That first awful page

Yesterday was the day I was to start on the fourth Kelly O'Connell novel, tentatively (very tentatively) titled Ghost in a Four-Square. It's always hard for me to start a novel. I'm capable of procrastinating a lot, what I've been doing for several weeks now. This has been a week with an empty slate, so Monday I cleaned my desk of this and that odd chore--a bit of marketing, some personal emails to answer, that sort of thing. And then of course there were Facebook and Pinterest, and oh! I don't know where the day went. But it did. Including  finishing the Claudia Bishop novel, Dread on Arrival, that I was enjoying.
But yesterday, that was the day that I'd begin. But there was one bit of information I needed about the neighborhood where Kelly lives and works as a realtor/rennovator. I had to talk to one woman--or so I told myself (procrastination comes in many forms). I couldn't reach her,so I did other things and had a really restless day, at odds with myself. I knew I was putting off getting that first sentence down.
Finally last night, late, on the spur of the moment, I wrote bout 400 words--not a brilliant start, but I think I'm headed in the right direction. I do have a synopsis, but a lot more complications will have to develop before that synopsis becomes a 70,000-word novel. And it hasn't begun to flow yet, still feels stiff and awkward.
The funniest thing I discovered tonight when I went back to re-read was that I'd written it in the third person. The Kelly O'Connell novels are all first person, and just today a reviewer praised the way I make readers care about Kelly. That of course is due to the first person. In fact, I don't think I've ever written a third person novel--oh, I tried, but then switched back to first person. The classic wisdom is that you write your first novel in the first person and then "graduate." I once asked a book editor good friend what would happen if I never "graduated" and he said, "I'd think Judy Alter has found her voice." So what was I doing in third person? To me, that was an indication I hadn't connected with the story.
I rewrote those 400 words tonight and maybe added another hundred. I'm no farther ahead, and it still doesn't feel right. I think this is the point at which you put your bottom in the chair, keep it there, and get words, any words, on that computer page. But not tonight. It's late. And tomorrow is a dog-training session, right in the middle of what would be work time. Once I get this thing flowing though, I'll use small and odd bits of time well.
Wish me luck!

Writer's Block

Every writer suffers from it sometime--the almost desperate feeling that you have no idea where this project, be it novel, short story, non-fiction, even corporate report, is going, no idea how to push forward on it. The classic wisdom says "Write through it."
I've been stymed on the new novel I started.Wrote what I thought was a pretty good first chapter and then lost steam. I dealt with it by ignoring it. I could keep myself most busy with blogging, writing guest blogs, emails (suddenly people got long answers from me), Facebook, and reading. I thought about the novel a bit, with guilt, but kept busy. Last weekend I forced myself back to it, but Saturday was a day when I'd worked so hard by nine in the morning I was ready for a nap. Instead Jacob and I headed for Central Market and then met his folks at Smashburger's for a cheeseburger. End result: I was tired and full, and I was so sleepy when I sat down at the computer that I coiuld barely think. Still, I remembered "write through it" and I wrote. Later, after a nap, I realized that I had been just puting words on paper. They were lifeless and didn't get the story anywhere. Too much telling and explaining.
Sunday I started over and found some scenes flowed nicely--I was dealing with the delemma which with I had opened the novel, but I sure couldn't keep that ball in the air for another 60,000 words or more. Truth was, I had one idea but not a novel in mind.
Some of you may remember I dream vividly and frequently and usually remember those dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was a neighborhood activist. Some people wanted to move a development into a historic neighborhood and I was fighting it. Bad guys were threatening me, and in a bit of over-the-top drama planned to kidnap and murder me. I was out in the street, appealing for neighbors to help but none did., none believed me. Well, I don't think things will get that extreme in my novel, though maybe close. But there was my idea for Plot B.
Kelly, my protagonist (do read Skeleton in a Dead Space), is a realtor who rennovates Craftsman houses and is passionately dedicated to preserving historic neighborhoods. So what could be better than a developer who wants to put a big-box store on the lovingly restored main street of her neighborhood.  That's as far as I'm going with a spoiler.
Unfortunately today, what with car repairs--trips to the dealership and a body shop--plus a lunch date, then Jacob after school, and a dinner date, I haven't had time to develop the idea more in my mind. Still it's firmly fixed there and I hope to work on it in the next couple days--if not, over the weekend. I'm feeling good about writing again tonight. And all those distractions--dogs and cat, Jacob, friends--I wouldn't trade for them.