Heaving Lifting

My revision plans have been sort of on and off. Returning home has, of course, made things different than they were when I was chilling in Martha's Vineyard. Also, I have a house guest I hadn't counted on, and then there is just the siren song of NYC. It has been hard to focus, but I have make a little progress.

I have learned that I don't know how to work with other people around me. I am so used to living alone. Also, as a southern girl, I was raised to me extremely polite to house guests, so I have been tipping around, not wanting to wake him up, etc. As a result, I am going to set up shop in the public library and work there until my friend can get to his own place.

But that's not the point of this entry.

I am reading through the manuscript, trying to get the draft nice enough to give to my reading committee. Chapter Six is a mess. For many reasons.

For one thing, I wrote it when I was feeling very hurt about the way I have been treated by some people in my family and I can see that hurt all over it. I don't know if I was trying to use the work as a way to illustrate how poorly I had been treated, but it doesn't really work for this story. Injecting a crazy autobiographical scene is not artful. Particularly, since the character is nothing like me, so it doesn't make sense that for about five pages, she is walking around in my life.

The other thing is that I seem to have organized the entire chapter around one character, Brucetta. Well, it makes the chapter too one-note. In addition, I am bouncing around in time like a montage of Brucetta-moments. Nope. Nope. Nope.

It's time for what I call "a clean paper re-write." That's when I just start the hell over. I use the chapter I have written as sort of a reference document. And to make it even thornier, I have a feeling that this long and tentacled Chapter Six is really Chapter Six and Chapter Seven. Separating the two is going to be tricky, mainly because I am not sure about the purpose or focus of Chapter Seven.

I feel so apprehensive about what I am about to do. I feel like a doctor about to separate conjoined twins. But the truth is, I am more like an eighth grader about to dissect a frog or something.

The Revision is On

Well, the revision process has begun. I let the manuscript sit for about two weeks, I didn't mess with it at all-- unless you count the day after I finished it, and you shouldn't it. It took me about fifteen minutes to figure out that it's too soon.

Anyway, I spend two day combing through the first 100 pages. It was fast work, and also encouraging. Those pages had been vetted already. About two years ago, my agent sent them out. Rejections all around, but I am not sure why. I will admit that those rejections stopped me cold for a while. Lesson learned: don't get market feedback on something that's not finished.

But the point of that is to say that the 100 pp were in pretty spiffy condition, so it was sort of easy to work on them. The next 100 is another matter entirely. Here's my fear-- and I will have to be vague because although this is a sort of secret blog that no one reads, it's still the internet.

There are some sort of autobiographical elements that get introduced on page 101. It's just a tiny subplot, but I worry about it. Maybe it's not right to say autobiographical, maybe I should say "biographical." It's a story and an issue in my family. It's just a small plot marbling through it, but I am still a little antsy. I have never written anything (knowingly) that might rankle anyone. I guess this is something that happens to every writer at some point.

I always advise my students to write the story. Write the story and worry about people later. Writing and publishing aren't the same thing. So here I am trying to take my own advice. I have nine minutes left to sip coffee and be scared before I return to work.

I Made It To The End

I made it to the end of my novel yesterday. I am not thrilled with the last couple pages. I feel like I was sort of aiming for the last line and it feels a little jammed in there, but I feel confident that I will be able to work it out later on. I went took myself to dinner and stayed up late watching crappy TV. However, I was up bright and early-- my brain wants to work on the novel some more.

There is work to be done. Now is the time to take it through from the top. This novel is written in two voices. They don't alternate. It's more like one book, then the other. I need to spend at least two weeks combing through book one. Then two more weeks combing through book two.

I am really forcing myself not to start now. I am insane with this book. I feel like it is living inside my head.

My beloved mentor, Ron Carlson, used to say "do what you have to do in order to survive the draft." He said that because getting to the end of a novel or a short story isn't a "given." Many times they die on the vine. The way he phrases it makes it seem like YOU are the one who will have to scratch to survive, but really it's the novel.

