Back to work

I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by. – Douglas Adams

That's me. I was supposed to have the second draft of Scurvy Dogs done long ago. I don't. The self-imposed deadlines keep whooshing by. (The story is that Adams had missed many deadlines for The Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy and finally the publisher called and said, "Look, finish the page you're on. We'll send someone over to get it in half an hour.")

Mostly I blame work. Gotta pay the rent, right? And it's hard to get a head of steam going when you're constantly stopping to write something for pay. It's that old conundrum.

But really I have no one and nothing to blame but myself. I mean, I could just not take on so many assignments. It would make things a little tough at rent time, but we could manage it. I choose to do other things – write pay copy, meet with friends who visit New Orleans, get blisteringly drunk as I celebrate Mardi Gras with a Pirate Krewe.

And not working regularly on the book – some weeks no more than a few hundred words get written, and because I have no momentum they mostly suck – means what's the point in working on this blog? So here we go.

Even when I haven't been able to work on it, I've thought about it constantly, and really like the story. Just have to get it written down. It's very, very different than the first draft, and I'm happy about that. I'm choosing to finish this story. It's a good one.

I'm aiming to be done at the end of the month. Possible? Yeah, but frankly not likely. I've got about 30,000 words to go. But if I get close, and get the ball rolling again, I'll feel good about it. I'll have to put my head down, ignore work, ignore distractions. Get it done. Then see where I am.

Scurvy Dogs! Let's go!

'Let's Go to Work!'

I took Millie to the airport yesterday. It's time to get back to work.

I used to have a bosse named Joe Bologna. Seriously, "Joe Baloney." About 5 foot 4, just a tough piece of leather. And every day, at the stroke of 7 a.m., he'd walk out of the office into the yard, a Pall Mall red dangling from his lip, and in a voice that must have reached every corner of the harbor, shout, "Let's go to work!"

And that's what I feel right now. "Let's go to work!"

I just need to fall back into a routine. Get Tori and Max off to their respective school's each morning (and sometimes that will mean driving Tori to Lafayette, sometimes just getting her out the door on time,) then settling down with a cup of coffee and writing. For hours.

During the interim I've certainly been thinking about the story, and like where it's at and where it's going. I just need to stop horsing around and write it. Thinking about a story is not the same as writing a book. You may quote me.

I'm at a tricky place. I intentionally delayed giving a lot of the exposition that would normally come earlier. Wanted to just dive into the action. And that works. But it's time. I've gotta get some information in. I've barely mentioned they're on Jamaica, and have given no indication about the era other than to mention a carriage drawn by a pair of horses.

My favorite Muppet movie is "The Great Muppet Caper." Partly because of the fantastic scene with John Cleese. "No need to go out, dear. The weather's been most disappointing ..." "And you said the pets are dead?" But there's a great scene near the beginning when Diana Rigg rattles off this long speech about how she's a fashiopn designer, and she doesn' trust her brother Nicky, who might even steal her largest and most valuable jewel, "the fabulous Baseball Diamond," and doesn't understand why his bow ties are always crooked.

Miss Piggy says, "Why are you telling me this?

"It's basic plot exposition," Rigg replies airily. "It has to go somewhere."

It does have to go somewhere. And this is where. Let's hope not as faux-clumsily as the Muppet writers did it, but it worked there because it was so damn funny. Brilliant.

Haven't Done Squat

Some people would call it writer's block, I suppose. I don't. I call it having a life, and you know what they say about that. Life is what happens while you're making other plans.

As I explain in our family blog, which I've also been ignoring, things have been pretty hectic around here. Mostly, good and busy, but hectic.

I was really hoping today to a) get some rest and b) get some writing done. But Millie has the day off  from work and needs to get errands done. She leaves to go back to college in two weeks and has a lot of stuff to take care of. And this time when she leaves, she probably won't be back except for visits. She'll finish her program at AMDA in the spring, then get on with the challenge of trying to make a life in the very difficult career path she's chosen – show business.

Part of me heaved a sigh when she asked if I could keep the car today (instead of letting Tori drive to work.) I was really looking forward to not driving today.

But I've got all fall to finish the second draft of the book. I've got Millie for two more weeks. So as soon as she's up and ready, we'll be off.

(Oh, and I don't believe in writer's block, but that's a different discussion for a different day. I know exactly what I want to write. Carving out time to write it is the problem. That's not writer's block. That's being a dad.)

Plugging Away

About 700 words today. The last chapter was a) a little short and b) too much exposition, not enough excitement. Tori is adamant about "a dragon in every chapter," and she's right. I went back and added the new ending to the chapter and it's a) the right length and b) adds the element of danger.

Altogether a better chapter now.


And 6,112 words. It probably doesn't work out, adding up the word totals each day. I'm a writer, not a mathematician. It's just about having a way to keep track of where I am.

Settling Down

We have a guest visiting us on his way back to college in Canada, so we spent yesterday showing him the city – at least as much of it as we know. Had a great time in the French Quarter, and walking the bank of the Mississippi. Went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Yeah, I know, nothing particularly Cajun or New Orleans or even southern about Chinese food. But the kids decided they wanted Chinese. What are ya gonna do?

The upshot being, didn't write Sunday. But I'm settling into the story as soon as I post this.

And maybe this afternoon I'll post some of the video I shot downtown yesterday, including the stuff from the cemetery. Pretty cool

UPDATE:  For today, 1,021 words, bringing the total to date to 5,461. 

Hot Work

It was too hot to sleep last night – we're still waiting for our power to be turned back on. As they say on St. Croix, "We got no current."

So I lay on top of the bed, sweating and thinking about the next chapter, exactly what I wanted from it. Except - I'll admit it – when I was thinking about how I'd start the movie script of "Chrissie Warren: Pirate Hunter," when the time comes. Nothing like planning ahead confidently. 

Anyway, when I sat down to write this morning, it all just flowed out. Really, there as no hesitation. And it went better than I expected. Today I wrote 1,696 words, bringing the tital to 4,429

And I really think they work. I introduce the nemesis much earlier, chapters and chapters earlier than in the first draft, develop Spider better in this chapter than I did in the entire first draft. And realize I have two new characters, which will work well.

All in all a very productive day – something of a miracle considering we still don't have power and it's hotter than hell.

Now to double down – raise the stakes again and get ready for the crew to go to sea.

 

The Best Laid Plans

So a week ago I bravely said I'll get back to work. And I did. Then Isaac came.

Lost a lot of time to the storm, and to prepping for the storm, and cleaning up after the storm. But I did get moving. Monday I wrote 1,300 words, got off to a good start on the second draft of Scurvy Dogs! Tuesday and Wednesday not so much. Thursday I wrote 1,506 words, took the second chapter exactly where it needed to go (and didn't in the first draft) and now I'm poised to take the story in a very exciting place.

I'm sticking to Anne Lamott's main advice in Bird by Bird. Small assignments. I don't have to write the story tomorrow. I just have to write the chapter where we meet the nemesis and get the young heroes dragge4d into a maelstrom of danger – at the end of which, may be treasure, may be death!

I didn't get a chance to write today, but I know what the chapter has to say and how it has to say it. Isaac left us without electricity, but the laptop is fully charged now and tomorrow I should be able to knock out chapter 3.

You know the old saying – Life is what happens while you're making other plans.

jb