And So Arizona Begins - Way, Way Back
Sep. 26th, 2011 10:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madwriterI started work on Arizona today.
I wish that I could say I'd planned it that way, that I did a bunch of writing rituals to increase my authorial juju, and then sat down to begin typing the deathless prose. But it didn't quite happen that way.
Honestly, I was impatient. I'd been chomping at the bit to get started for a few days now, and once I realized (1) I had a bit of time stretching out before me and (2) that my October starting date, originally picked to give myself some research time, was now an arbitrary choice (for some reason I like starting books in October), the next thing I knew I was sitting at my computer and starting to run words through my head to clack out on the keyboard.
I didn't start typing right away, though. For a few moments I stared at the blank screen in sheer terror. Suddenly all my months of research and plotting and note-making flew out the window, replaced by Am I serious? I'm actually going to let myself do this? (I was referring to writing the book entire, not just starting work on particular pre-October day.)
Then a click of some sort I can only vaguely identify, and I did start typing after all. I started with Chapter 1 rather than the Prologue since I haven't actually decided which way to write it among several I've considered. The words didn't come as easily as previous books because I intentionally mean to be more calculated with this one, more compact, instead of letting my usual sprawling style range free. I was more careful, the way I generally am with poetry rather than prose. Not that the book is poetic, but the writing may be more...well, compact. At least that's my hope. So far, a couple of pages in, it seems to be working.
So I present to Arizona's inaugural
PROGRESS REPORT
New Words: 900 on chapter 1 ("Those Who Came First") part 1 ("The Skystone Hunter, 8656 B.C.").
Total Words: 900.
Reason For Stopping: I'm not exactly sure--I think I just wanted to sit back and look at it and make sure I wasn't getting off on the wrong track right from the start.
Book Year: 8656 B.C.
Mammalian Assistance: Friday guarded the floor, while Vegas was perched on his usual box-pile aerie beside the computer.
Exercise: Walked down to campus.
Stimulants: Nestle chocolate milk. (No Dr. Pepper available for Writing Day #1, alas.)
Today's Opening Passage: The baby was not, the village agreed, a child to be proud of.
Darling Du Jour: The holy woman was dubious, but she prayed regardless and read the signs casting messages all around them: the shapes of clouds and how they moved, the interplay of the light and wind and the way the shadows might chase the light or the other way around, the smells of earth and water and which one was dominant. But any specific message eluded her. The signs, as she finally explained to Nakuq’s parents, were neither good nor bad, but acting as if they would wait and see what the child would become.
“Yes, we will see,” his mother answered, stroking the infant’s too-small head.
Non-Research / Review Books In Progress: Alaska by James A. Michener; Fall of Giants by Ken Follett. I'm also reading an excellent novel for Publishers Weekly which I wish I could praise here, but sadly I'm contractually obligated to keep my mouth shut.
I wish that I could say I'd planned it that way, that I did a bunch of writing rituals to increase my authorial juju, and then sat down to begin typing the deathless prose. But it didn't quite happen that way.
Honestly, I was impatient. I'd been chomping at the bit to get started for a few days now, and once I realized (1) I had a bit of time stretching out before me and (2) that my October starting date, originally picked to give myself some research time, was now an arbitrary choice (for some reason I like starting books in October), the next thing I knew I was sitting at my computer and starting to run words through my head to clack out on the keyboard.
I didn't start typing right away, though. For a few moments I stared at the blank screen in sheer terror. Suddenly all my months of research and plotting and note-making flew out the window, replaced by Am I serious? I'm actually going to let myself do this? (I was referring to writing the book entire, not just starting work on particular pre-October day.)
Then a click of some sort I can only vaguely identify, and I did start typing after all. I started with Chapter 1 rather than the Prologue since I haven't actually decided which way to write it among several I've considered. The words didn't come as easily as previous books because I intentionally mean to be more calculated with this one, more compact, instead of letting my usual sprawling style range free. I was more careful, the way I generally am with poetry rather than prose. Not that the book is poetic, but the writing may be more...well, compact. At least that's my hope. So far, a couple of pages in, it seems to be working.
So I present to Arizona's inaugural
New Words: 900 on chapter 1 ("Those Who Came First") part 1 ("The Skystone Hunter, 8656 B.C.").
Total Words: 900.
Reason For Stopping: I'm not exactly sure--I think I just wanted to sit back and look at it and make sure I wasn't getting off on the wrong track right from the start.
Book Year: 8656 B.C.
Mammalian Assistance: Friday guarded the floor, while Vegas was perched on his usual box-pile aerie beside the computer.
Exercise: Walked down to campus.
Stimulants: Nestle chocolate milk. (No Dr. Pepper available for Writing Day #1, alas.)
Today's Opening Passage: The baby was not, the village agreed, a child to be proud of.
Darling Du Jour: The holy woman was dubious, but she prayed regardless and read the signs casting messages all around them: the shapes of clouds and how they moved, the interplay of the light and wind and the way the shadows might chase the light or the other way around, the smells of earth and water and which one was dominant. But any specific message eluded her. The signs, as she finally explained to Nakuq’s parents, were neither good nor bad, but acting as if they would wait and see what the child would become.
“Yes, we will see,” his mother answered, stroking the infant’s too-small head.
Non-Research / Review Books In Progress: Alaska by James A. Michener; Fall of Giants by Ken Follett. I'm also reading an excellent novel for Publishers Weekly which I wish I could praise here, but sadly I'm contractually obligated to keep my mouth shut.
