OK, now I’m embarrassed. Just how many of us want to admit
that we (male or female) write in our nightgowns (loose waist = creative
freedom) or have a wee quart, near to hand, of a libation with an alcohol
content banned during Prohibition? Do we become the Mr. Hyde of Creativity,
snarling at loved ones and demanding trays at our locked door, which are often
ignored because we are chained to the Muse? Or must we confess that… Oh, you
mean “how do you schedule your day”?
Whew!
With a few books now under my preferably very loose belt, I
have developed a comfortable routine. I must know location, theme, and a first
scene plus last scene as well as whodunit/whydunit before starting any new book.
A quote to give the story focus and a title come next. Then I scrape parchment,
sharpen quill, and spend one to two months scratching out a chapter-by-chapter
synopsis without regard to logic, grammar, or even any changes of names in
minor characters. In short, if I die during this process, even the computer on
which the thing has been composed
must be burned.
I own some pride.
This mess does have value. The chapter-by-chapter synopsis is
an outline of the book for both me and my editor. (Her idea. A bow of
gratitude.) Before sending it off, I move chapters around, add chapters to fill
plot holes or adjust tension, fire pointless characters, correct names, and
otherwise strengthen the story bones. Once the synopsis returns, I make my
editor’s suggested changes in the synopsis itself. Thus I end up with an
outline from which a mystery can be crafted.
The remaining process takes six to eight months. I am an
excruciatingly slow writer, sweating blood to reach the 65,000 word publisher
minimum while knowing I must still cut. If interrupted in mid-scratch, I must restart
two or three chapters back because I have lost the flow of the story.
Unfortunately for the family member who cooks, I work in the kitchen with a
view of the untamed backyard. Unfortunately for my waist, I work near the refrigerator,
requiring that need for little binding about the middle. Part of my routine is
to diet after a book is done and ban Mr. Hyde style howling except during
football.
Much has been made of a daily routine. In principle, I
agree. In practice, I’m flexible. I write between lunch and dinner or four to
six hours. There are days I write myself into corners or toss dreck into the
computer. Conventional wisdom says to write through this. I opt for lunch in
the wine country. There is merit in shutting off the louder brain and
delegating work to the sub-conscious, a function often ignored in a 24/7 world.
Some of my best solutions have come when I was falling asleep.
Bottom line: find a routine that works for you, keeps you
creative, and keep to it. As for other quirks we have, I suggest you always
thank the loved one who leaves that tray by your door…
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