoyance, as if she were a design he were trying to draw and he couldn’t quite get the scale right." See what I mean? Sucky.] It occurred to me that I had decided previously to make Solveig a Myers-Briggs ISTJ, but I keep writing her like an ENFJ, because that's closer to what I am. So went back and tried to adjust her reactions. Not satisfied that I succeeded.
Still too tired to write the explanation I had meant to give you all about the fish and yoga, and why suddenly it seems important to have Solveig know a little about yoga (probably no more than me, really, which is precious little). I may get over this conviction in a day or two, and then I'll never have to write it up and explain it to you all.
You know, this really isn't the best time of day for me to be writing. I'm more of a morning person. But I don't have any choice about it, with the work schedule I have, a fact which doesn't help.
(Do people really find these glare reports of the slightest interest at all? is this book as boring to you all as it is to me? Actually, I suppose this means, in a backwards sort of way, that the book must be going well, because this is a stage that all writers must go through when writing a book they will end up finishing. Lois calls it the "miserable middle." Except, of course, that I haven't written nearly enough to call this the middle of the book. Shoot.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-18 05:11 am (UTC)As a voracious reader, I've often thought about the process that went into writing the books I love so much. I know they didn't just spring fully formed into existence. They weren't mined out of the earth like a jewel. They weren't plucked ripe off a tree. Someone, an individual person, started with a blank piece of paper and an idea. And then had to write down each and every word, thousands of them, one at a time. Someone started with a beginning, found themselves in the middle and somehow came to an end. Someone took an idea and made it into an entire world full of living, breathing characters.
You're someone who does this, and I feel privileged to have this glimpse into how it's done.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-18 05:24 am (UTC)Even and this is my big fear if I never finish the damned thing? Wouldn't you feel cheated?Thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-03-18 05:57 am (UTC)Even if you never finished the damned thing.
Really.
It would still have been a privilege to have a glimpse into this process and into your life. Whether this particular book comes to fruition now, years later, or never.
I would feel that even if you never finished the damned thing, you still wrote. And that's no small accomplishment. You still had that blank piece of paper that eventually became filled with words even if they ultimately weren't the right ones, and you had an idea even if it wasn't ultimately fulfilled, and you still brought characters to life even if they weren't quite fully formed.
Even if you only wrote a few words a day, or only got to chapter 12, you were still a person who had a life and a family and also worked on writing a book. And that is something to be very proud of.
Especially since you've already written some very wonderful books. :-)
I don't know if I'm making any sense with this. But I believe that one way or another, whether it's now or ten years from now, you will do it. You will write this damned book. :-)