Curl Up and Write » novel

The Best Advice

Trina — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

It’s pretty hard to not have a year pass and wonder what you learned, how you improved, and what you could do better. For me, 2011 I learned a lot about myself. I won’t discuss it all here, but I will share the one piece of advice that I’ve heard for years, but finally listened to last year.

In 2009 I started work on my fourth novel. (I’ve written three, published two…) In April of 2010, I finished it and began revisions. In August of 2010 I finished my first set of revisions. I started another round of revisions, and then in May of 2011 decided to scrap most of what I’d written and start over.

Completely over. I had a little over 95,000 words, and it took me two years to get there. Yet, I was starting over. I decided to listen to the advice I’d heard for so many years—that when you think you’re book is good enough it isn’t. Not even close.

I used to need another pair of eyes to tell me this. My novel, while good, was just not good enough. The action didn’t start until page 100, it had way too much backstory, and didn’t have enough character development to make anyone care how the story ended. I can say that now, (without crying) because it’s the truth. Of course, I whined and complained about the time I’d spent, anyone who writes knows 95,000 words doesn’t come easy—even if it’s horrible. I tried to patch it together, but it showed and ultimately I believed in the story enough to do it justice. And that meant starting over.

I wouldn’t have been able to do this years ago. I would have looked at the time I invested in the book and made the decision that my time was more important. That the time I spent writing the book warranted me to get the book published. Now.

How wrong I was. It’s not the time you invest in your book—it’s the quality of material that comes from that time spent. That applies to anything in life—losing weight, working in a garden, cooking a meal—it’s not the time spent that’s the important part, it’s the quality of that time spent that results in a better outcome. Drive through a neighborhood and see a beautiful yard, you don’t see the hours spent planting and pruning. You see the flowers, the green grass—you see the results.

I learned that it didn’t matter how much time it took me to write this book. But what did matter was the book—the result of my time spent.

It takes a while to get there, to realize sadly that your book is not ready. That it needs more time. But when I slowed down, stopped rushing and just kept writing, it improved. My book got better. I knew it, and I’m not so nervous to give it to my beta readers as it nears completion. And of course they’ll be edits and revisions. But I’m going in with my best work. And that is advice well taken.

So Close, Yet So Far Away…

Trina — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 12:00:00 +0000

I’m almost there guys. I’m about 100 pages away from finishing this novel. Let me rephrase that…I’m 100 pages away from finishing my second draft of this novel. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry, but I feel like crying. Let me explain.

Imagine you’re running a marathon. You hear the whistle blow, (considering I’ve never participated in a marathon, I imagine a whistle blowing, or someone in a loud voice yelling, “Go!” It’s probably more like the Olympics where a buzzer or gunshot goes off. But you get my drift people…) When you hear that whistle, (or gunshot, buzzer, screaming voice—take your pick) you fly off like a rocket. You feel your heart pumping, your muscles are getting warm—you’re cruising. This is what you’ve been training for—this feeling of exuberance at what your body can do. But after a few miles something happens. If you squint really hard you can see the finish line. But your legs are no longer warm, their burning, like a fire inside of your body is lit. Your heart is pumping, racing so fast you wonder, “Is this what a heart attack feels like?” And then it happens. You slow down. Or worse, stop altogether.

Why? There’s a million reasons why, but I can only give you this one—you’re doggone tired, that’s why!

I’ve been working on this novel for about six months now, (probably longer) and as I revise I’ve done major changes. I’ve changed character’s names. I’ve tweaked their personalities, changed their voice. I’ve turned villains into heroes and heroes into villains. I’ve scrapped beautiful yet boring scenes, thus moving the action along. This, my friends is not easy. Your brain feels fried, you wonder, “Have I ever worked this hard before?” Your mind is so full of information for your novel, that your short-term memory is stunted. What’s today’s date? What did I wear yesterday? Oh that’s right, I didn’t leave the house yesterday… You’ve zapped so much mental energy that your brain is begging for a break, it’s begging you, “Please just let me sit down! Veg out in front of the TV…Yes! An episode of Seinfeld is on! Now let me lie here and turn to mush…”

Case in point. One of my characters has an accident and breaks her wrist. Several chapters later I have her crocheting. What? So I had to decide to either scrap the crocheting all together, or change my character’s injury. What’s a girl to do? The crochet scenes were important and showed the growth that this particular character had gone through. But I needed to stay consistent, I couldn’t have my reader’s scratching their heads going, “Hey, she can’t crochet! Her wrist is broken!” Once your story loses plausibility, then down your readership goes. But my brain was tired. I’d already changed several scenes and couldn’t for the life of me rewrite another one. So I put a huge red question mark on those pages and stopped for the night.

