WIP update: 10,500 words! I’ve crossed a threshold! I’m really doing this! I can totally write this book!

Granted, I might have gotten a little farther if it weren’t for the Oscars last night… but whatever.

What I’ve noticed is that 500 words (my Mon-Thurs quota) has become easy for me. 1000 words (my Fri-Sun quota) isn’t easy, but it isn’t hard anymore either. Even on the nights when I start my writing at 11 p.m. — which unfortunately is fairly often — I can usually expect to collapse into bed around midnight or 1 a.m. I think my average is 500 words an hour. IF I’m focused.

(Which is why even though technically I can write at work, I never really get that many words down. There are just too many interruptions.)

Given that, I may up my daily quotas to 750 and 1250, respectively. Maybe in, like, a week? I don’t want to rush it, because the key is to set myself up for success. I want to make sure I set goals I can realistically achieve. Or else I could fall into that negative cycle of failing, beating myself up for failing, going into the next day/goal with a pessimistic outlook, and thus failing, beating myself up for failing, and so on and so forth…

Hey, can we go back to the Oscars for a moment? (Why, yes we can! Because this is my blog and I say so.) Besides all the glam and glitz, I enjoy Hollywood because it’s all about the same thing that I’m all about: stories.

Whether comedy, drama, thriller, or what have you, movies (like books) are about good stories. And I’ve learned a lot, both from movies and TV shows, about good storytelling. The compelling nature of friendship, from Sex and the City. The shades of grey that characters can (and really should) live in, from Battlestar Galactica. The simple power of real life highs and lows, from Life Unexpected. The list goes on.

(Obviously you can learn a lot about what not to do from bad movies and TV shows, too. But I like to focus on the positives.)

So last night (the Oscars) for me was a celebration of good stories, and the people who make them successful. And I have to admit, I was really happy when Sandra Bullock won for Best Actress. Because hers has been a long and varied career, from Speed to a Time to Kill, Practical Magic to Crash. And that’s what I want: variety. I’m terrified of being pigeonholed. Literary, Young Adult, New Adult, fantasy, mystery, chick lit… Truth be told, I’d like to try my hand at all of them. But nowadays, in the world of “author brands,” I worry about how much flexibility I’ll really have.

(Of course, Andy’s (extremely practical) advice is to just get a book published first, then I can worry about the next ones. But it’s so much easier to worry now!)

I know it’s a different industry, but still, Sandra Bullock gives me hope. That I too can experiment with different styles and roles. That I too can flop a few times and still come back strong. That I too don’t have to bend to my brand; I can make my brand grow to fit me. That I too can find success while staying true to myself.

I was in the middle of writing a completely different blog post for today, but then

I GOT MY FIRST REQUEST FOR A PARTIAL!!!!!!!!!

(Translation for non-writers: A literary agent asked to see a synopsis and the first 3 chapters of Twenty-Somewhere. This is a good thing. A very, very good thing.)

Andy’s reply to my ecstatic email:

SWEET

You are more successful at writing than fishing

Fortunately, that appears to be true.

Man, I feel like someone shot me full of adrenaline. Which would probably be fine if I hadn’t just downed a can of Pepsi too. Now I’m going to be jittery all afternoon…

Jittery and grinning like an idiot.

Last night after I finished watching all of Fushigi Yugi on YouTube:

Andy: Please tell me you are not seriously crying over a cartoon.
Me: {sniff sniff} It’s not just any cartoon! It’s EPIC.
Andy: …

I finish sniffling, shut down my computer, and get into bed.

Me: You just don’t understand. You’re not a romantic.
Andy: I am too!
Me: Oh yeah? How so?
Andy: I am a tiny insect that bites people and lodges under their skin, and I was born in the capital of Italy.
Me: You’re a Rome ant?
Andy: No, I’m a Roman tick!
Me: …

I’m alive, I’m back, and I have no idea why someone searching for “poopy cola” ended up here, but I’m sorry to disappoint!

On the other hand, hiiiiiii to all the lovely people coming from Kiersten White’s blog. No, I didn’t pay her to say any of those nice things about me. But maybe I should send her some Dr. Pepper as a thank you. Being called “good strange” by Kiersten totally made my day.

Anyhoot, I spent this past weekend in Houston for my sister Alex’s wedding. I admit that going in I was quite nervous about being Maid of Honor. Would I look good? Would I walk right? More importantly, would I still be able to function after 10 hours of cropping and sorting photos for the slideshow? I had my doubts.

