The importance of drafts

My drafts aren’t always very good. In fact, my first drafts are usually pretty bad. Right now I’m doing a cram revision of something I wrote about ten years ago so that I can (hopefully) submit it to the forthcoming Amazon novel competition.

The good news is that reading something I wrote so long ago shows me how much my writing has improved. The bad news is that I may not be able to get it in submission shape in time (I’ll submit it anyway as only the first 20 pages show up on the site so I can keep on revising it after the submission; If I lose so be it, but I can’t even place if I don’t submit).

But drafts are the bones that form the eventual finished product. They lay out the map upon which I can build something more substantial or better. Some people can write a more complete and polished first draft than I can. For me, these blog postings end up needing (in my opinion) only the faintest of touch ups while longer thought pieces are just jots of notes (which go through more than one massive re-write). We all write differently.

What have I learned revising something I wrote so long ago? When starting on pieces that are hundreds of pages long I was much too wordy and didn’t build the backgrounds well enough. The book needed little research but the fact that I did none is glaring. The story is there but it needs to be better developed and the characters need to shut up once and a while. I can see in the narrative all of the lessons I later learned from my writing teachers at UCLA.

I’m learning about my writing and myself (all writing is ultimately about ourselves…at least in fiction…). Most of all I’m seeing firsthand how persistence and a dedication to creating the best piece I can is worth the time and effort. Most things worth having don’t come easily but there is a reward for that effort. Work pays off; in unexpected ways somehow but there’s always a reward. I’m so excited to find a draft of something that may never be a great book but that I can craft it into a really very good one. The process is grueling but I can see a good story emerging!

Fantasy…or what a ten year old knows…

About ten year olds that I don’t.

I love talking to my kids. My daughter is ten; my son is seven. Their perspective on the world is so hopeful, curious and at times surprising. I read somewhere that the only power children have is their imagination (since my daughter believes that she runs the house…I’d add that by using it they can also learn to manipulate). My children both imagine.

Which takes me to what I love about their childhood that is different from mine. When I was young I could imagine being in control through reading a book or watching a television show/movie. Putting myself into the main character’s shoes suddenly I was in charge. Powerful stuff in a chaotic family environment. My imagination could wander into other scenarios or expand upon the original fantasy but mostly it was a passive experience.

My kids kill zombies (and other creatures), dress in amazing outfits, shop, design their igloos, earn money, plow fields and the list goes on. While they may get bossed around after school and told to do their homework on their time they design worlds. The experience is so active.

Asking my daughter about the story I’m writing (for a work project) from a child’s perspective she took me out of the school and put me into fantasy. Which makes sense. In school she’s told what to do; in a fantasy world her options are limitless. And that’s what a ten year old knew that her mother needed help figuring out.

The picture? Decided to support the Jasmine Revolution this morning.

Every book starts with a word

Then a sentence follows. Next comes a full page.

That’s how to write a book.

It’s born in your imagination but takes shape by the hard work of writing it down.

I’ve been asked a number of times now about how I wrote Captive. The story remains the same and like so many other things in life it centers around discipline. If there is one issue I complain about constantly it’s the sunny Sunday afternoons that I spend at my desk writing. Life would even be better if I could take my research/reading outside and at least do that. My friends are enjoying the day; I’m working. And believe, me, today here in Santa Monica is lovely/

But that’s how you get just a little bit more done.

Today I won’t work on the book. I’ve taken a few weeks off to focus on another project. And, with the sequel, I’m behind on my research anyways. I’ll read later but have one more thing to do first (after this posting)

But last week I did do an updated outline. I know what happens (in Escape; Captive’s sequel!). I just need to write it in a narrative. Expect bombs and perhaps, I’m, weighing it, a Harold Robbins turn. Anyone remember those days?

And, if you can’t get past the idea, take a class like I did on novel writing. I did one online, at UCLA Extension. It helped me get past word one, and page one.

Happy Sunday!

The picture is Malibu...one morning...a few weeks ago