Birth of a Book…24 month gestation (ouch)

November is here and time for another post to the Insecure Writers Support Group, created by Alex Cavanaugh. To stay on track, our topics need to be about struggles, insecurities, challenges, or encouragement. Today I choose challenges...

 On September 30, at 12:38 PM, I completed book #3, announcing the arrival of my new born, Time Trials. Still steps to take before the final product is up for publication, but the characters finally allowed me to say DONE (my delivery date).

I speak only for myself as my writing career didn’t begin until my late 50’s, but writing a book is like having a baby…somewhat. There’s the initial stage where not much is showing. A lot of excitement, identified my characters, created the story board and off I go.

A bit into the story I began to feel rumblings of unease. Something didn’t feel right, although the belly of the book was beginning to show. Then, the ding, ding, ding goes off. What I’ve spent 8-12 months writing, turns out to be more the middle of the book. Rats.

 This sometimes happens when I give free-range to my characters.

Thank goodness the human female gestation periods don’t work this way. Can you imagine a woman having to “re-do” the first trimester? (I hear screams)

After some hormonal temper tantrums, I began the journey of creating the first part of the book. I rationalize, hey…by the time I catch up to my original beginning, I’ll be two-thirds done.

Wrong.

 Time Trials covers three different time periods (1972, 1992, 2012). And each required its own research, which required more time. And then more time.

Wading through the maze of publishing and marketing my first two books, Saving Gracie & Partly Sunny, I found less and less writing time geared toward Time Trials. Where did the hours, weeks, months go? Literally, days raced by in a blur. 

I have two pets who can tell time. They sat at my feet day after day. At five o’clock each afternoon they'd move in closer, if that is possible, and stare at me like “uh…duh, have you not looked at the clock lately?”

Seriously? Didn’t I just feed you guys? You mean another day has already slipped away? They nodded and proceeded with their meal.

Having a baby is a labor of love. Writing a book is a labor of love. My initial thoughts about the story line for Time Trials turned into much, much more “labor” than I anticipated. Tons of research later, which I found I actually enjoyed, year #1 rolled into year #2. Some days I’d sit at the computer and pat myself on the back after rolling out 1,000-2,000 words. Then I’d see a post on Facebook like:

“Had a creative idea when I woke up this morning. Have already cranked out 3,000 words and still going.”

Really? Where’s my light saber? I feel like zapping something...

Other days the typing went so slow one would think both hands had been tied behind me with a pencil wedged in my mouth pecking out each word.

Frustrating? Yes

Rewarding? Yes

Completing a novel? Ecstatic

According to my calculations, my trimesters on Time Trials lasted 8 months, which means my book/baby gestation period surpassed an African elephant’s pregnancy by 2.5 months…ouch

I

Challenging...

Out Of The Closet And Into The Insecure Writer's Support Group

Hello, my name is Terry Lee and very glad to become a member of the Insecure Writer's Support Group thanks to S. L. Hennessey. At the age of 60 (2012) I had my first novel published, Saving Gracie, followed the next year by book #2, Partly Sunny. Marketing, of which I have no experience, is such a big part of having a book out there. My insecurities come roaring over the top of my computer when I spend so much time marketing instead of writing or joining author’s groups only to find they are worlds ahead of me in my endeavors (or at least that’s what my critical self says).

My goal is to devote 15 hours per week to writing, write a blog post twice a month and keep my head to the grindstone. Also, am having issues with getting my blog out there, so…..I believe I’m in the right place. Glad to be here!

Parenting

Monday, August 5^th, on The Today Show, I watched Lenore Skenazy, founder of FREE RANGE KIDS, talk about the all too familiar “helicopter mom” syndrome. The phrase is no longer headline news. Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, my mom had a healthy concern for my safety, but it was more about not getting my hand slammed in the car door or swinging off the top of a swing set and breaking my arm. Both of these events happened and even though my mom was a nervous wreck, we all survived.

The other day I heard a trailer for the news at 5 say something like…  “Is your child already lying to you? If so, tune in at 5 and find out why you should be concerned.” 

  

Really?

Two issues immediately popped into my mind: 

1) the media is instilling fear as a tool to boost ratings, and 2) the media is giving parents just one more reason to become worried/paranoid.

Although my kids are grown, I have my own concerns about the safety of my grandkids. Mostly fueled by headlines on the news, 20/20, Dateline, or subject lines for movies, all of which I try to avoid if at all possible. My mind can conjure up enough gory scenarios all by itself, thank you very much.

So….what is the goal of parenting?

