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Thursday
Apr182013

On emerging from the Revisions Cave

People always talk about experiencing culture shock when they come back to the United States after spending time in another country. They talk about resocialization after people have spent time in prison. But no one ever talks about the shocking transition writers must go through when they've spent three months in the revisions cave and then reemerge into normal society. Writers, I hear your cries for help. I will not turn my back on your plight. I've recently had such an experience myself, and I know how difficult it can be to reenter society after such a long time in isolation. Just for you, I've created a handy-dandy guide to resocialization. Use it wisely.

1) Dig yourself out
 
Even if you've only spent a few weeks in the revisions cave, chances are you are currently surrounded by an ocean of empty takeout containers, filthy laundry, crusty dishes, and tissues you used to sop up your revision-induced tears. Be sure to put on shoes or rain boots before you try to make your way to the door—chances are you will step on at least one half-full container of week-old Chinese food. Gather a box of trash bags and a snow shovel and return to your work space. If you wear glasses or contacts, take them off; you probably don't want to see this too clearly. Wrap a bandana over your nose and mouth. Then use the shovel to push the detritus into the bags. "But shouldn't I keep my dishes?" you may ask. If they are still recognizable as dishes, you may be able to salvage them after a week-long soak in the sink. If they more closely resemble moss-covered rocks, just throw them away. There are lots of dishes in the world. You can get new ones.
 
2) Reacquaint yourself with that magical place called Outside
 
Put on dark sunglasses to protect your fragile writer eyes, then step out the front door. I know, it's scary, but you're going to have to do it eventually. Walk to the nearest park and take an inventory of your surroundings. Are there leaves on the trees? Are there flowers? Is it snowing? Do you see children in Halloween costumes? These things will give you clues about what season it is and make it easier to calculate how long you have been in the cave. It's okay, you don't have to talk to anyone. Now that you've done a thorough visual inspection, you can retreat to your home and take some deep breaths.
 
3) Practice using your voice
 
Aside from the occasional angry rant at a character who's not cooperating, you probably haven't used your voice in quite some time. Practice stringing words together at home before you try to do it in public; it may not go smoothly right at the beginning. Singing in the shower is an excellent way to ease back in, as it allows you to exercise your vocal cords but does not require you to think up original things to say. If it has been months since you've spoken, you may sound like a eighty-year-old pack-a-day smoker at first, but do not despair. Drink lots of lemon tea with honey and use a humidifier, and you'll sound mellifluous again in no time.
 
4) Make a list of things to talk about other than writing
 
The first time you see your friends again after an extended stint in the cave, they will probably ask you something akin to, "What's new in your life?" It will be tempting to answer, "80,000 words," because let's face it, that IS the only new thing in your life. However, laymen only have one response to a word-count announcement: "How many pages is that?" You will quickly grow tired of answering this question, so it's best to guide the conversation in another direction from the start.
 
"But I have nothing else to talk about!" you may say. This, my friend, is what public radio podcasts are for. Sure, you haven't left the house in three months, but you will sound really interesting if you say, "Did you hear about that doctor who strangled his father and cut off his fingers and then tried to represent himself in court? Did you know there's a whole society in Verona that answers letters people write to Shakespeare's Juliet about their love problems?" If you're behind on current events, "Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me" can help you out with that. Granted, you may not be able to talk about the news without throwing in some inappropriate jokes, but it's better than sounding uninformed. Write all your non-writing topics on notecards and keep them in your purse in case you panic and blank.
 
5) Rejoin society
 
You can do it. Sit at a table with some people you like. Drink things. Eat things. Tell your public radio stories. Laugh. Have conversations that go nowhere and would make really bad dialogue because it doesn't matter, nobody is going to remember them or read them. Marvel at that fact. Drink more things.
 
6) Come home and tweet to other writers about how weird it felt to rejoin society
 
Yes, going out into society again was enjoyable, but you may feel a bit like a veteran who has just come home from the war—in theory, people know what you've been through, but they don't really Know What You've Been Through. But it's okay. There are lots of people out there who do get it. They know exactly how much 80,000 words is and exactly how proud of you they should be because you created them. They'll tell you about how weird it was for them to rejoin society after a long stint in the cave. They'll tell you it'll be easier tomorrow. And it will be.
 
7) Sleep for a very long time. You deserve it.

