Writing a blog post about revising almost feels like I’m stalling. Why not just work on the revisions in the first place? Maybe there is a little procrastinating going on here, or maybe I’m just taking advantage of having a place where I can write all this down and clarify for myself exactly what I’m trying to do. Be warned, though: Since this post is going to be all introspective, you’re probably going to find me using the word “I” with an assaulting frequency.
My big project for the summer is to revise my manuscript The Ghost of Lake Emily, for those of you who know it. Revising is a tricky process, and it doesn’t happen overnight. I’m on summer break now though, so I can devote the kind of time to the work that it deserves. Because it is work. It is hard work. And it takes time. A lot of time. And a lot of thought, and a lot of energy.
Think of it like this: When a sculptor begins working on a piece, they first figure out how much clay they’re going to need, then roughly mold that beginning mound into the approximate shape of what they plan on creating. This is what a first draft is like for a writer. Drafting a story is usually just getting words and ideas on paper so there’s something to work with. Revision is when the writer takes that clay and meticulously fine-tunes the necessary details to make it into the piece of art they envision. Revision is where I am with Emily right now, even though I've already revised it three or four times in the past.
I usually revise in steps. First I think a lot about the story, and, in this case, the notes I got about it from my agent. Like, for weeks. I took a class on art instruction as an undergrad education content course, and still remember how preoccupied the professor seemed to be about tapping into the divergent mind. That I remember this now is a good thing. I’ve found it can be a valuable tool to let ideas percolate, since that can lead to more ideas I’d never anticipate, and usually at the least opportune moments. Thank goodness for the Notes app on my iPhone, which is much more convenient than carrying around a tiny notebook or a pocketful of Post-It Notes with scribbled bits of shorthand I’m lucky to remember later.
When these stray ideas start coming together in a meaningful way, I’ll sit down with the original draft and take it apart, creating and renaming several new files to keep track of what kind of progress I’m making, one chapter, one page, one paragraph, one line at a time. I’ll use the comments feature to insert notes about things I’ll want to address later, usually filling up the side margin with so many notes they almost look like one continuous yellow bar, with comments like, “better phrasing,” “establish how tall this kid is,” “more realistic dialogue,” “Expand on this,” “Make the stakes more clear,” “Maybe the date doesn’t need to be so important?” “This sucks, fix it,” “establish him as a know-it-all, and not shy about it,” “she needs to make more allusions here -- creepier,” “move this line to the beginning of the paragraph,” “this is why you have to age them down,” “less/better imagery here,” “Have him nerd it up more in this little soliloquy,” and so on, basically taking dictation from my internal monologue as I figure out what changes need to be made. Do I focus on the positive? Hardly ever, unless I find something that really works. When that happens, my comments usually amount to “Do this more,” and I’ll remember what it means. If something works, I know it works, and taking the time to be self-congratulatory about it won’t help much.
After all of the considerable preparation is finally done and I’m struggling to contain myself anymore -- seriously, it’s like trying to hold in a sneeze -- I’ll finally start with the writing, and the editing, and rewriting. This is the hard part, and, to be honest, it’s harder now than it ever was before. In the olden days when I was sitting down and writing stories to amuse myself, I didn’t have to work to the same professional standard that I do now. This beginning stage sees a lot of bad writing, a lot of reading other books to activate the writing part of my brain, a lot of long walks to increase the oxygen flow and give the divergent thought a chance to work, along with a lot of second guessing and self-doubt. I know where I want the story to go, but I also know all too well how much hard work needs to be done to get there. I’m perfectly willing to do as many revision passes as are needed to make the story into the best it can be, but of course I’d rather get it closer to right in the fewest number of tries.
Luckily I’ve done this long enough to know that things will eventually come together, and those moments when the flow state kicks in and things come fast and smoothly are great exhilarating fun. But at this point...well, maybe I’ll go spend some time with the book I’m reading these days. Because I want to activate by brain, not because I’m procrastinating...yeah, that’s it....
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Longest Day of the Year
This past Sunday was the Summer Solstice, or the day of the year with the longest stretch of daylight between the sunrise and sunset. It’s no secret I have a certain distaste for many things about winter (the month of January, specifically, being at the top of that list) so when I saw the forecast for the first day of summer was predicting a warm and sunny day, I decided to enjoy it.