Whenever I sit still like now and think about how challenging it was to get to this point, and I think about how many times the novel almost died, I almost cry. Even now.

It's Time To Start The Last Chapter

I really worry that I have psyched myself out. I slept so poorly last night, worrying about this chapter. I can't recall having this experience with the other books. And also, I should chill because I have ended up throwing out the last chapter in each of the the novels I have published so far. What ends up happening is that I revise from the beginning and that process helps me write a better ending. But that doesn't mean that I don't have to work as hard as I can to write this chapter I must write to day.

It would mean so much to me to leave here with a completed draft. My agent has been gently nudging me, so my inner- good-girl is all ashamed of taking so long. I am also mad at myself from being so sidetrack by miscellaneous drama queens in my life. Coming to Martha's Vineyard was my way of getting back on track and it would be do rewarding to have this draft done, I feel like it's working.

But okay, enough of me being all scared and whiny. It's time to try and write it. Today is a day for long hand writing. As my friend Mark said,
Get all Montessori with it. Write in bed while lying on your tummy. I'm still writing upright, but I am thinking about that tummy option.

Time to Get My Red Pen Out

Okay. So I have my monologues done. I think each has a clear point on view, voice, and each has a clear main idea. This is good. But I need to read over them and make hte language pop. This is the last time we are really going to hear from the characters, so they need to really say something and say it well.

Some of the monologues are better than others. Dana and her mother's are the weak links, I think. But I think I can improve them. And once I do, it's off to the last freaking chapter. OMG.

Just a Check In

I think I am in the home stretch of a nice looking draft of my novel. I am delighted. I had this idea that I would spend the penultimate chapter of the book writing monologues from all of the major characters, speaking to Chaurisse. Then the end will be Chaurisse's chapter deciding what it all means.

The monologues have been fun to write. I would have thought it would be hard getting all those different voices, but writing the spoken voice of the characters is so much easier than writing thier interior voices. I think it's because i have about 350 pages of the ways that these characters present themselves to other people. So I know what Raliegh would SAY to Chaurisse. How he explains it in his own head, I am not so sure. What details in a room he would notice, I am not so sure.

I hope these monologues make it by an editor. They are an add twist at the end of the book, but I think I can make them work.

I actually see the end of this book coming. It has been a long road.

Keep Going, T.

For some reason, I don't feel like fooling with my manuscript today. I think I am going to push on through, though. I am trying to pinpoint what it is that has gotten me feeling sort of blah. There is always the weather which has not been sunny for days and days and days. Also, I think it's because real life has been poking in. I have a phone date with my boss. Also a friend told me about someone's huge book deal. (And I don't like that someone.) There are three galleys here that need to be read and maybe blurbed. Also, my class in Provincetown is right around the corner. I told myself that I wasn't going to worry about the class until June 8, but I find myself worrying already. And then there is the matter of my blackberry which died and I had to go through all this drama to get the company to replace. So all this is stealing my buzz. And this is why I think I am going to have to push through to try and get it back. If I am going to learn skills here that will help me be more productive at home, it is going to have to learning how to push back through the chatter.

And this is corny, but when I wrote that last line, the sun came out.

Not Panicking. No siree.

I have a feeling that this week is going to be a lot slower than the last one. When I wrote the chapters and scenes last week, I was in familiar territory. This time, I am working on the very last chapters in the book, where I have to figure out what it all means. Frankly, I am not sure what it all means at all so I am just splashing around in the story, trying to swim.

Sometimes people ask me is it's easier to write a novel once you've written a novel. I usually say no, that's it's hard every time. But having written a novel before, I am not panicking at the fact that I cannot get this ending together. If I am still struggling in Novemeber, I'll panic. But not now.

But this little hiccough aside, I really like what I am doing here. I think it's going to be a good book.