That was Sunday. Yesterday, my novel sat on my living room floor—abandoned. So I took a deep breath. “Katrina, you can do this, you can finish!” After a few more pep talks, I picked up my red pen, reached deep down inside myself and…lied back down on the couch.

But hey, today’s a new day. And my novel will get revised. Like the runner, I took a pause but ultimately knew that I had to finish what I started. I was too close to the finish line to give up—like my Mama says, “Giving up ain’t even on the table, baby.” I knew this process was going to be hard—I’m stretching myself in ways I haven’t done before. So yes, this brain of mine is burning, my heart is about to give out, but I will cross that finish line.

Word Count

Trina — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 12:00:00 +0000

Breakthrough! (I’m at 58,536 words so no, the breakthrough isn’t in my word count. But you build a novel one word at a time, no matter how painful and slow the words are.) I’m at the point in my WIP where I learned something new about my main character. This is what I love about writing, no matter how much you outline, your characters will still jump off the page and tell you something new. Guess what she wanted to tell me? Her name! She wasn’t feeling the name I gave her, said it was too boring and that it wasn’t quite ‘her’ . “Who are you to tell me what your name is? I created you and the name I gave you was just fine.” “If you’re going for ‘fine’ then I’ll keep the name. Silly me, I thought you were going for ‘great’.” (What can I say, the girl’s got spunk.) So I did as I was told and changed her name.

I’ve talked a lot about word count on my blog lately. Word count, word count, word count. “How many words can I crank out in a day without killing myself?” That’s the question I ask myself most mornings.

Not long ago, word count was the last thing I was worried about. When I wrote Six O’clock I was really wet behind the ears about the business side of writing. I was focused on the craft, and how I could make my novel better. Now, because I have (a little bit) more knowledge of the business side, it seems that’s all I’m worried about as I write. What does the industry say that a standard women’s fiction novel is? About 80,000 to 100,000 words. So I find myself fascinated by the word count meter at the bottom of the page, constantly watching it to see when it’ll reach a certain number. And then topping it. On and on I go until I type the best part of all: THE END. I’m not focusing on what’s more important, my novel. How are my characters growing? Are they interesting enough that my readers will turn the page? Will readers care about them?

I know that all first drafts are pretty bad, and it’s important that I get the words down to revise them. But like my editor once told me, “Don’t write words just to write words.”

Am I guilty of that? I hope not. But as I hit the final stretch of my novel I plan to worry less about word count and more about the quality of my novel.

Goals

Trina — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 14:00:19 +0000

I would like to finish my next novel before Unbeweavable comes out next summer. My goal is to write at least 1,000 words a day, (excluding weekends). At this rate I should be finished by the end of year.

“Why the rush?” my husband asks.

I honestly can say I don’t know. I’m the person who can’t relax until the last dish is done, the carpet is freshly vacuumed, and all mess and clutter is put away. My parents drilled the whole “Work first, play later” bit so much when I was younger, that it’s something I can’t shake even today.

It’s great to have goals, and I try to set goals in every aspect of my life, whether spiritual, physical, or secularly. Goals keep me moving. What keeps you moving?

The Grow-out

Trina — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 14:00:13 +0000

I’m in the process of growing my hair out. It’s so hard to do this without adding weave–my solution for all hair problems. Short hair? Add weave. Damaged hair? Add weave. Want a new look? Add weave, girl!

But now that I’m older I want to be more natural. No more acrylic nails, no more weave, just plain ‘ole me. And I actually like myself better without so much stuff. A couple of years ago I would have felt naked without my weave, but now I feel comfortable in my skin and my shorter ‘do.

The same can be said on the novel I’m working on now. I’m developing my characters more fully, describing my scenes clearly, and making my backstory more intriguing.

And my novel is growing, getting healthy and thick–slowly but surely. If only the same could be said for my hair! Patience is a virtue…