Morning
Unless it's pouring rain outside, I’m in the habit of getting out for a two-mile walk first thing in the morning. Not wanting to miss any of this longest day, I actually set my alarm to make sure I was awake for the sunrise and didn’t miss a minute of daylight. By 5:30 I was dressed in yesterday’s clothes (still in good enough shape for walking) and outside early enough to witness the rising sun. It was comfortably cool and incredibly quiet at that time on a Sunday morning; I think I only saw or heard one car the entire time I was out. By the time I was finishing the fifth of my six laps through the neighborhood, I could feel the sweat starting to form on my back as the morning cool was giving way to the warmth of the morning sun. It was clearly going to be a hot day, and I was perfectly okay in knowing that.
The Sunday paper still hadn’t been delivered by the time I made it back to my house, but I found it outside the front door after I had cleaned up and changed. I pulled every blind and opened every window, letting the sunlight and the summer breeze fill the house as I ate breakfast, read the newspaper, and knocked off the Sudoku puzzle.
Afternoon
Even as the day continued heating up, I left the windows open and the air conditioning off, instead deciding to celebrate the sweaty temperatures being here instead of the days when dressing beneath three heavy layers is necessary for survival. I took the book I’m reading outside and sat in the shade, enjoying even more of the breeze.
It was Father’s Day yesterday, so my family planned to get together and go out to lunch. The parents showed up at my house a little early. My father picked through the newspaper, my mother fired up the Kuerig, and I checked the late morning news to see if the forecasted weather would hold for the day. By the time I found out that it would, my father had settled back into the sofa for a quick nap and my mother was digging through the books kept in my nice and breezy sun room to decide which she was going to borrow.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my sister and two of her sons already had a table, and thankfully it was beside a large window with lots of sun. By the time we left, the the temperature inside of my car had fallen victim to the automotive greenhouse effect that can be so prevalent in summer. I reflexively winced at the heat as I climbed in, but remembered the horrible January air which could be cold and painful enough to close schools. I paused to enjoy a few seconds of the lung-baking heat before rolling down the windows in favor of the air conditioning.
Evening
The heat became unavoidable by dinner time, so I finally relented and closed the windows in favor of the air conditioning, knowing I’d need it running later if I were to have any chance of sleeping that night. Nephew #2 had a baseball game that evening, and going to watch him play seemed like a perfect thing to do on the first day of summer. I painted myself with enough sunblock to fill a pair of shot glasses, made sure the DVR was set to record the first episode of the new season of “True Detective,” and was on my way. Even though the air was on in the house, I still kept the windows down in the car, with the radio on just loud enough for me to hear it over the rushing wind and traffic. On the trip to the ball fields I heard both “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince and “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins, and for the briefest of moments felt like I was in high school again.
At first I sat with my sister in the folding chairs she brought, facing directly into the setting sun. I gave up my chair for my mother when my parents arrived, and went join a teacher I work with up in the bleachers. We talked about my nephew, her son on the opposite team, our plans for the summer, and caught up on the tiny bit of school news that had occurred since vacation had started about a week and a half earlier.
The game was very one-sided and ended early. When I got home and set my phone on the kitchen counter, I looked at the time (9:03) and realized that in terms of daylight, the longest day had just come to an end. I thought about stepping back outside to read some more in the fading light, but by then the mosquitoes were beginning to assert their dominance so I thought the better of it. Besides, I was feeling that pre-5:30 wake up time by then. Instead I settled in for the night, turned on my reading lamp and got through a few more chapters before the news came on. After hearing warnings of the summer storms that would be arriving early the next morning, I figured my longest day had been long enough and went to bed.
After all, even though the minutes of daylight would be on the decline starting the very next day, there was still an entire summer ahead to enjoy. And sometimes going to bed early and sleeping in late can be an important part of enjoying summer.
Morning
Unless it's pouring rain outside, I’m in the habit of getting out for a two-mile walk first thing in the morning. Not wanting to miss any of this longest day, I actually set my alarm to make sure I was awake for the sunrise and didn’t miss a minute of daylight. By 5:30 I was dressed in yesterday’s clothes (still in good enough shape for walking) and outside early enough to witness the rising sun. It was comfortably cool and incredibly quiet at that time on a Sunday morning; I think I only saw or heard one car the entire time I was out. By the time I was finishing the fifth of my six laps through the neighborhood, I could feel the sweat starting to form on my back as the morning cool was giving way to the warmth of the morning sun. It was clearly going to be a hot day, and I was perfectly okay in knowing that.
The Sunday paper still hadn’t been delivered by the time I made it back to my house, but I found it outside the front door after I had cleaned up and changed. I pulled every blind and opened every window, letting the sunlight and the summer breeze fill the house as I ate breakfast, read the newspaper, and knocked off the Sudoku puzzle.