Quick Check In Before Starting The Day's Work

Yesterday, I messed around trying to start the chapter. In other words, I scratched at the roll of tape for a while. I was distracted, doing internet and other things, but I managed to write about three handwritten pages. I honestly am not sure that they are any good. I will read over them again while I have my coffee and see what I can do today.

This stage is all about pen and paper. When I feel I am on the wrong track, I just flip the page over and try again. If I were on the computer I would highlight and delete. This early in the chapter is too soon to banish anything to that big manuscript in the sky.

The POV trick I wanted to try didn't come to be. I ended up writing a monologue from the mother to the daughter. I am not sure how that will work with the overall structure. I may end up just being backstory for me to know. We'll see.

New Chapter, New Struggle

Epoch Battle With Roll of Tape
Originally uploaded by wlcausey

Cross-posted on my other blog.

When I teach, I come of with strange associations like this all the time. My poor students are subjected to my connections several times a week. Well, today, I came up with this one, but I have no students with whom to torment with my "wisdom." So, here it is:

Starting a chapter is a lot like trying to get a roll of packing tape going. You spend a fair amount of time running your hands over the roll, trying to find the seam. Once you find the seam, you pick at it with your fingernails until you pull loose enough tape to get a grip. It may take several tries to get it going. Think of those false starts when you have a little piece of tape and you pull it only to have it turn into a useless sticky little ribbon. And then you start again.

This is what I've been up to today. I was really pleased with my progress last week. I wrote a meaty 25-page chapter. I felt so proud of myself and satisfied with my progress. I partied away the Memorial Day weekend without a second of guilt.

But now that the work week is back in swing, I feel like I am struggling with a roll of tape. Feeling frustrated, I found this photo of that you see here. Click on it to read the story of why someone felt the need to photograph this particular roll of tape. It gave me a little chuckle I needed to get back to work.

It's New Chapter Time

I am writing this on Wednesday morning. On Saturday, I finished a really important chapter an I am very pleased with it. I decided to take a couple of days off for the holiday. Yesterday, the plan was to get up early and just dive right in. However, I was exhausted from Memorial Day hijinks. Then, as I was procrastinating with my coffee, I stepped down hard on a wedge a glass. In short yesterday was a bust.

However, I have to wonder if I would have taken my Tylenol, propped my poor foot on a pillow and continued writing if I have been in the middle of a chapter, instead of facing the challenge of beginning anew. This is the hardest part of writing a novel and also the easiest time to walk away. I am not in media res, so the characters are not rattling around my head, begging me to finish what I started. I walked away Saturday feeling rather satisfied.

So, today, I am looking at my notebook. I kind of think I know what I want this chapter to be like. It's something really crazy. I think I may have written that earlier in the novel, I let my girls narrate their parents courtship stories with a certain authority. I think the reader assumes she heard these stories from their mothers. Now I am going to let Chaurisse narrate *with authority*, though not as much as before, a story that has been twice removed. She is going to tell us what her father told her mother when he was caught in a major affair. So this is tricky because we assume the dad is going to lie to the mom and the mom, of course, will lie to the daughter. And the daughter may add her own spin as she tell it to us.

So, okay. I am going to try and I will report back.

Keeping the Narrator in The Driver's Seat and Toning Down the Drama

In one sitting, I wrote about fifteen typed pages. I wrote them in long hand, but once I keyed them in, it was about fiften pages. This is a personal record for me. I think this is because I accomplished absolutely nothing over the last year and I was stewing over the story in my head. I DO NOT RECCOMMEND THIS TO OTHERS. Yesterday's terrific writing output is a very small consolation for almost a year of not working.

Anyway, the fifteen pages are the scene when the *ish hits the fan in the novel. Gwen, the "other" woman confronts Laverne the "wife". (These quotation marks are on purpose because the novel really interrogates these labels.) Anyway, the tricky thing in writing this chapter is that so much of the tension and drama is between Gwen and Laverne and.. well... neither of them is the protagonist. This is the daughters' story. In the draft I have, I tried to keep pulling the story back to Chaurisse, but I don't think I have done a good job. My goal for today's writing is to go through the secene and at every turn ask myself, "What Is Chaurrise doing now? What does she she? What does she smell?". I will also do the same for the other daughter, Dana. I have to be careful not to let me narrator become a mere observer.