 

 

Monday
Mar252013

How to rewrite your book from scratch in 75 days

Some of you may be wondering why I completely abandoned my blog for the last two months. (Most of you are probably now scratching your heads and going, "You weren't blogging? I mean, yeeeahhhh, I TOTALLY noticed!") I hope you've been picturing me on a grand and epic journey of some sort, having adventures and gathering wisdom. In real life, I've been sitting here alone in my apartment since January 10th, rewriting my second book from scratch. But despite the complete lack of adventures, I have gathered some wisdom, and I'm here to share it with you.
 
How to Rewrite Your Book From Scratch in 75 Days (and Not Die), A Step-by-Step Guide
 
Day 1: Receive a call from your agent. "You're going to be getting your edit letter for book 2 today," she says. "But your editor wanted me to call and prepare you first. It's going to be a lot of work. She also wanted me to reassure you that she doesn't hate you or your writing." At this point, prepare cookies and tissues. You're going to need them shortly.
 
One hour later, receive the actual edit letter, which essentially says, "Characters and emotional arcs? Decent. Your plot? Not so much. Please delete all of it and try again. You have eight weeks." Remember those tissues you just prepared? Reach for them. Cry for three continuous hours while furiously texting all your writer friends about how your editor DOES in fact hate both you and your writing. Blast "Shake It Out" by Florence and the Machine on repeat because you really need to hear the line, "It's always darkest before the dawn" seven thousand times. Eat eight cookies and go to bed.
 
Day 2: Decide you have been sulking long enough and get to work. Wait for your critique partners to sign into g-chat, then attack them and force them to have epic brainstorming sessions with you. Flail a lot.
 
Day 4: Get sick. Naturally.
 
Day 5: Hit on an idea for a new plot. Rejoice! Grudgingly admit that your editor was right, because if you can pull it off, the new plot will be way better. Then realize implementing the new plot will mean deleting 70,000 words of your existing manuscript. Stop rejoicing and eat more cookies.
 
Day 7: Meet with your editor (by phone, 'cause you're still sick) and pitch her your new plot. Do a quiet happy dance when she says, "Oh, this sounds SO much better!" Negotiate for an additional four weeks to write it. As soon as you get off the phone, realize this new plot will require intensive research on subjects you know nothing about. Eat more cookies.
 
Days 8-16: Spend fourteen hours a day doing research. Google everything from "how to paint an elephant's toenails" to "New Delhi goat farm" to "Indonesian marriage practices" to "tallest chimney in Scotland." Interview reality show contestants and field producers. Watch episode after episode of The Amazing Race while taking copious notes. Read other people's reality-television-based books to make sure yours will be completely different. 
 
Days 17-18: Make a comprehensive outline of your new book.
 
Day 19: Start rewriting. Before you actually highlight those 70,000 words and hit delete, make sure you have more cookies ready. It's going to hurt.
 
Days 20-61: Wake in a panic every day at 6:00 AM, wondering why you haven't yet finished your daily word count. Get sick again, twice. Eat an entire bag of Cadbury mini-eggs in four days (unrelated.) Buy a new laptop when your graphics card dies with no warning. Find yourself doing things like wandering aimlessly in a sleet storm in search of chocolate-covered potato chips. Fall on the ice, bruise your tailbone, and attempt to do days' worth of writing while lying down, your legs propped on a giant pillow shaped like an owl. Cease the following activities: showering, wearing clothes other than pajamas, cleaning, venturing out of the house, knowing what day it is, talking about things other than your deadline, eating food that hasn't been delivered to your door by a non-English-speaking guy on a bike, seeing other humans besides that guy on a bike. Realize near the middle of February that you've just written 50K words in 30 days and have accidentally done NaNoWriMo (in the wrong month.) Watch A LOT of Gilmore Girls, because it's the only thing your brain can focus on after very long days of writing. Read ELEANOR AND PARK, which is so good you almost throw your new laptop out the window and quit writing altogether.
 
Day 62: Finish a new first draft. EXTREME REJOICING.
 
Days 63-66: Read over new first draft. Discover that it is terrible—somehow, you've managed to write something that is both too action-packed AND too boring. Insert comments in the margins as you read, many of which just say things like, "Noooooooo" and "Just... make this better" and "OH DEAR GOD THIS SUCKS." When you're finished, discover you have inserted 450+ comments. Curl into a small ball and text all your writer friends things like, "I hate this book with every fiber of my being."
 
Days 67-74: Uncurl and address allllllll the comments.
 
Day 75: Delete that last comment. Send complete draft to several critique partners, attached to emails that say, "This might suck, please don't judge me." 
 
