Does a Good Writing Day Wear You Out?

Today I spent a lot of time rewriting three chapters in my novel. I had sort of painted myself into a corner, so I had to unpaint a little trail out of that corner, got rid of some very good stuff, and added some very good other writing. Some of it was average writing, but what is average to some is a treasure to others. I think what I added wasn't as good as what I took away, but I had to do something to get the plot back on track. You can't have a dead guy come back to life, you know.

So my question to the world of writers out there is: Are they like me, that is, does one or two hour of serious writing or rewriting wears you down? It's kind of like I wrote a fight scene, but when I was done writing it, I felt very much like I'd been through the fight, in fact, I've been through it receiving each of the two fighters blows. I was kind of sweating and tired afterwards, just like I have been in a real fight. Of course, I won't need any bandages, no real blood flowed, no broken bones -- maybe some bony fingers from too much typing -- but golly Miss Molley & Craft Cheese Whiz, I do get pooped.

Probably, it's a good sign, like I really get into it.

Take yesterday, please! (This is my Henny Youngman imitation. Now there's a great first name to add to my name list.) Quoting the funny man: "The food on the plane was fit for a king. 'Here, King!' "

Back to my thread, only yesterday, for example, I ran wild. I pounded out three hours of writing, 1100 words, many of them not new, I just improved the order in which things happen, and, like I said, got rid of some plot point that couldn't have happened, unpainting myself out of that idiotic corner.

How do other writers do what they say they do, write for seven hours a day, five days a week, without completely wearing themselves out? These people must be geniouses beyond my ability to imagine.

There are so many pitfalls to watch out for and move carefully around. Alway, we need to bring in movement, new information; conflict; develop realistically the relationships between talker and listener during dialog, and show (not tell) how the content of the dialog and body language changes the relationship. A key character's motivation must rise from his personality traits and (unwritten) backstory, must stay consistent. Deciding when to explain something a little bit subtle that is necessary later on or deciding simply to let the reader figure it out is a tough choice for me. Coming up with character quirks, making sure the eyebrows are doing the right thing, frowning or rising, without the descriptive words sounding hoaky. I must try to write in a style that is bare and sapare as possible to save precious ink and the reader's time, and I must put enough variety into the chosen words and sentences that the reader stays interested, no, captiviated, enthralled the whole time, for nearly every single page in the novel. Now that's hard.

I make it sound totally hopeless, and that is no accident. I've put up with the dream this far, but it isn't a frivolous question. I'm perfectly serious. Do you need three days away from it after each days struggle with adding, pruning, and improving your novel?

Strangely, I'm on the last five chapters of my seventh go-over (rewrite paints misleading picture) and the story is exciting enough at this point--it's the climax--I'm thrilled that it's all about done, and the resolation, to me, is satisfactory. But will it be to agents and publishers? Maybe that weary thing is just for the middle chapters. Or , hey, just maybe I have dull middle chapters that need to to be axed.

I admit, my novel's a bit long, my writing is very detailed, cinematic I have been told, but the doggone thing is only a couple of weeks away from the query letter phase, and, as I say, I'm elated. --rb

Post Mortum of a Poetry Reading

Hey, I had a very fun time reading poetry at the Poetry Center San Jose, reading at the Arts Object Gallery. Thank you Linda Lappin, and to Ken, who had the refreshments and provided his gallery. I think the audience enjoyed it, too. They laughed at all the right places, seemed thoughtful, seemed sad at the right places, and when they threw rotten tomatoes at me, none of them landed.

I tood advantage of a chance during break to chat with a few other poets, small-talk, really–my word, I'm horrible at trying to remember names–I stumbled upon no new earth-shaking secrets. The other reader was a Santa Cruz poet, Dana Cervine, a good reader, but he was a little shy in his commentary, so I heard very little of that. It must have been pretty good because he smiled and laughed a lot. (Dana's day job involves working and managing in children’s mental health for Santa Cruz County.) As I was about to say, I should have the nerve to tell these well-meaning, talented folks to speak up. This fellow has had lots of experience and he seems to spend most of his life writing poems, even does it driving sometimes, if I’m to believe wild stories. If I did that, turn out say a poem a day, most of mine wouldn’t make sense, hance, pretty much be a bunch of drivel, absent of profundity. I come up with a couple of poem-worthy ideas most days--maybe that's a false impression--and I don't have time to put a pen to everything. How is it worth the effort if it isn’t clever or very good, stunning, hitting the listener between the eyes? I don't think anybody gets to be a millionaire writing poetry, no matter how good it is. You have to love the process, the readings, and the marketing of your work. I love my work; it gets rather polished and on-target, given the time for it to mature and bake up tall, brown, sweet, and tasty.