Afternoon
Even as the day continued heating up, I left the windows open and the air conditioning off, instead deciding to celebrate the sweaty temperatures being here instead of the days when dressing beneath three heavy layers is necessary for survival. I took the book I’m reading outside and sat in the shade, enjoying even more of the breeze.
It was Father’s Day yesterday, so my family planned to get together and go out to lunch. The parents showed up at my house a little early. My father picked through the newspaper, my mother fired up the Kuerig, and I checked the late morning news to see if the forecasted weather would hold for the day. By the time I found out that it would, my father had settled back into the sofa for a quick nap and my mother was digging through the books kept in my nice and breezy sun room to decide which she was going to borrow.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my sister and two of her sons already had a table, and thankfully it was beside a large window with lots of sun. By the time we left, the the temperature inside of my car had fallen victim to the automotive greenhouse effect that can be so prevalent in summer. I reflexively winced at the heat as I climbed in, but remembered the horrible January air which could be cold and painful enough to close schools. I paused to enjoy a few seconds of the lung-baking heat before rolling down the windows in favor of the air conditioning.
Evening
The heat became unavoidable by dinner time, so I finally relented and closed the windows in favor of the air conditioning, knowing I’d need it running later if I were to have any chance of sleeping that night. Nephew #2 had a baseball game that evening, and going to watch him play seemed like a perfect thing to do on the first day of summer. I painted myself with enough sunblock to fill a pair of shot glasses, made sure the DVR was set to record the first episode of the new season of “True Detective,” and was on my way. Even though the air was on in the house, I still kept the windows down in the car, with the radio on just loud enough for me to hear it over the rushing wind and traffic. On the trip to the ball fields I heard both “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince and “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins, and for the briefest of moments felt like I was in high school again.
At first I sat with my sister in the folding chairs she brought, facing directly into the setting sun. I gave up my chair for my mother when my parents arrived, and went join a teacher I work with up in the bleachers. We talked about my nephew, her son on the opposite team, our plans for the summer, and caught up on the tiny bit of school news that had occurred since vacation had started about a week and a half earlier.
The game was very one-sided and ended early. When I got home and set my phone on the kitchen counter, I looked at the time (9:03) and realized that in terms of daylight, the longest day had just come to an end. I thought about stepping back outside to read some more in the fading light, but by then the mosquitoes were beginning to assert their dominance so I thought the better of it. Besides, I was feeling that pre-5:30 wake up time by then. Instead I settled in for the night, turned on my reading lamp and got through a few more chapters before the news came on. After hearing warnings of the summer storms that would be arriving early the next morning, I figured my longest day had been long enough and went to bed.
After all, even though the minutes of daylight would be on the decline starting the very next day, there was still an entire summer ahead to enjoy. And sometimes going to bed early and sleeping in late can be an important part of enjoying summer.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Ten Things About My Father
It's Father's Day tomorrow, the day I imagine is known as "Christmas in June" within the necktie and after shave industries. For today's
post I'm going to tell you ten things you may not know about my father. He can be a quiet sort, but he's been around long enough to become a fairly interesting person:
1. He plays the banjo. In my childhood home there was a chair in the living room that always had a music stand and a banjo beside it. As dramatic as my sisters and I (with an emphasis on the "I" part) were about expressing our distaste for banjo music and how loud it was, he was undeterred and played on for the joy of it. He let it go for awhile, but in recent years has returned to it and taken lessons. And once again, there's a banjo parked beside his favorite chair in his living room. Not two months ago he asked me to change the settings on his phone so he could use the new "Dueling Banjos" ringtone he had found.
2. He's very community oriented. He's been a member of the church choir in at least three churches. He was involved in my Cub Scout and Boy Scout troops, and even led his own troop after I had decided I was far too cool to be involved in Scouts anymore. He's coached soccer teams, even if his knowledge of the game was limited to what he picked up from the sidelines while watching my sister and I play on our summer league teams. When he opened his drugstore, he was a catalyst behind a local business association starting up in downtown Elk River. He's been an active member in the Lion's Club for a long time now, and I mean active: After heavy involvement in his local club, he worked his way up to becoming a district governor, which is very much of a big shot thing in the Lions world. I know of people who have dropped his name with members of the Lions Club and got quite a reaction.
3. He's extremely proud of his Irish heritage, and has traveled to visit Ireland...three times, now?
4. Even though he went on to become an incredibly knowledgeable pharmacist, he almost didn't go to college. The only reason he took his college entrance exam in high school was to ditch a class.