And that brings us up to speed. 
 
Starting today, I am taking a week off from writing, because I have lost all perspective on this book (and everything else in my life.) This morning, I was awake for all of eight minutes before I started getting twitchy about the fact that I wasn't working. But I will fight it. I will bake muffins. I will read something I didn't write. I will go to museums and see movies and pour new information into my poor depleted brain, which I've been wringing out like a sponge for the last 75 days, long past the point where there was nothing left in it. And then I will spend two more weeks revising, and I will turn this sucker in. Because despite what I thought 75 days ago, this book is NOT going to kill me.
 
To everyone I have ignored/driven insane over the past 75 days, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. Want some muffins?

 

Tuesday
Feb192013

My apologies

I want to apologize for my extremely long blogging hiatus. Unfortunately, the hiatus will continue for a while yet, due to insanely extensive revisions (which I will eventually tell you all about) and looming deadlines. This is what happens these days when I try to blog:

Me: *stealthily opens blank document*
Book 2: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Me: Um. Nothing?
Book 2: WHAT IS THAT DOCUMENT?
Me: It's nothing. I was just maybe thinking about taking a teeny tiny little break from you for a second?
Book 2: HA. YOU'RE HILARIOUS. BACK TO WORK.
Me: But... I can't work on you ALL the time.
Book 2: OF COURSE YOU CAN.
Me: But I—
Book 2: FOR THE NEXT TWO MONTHS, YOU WILL THINK, SPEAK, AND DREAM ONLY ABOUT ME.
Me: That's pretty much accurate. Though I did dream about Gilmore Girls the other night...
Book 2: NO GILMORE GIRLS. ONLY ME.
Me: Okay, how about if I just step away for half an hour, and then—
Book 2: IF YOU CEASE THINKING ABOUT ME FOR ONE MOMENT, THERE WILL BE DOOM. DOOM AND GLOOM AND MORE DOOM AND MORE GLOOM AND—
Me: Okay, I get it, I—
Book 2: DOOM AND MORE DOOM AND MORE DOOOOOOM AND—
Me: OKAY. *closes blank document*
Book 2. Thank you.
 
See you in April.

 

Sunday
Jan272013

The great television rundown

I'm still in a superlatives list sort of mood from my New Year's book post, but I talk about books too much. It's time to talk about something else. So let's talk about television.

Aside from Sesame Street, I didn't watch TV as a kid. Like, EVER. I didn't have time to watch TV as a teenager. Then I went to college, and I didn't own a TV. So when I moved to New York with my television-obsessed friend Elizabeth in 2004, we had the following conversation:
 
Elizabeth: Which cable package should we get?
Me: Whatever, I don't care. I don't watch TV.
Elizabeth: I'm sorry, you WHAT?
Me: Um. Is that bad? 
Elizabeth: (stares at me in abject horror)
Me: I take it that's bad.
Elizabeth: (shoves Buffy the Vampire Slayer box set into my hands) I can no longer be friends with you until you watch this.
 
So I watched it. It took from November to May to get through all 144 episodes of Buffy, but it didn't take very long at all for me to have an epiphany: TELEVISION WAS AMAZING. It was like a movie, but WAY LONGER! If I got attached to the characters, I could hang onto them for YEARS instead of just two hours! Then I discovered Alias and The Amazing Race and Project Runway and Six Feet Under and The West Wing and Mad Men and Community and Parks and Recreation, and it was all over for me. 
 
Thank you, Elizabeth. You changed my life forever.
 
And now, for your viewing pleasure, some television superlatives.
 
1) My So-Called Life. I will never get over that scene where Jordan asks Angela, "Why are you LIKE this?" and she says, "Like what?" and he says, "Like... how you ARE." 
2) Freaks and Geeks. You know that scene where Jason Segel sings "Lady" by Styx to Linda Cardellini? That actually happened to me when I was in high school. Same song, even. Fortunately, the guy who was singing to me had a MUCH better voice, so it was less embarrassing.
3) Firefly. Enough said.
4) Make It or Break It. Yes, I am well aware that I should not be pining for an ABC Family show about gymnastics. It wasn't even GOOD—it was clumsy and didactic and the dialogue was atrocious. But oh man, did I look forward to it every week. Judge me if you must, but I wanted to see those girls go to the Olympics.
 
