Pep Talk

testing take 2

test take 1

Dear Fellow NaNo Writer,

So it’s all over. How’d you do? If you hit 50,000 words, congratulations! If you didn’t, and you gave it your best shot, congratulations! Whether you achieved the word count goal or not, you now have a brand new story. So what do you think of it?

When you reflect back on what you’ve written, you may be thrilled. You may be amazed at what you’ve produced. Or you may not… You may be disappointed. You may even feel like you’ve just wasted a month and an awesome idea. You haven’t. Trust me. I’ve been there.

I first did NaNo in 2005. I’d been hearing about it for years. By then, I was already published myself, but I thought it would be a great exercise for members of the online writing community I host on my message board. To truly support and encourage members, though, I needed to take the challenge alongside them. And I knew exactly what I wanted to write—the first draft of an idea I’d been toying with for years, that of a young adult story set in my Otherworld universe.

So I wrote that novel, called The Summoning, and this summer, The Summoning was released and made it onto the New York Times children’s best seller list. And that sounds so much more impressive if I don’t point out that the novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo is not the same version that was published.

What NaNoWriMo gave me was a quick and dirty first draft, and by the end of it, I could see that my book had some good stuff…and it had some serious problems and missed opportunities. So I put it aside for a rest period and pondered how to fix it while I worked on my next contracted novel. The manuscript underwent significant revising, reworking and, yes, rewriting, before I let my agent take it to market.

Dear writer,

Never write just for yourself. Allow me to explain. There are countless would-be authors, with shelves and cupboards packed with deathless prose that will never be
published. They think it's good, but do other people? I'm not just talking about loving family members, and best friends. I mean the world at large. What I'm saying
is, think of the audience, the class, the age group, for whom you're writing. If they could enjoy your work, then you're on a winner matey.

Read the stories of authors you admire, study them, analyse them maybe. But never copy them. Reading helps you to develop your own personal style. When you have that, then you've made it. However, authors are born, not made. Again I'll explain. The spark must exist, with learning, and experience, it can be kindled into a flame, nay, an inferno in certain rare cases. If you don't possess the initial spark, then a teacher may lend you a match, this can ignite a fire. Though I do find that in many cases, without that first God given spark, a tutored interest tends to fade after awhile. Then who knows, mayhaps you find your own, different, talent. To paint, dance, act, or be brilliant at something miles from writing.

The advice I continually give to young writers is this "Learn to paint pictures with words." Not just once upon a time, but... In the long secret dust of ages, beneath a blue forgotten sky, where trade winds caress the sun bleached shores of unknown realms... See, as much as there are words in poetry, there is a poetry in words. Use it, stay faithful to the path you have set your heart upon and follow it. How many times have you heard someone say. 'Oh I'm going to write a book someday!' Meet up with them again on that nebulous "someday", my bet is that they're still talking about it.

Dear Writer,

You're a fool. You know that, don't you? Because only a fool would try a stunt as crazy as this. You want to write a 50,000 word novel in one month?! Do you have sawdust in your skull? When there are so many other more useful things you could be doing, like cleaning up the house and yard, taking a correspondence course in Chinese, or contributing your time and effort to a charitable cause? Whatever is possessing you?

Consider the first card of the Tarot deck, titled The Fool. There's this young man traipsing along with a small dog at his heel, toting a bag of his worldly goods on the end of his wooden staff, carrying a flower in his other hand, gazing raptly at the sky—and about to step off a cliff, because he isn't watching his feet. A fool indeed. Does this feel familiar? It should. You're doing much the same thing. What made you ever think you could bat out a bad book like that, let alone write anything readable?

So are you going to give up this folly and focus on reality before you step off the cliff? No? Are you sure? Even though you know you are about to confirm the suspicion of your dubious relatives, several acquaintances, and fewer friends that you never are going to amount to anything more than a dank hill of beans? That you're too damned oink-headed to rise to the level of the very lowest rung of common sense?