5. He's a car guy. If he's out driving and spots a car that could, in any way, be described as a classic, he'll simply announce the make, model, and year of it as if it's a casual observation, while I'd need ten minutes of Googling to even make a best guess.
6. He's a big reader. Our house had so many crime and spy paperback novels, my sisters and I just referred to them as "Dad books."
7. He's always been a Do It Yourself kind of guy. He completely finished the basement of my childhood home and landscaped the entire yard, with little outside help other than things he read in different books and a minimal amount of physical labor from a young teenage son who could not stop complaining about how heavy each wheelbarrow full of landscaping rock was.
8. He loves musicals. His record collection had a good number of Broadway cast recordings to plays I had never heard of.
9. He has certain comedy triggers that will leave him laughing uncontrollably until he's red in the face.
10. Back before he retired and still had his drugstore, WCCO-TV did a human interest story about him: He saw too much of a conflict between being a pharmacist who tried to help people preserve their health, and being a retail businessman who sold all variety of cigarettes and related products, so he stopped selling tobacco. (This was all back in the 1990s, about two decades before national drugstore chains did the same thing and made national headlines for it.) He explained his reasons to the news crew as they showed footage of him standing at the front cash register in his pharmacy jacket, talking to a customer who was expressing her appreciation for what he was doing. The story wrapped up and cut back to the anchors all sitting at their desk, and Don Shelby, one of the most popular and respected newsmen in Twin Cities media, turned to his co-anchor and said, "Now, that is a man of character."
Happy Father's Day, Dad!!
1. He plays the banjo. In my childhood home there was a chair in the living room that always had a music stand and a banjo beside it. As dramatic as my sisters and I (with an emphasis on the "I" part) were about expressing our distaste for banjo music and how loud it was, he was undeterred and played on for the joy of it. He let it go for awhile, but in recent years has returned to it and taken lessons. And once again, there's a banjo parked beside his favorite chair in his living room. Not two months ago he asked me to change the settings on his phone so he could use the new "Dueling Banjos" ringtone he had found.
2. He's very community oriented. He's been a member of the church choir in at least three churches. He was involved in my Cub Scout and Boy Scout troops, and even led his own troop after I had decided I was far too cool to be involved in Scouts anymore. He's coached soccer teams, even if his knowledge of the game was limited to what he picked up from the sidelines while watching my sister and I play on our summer league teams. When he opened his drugstore, he was a catalyst behind a local business association starting up in downtown Elk River. He's been an active member in the Lion's Club for a long time now, and I mean active: After heavy involvement in his local club, he worked his way up to becoming a district governor, which is very much of a big shot thing in the Lions world. I know of people who have dropped his name with members of the Lions Club and got quite a reaction.
3. He's extremely proud of his Irish heritage, and has traveled to visit Ireland...three times, now?
4. Even though he went on to become an incredibly knowledgeable pharmacist, he almost didn't go to college. The only reason he took his college entrance exam in high school was to ditch a class.
5. He's a car guy. If he's out driving and spots a car that could, in any way, be described as a classic, he'll simply announce the make, model, and year of it as if it's a casual observation, while I'd need ten minutes of Googling to even make a best guess.
6. He's a big reader. Our house had so many crime and spy paperback novels, my sisters and I just referred to them as "Dad books."
7. He's always been a Do It Yourself kind of guy. He completely finished the basement of my childhood home and landscaped the entire yard, with little outside help other than things he read in different books and a minimal amount of physical labor from a young teenage son who could not stop complaining about how heavy each wheelbarrow full of landscaping rock was.
8. He loves musicals. His record collection had a good number of Broadway cast recordings to plays I had never heard of.
9. He has certain comedy triggers that will leave him laughing uncontrollably until he's red in the face.
10. Back before he retired and still had his drugstore, WCCO-TV did a human interest story about him: He saw too much of a conflict between being a pharmacist who tried to help people preserve their health, and being a retail businessman who sold all variety of cigarettes and related products, so he stopped selling tobacco. (This was all back in the 1990s, about two decades before national drugstore chains did the same thing and made national headlines for it.) He explained his reasons to the news crew as they showed footage of him standing at the front cash register in his pharmacy jacket, talking to a customer who was expressing her appreciation for what he was doing. The story wrapped up and cut back to the anchors all sitting at their desk, and Don Shelby, one of the most popular and respected newsmen in Twin Cities media, turned to his co-anchor and said, "Now, that is a man of character."
Happy Father's Day, Dad!!
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