Writers have lives, loved ones, and all that goes with them. And this is the year things got worse before they got better.
Our kitteh household was grievously upset. Jane had a long period of getting sick before she got so sick she nearly fell over in the garden. I was supposed to be through with this book in June. That didn’t happen. I struggled during all this emotional upheaval just to remember where I was, plan where I was going with the story, and just do it. When Jane got better, she wasn’t ready to do creative work: that had really spiralled badly, because when you’re functioning on low oxygen, you just can’t, and she had been, for maybe six months before we caught it. So she was having karmic issues over how behind she was, yet still wasn’t ready to start a creative push—just still didn’t quite have that kind of energy. So she took after the round-tu-its, and started doing physical work to get stronger, and I was to just keep at it and get this book finished.
Jane did a brilliant job on the repairs, working tremendously long hours. I didn’t do so great on the book. And I knew it. I was losing it. And knew I was losing it. The karma from that was piling up and I was trying harder just to get it going—but the thing was shedding pieces by the hour. Since March—97 pages, won 3 to 20 lines at a time—and showing it. I ripped out 20 pages and revised. It got worse.
I finally decided there was nothing for it but to go back and rewrite. Jane had planned for weeks to go skating yesterday—and I had to hit her with the truth of where I am, and how it’s not going, after all she’s done around the house to keep me writing. Well, she agreed we weren’t going skating yesterday; and that we’re going to get some things done—she and I will be doing some Closed Circle stuff I was stuck on, too, and most of all—I went all the way back to the beginning of the story and started over in a massive rewrite.
Now, I’m the person who wrote Cuckoo’s Egg in two weeks. Granted, I’d been bitten by a spider and given a steroid dose that would have an elephant in the treetops. Sleep? I didn’t, much; but the uninterrupted concentration was something else. It was roughed in 2 weeks and edited on a plane flight and an airport delay. That’s what I can do.
Yesterday I got 41 good pages. I’m going to have to toss about 50 pages…[the 40 pages include some new material]…but I am now head-together, focussed, and no longer having to weld a zebra, a lion, and a wildebeast into one creature. This is a book. It’s working. Anyone who believes the writing life involves a mountain cabin, a tweed jacket, and an Irish Setter, with long walks in the woods—has not a clue.
So great sigh of relief around here. And a much better go of it.
oh gosh, poor you, how awful … I could not summon up the concentration, I am sure; writing is VERY tough ..
glad you are back on track though. 😀
I think of it as mental karate. Concentration of energy. It takes a bit to pass through the portal to the story, but once you’re in that world, it doesn’t take as much to stay there.
Until the damn phone rings.
Ouch. Bad enough with a scientific article, where “all” you have to do is take your results, describe them and what they mean, how it fits into the broader context, sort out your experimental details, an introduction and abstract, figures/schemes/etc, make sure your conclusions work in with everything else that’s been written, and double-check your references! Imaginative creativity as another level above that…?
Oh, yes. And of course, do this around all the distractions of a university – colleagues, students and other interruptions, noise from people in the office, noise from people outside the office…and that’s before you introduce the distraction of the internet and email…
And then, after months of work, the editors tell you that your results aren’t unique enough to publish. So, applying a model that’s already been published to a brand-new species and describing the ramifications is dead as a doornail.
Which is why I’ve avoided the biological sciences – chemistry for me! And yes, I q quite agree that the time it takes for editors/reviewers to make a decision can be far too long, and extremely frustrating.
I completely understand, after the year I’ve had. I know how you have been feeling. I describe it as “the harder I work, the behinder I get” and I’ve been on that merry-go-round for two and 1/3 school years now. It has bled over to the home front. The frustration and “why can’t I make it WORK?” had been overwhelming, knowing what I CAN do. I’m glad you have re-grouped to the place you need to be. I’m trying.
What has worked for us is just figuring how to declare certain projects ‘done for now,’ and quit plinking away at them; clearing the decks of useless items, saved things, things neither of us know why the heck we kept; and getting SPACE, among other important things. Getting things put away in a labeled box. Getting things in folders and folders in a box or in a cabinet.
The words “it’s done ENOUGH” are important. It’s not half-assed done. It’s done well enough it won’t come apart til we have time to deal with it. And we are trying to keep up with things.