Sigh. You're a lost soul. So there's no help for it but to join the lowly company of the other aspect of The Fool. Because the fact is, that Fool is a Dreamer, and it is Dreamers who ultimately make life worthwhile for the unimaginative rest of us. Dreamers consider the wider universe. Dreamers build cathedrals, shape fine sculptures, and yes, generate literature. Dreamers are the artists who provide our rapacious species with some faint evidence of nobility.

Dear NaNoWriMo Author,

I know what you're doing. You're thinking about cheating, aren't you?

Ha! Caught you!

Come on. One cheater knows another. You think I've never been there?

Maybe for some of you it's not too late: you haven't crossed the line...maybe you're just entertaining the idea of abandoning the story you're currently working on.

Maybe you're just thinking of taking a break to jot down a few notes about the story you just thought of; that ultra-fresh, totally cool, sure-to-be-a-bestseller you dreamed up the other morning while you were supposed to be figuring out where you took the wrong turn on your work-in-progress.

But I'm here to let you know: That's how it starts. The next thing you know, you're doing character sketches. Then a little dialogue. Then whole scenes.

And then you're through. You've given up on your work-in-progress entirely, and the next thing you know, you've started working full-time on this new story you thought up.

I know only too well what comes next. The excuses. The rationalization: "So what? So I switched stories. I've still got a work-in-progress. It's just not my original work-in-progress. So I'm a little behind in my word count. I'm still writing, right?"

Sure, it seems innocent enough. But the problem with doing this is that of course the new story always seems better than that old busted up, out-of-control story you've been working on for so long. That new story has the aura of dewy freshness to it. It's calling to you! It's all, "Yoo-hoo...look at me! I don't have any plot problems and my characters are way-intriguing and some of them wear leather jackets and oh, yeah, you know that weird transition thing you've got going on near chapter four that you can't figure out? I don't have that!"

I know. It sounds good.

Dear Author,

It's happening. You're writing a blue streak. You're piling up the pages. You're roaring through this novel like a forest fire. Then suddenly you hit the immovable obstacle. WHAM. Ow. You're flat as a piece of typing paper, your mind as blank. Panic!

Whether you're taking a month or a year, this is always the question. What happens next?

Fiction is all about decisions. Let me give you a personal example. Working on White Oleander, I kept hitting this wall, about chapter 8. It was all going great, all the wheels in motion, and then WHAM. I just couldn't decide what to do next. I'd try this, try that, but each time I'd get stuck. The character would put her toe in and pull it out again. No, not that. Should I just bag it? Write a different book? Go to law school? Watch reruns of Hogan's Heroes? I was absolutely blocked at the crossroads.

Luckily I was seeing an amazing therapist at the time. I explained I was afraid that if I chose route 6, then I would be eliminating all the other possible routes. What if route 15 was better? Or 3 1/2? So I hedged. I couldn't commit. I was stuck. And she gave me the piece of advice which has saved my writing life over and over again, and I will give it to you, absolutely free of charge. She said, "I know it feels like you have all these options and when you make a decision, you lose a world of possibilities. But the reality is, until you make a decision, you have nothing at all."

So you have these options, but which one to go for? When in doubt, make trouble for your character. Don't let her stand on the edge of the pool, dipping her toe. Come up behind her and give her a good hard shove. That's my advice to you now. Make trouble for your character. In life we try to avoid trouble. We chew on our choices endlessly. We go to shrinks, we talk to our friends. In fiction, this is deadly. Protagonists need to screw up, act impulsively, have enemies, get into TROUBLE.

Dear NaNoWriMo writer,

The metaphor of writing-as-birth is not a new one-perhaps it may even be a bit overused---but I can't help but think about it this month. It doesn't matter if you're a woman or a man; you're pregnant with a novel---congratulations!

Of course, one month is a pretty short gestation period, but hey, that's all the time rabbits need, and NaNo certainly requires a "no time to say hello, goodbye" White Rabbit breakneck pace.

