Inflated then deflated

I was accepted to the Tin House Writing Workshop, my first acceptance based on a submission of my writing.  It was quite a compliment!

And yet I have written very little the last few weeks.  Maybe its a change in the weather.  I finally, last minute, completed a 500 word submission to Bona Fide Books.  It feels good to submit something.  Maybe I will shake the cobwebs from my brain and put some more words on the page!

Prunes and Rejection

I received my first rejection today.  Although I tried to prepare myself in advance, it was still a disappointment.  Unfortunately, the staples of drowning disappointment (wine and chocolate) were not to be found in my bare pantry.  I dug around, even removing the ever present can of beets from four Thanksgiving's ago to find a bag of prunes.  I imagined they looked a little like chocolate as I popped them in my mouth.  Honestly, the prunes were a sorry substitution. 

I have been toying with the notion of committing to freewriting for 20 minutes a day, using a different writing prompt each time.  However, this still seems like too difficult a goal. 

I added up my work for the last week.  A total of 15 hours seems impressive, but much of that was in audiobook listening.  I listened to The Hunger Games and could not stop.  It is so wonderful to become absorbed in a really great story!  I wish I could write a story in the same amount of time it takes to listen to one. 

Lice and mining

Writing is like trying to get lice out of your hair.  The tiny eggs are in there, all tangled up in the hairs.  They itch, so you know they exist, but you can't see them with your eyes.  You have to dilligently comb all those tiny eggs out, even after you have used the special medicated shampoo.  It can take hours.  Some people give up and cut all their hair off, but that doesn't rid them of the eggs. 

Writing is also like mining.  You hope there is a vein of precious stones somewhere beneath the surface.  You choose a spot to start your mine.  Then, you have to sift through tons and tons of earth using huge bulldozers to strip the earth.  You send the earth through finer and finer sorting devices.  You try water, maybe chemicals.  Eventually you get small chunks of what could be diamonds.  But these are dull and uninteresting.  They have to be cut and polished and pampered.  The end result is something small and beautiful. 

I am trying to think about writing as a game of volume.  Maybe only 10% of what I write is good.  This means I have to write quite a bit to be able to cut out the 90% that is crap and be left with a diamond, the size of a novel!

I haven't done much mining lately.  I am overwhelmed by my novel.  I feel as though I have made so little progress, and there is so much left to do.  Admittedly, I am luxuriating in my self pity and its a bit pathetic.

I should explain where I am at with my novel.  I have 100 pages of basic stream of consciousness that I wrote during NaNoWriMo in November.  I have been working on revising that nugget into a workable first draft.  I have 3 chapters that actually resemble a story.  Sometimes, when I work on revision too much, I feel stuck.  I am going to experiment with more freewriting for awhile, and put the revision process aside.  I am going to try using writing prompts to see if I can get the juices going a bit.
 
So far, all I have done is listen to audiobooks for 4 hours this week.  Its something I guess.