My only ongoing mystery is why my accountant has sent me tax forms for Oklahoma with numbers on them only one of which I remotely recognize. I really needed that today, I did. He and I are going to have to have a discussion tomorrow. I have some Oklahoma farm income, from mum’s share of the farm, but it’s very tiny and once a year, and what is this blank called ‘salary’ when I’ve not even set foot in the state since my mum’s funeral. I’m not going to get stressed about this. Theoretically, according to the math, they owe ME money, but I don’t have the remotest clue what I ever paid them to get returned. Maybe it’s an estate thing.
A mountain cabin, tweed jacket, “Field and Stream” dog. The isolation sounds nice sometimes — but think how boring that mountain cabin would be after awhile, nothing but the same familiar four walls. How would one be stimulated to write? Except, perhaps, to escape the boredom, and then the ideas wouldn’t come; they’re stubborn that way. And the day one most wanted to go walking, it would be snowing heavily, and that tweed jacket wouldn’t be warm enough, and the Irish setter would refuse to set a paw outside. So instead one would have to drive to town, down icy winding roads, to get more dog food at the store. No one could get any writing done like that!
Did you really write “Cuckoo’s Egg” in two weeks? It certainly doesn’t read like something written in two weeks! A spider bite and a plane flight is a long way from a peaceful cabin . . .
I can see you writing Cuckoo’s Egg in two weeks – one blinding flash of inspiration and then on autopilot while the story flows/rushes/forces itself out of you. That particular story has that feel to it, the reader is swept inexorably on. But writing Bren books can’t be like that because you have such a huge back story, and one dares to assume, future story/stories, to keep in mind and keep consistent with. And while no one could say Cuckoo’s Egg was a simple story, the political machinations of the Bren books have to be without compare. I don’t see how you could possibly hold those (at this point 15 years? of) threads in mind while you and Jane had your Anno Horribilus. (pardon the fake Latin, an attempt to crib from HRM).
I also note that you basically don’t appear ever to take vacations from your work. Maybe every once in a while it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to recharge. Not that this has been such a fun vacation from writing 🙁
Anyway, it must feel fine to be back in the groove with the book. Nothing like feeling the writing is going well, the cats are nicely balanced, and the paint jobs are done for the winter 😀
Quality is worth waiting for. To paraphrase his rotunditude, “I will read no story before its time.”
Glad to hear things are beginning to come back to that place we fondly call normal. I sympathize with you – been working on my own (first, God help me) novel…meant to work on it a great deal over the summer, and couldn’t manage more than a dozen pages in 3 months! It’s so frustrating…
Many hugs and positive thoughts in your direction!
I strongly believe that were I to rent said mountain cabin with attached Irish Setter, the roof would turn out to leak, the chimney would have a swallow’s nest (with baby birds), the dog would turn out to be a nutcase with dietary issues, and we would get a warning from the sheriff that there was an ax murderer in the district.
ALL Irish Setters are nutcases! The prototypical “California Dumb Blondes” of the dog world.
Lol—my dear friend and teaching colleague, Audrey, now deceased, had a love of that breed. And had a small parcel of land, and horses. She had an Irish Setter named Paddy, which ran off repeatedly, getting in trouble in the neighborhood, turning up again like a bad penny—trying to herd the horses, and nipping at their heels—getting kicked, and doing it all again.
Well, Audrey moved further to the country, and Paddy ran off. Audrey was chronically broke (feeding all those horses, and the move and a disasterous house purchase) and Paddy was gone. I drove with her all over, trying to find Paddy.
Finally I get a call that Paddy’s in the pound.
And Audrey can’t afford to bail him out.
Well, I can’t turn her down. I get my car (I’m allergic to dog hair.) And I pick up Audrey and drive her to the pound. She goes back to the cages, and we have the reunion, dog standing as tall as she does, hugs, kisses (I avoid doggy kisses: it’s the hair thing), and I pay the bill. Which includes shots and registration. We pack Paddy into my car and I get Audrey home. Cut to Audrey’s living room, where Paddy’s furious tail endangers a wealth of collector’s china cups on little Victorian tables, and Paddy is all over Audrey. It’s a sight to warm the cockles of your heart…
Until by the bright light from the Priscilla-curtained windows, I note that Paddy is actually Patricia.
I’m not sure Audrey ever noticed. Her eyesight was not the best. But it was certainly a happy Irish Setter.
I personally think there are only two Irish Setters in all the world, and they simply rotate between households, running away and getting bailed from the pound, in constant orbit.
Loved the dog story! I’m glad you are writing again, and your report of it convinces me even more that I am not a writer! It sounds like four-dimensional game of snakes and ladders drawn by Marius Escher…
You KNOW the late Jim Kjelgaard would disagree with you about Irish Setters – at least if we are to believe Big Red, Irish Red, and Outlaw Red. I really must get those last two up to the MobileRead Library; they are all PD in Canada now. I think it was Kjelgaard’s outdoor stories that got me into longer form reading in second or third grade.
