I
live on one side of the Ohio River and work on the other, which means that
though there’s a twenty-three mile distance from one to the other, I spend a
minimum of ninety minutes in my car on work days. Patience isn’t one of my
strong suits. I get…hostile. My poor family’s had to endure my traffic rants
too many times (including yesterday).
You’re
probably thinking…okaaaay, what does this have to do with…anything? Well, one
of the major things that gets me through an average traffic day is writing.
When I leave home or work, I switch on my iPod and let my mind wander. I
revise, I plot, I write. I’ve written entire scenes in my head and been desperate to get them onto paper or a
computer by the time traffic relinquishes its hold on me.
Last
fall, one of my little sisters (for anonymity’s sake we’ll call her that) went
through a tough week—one of her best friends was in a car accident and after
days in a coma, she died. Though I’ve met many of my sister’s friends, I can’t
say that I ever met that one. Still, my heart ached for my sister. That whole
week, I felt like Nick Carraway, a powerless observer who cared so much. I
wanted to write about the experience, but I didn’t know how. The time also
wasn’t right because I was buried in WORLD’S EDGE revisions and various
contests.
I
haven’t forgotten about that week, that friend. My mind’s been turning it over
and over since it happened, modifying the story and wrangling details I didn’t/couldn’t
know. I wanted some kind of science fiction twist because I’m addicted to
science fiction. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago when I read Paul Blackwell’s
UNDERCURRENT that I realized the solution to a previously devious problem. For
about a week, I welcomed traffic—I was too busy at work, at home, and traffic
gave me time to think. Then, on Wednesday, everything connected. I rushed to my
computer and began typing.
I
haven’t titled my work in progress yet—hell, on Thursday the male main
character still hadn’t told me his name and I was about to force one on him—but
I’ve written over five thousand words. Shiny, right? No. Because while I was
writing this new WIP, there sat WORLD’S EDGE, all neglected, pouting.
I
tweeted about my dilemma and one writer friend tweeted back. She said she
understood how hard it was to work on an old guy when there was a new guy
around. I asked if she had a solution and she mentioned handcuffs and bribery. I
laughed at the handcuffs but latched onto the bribery.
In a
battle between my old manuscript and my new WIP, there’d be no contest—the WIP
would win hands down EVERY SINGLE TIME. Writing, creating, that’s the stuff I
love, the reason I’m in this for as long as it takes, longer if that were
possible. Revising, revising, revising…that can get so tedious and depressing
after awhile. (See my last post, That
Dirt Field, for more on that.) So I sat down with the new guy and the old
guy and worked it out like my Twitter writer friend recommended—before I can
work on my WIP, I have to work on my MS. It’s only fair. It’s the only way to
make sure I don’t lose track of my dream.
Of
course, this plan doesn’t take into account the MS I queried last fall that I’d
like to revise or the recently finished WIP (sequel to WORLD’S EDGE) that needs
an overhaul. If you’re counting, that means I’ve four projects out there…with a
husband, friends, family, and job on the side. With this new WIP, my writing
world just got a whole lot more complicated, but I love it—like I said, dream.
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