Along about 2006 or so, I decided that I was going to write that novel that was sitting around in my head. It was troublesome to keep so many ideas in my brain, and besides, the characters were bored with waiting. So I wrote it. I also got laid off during a Reduction in Force, as they like to say, and so was thrilled with the extra time to write.
Only. Since it was my first RIF, and I actually liked the job that I had (as it was neither stupid, dumb, nor fake), I was at a loss, and I think the book suffered for it. I did reach the 100,000 word point then as well, some time in 2007, and remember reading through it, going “what the happy crappy is this?” It was awful, a floating mass of jumbled words and ideas and it’s not just me being insecure about writing. I knew it sucked.
I went to talk with my friend Kathy about it, told her the whole story, the themes, everything. She looked at me and very gently suggested that perhaps this was the story I’d been carrying around for a long time. And that even though I was older now, I was still writing the story I’d created when I was younger. And then, even more gently, she suggested that I write it again. And I was like, 100,000 words are you kidding me? She wasn’t.
Naturally I was pissed, mostly at myself for such a huge writing failure, and for wasting my time on something so foolish. I put the novel in a box and tried to move on, because maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a writer anyway.
Except I was.
At about the same time I talked to Kathy about the crap-fest that was my novel, I had signed up to do reviews for a TV show called Supernatural. That was back in ’07 for a newly-hatched website called pinkraygun.com. They needed writers and I needed a home. So I wrote for them, writing anywhere from 3,000 to 6,000 words for each review; normally reviews are 1,000 words, but I didn’t know that, and I don’t imagine I was motivated to change when I found out.
I wrote that many words, week in and week out for five years, finally hanging up my hat in the spring of 2012. Not because of Pink Raygun., those guys were a joy to write for, giving me space and opportunity and a free hand at doing the way I wanted to. No, the show turned sour on me, never living up to its potential or its promise and I couldn’t, simply could not, write about it anymore. (You can see all my reviews here.)
And then, as the world turns, in the fall of 2012, I was able to participate in a RIF again, this time being released to my great joy from a job that was stupid, dumb, and fake. Finding myself with time on my hands yet again, I dug the novel out, and took a look at it.
Oh, it was a mess, just the same as I remembered it, full of trite clichés, and overdone scenes, and there was purple prose all over the place. But the characters wanted out of my head and into something decent, so I took the pile of papers to a coffee shop (naturally), pulled out my good pen, and started reading. It took me two days to get through that mess, and in the end, I had a new outline, and was able to salvage some of the text for the new story. Later of course, I changed the outline again, but it was for the better, and my characters told me they understood.
Last Saturday, the day of the big storm, I was typing along, looked at my numbers chart (where I obsessively write down how many words I had for that day), and realized I was two seconds away from the six-digit word score. I went to check and realized I was over by 46 words. So I did a little jig, as you do, while watching out the window at Storm Triton, which was supposed to dump 12 inches at least, but which only left a smattering of snow.
It was a red letter day. I thought I’d take a picture or two of my desk. I’ve got a file rack for each section of the novel, but as you can see, I don’t really use it.
Those manila folders end up in a pile, or several piles, and those ever-loving 3 X 5 cards are spread everywhere, like snow. Any specks are, yes, cookie crumbs, even though I’ve made it a rule never to eat at that desk. I’m always sure other writers are far more organized than this, more tidy, more everything. But I did it; those 100,000 words are down on the page.
<a href=”http://www.toxicdreams.at/devil.php?story_pg=99268″><!– gastrovascular –></a>