But the big day came and went without a hitch. In fact, it wasn’t just okay — it was perfect. My parents were on-time, I didn’t fall while walking down the aisle (although I did stumble), and oh yeah, MY SISTER GOT MARRIED.

(On a boat. Hee!)

For me the biggest hurdle (besides the thing I tripped over) was my Maid of Honor toast. I’d been stressing about it for weeks, and every time I tried to write it, I started to cry. Part of it was that I didn’t know how to describe everything I felt about Alex and her getting married, and part of it was the pressure. For some reason, when you tell people you’re a writer, they expect you to be able to write things well. Things like speeches. Weird.

I finally got my emotions under control and wrote a crappy first draft about 5 days before the wedding. Andy told me to sleep on it, and I did. But when I woke up the next day, it was still crappy, plus now it was wrinkled.

My mom’s advice was to make it funny. Unfortunately, I’m not a very funny person naturally. (See previous paragraph.) Still, I tried adding some jokes, including one about the groom speaking Klingon. After listening to me read my revised speech aloud, Andy politely vetoed the jokes. Thank God.

With about 12 hours left before the wedding, I sat down and said, This is it. I have to do it. I have to write it down, and I have to write it in the simplest, truest way possible.

And you know what? It worked. My toast was heartfelt, captured everything I wanted to say to/about Alex and Paul, and even made people laugh. (And not just because I accidentally congratulated Paul as my new sister instead of brother — whoops! I hadn’t even had the champagne yet!)

So what’s the point of all this? (Besides the fact that HOLY COW MY SISTER GOT MARRIED.) It’s that sometimes when a speech, or a scene, or a story isn’t working, it’s a sign that we’re not writing in our own voice. Yes, the elusive “voice” that everyone in the publishing industry talks about. That voice. That’s what I was lacking, and that’s what I feel like I finally understand, thanks to this speech.

The Maid of Honor toast is nothing new, but my MOH toast was completely original, because I finally wrote it in the way that came most naturally to me. If you and 3 friends go out to dinner, and some guy in a crocodile costume comes by and steals your food, you’re each going to tell the cops a different version of the same story. (The cops will probably laugh at all 4 of you, because come on? Guy in a crocodile suit? Seriously?) But what I’m saying is, everyone has a unique perspective and way of expressing it. So your historical family saga or dystopian sci-fi thriller might not be the first of its kind, but if you write it in your voice, it will be fresh. If it means something to you, it will mean something to readers too.

And that’s the key to good writing: making people care.

…

(Also, contrary to what this post might have you believe, I realize that my sister’s wedding is in fact about her, not me. I was only writing about one small element of the event, an element that I thought might be relevant to this blog. It was by no means the most important. In fact, it wasn’t important at all. Aren’t you glad you wasted your time reading this? :P)

Okay, so I first started this post like two months ago, and at the time I was watching all of Sex and the City, so I thought it would be funny (or at least punny) to talk about hard work jeans instead of genes. Two months later, that doesn’t seem funny at all.

Nor is it funny how little writing I’ve done in the past week. This post was initially sparked by a discussion I had with my mom on whether or not I inherited my parents’ amazing work ethics. I guess after writing roughly 10 words in 10 days, the obvious answer is no.

:(

(Oh, and the SATC part was going to be about how Carrie Bradshaw was always writing her column while wearing only a top and her underwear. And how I wondered if her laptop ever burned her thighs. And how maybe I should try that uniform, since it worked out pretty well for her. But seeing as it’s about 20 degrees in Cincinnati right now, I’m thinking that’s a no-go.)

As for the lack of productivity, I don’t really understand how this happened. I’d been looking forward to this week for a while, because with Andy out of town on business, I thought I’d have plenty of time to dedicate to my writing. Because, you know, usually it’s Andy’s fault I don’t get any writing done. What with all his demands, like doing my laundry for me, cooking for me, watching TV so he doesn’t bother me… Wait a minute!

Oh right, what Andy actually does is make me feel guilty when I waste my time. And while I don’t enjoy that, I realize now that it’s good for me. (Oh god I hope Andy never reads this post…) All week I’ve had no one to answer to but Riley, and let’s just say Riley doesn’t have a whole lot of complaints as long as he gets his kibbles and some play time.

Sigh.

So, after reading Kiersten White’s hilarious and focused blog about her hilarious and focused writing, and after hypocritically chastising Les for saying probably she wouldn’t hit her 10k/month goal in December, I am now going to stop being such a waste of life. I am going to set realistic goals and meet them. I am going to stop pretending to work and actually work. I am going to write stories that I (and anyone) would love to read and then I am going to sell them.

This is me kicking myself in the butt. Because really, no one else should have to.