1) Veronica Mars. Season one: SPECTACULAR. Season two: meh. Season three: abysmal. Not to mention that the ending wasn't an ending. I put in disc six thinking I'd get an episode that actually wrapped things up somewhat... and it was the special features disc. I had watched the finale WITHOUT KNOWING IT WAS THE FINALE.
2) Glee. I actually really liked season 1—it was clever and funny and absurd, and all the songs were great. And then season 2 started, and it was like the producers had suddenly gone, "Oh, high schoolers have ISSUES—we should talk about those. This is now an ISSUES SHOW! With SONGS!" *forehead smack*
3) Buffy. It makes me sad to say it, but aside from the musical episode and maybe two or three others, I am NOT on board with seasons six and seven. The story arc ended at the end of season 5. No need to beat a dead horse. Or, you know, a dead Buffy.
 
Show with the most perfect ending: Six Feet Under. I still haven't been able to work up the courage to watch those last five minutes again. They're just so wonderful and so devastating. I watched them for the first time in 2006, and my heart still gets all twisty every time I hear that Sia song.
 
Show I would probably like but will never be able to watch: Friday Night Lights. I went to high school with Zach Gilford, who plays Matt, and he was pretty unpleasant. It's very possible he's changed a lot since then, but I can't see his face on my screen without going, "EEW, GET THAT SMUG SMILE AWAY FROM ME." I feel I've been robbed of hours of enjoyment. DAMN YOU, GILFORD.
 
Show that took the most wheedling to get me to watch it: The Vampire Diaries. TONS of people tried to pull me over to the dark side around the time this show went into its third season, and I resisted. It took a command from my agent for me to jump in, and even then I was reluctant. I AM RELUCTANT NO MORE.
 
Show I can't believe I haven't watched until now: Gilmore Girls. I'm just getting into it, and I am in love. And I am also getting poorer by the second, because I cannot stop buying episodes on iTunes. HELP.
 
Shows nobody can believe I've never seen a single episode of: Friends. Cheers. Saved by the Bell. Frasier. Law and Order. 90210. ER. The X Files. I could go on. And on. And on. 
 
Character I most wish were related to me: CJ Cregg, The West Wing. She is my spirit animal.
 
Shows everyone else seems to love and I just... DON'T: Lost and Game of Thrones. A few weeks ago, I finally had to tell one of my best friends that I didn't like Game of Thrones after he'd patiently re-watched the first season with me. he looked at me with such disappointment in his eyes, and then he sighed sadly and said, "You're perfect in every OTHER way..." 

 

What should I be watching? Tell me in comments.

Monday
Jan142013

"I Will Revise"

It's been a while since I wrote you guys a song. This one goes out to everyone who's in the Revision Cave with me. I'm raising a glass to you.

See the rest of you in the spring...

 

"I WILL REVISE"
(to be sung to the tune of "I Will Survive," with massive apologies to Gloria Gaynor)

 

At first I was afraid, I was petrified,
Kept staring bug-eyed at your comments while my mouth gaped wide,
And then I spent a sleepless night tellin' myself that you were wrong,
But now I'm strong,
And I admit my book's too long.
 
So now I'm back, Revision Cave!
I'm here to gorge myself on take-out 
And become this story's slave.
I'm gonna cut that info-dump,
I'm gonna scrap the prologue, too,
And then I'll only have another hundred-thousand things to do.
 
Go on now, go! Walk out the door!
I've got no time now, so we can't hang out anymore.
I know just yesterday I promised you a date,
But the clock is ticking, so you gotta leave me to my fate.
 
Oh yeah, yeah I
I will revise,
As the candy that I snack on goes directly to my thighs.
I've got just two months to work,
And I will act like such a jerk,
I will revise,
I will revise,
Hey, hey!
 
It takes all the strength I have not to fall apart,
Each time I hit "delete," a bullet strikes my tender heart.
And I spend oh so many nights just feeling sorry for myself,
I'm such a fraud, this book is infinitely flawed.
 
But in eight weeks, I'll make it new!
I'll be a shoo-in for the Printz Award when I am through.
All the prose will sparkle brightly, every metaphor will hit,
I can surely craft a diamond from this messy pile of shit.
 
No, really, GO! Walk out the door!
What did I tell you? WE CANNOT HANG OUT ANYMORE.
Oh, wait a second—are those cookies that I see?
You can come in for one minute. You're so wonderful to me!
 
Oh yeah, yeah I
I will revise,
As my daily caffeine intake becomes more and more unwise.
I've not showered for a week,
And I seriously reek,
I will revise,
I will revise,
Hey, hey!