Of course, maybe sixty years ago they hadn’t yet bred out the good sense he describes 🙂
Dogs are much like their owners, I’ve found. And my dear old friend tended to get herself into pickles, being just a tad scattered—brilliant woman, in Classics, but just a tad scattered in the real world. I will say that female Setter was very fast to recognize the best deal she was going to get, and she went for it whole hog. She conned Audrey AND the pound folk, who never twigged to a little gender discrepancy, between the ‘him’ Audrey was looking for, and the ‘her’ who found a very loving new owner. Where the real Paddy landed I have no way to know, but I hope he had a long and happy career back in the town he’d come from.
To throw in a monkey wrench, what about a dachshund? We have many family stories about Pepper and Brindle and Sushi and Sashimi and… We’ve never owned one in our household, but if we were to get a dog, I suspect it would be a miniature dachshund.
Our friend has 3 dachshunds now, and their back yard looks like an artillery range. They DO dig.
I’ve been following your year, but lost my password and finally just now got around to resetting it. I’m glad things are finally looking on the upswing for you.
As for dogs, I used to work at a Petsmart and I was only ever bitten by two dogs (well, 3 but the 3rd was a big German Shepherd I was giving a treat to and didn’t get my fingers out of the way in time): a dachshund and a chihuahua. I’m not a fan of little dogs. I’m rather fond of retrievers myself, though my dream is a Great Dane. One I would name Hamlet. If Husband will ever let me, anyway.
Irish Setters remind me of my mother though, as she has the same coloration.
Lol—I have an online acquaintance who has Danes and loves them. The good ones are apparently very gentle dogs (at their size, they need to be!). The only problem is that they have a shorter lifespan than some dogs. She does Dane rescue, and just lost one to old age, which has her really sad.
OTOH, if you want a Dane and you’re within driving distance of Ohio, she might find one for you. 😉
I hope that you’re over the hump with the book – may the words keep flowing!
Has anyone ever noticed that when people are sitting chatting with an Irish Red Setter in the room, the dog will come and sit, not quite at one’s side, but on one’s foot? It’s like they want the physical contact. I noticed in two different dogs, both occasions when it could have occurred, so I didn’t take it as an individual idiosyncracy.
I’m sure everyone is biased toward the species and breeds that they have had success with. I prefer dogs and I think that intelligence, deportment and health are the prime criteria for choosing a breed and/or individual. I grew up with standard poodles and feel as if I’ve been spoiled because as a breed they score very well in all three. By the way CJ, their hair is well disciplined so you don’t have to worry about dog hair in the mouth, carpet or wrapped around the hubs of your vacuums beater bar. Personally, I’ve had a microcephalic AKC approved modern collie and you can have them… all
Dogs are what I relate to. Cats….I’m convinced they are all ready to attack with claws and teeth, because I’ve had that happen way too many time to count. Can’t read them….I can be standing in a room and the ‘local’ cat will run up and claw my legs. I’ve done nothing but stand in the room. I now avoid the critters when I can and have never considered them to be domesticated (grin). Dogs I understand. Canine body language is SO overt…unless you are dealing with one of the pathetic breeds that have had body parts cut off (ear crop and tail cropping) and now lack the parts needed to ‘do’ normal dog body language. But dogs have lived with humans for so much longer than cats, so that makes sense.
Rough collies….mine was awesome. He knew how to herd poultry without me teaching him anything and got his AKC Herding Instinct cert in one go. Also did formal AKC obedience with him until I got my second Siberian husky and lacked the time to run around to dog shows while I worked with a new puppy. Sibes (one of the most ancient of dog breeds) are my breed of choice, but they are much too intelligent (especially in terms of problem solving) for the average unprepared person. I’m on # 5 and #6.
Standard poodles….I lived with some for a summer. I was impressed with them except for the coat/conformation. I prefer a medium sized, double coated breed, and I enjoy grooming a dog. It’s the monkey in me (grin).
By the way….I have several coworkers who hunt with setters including Irish setters. Awesome working breed! It probably depends on whether you are choosing a setter from actual working lines or from the back-yard breeder set. Jim Kjelgaard was one of the first authors I read obsessively.
Are you sure that they are merely intelligent? My vote for both Siberians and Samoyeds is a fair bit closer to “evil genius”.