Tag: writing a rough draft

Work-In-Progress

So I’ve had a break from everything this week. It was odd to realize that the book’s only been available for a month. Now it’s time to continue shifting to the future with my work.

I’ think I’ve only missed one day of writing this week, and I believe I’ve added a thousand words to the document. I finally found the right voice for the female main character, and I can see the shift in the work. The words are coming a lot easier now as I type. I hope to finish off another section in the next few days, then start the next scene I want to work on.

Yesterday I did something risky and read the first novella again just to see how it held up. I think it does. I already know where I want to fill out some areas, and I’m sure once I read the whole work together when I finish the second novella, I’ll find even more work to do and revise and add. But I feel a lot more confident approaching it now, more like I felt when I first started working on it

My next book tour stop is in Natchez for the Mississippi Librarians Association on October 10. There will be books for sale at that event so that should be a good opportunity to move some product. Hurricane Baby seems to be moving at a steady pace, selling some every week it’s been out. That’s all I can ask for.

So I suppose that’s all the updates I have today. Happy reading to everyone!

In the Writing Trenches

I have been letting my work-in-progress, Looking for Home, absolutely kick my fanny the past two months. I started off with a good bit of material that I had pulled out of the older manuscript, and I had one chapter where I could see it absolutely play out like a movie with some filling in.

Then I decided to write the opening chapter and I froze up solid for the better part of a month and a half. I couldn’t figure out how to start it and get in the backstory needed and get into the action, too. I wrote five pages that I knew shouldn’t be the beginning, but I couldn’t think of how else to do it. It had Carlton with his family making the road trip moving from Pass Christian, Mississippi to Counce, Tennesse. After I finished the trip, I cut those first pages and started with the ending scene and wrote 13 new pages to get to an existing three-page scene I already had.

I think those were the hardest 16 pages of my life to date. I was working in the consciousness of a sixteen-year-old boy who’d lost his mama a few months before, and that was foreign territory, to say the least. Trying to get him settled into the world he’d been thrown into and him not doing such a very good job with it. I’m doing one thing a little differently; I’ll have scenes that come in my head, and I know they need to be in the story. But I have no idea where they’ll go. That’s the fun part of it all I suppose.

So that’s why you haven’t been hearing much about the work-in-progress–It’s been absoluely refusing to cooperate. Until now. Maybe I can get the next chapter wrestled to the ground. Until next time . . .

Progress!

So far I have typed 3000 words on my current work-in-progress. I’ve done the writing sprints with my MFA buddy Shannon and am making progress past my initial fear about taking such a project on. When I start I just think, “It’s only for an hour.” And I just write!

The more I write the more excited I get and the more daunting it gets, but I’m not letting myself think it’s a book; I’m treating each chapter like a newspaper article. That’s helping, too.

I can’t wait to get back to it Monday night!

Starting Again From Scratch (Almost)

So this afternoon I typed the first paragraph of my new linked short-story collection with a working title of “Strong. Southern. Women.” (periods are intentional) The story is about a widow who was left to raise three young daughters on her own. Each of the twenty stories currently planned is about how the girls grow up, leave home, and (because each has an individual fatal flaw) fall from grace, destroying their lives–they think. One goes to white-collar prison. One descends into opioid addiction. And one winds up in a battered women’s shelter with her young son.

But their mother, who is both the one who held them together and who instilled the seeds of their self-destruction, gives them space, after they make the hard decision to reorder their lives, to grow, to gather up the pieces, and to get back on their feet. It’s going to be Southern Gothic again, but much more inspirational and happy-ending than Hurricane Baby.

I have an outline of all the stories and the backstory, and I’ve so far finally gotten started. We will see where this writing journey takes me. Wish me well!