First Drafts

In the last few months—actually years—I have spent most of my creative time revising and re-revising several works in progress. Now I’ve finished all those, and it’s time to write something new.

Help!

I heard Andrea Barrett say that her cat wrote better first drafts than she did. I think that the tick I’m about to detach from my dog could write a better first draft than I could right now, because I am not attached to a dog, or anything. To write well, you need to be attached to at least the glimmer of an idea, otherwise it feels like I’m spewing a lot of empty dribble.

First drafts, for me, are the absolute scariest things, because I don’t outline, or plan. I simply improvise until I find a theme that calls to me. I eventually get to a good place, but it’s a bit like trying to find your way to a small house on a dirt road three hundred miles away without a map, directions, or a GPS.

Needless to say, I do a lot of extra driving.

I had to drive home from Boston yesterday—two hours in the torrential rain. My son has finally talked me into letting him do music at the New England Conservatory Preparatory Program. For years, I’ve said, “Over my dead body.” This year, I finally agreed, provided he was willing to take the bus, if we couldn’t find a large carpool. But yesterday was registration day, so I had to go in person. It certainly reinforced my reluctance about the whole idea, but I plunked down the money, so somehow, we’ve got to figure out a way to get him there every week.

At least we have directions.

Fans

The Curse of Too Much Writing Time

This summer I’ve learned some hard things about myself: Even when I have open time I *can’t* write all day. Moreover, I find a million stupid things to do to distract myself from writing at all. I will not admit the number of games of computer solitaire I have played–the most insipid and useless way of wasting time. It’s all about avoiding that terror of emptiness–whether it’s the blank page or the blankness of too much time. This week has been a little bit easier, because I’ve spent the mornings taking my son to driver’s ed. Having a schedule again has provided the benefits of getting me up and moving, as well as three hours of enforced time in coffee shops, after which I give myself total permission to quit writing for the day. I’m glad I’m sliding into this routine at the end of summer, because it’s helping me feel better about the transition back to teaching. Strange as it sounds, I need not only structure to function, but also distraction–not the immediate distraction of loud music or phone calls, but the long-term distraction of having other things to do and think about, so that writing becomes precious, rather than an obligation.

So the trick now, as it always is in fall, will be how to balance my right brain life (writing) and my left brain life (teaching), not to mention the schedule dance of shlepping my son to music lessons across the state (it will be a while before he gets his license) and the countless other requirements of family life. And I’ve also learned that my brain (or my soul, or both) needs something new from time to time to jazz it. I’ve been a compulsive dabbler all my life, and at 51, most of the things I’ve dabbled in over the years seem old hat. But life without a passion creates passionless writing, so I’ll have to squeeze in a Spanish class, to keep up what I learned in Guatemala, or a community chorus or something to feed the muse.

I guarantee this: in two weeks I will not be complaining about too much empty time. I’ll read back on this entry and think I was nuts to even think this way.

Musings on Revision

I was intrigued by a post on LiveJournal (http://beckylevine.livejournal.com/55417.html) on the sticky note/large pad revision process, as I’ve been involved in one type of revision or another all summer. I have always told my writing group that I greatly prefer revision to initial writing, as I know what I’m working with, but lately revision has felt harder, perhaps because I’m not so easily filling in “the gaps” I see, which Becky referred to in a previous post. But persevere we must. I think of writing, especially in the revision process, as giving birth, final stage. You are pushing, pushing, pushing for that extra revealing detail, the character description or dialogue that will bring the person in your mind to life, the plot point that will push your theme where you want it to be, and at the same time add suspense and motivation to the reader. Sometimes, as I struggle over a section of my work that is flat, underwritten, or just plain bad, I mutter, “Push, push, push” to myself and write anything–just anything, to try to get the process flowing. It’s like an improv game I’ve learned. Two people start a scene with a prompt. They’re at the gas station, or a bowling alley. They start to talk, and if a third person, the moderator, doesn’t like what one of them says, they ring a little better, and the person has to come up with a different line, each time, taking the scene in a new direction.

Another revision model that has been helpful in keeping me going is the music metaphor. My children are both musicians. They’re always excited when they learn a piece well enough to “perform” it, which means getting the notes, the tempo, the dynamics and the technique with some fluidity. But that’s when the real learning begins, the nuances and the shading. That’s when they’ll start practicing the same passage over and over again to refine the technique and get just the right expression. And then, when they perform the same piece, viva la difference! Not that it was bad, the first time. But now there’s depth. And sometimes, just like in writing, their teachers will tell them to put a piece away to “season” it. And when they come back to it a few months or years later, it might take a while to relearn some of the notes, but ultimately the final performance is deeper, stronger, better, because they’ve learned a few things along the way that they can bring to the piece.

So, when I’m struggling, I like to think of writing like that. I like to think about the first time I heard my daughter play Debussy’s Clair de Lune, and how she plays it now, months later. I keep the vision that all this work will ultimately make the final product better, deeper, even if I have to rewrite the same chapter twenty, or thirty, or even one hundred times.

Vacations 3

After being home for three weeks, you wonder, were you ever really on vacation, which is one of the reasons I am stretching this blog post into three sections. Our final destination in Guatemala was Guatemala City, where we stayed with a family as part of our international host/traveler exchange, Servas. My family has been traveling this way for twenty-five years, and it has consistently provided us with the most awesome and memorable moments of our travels, as well as many new friends. Servas is not couch-surfing, nor is it a hotel or bed and breakfast. The goal of the organization is to facilitate peace by breaking down barriers between cultures. People visit for two nights, and the emphasis is on getting to know each other. Through Servas over the years, I have done things I had never planned to do while traveling, including attending a Welsh poetry recital at a local school, viewing a private collection of museum quality Native American art, riding a horse bareback (my daughter did this–I was chicken), and spending two days in a remote cabin in Ontario, accessible only by canoe.

And it was not in our travel plans to attend a reception at the National Palace with the President of Guatemala, but that it was what we did.

Our Servas host turned out to be the Director of the National Park System there, so after spending the evening before chatting with his friendly and hospitable family, and the day touring Guatemala City with his lovely twenty-year-old daughter, we stopped back at his office where he told us he wanted to bring us along to a presentation on sustainable tourism and preserving Mayan culture. And, oh yes, the President would be there.

In addition to the President’s short speech, we were treated to a performance of Mayan music and dance, and a video and presentation on the past, present, and future of the National Parks. Good thing our Spanish was in good shape by then. I didn’t get all of it, but I got about 80%.

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