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.