finish my novel

A long while back, I was working on a version of my novel which required a house, and I got some lovely help here on 43things, and especially from Flirt. And now I’m working yet another version, hopefully more carefully constructed than before, but it gives me the opportunity to use this!

of having my mil look after the kids while I write. J is on pick up this week. (Drop off too. I’m playing the guilt card since I’ve done so much while he’s working on the plays.)

I feel great about this. Last week I revived 2 chapters and wrote one new one. I just got in a nice long chapter 4. I’m going to strip the beds, remake them, eat lunch and if the kids aren’t back, do some more. Or vacuum. Might help me figure out what comes next.

I have a seriously good feeling about this.

Today was my deadline to start. N turned 6 months.

Sadly she’s still not sleeping as well as I’d like if I’m going to get up at 5am (my most functional writing time). But this evening I finally sat down and started writing out my index cards of people/places/plot.

It’s a start. I’ll give writing in the evenings a shot too, but I’m happy to even get some of the organizational ideas down so that I can see how they might fit together.

I need some structure to help me achieve this goal. With the new baby etc, I’m just not able to get enough sleep yet to deliberately get up at 5am and work. And I’m fried mentally in the evenings. So. The plan. (Just worked this out by talking it through with a close friend and my first reader _{not sure what to call her, editor? the friend that I trust with my first drafts and with my confidence})

1) Until November 13 (N’s 6 month birthday) I will not worry/try to get up and write. I will consider November 13th my first day of work at this job and I will commit to getting up every day and writing before the rest of the day starts (I’m assuming 5am at this point).

2) In the mean time, I will write down all ideas that come to me and I will work on straightening the plot out in my head, and storyboarding or outlining it so that when I start writing I will know where the heck I am going, rather than just writing scenes and not having a destination.

Set my alarm this morning, rather than waiting for the baby to wake me.

Then I actually got up, and worked on rewriting chapter 1.

I know I ought to just start where I left off, but in the months I’ve been away from the script, I’ve been rethinking and wanted something that had more plausible causes. It was feeling strained.

Prologue was rewritten a few days ago and sent to my non-romance reading friend to assess. Need to be willing to chuck the bits that don’t work, even when I like them.

Since becoming pregnant, it’s like every creative impulse has been sucked out of me. I make a futile stab at knitting once in a while, and I worked grumpily on Q’s quilt last week, but especially the book has been neglected through gestation.

Sometimes I probably just need to admit when I’m juggling too many mental things: watching weight gain, trying to exercise vigorously/regularly, playing with Q, fretting over the fetus, fretting over finances. Perhaps there’s nothing left at the end of the day.

I screwed up my sleep patterns and woke up a little before midnight WIDE awake. But thanks to comments from Romantic Rose and catherineaq my head was running through the chapter I’m working on and I finished it up. It’s longer than many of them, and I may have ended it prematurely, but I’m trying to remember to worry about revising later, and to get through this draft now.

Thanks especially for the crunchy stripper assistance. Good to know it’s as funny an idea as I thought.

What images do you guys associate with a woman who wears Birkenstocks?

I’m too close to this one- everyone I know wears Birks or something similar, so I’m trying to use it in a mildly derogatory way (from the person who wears them) and drawing a blank.

no make up and lesbian are the only images I’ve got so far, but I know there’s a clear picture out there for people who don’t wear them, right?

smells of patchooli? (or however you’d spell that?)

(just for the record, I don’t. I just have a fondness for comfortable shoes that I’m trying to overcome.)

A few nights ago I had a dream where I (not me, but the me of the dream) decided that I wanted to pursue a relationship similar to the one mentioned in a Round Heeled Woman by Jane Juska(haven’t read it, just read reviews): “Before I turn 67-next March-I would like to have a lot of sex with a man I like. If you want to talk first, Trollope works for me.”

Ok, so we’re off track on the important bit of the dream already, but you get the drift. So I approach this guy, older, long-haired sitting at a table and tell him the deal and he’s all for it (I like obliging men) and we kiss passionately. End of the plot part of the dream (no, it did not dissolve into humid ferret sex. Sorry.).

The key to making this interesting is that the man was, I realized at some point, Stephen King.

So I’m thinking this one is all about wanting to write bestselling novels.

Any arguments?

another chapter down. I’m really happy with it, although I’ve realized it fits before the previous chapter, not after, but that’s fine. I wrote another chapter, built a little suspense between the love interests, got in the funny concept that’s been in my head (at least I hope it’s funny).