Another challenge of this scene is to keep the drama down. I can't avoid the sheer tabloid appeal of it. I mean, the other woman is busting into Laverne's beauty shop to tell her that they have a husband in common. That is d-r-a-m-a. What can I do to make sure that the characters are melodrama queens and not the text? I decided to have one character keep saying, "what is this? a soap opera?" That grounding voice can often take the a bit of the purple out of scene. It's like tamping poweder over your makeup when you have put it on too thick. It sort of mellows everything out.

Turning It Down A Notch

I was working today on a scene in which Chaurrise and her mom go to buy a special occaision dress, only to discover that they are too large to fit the dresses in the store. I had to play it easy with this scene. As the famous book said "Fat is A Feminist Issue" and if I hit it too hard, the reader may feel preached at and forget at Chaurisse and her mom.

In real life, all of us larger gals have had the experience of going into a boutique and enduring not only the embarrassment of not being able to fit the clothes, but also having to deal with a snotty sales person, to boot. On more than one occaision in NYC, the salesgirl has looked up from her magazine and announced to me, before I can even look on the racks: "We only go up to an eight."

The problem with writing the scene is that the disappointment of not being able to find a dress coupled with a mean saleswoman would make the story about the tyrany of body expectations and not Chaurisse and her mom. So what I did was make the salesgirl sort of nice. She is uncomfortable as soon as Chaurisse and her mom walk in the store, but doesn't say anything. Chaurisse thinks it is racism and she and her mom try to give clues that they can, in fact, afford such fancy clothes. When they realize the thing about the sizes they are embarassed and so is the salesgirl.

"What size do these dresses go up to?" I asked.
She squeezed her eyes almost shut. "Ten?"

So with just that question mark, I establish that every person in this scene is a human being. Instead of adding insult to injury, I chose between the two. I don't think I sugar-coated the situation, but I just turned the volume on the injustice down enough for us to hear the characters talk,think, and feel.

Okay. Tomorrow It's Time To Get Really Real

Over the last few days I have been reading over and editing the last 100 or so pages of The Silver Girl. This was a great experience because I was able to improve the manuscript and making changes allowed me to get into voice. But now, it is time for me to do the hardest work on the book. I have to write the ending.

No computer for me tomorrow. The reason I will just use pen and paper is because with the computer I can get frustrated and delete whole passages. With pen and paper, I will just turn to a new sheet. If I drink of class of water and cool off, I can return to the pages I abandoned because they still exist.

I know I won't be able to sleep at night. I am so excited about moving forward. Don't ask me why I feel like I have to wait until the morning, but that's just an odd Tayari thing. It's only 5:30 and I want to go to bed now so I can fall alseep and wake up and it will be tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

I'm here at Martha's Vineyard. The plan is to blog everyday, just as a sort of writing journal.

I've been here three days and I am very pleased with how the work is going. I planned to re-read the whole manuscript and then start writing fresh, but I looked at the 366 pages and I just couldn't stand the idea of taking all that precious time reading over it. Besides, reading my own work can be sort of listening to my own tape recorded voice.

So, I hit the ground running on the first day. I have been re-reading, but only the last 100 pages or so. I like what I have written, but it sounds sort of like a trio when I need an orchestra. I have been going through and filling things out.

A huge issue that I am seeing is that the narrator, Chaurisse, keeps falling out of voice. Even worse, she sounds in some places just like the OTHER narrator, Dana. I have been going through weeding out all the Dana-isms. Charuise's voice is more straight forward. She would never say "they inquired about the cost of the Magnolia Room." That's Dana's lingo. I changed it to "They asked the man how much the Magnolia room was going to cost them."