This is where I introduce one of my favorite actors of all time, Betty White…or as I see her, Kathryn, the main character in Saving Gracie.

Kathryn, from day one, made all decisions for her daughter. Instead of teaching her how to do things for herself, Kathryn did everything for Grace and I mean e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Hence the term “helicopter mom.” 

Next enters another one of my favorite actors, Debra Messing…or, Grace, as I see her in Saving Gracie.

Through Kathryn’s efforts to be the always-on-top-of-things Mom of the Year, she created in her daughter what is termed “learned helplessness.” 

Example taken from about.com psychology:

“Learned helplessness occurs when an animal is repeatedly subjected to an aversive stimulus that it cannot escape. Eventually, the animal will stop trying to avoid the stimulus and behave as if it is utterly helpless to change the situation. Even when opportunities to escape are presented, this learned helplessness will prevent any action.

This phenomenon can also be applied to children and adults. If all their decisions or attempts are ‘corrected’ by a well-meaning adult, the child no longer believes anything they do is right. Over time they become dependent on the ‘authority figure’ to make all decisions because 1) it’s the path of least resistance and, 2) their idea will probably be wrong or 3) overruled. So…why bother?”

Learned helplessness portrays Grace in Saving Gracie. And after her mother’s death, Grace felt utterly lost as to how to live her life without her mother making all her decisions.

Once again…what is the goal in parenting?

Two excerpts from Saving Gracie:

“A teacher prepares a student to think, evaluate, take risks, fall down, re-evaluate, and learn. And then…move forward.” Angela paused. “Parents are teachers too.”

 “Listen to me. The greatest gift a mother bird gives her babies is to teach them to fly,” Angela said. “She pushes them out of the nest.” Angela hugged Quinlan tighter. “She doesn’t clip their wings.”

Kathryn had issues…boy did she have issues. Although portrayed as a classic helicopter mom, her motivation did not stem from fear for her child, but more from her own childhood.

I erred often in my parenting skills as do all muggles (Harry Potter term for humans), but I don't think I would have been classified as a helicopter mom...however, my kids may disagree. But with age comes wisdom. If I only knew then what I know now…

The Brain Takes a Hike...

With most of the packing completed for our trip to North Padre, I had a small window of time I had scheduled for my weekly blog post. Even had a topic picked out. Sat down at the computer, stared at the screen saver, opened Word and then typed in my proposed topic.

In the past, when I hit a writing stumbling block, I usually remedy the situation with a few deep breaths, finger stretches and verbally giving myself permission to just write…quit editing the thoughts before they get to the screen. And this technique works…worked, I should say, until yesterday. Image below describes what I imagine the inside of my head looked like.

With the topic at the head of the page, I typed a paragraph. Sat back to think for a good 10 minutes, wrote another paragraph. Then another. And another. I try to limit my blog posts to 500-750 words so as not to elaborate the topic or bore the reader. I’d reached around 325 words and decided to re-read. 

What the hiccup? (a phrase I stole from my grandsons) I’d taken a hard right in my writing of said intended topic. Then a 180, then another right.

Whoa. I’d ventured into a whole new topic. After dividing the writing and placing in separate folders, I returned to the original topic. About that time Rich walks in.

Rich: “How’s it going?”

Me:   “Not great,” and explained my mental road trip.

Rich: “Well, break it up into two topics.”

Me:   “Way ahead of you.”

Rich: “So, which one are you going to write about?”

I threw out a completely different blog topic, which I started. After about 20 minutes I realized my fingers felt like molasses had been strategically placed on the tips of my fingers. My fingers, hands, and brain were all in freeze-frame. 

Dang hard to concentrate when my brain had already parked itself on the beach.

Got down to our friend’s house on North Padre Island around 6ish. Unpacked, had dinner and then Rich headed out night fishing in his kayak. The second picture shows the lights the homeowners put in the canals. Draws in the fish and looks way cool.

I had the entire evening to myself. Even had my iPhone upgraded to a hotspot so I’d have internet access while we were going to be down here, so I could do some serious work (going through my first edit of Partly Sunny).

This morning…

Rich: “Did you get a lot of work done last night?”

Me:   “No, I ate ice cream.”

Rich: “No editing, no nothing?”

Me:   “How many fish did you catch last night?”

Rich: “Uh...I got in pretty late…think I’m going to go lie back down for awhile.”

Me:   “Good idea.”

So…

Here I sit, only this time my fingers are actually moving. My brain seems to have gotten its buttocks off the beach, which allows me to remove the sign stuck to my forehead.

Sometimes you just gotta let your mind play...