July 2017 Word Count Tally

I'm amazed at the July word count. Despite the inability to use my hand for nearly 3 weeks due to a pinched nerve, I did really well. It is a bit satisfying.

All of that was done in Hidden in the Mist. At least I'm pretty sure it was. I'm a little fuzzy on a few days but pretty sure.

I'm nearly through with the darn thing! Thank God! It has been a long haul and we won't talk about how many years. Thank goodness for Alice's constant prodding. As a result of it, I might have a finished draft by next weekend. Every writer needs a friend like Alice.Nag, nag, nag, prod, poke, and berate. Well, it seems to have helped a great deal.

Once this is done, my plan is to set it down and finish the other story that is nearly done. After that draft is complete, I want to start the edits on Mist.

One foot in front of the other. Step-by-step.

I'm probably done for the night because my hand is bugging me a bit. Mobility has returned to some degree but hardly any strength and limited dexterity. I can't open tear open bags, cereal bag, condiment packets, opening jars is now more than difficult. They are sending me to a neurologist to see if they can determine where the problem lies.

Still, I'm pleased with that 3491 words for July.

This Close

What do I know about writing? I laugh aloud as I write the question. What do I really know? I know that I can. I know that I really want to write. But some days, like today, I don't think I know a single thing about the actual writing. I can form an adequate sentence and string together a bunch of them to make an adequate paragraph. If I work at it, I can actually string a bunch of those together and make a good story. I can't seem to finish them. Until now.

I'm this close to finishing The Long Summer Run, one of my favorite NaNo novels. It is exhilarating and intimidating. There is so much work still to do, even though I'm this close.

Is it a good story? Will anyone like it? Will anyone actually want to read it? Have I provided all the necessary components? Is it missing any vital details? Oh my stars, does it suck?

It's missing a whole lot of details. But the basic story is almost done. It has a beginning, middle, and almost end. Of course, the middle is a muddle but my middles always are. They are why I have trouble finishing a story. I can write the first and last of the thing but the middle seems to bog me down. I've been working on that, reading things by various authors that I hope will give me insight. I've run across some really good ones. What have I learned?

I just need to write it. Stop worrying and thinking about it and just do it. The story is all there. That's what I decided over the course of the last few months and attempted to do in November. It was going pretty good until some kind of monster cold nearly slew me. I was down for three weeks and by the time I got up I was only 5000 words in. But it was 5000 words I did not have on November 1. I estimate I have about 5000 more that I actually need.

So, what do I know about writing? Actually, a lot. I know good writing when I read it. And I know sucky writing when I read it. I'm a good editor so when I get to that point, I hope my abilities don't fail me. I know what I need to know to do it.

Knowledge is power, right?

I'm this close.

Taking Time

I've had a crazy week of writing. I didn't write each day but on the days I wrote, I wrote about 1000 words, and one day, nearly double that. So, while I wish I'd done it every day, I'm not disappointed with my progress.

Somewhere this week I mentioned that I had an epiphany of sorts when I looked at my overall word count. I'm at just over 57,000. That's not actually a novel length work. In fact, it is barely a novella.  I still need roughly another 70,000 words in the draft. That revelation had an unexpected and unusual effect on me. I felt relief and exhilaration. I know I have a nearly complete story arc and that alone is exciting, but I also know there is so much more I need to say to tell the story and to realize that I had another 70K words to do it was . . . well, that was awesome.

There are, of course, wrenches in the works. I only worked two days this week but I've been fighting fatigue. Some of you will now that I'm now using a CPAP machine for my sleep apnea. It works most nights quite well but this week has been a mixed bag. For some reason, I've been getting plenty of hours sleep but I'm still feeling extremely sleepy. Yesterday, I came home and got in the recliner and slept for about 3 hours ... like a rock. I didn't feel better when I woke up. I experienced the wobbly drunkenness that I suspect is fibromyalgia. Sleep apnea and fibro produce some of the same symptoms. Brain fog, unsteadiness, and severe fatigue are symptoms of both. Today, I'm still fatigued but not as severely as I have been the last five days.

Naturally, very little gets done during these times. I began sorting 10 days of laundry today. I managed to put some of it away before my back simply rebelled. I just can't stand next to the bed to sort laundry and sitting isn't much better. I have to get up and down to hang items. So, today, I sorted items that go on hangers from items that go into drawers. I put the drawer stuff away. I'm left with hanger things and I divided those between my stuff and Sarah's. I can't go to bed tonight until I clear my bed. I have three loads of sheets and towels in the living room.

I keep saying I'll watch television and fold them but I am trying to finish Felicia's throw by the end of the month so I've crocheted instead of folding clothes. They mock me from their chairs. I laugh at their calamity.

I haven't digressed from my point. Really. I have these health problems. I didn't ask for them. I can't change them. They're running my life, like it or not. So, I've started being nicer to myself about the writing. I reminded myself that this is something I love to do and beating myself up about not doing it is robbing me of the joy of it. So, I've given myself permission to write as little or as much as I can, when I can, and be proud of what I can. I can't fix me, but I can fix how I handle it.