But, that said, I like the story. More tomorrow.

What Have I Done for ME Lately?

I am posting this just as I am taking off for a month in Martha’s Vineyard. I’m taking the time to be alone and to write. I’m excited and nervous at the same time, as I have never done anything quite like this before, and I have never been to the Vineyard. Yes, I have gone to writers residencies, but I have never embarked on real solitude. It’s a commitment, I won’t lie. Although a family friend gave me a good deal, I am still shelling out a few bucks on the rental. I’ll have to get there, which means I had to get my car (affectionately known as “The Bucket”) serviced, and there is just also the realness of preparing to leave home for a month.

Why all the drama? Why not just set up a DIY writing clinic in my apartment. I do have a dedicated room just for writing. I’m getting away because I feel that I am been distracted from myself by my life. I have been way too busy being too many things to too many people and I have really gotten out of touch with my work. I know that this happens to everyone, but I feel particularly frustrated because I spend so much time telling other writers to put themselves first. But here I am, in the same trap as everyone else.

I am trying not to set goals in terms of word count. Although, I want to challenge myself, I don’t want to crack the whip. I want to be motivated by the story, not by people telling me how long it has been since my last book, not by the ticking of my tenure clock. The only thing I am committing to is to sitting down for five days a week and spending at least two hours working. I know two hours seems like a modest commitment when I have all day, but I figure two hours is enough time to get the fire burning if it wants to burn.

I’ll still be blogging, but probably not as much. I imagine there will be more post about the nuts and bolts of writing a novel, as less about the business of being a novelist, which is probably a good thing.

Preparing for this trip feels so different than other times that I have gone away. Maybe because there is nothing in it for me but peace and quiet. There is no resume line to be gained. I am not nurturing a fantasy about meeting people or making contacts. I feel like I am preparing to meet up with an old friend, and that old friend is me.

Still Trying to Get My Act Together.

Today, I decided to clean up my writing room. Last summer I made a habit of cleaning it every night to make sure that I would have a nice, welcoming space in the morning.

As I worked to clean the room, it was clear how much I had neglected this space... AND my manuscript itself. It took me about three hours to clean the room and I swept up so much dust that I gave myself an allergy fit.

But now it's nice in here.

When I moved in, I decided to make the nicer bedroom the writing room because writing is more important than sleep.

Maybe This is A First Step

I haven't posted over here in about three months. I haven't posted over here since the Bush Administration. The sad terrible news is that I haven't worked on my book since then either. I have done some other writing-- there was a nice essay commissioned for the State Department. Technically, it's writing and I am proud of that work, but I have terrible neglected my real work.

I've travelled a LOT. I've been to Ghana, Uganda, DC, Atlanta (twice), Pittsburgh, Chicago and Nebraska. In short I have spend a lot of time flouncing around looking like an author, but hardly anytime being a writer and I am deeply worried about this.

I've got a sabbatical right around the corner. The plan is to hunker down and do my thing. I was hoping to go to an artist colony because I work well in that sort of semi-seclusion. The bad news is that I didn't get into MacDowell and Yaddo waitlisted me. So I am waiting to hear from VCCA. I've also got a possibility in Colorado. In short, I am down, but not out.

I wonder if I am doing the right thing by accepting that I won't get any writing done until school is out the first week of May. About mid-way through January I just made that decision and decided to stop beating myself up about it. I never encourage anyone to put their writing aside. I always say just make a little time-- even if you just get an hour a week. So mabye I need to listen to my own advice? For a while, it was really helpful to know that May 5 was around the corner and I would be free to work on The Silver Girl then. But now, even though may 5 is closer than ever, I feel sort of bad about my choices.

So maybe writing here is a start to getting back into that groove. I won't write today. I can tell you that right now. I am going to work on cleaning the apartment, working out, and finding a NEW apartment. But I'm going to get back with it. I promise.