I remember how amazing it was when I was pregnant with my kids---each day, my body had transformed into something new. This month, you have transformed, too, moving from aspiring writer to novelist, from someone who has wanted to write to someone who actually is doing the hard, juicy work of getting words onto the page. You have learned new things about the creative process, about the depths of your imagination, about the themes and images central to your subconscious life. And even if you are way behind on your word count, even if you've only written the first scene of your novel, you have taken a profound leap. You are a writer now. How awesome is that?!

If your experience is anything my like NaNo experiences have been, this has been a time of exhilaration and frustration, inspiration and despair (and, hopefully, big slices of pumpkin pie!) A journey from that first thrill of conception, through moments when the story feels heavy and unwieldy, to times when it kicks inside you and fills you with awe. And now the end, your due-date, is in sight---at least as far as the calendar is concerned. Now you're not just pregnant---you're in labor.

Dear Friends:

At this point I feel I should just say: "Times a'wasting! Stop reading this
note and get back to work." But I promised to try to cheer you on, so I'll
do my part, if you'll promise to get right back to your novel after you've
read it.

Yes, yes, the hardest part of writing a novel is keeping at it. Some years
ago when I was totally stuck in the first draft of a novel, I was having
lunch with my dear friend, the novelist Mary Lee Settle. "Oh, Mary Lee," I
moaned, "this is my seventh novel and I haven't learned a thing."

"Yes, you have," she said, fixing her eagle gaze upon my whining face,
"you've learned that a novel can be finished."

So I went home and finished the first draft. Now you're determined to write
50,000 words in a month. I just said to myself that I had to write two
pages a day before I could do anything else. The margins could be wide and
there was no requirement for quality. I just had to finish the two pages.
Eventually, the log jam broke and I found myself moving forward without
that iron rule.

I aim always to get to the end of the first draft even though all the time
I'm telling myself that I'm writing nothing but garbage that no one on
earth would ever want to read, especially me. But I tell myself that this
poor little attempt, this garbage, deserves a chance. Just as our beautiful
dog Annie, who was the runt of her litter, grew into the most beautiful,
loving dog anyone would want, so there may be hope, even for this pitiful
mess of words I'm accumulating. So I say to myself: Don't read back too
far, don't try to start rewriting, just get to the end.

I live in Barre, Vermont which calls itself the "Granite Capital of the
World." Outside our town are enormous quarries, so when I speak in local
schools every child has a mental picture of a granite quarry. "You know how
hard it is to get granite out of the quarry," I say. "You have to carefully

Welcome, writers, to the place I call Very Nearly the End.

By now, NaNoWriMo has taught you that writing is not for the faint of heart. You must be stalwart and brave, like pioneers of old, unafraid of uncharted lands or crossing vast frontiers. It was exciting at first, wasn't it? Preparing for the journey, stocking supplies, counting down the days until the start of the great undertaking. That enthusiasm would have carried you through the first weeks, and even the pitfalls along the way might have seemed like thrilling opportunities for adventure. But now you have come to the bleak no-man's land just before the last great push to the end. It is barren and empty and it seems as if no one has ever passed this way. Except for every other writer who has come before you. This place lurks along the journey of each book for all of us. Here we hate our characters, our plot is mundane, and our prose is as flat and unlovely as the landscape. Be watchful; it's dangerous, this place. I have heard of writers who lacked courage and who turned back to safety, never to return. They simply stopped being writers because they could not find their way across this nothingness. That is not an option for me, and I don't believe it is an option for you. You have come too far, weary travelers! And there is a way across, I promise.

The solution has two parts. The first is to be a little selfish. At this point in the book, a writer is a bit like an invalid emerging from a life-threatening illness. We are fragile and wan, and people will remark that we have grown thin and pale. We startle easily and we tire quickly. This is when we have to be kind to ourselves. If there is someone who can cook for us and bring us cups of tea and rub our feet, excellent. If there