The other thing I decided today is to put a stop to all my Facebook digressions. I spend too much time there of late and in playing a game online. When you don't feel well it is easy to just sit and scroll mindlessly on social media, reading every scrap of other people's lives and your own scrolls away with it. My writing suffers when I'm doing that but so does my life. Truth is, reading books is very hard these days. Concentration suffers and as a result so do other areas of my life. These diseases rob people of the things that make them happy.

I remembered my Site Blocker extension and turned it back on today. I've blocked out times when I can and can't be on Facebook and if I miss my time slots, well, I need to just get over it. They're very limited - noon - 3:30 and after 9 p.m. Sunday through Saturday. I did this last year and it did make a difference in the time I spent writing. Although, I can get on using my phone but I tend to spend less time on Facebook on my phone than I do on the computer.

My time is valuable and limited. I shouldn't waste what I have left on foolish pursuits while the things that define me are left behind. I may not be able to do some of the things I really want to do but I need to take time to do what I can and I need to be kinder to myself when I can't.

If your health has put you in a rut, remember ruts slope at either end. Walk out of it. Take your time but walk out of it.

Michelangelo's Block

A young G+ friend, Anya, recently posted a blog about how she deals with writer's block. It got me thinking about my own struggles.

Over the course of my writing life, I've had several run-ins with this pseudo-building material. It can wreck a good story. Yes, I know there are people who say it doesn't exist, that it's all in our heads. They told me the same thing about PMS. It is now a recognized health problem that affect 50% of the population. The fact that the other 50% doesn't experience it, doesn't lessen the effects or negate its existence and some of those will tell you it is real.

Until August I worked a full-time government job for 16 years. Before that, I was a full-time student, a full-time military wife and mom. Before that I was a full-time mom and military wife. Before that... well you get the idea. Let me just tell you that when you wear a lot of hats, life can interrupt you at unexpected times and for me, everything was secondary to my family. There were times when I couldn't write because I was running my legs off, the kids were sick, or the dog just bit the postman.

In the top of a closet I have a box full of stuff written long before computers. I did a church newspaper for about 4 years, writing for each issue. I wrote for my journalism classes, my english classes, my history classes, for both university papers and anything else I could find to write.

In the last 10 years, I've been hit with depression, rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, severe fatigue, the death of my husband in 2009, devastating grief, and the marriages of both sons breaking up. Still, during all that I kept writing. Not a huge projects but anything that came to mind, often to keep my sanity. I started doing National Novel Writing Month 9 years ago. That's where you write a 50K word novel in 30 days. I've lost three times. It is the wins that keep me going back. And now, I am the local municipal liaison, wrangling other writers in November while I write my own 50k word novel.

Now I write blogs, long letters, and notes over stories in various stages of development. Before you ask, no, I haven't published. I write because I love stories and I love writing them but recently, I'm thinking more about publishing. It isn't the Holy Grail to me but it sounds like a new adventure. Along the way, I'm sure there are those writer's blocks lurking to interfere with my quest.

So, how does a writer deal with writer's block? I suppose I could write a list of special techniques to deal with those times when you're just mentally constipated but that's been done, several times. Generally, they give you a numbered list of what you should do to get around the block. Maybe they work. I wouldn't know. I get depressed reading them because I've usually tried most of them with little results. My own experience led me to the conclusion that there is only one thing that works. You use the same technique Michelangelo used when he created his masterpiece, David.

In 1501, at the age of 26, Michelangelo was commissioned to finish a statue that had been commissioned years earlier, circa 1466. The previous sculptor has been given a great block of marble to create the statue and had only sketched out the form on the stone before abandoning the project. The stone sat in the same spot for over 40 years, exposed to the elements. When Michelangelo took over I suspect that 19 ft tall block of marble wasn't pretty. For the next two years he chipped away at it. It became one of his best known and most beautiful works.

CC Roger Wollstadt

What do you think would have happened if Michelangelo had tossed his chisels on the ground and fanned his chin at that hunk of marble after he'd worked on it a few days? Weeks? A year? Were there days he couldn't pick up a hammer? Were there days when dawn came too early, or his body couldn't go another step? Were there emotional crises? Did his dog die? I'm sure a lot of things crossed his path. I'm sure there were days he worked a few hours and went home disgusted. I suspect there were days he was ill. At 26 I'm sure a pretty smile distracted him. But on the days he worked, he kept chipping away at that ugly block of stone until one day he stepped back and looked up to find it had disappeared, replaced by a beautiful piece of art.

You overcome writer's block the same way Michelangelo created his masterpiece, you write through the block until there's just a work of art. It doesn't matter how long it sat in the drawer or how long it has taken you to write it. You pick up your tools and keep hammering away. Eventually, you get past the block to the art.