some progress

Okay, so today I'm feeling less befuddled and blocked, and there is some slight progress, possibly because of my riff-writing last night. For those of you who are interested in such things, here's the newest version of that snippet I posted before, from the very beginning of Chapter Two. It's still far from perfect, but I think it's rounded out just enough now for me to MOVE ON. Which I better hurry up and do, because I need to turn this sucker in on Friday to my writing group.

No matter how hard or fast Mist scrubbed, the mountain of dirty pots kept growing taller. They covered the entire length of the nearby worktable in a stinking soiled heap of jumbled bronze saucepans, iron skillets, and three legged cauldrons. The truly big ones, the black vats roomy enough to bathe in, were haphazardly stacked nearby, left for Saru and Eno, the two burly kitchen boys.

An hour’s worth of scrubbing, and I haven’t even made a dent. The thought exhausted her. With a miserable sigh she eyed the biggest vat, half tempted to climb inside and curl up like one of the kitchen cats in the cool dark interior. She wouldn’t mind the grime because she already stank of grease. The rancid smell clung to her hair and wafted up from the damp spots on her linen shift.

But she squashed the thought. Someone would miss her and the few, stolen moments of rest wouldn’t be worth the punishment she’d get. Maybe though, she could sneak a tiny break. One just long enough to work out the kink in her back, that spot that felt like someone had rammed a carving knife between her shoulder blades. After a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, she pushed away from the stone wash basin and, hands on her hips, she stretched out her aching back.

“Mist! Back to work,” one of the undercooks snapped.

Without even looking to see who’d issued the order, Mist grabbed the nearest pot and dunked it into the basin. She knew better than to complain on a banquet day. She wasn’t alone in her misery; today every single slave in Master Doro’s kitchens worked at a feverish pace and tempers ran high. Using a stiff bristled brush, she furiously worked at the remains of a creamy mushroom sauce that had hardened into black cement. Four more hours before she got a break, a bite of bread, and a moments rest, and then the clean up would begin. She’d be lucky to see her sleeping mat before midnight. The sauce refused to come clean so Mist tossed a handful of soap pellets into the water and churned it up into a bubbly froth. The harsh soap, which she helped make a fortnight ago from potash and tallow, stung her skin. Her hands would be chapped and cracked before the day was done.

Gods, how she hated banquet days—up since dawn running coal, scouring pots and mostly trying to keep out of trouble. Somehow though, trouble kept finding her.

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and roughly spun her around.

And now I'm off to change a diaper. Because diapers take precedence over writing, even when you are on a deadline.

-k.

Writing Log: March 14

Daily Word Goal: 500
Today's Total: 0

Although I didn't get any real writing done, I did do some scene notes. In a notes file I jotted down my research, put it into description. Basically I worked on pre-writing for the scene. I did about 280 words of free writing description that will probably be used when I fiddle with the chapter, and I worked out some thoughts and notes. This took up about 3 pages. Progress!

frustrated, chapter two

One of my main problems as a writer is my perfectionist streak. I simply can't go forward on a draft until the scene I'm working on is 'correct'. It doesn't matter how many times wiser souls tell me to just get over it, because, you know, that's what revisions are for; I simply can't move forward. It's this awful block that keeps me from banging out a complete first draft. Time after time it also kills my enthusiasm for the book. The end result? Some new shiny idea lures me away.

Now, I need to clarify here that 'correct' doesn't mean submission ready. To me, correct means that I have the foundation laid down, like a house. It needs a floor, roof, four walls and all the electrical and plumbing laid in. The bones. I have to have a solid structure first, and I can tackle all the fussy bits (picking out the cabinets, the wall color) later.

So here I sit, mind paralyzed as I contemplate chapter two. Then ending is sound. But the beginning, the set up, the first time I introduce the main character -- I just can't get it 'right'. The chapter's down, but that opening... the horror! and my first line! *shudder!* There's not enough conflict, and I'm making life too easy for the MC. Her life is supposed to be far from easy.

The other part of my problem is that I'm a visual writer. I need to sit or lie somewhere in the dark, or with my eyes closed, either with music blocking out the world or in dead silence, and let the scene unfold, movie style in my mind. Then I can write it. But as a stay at home mom with a bored 2 year old, my alone time is few and far between. Daydreaming before sleep used to work for me, but now I'm so tired out from the day that I usually just fall into bed and pass out practically as soon as my head hits the pillow. I need to either carve out more daydreaming time during the day, or else man up and figure out another way to do it.

Listening to kids' television is not conducive to writing. Let me just go on the record now and say it.

Now that I got all that off my chest, let's see what I've learned about my current block.

1) The opening is boring
2) I'm feeling like I need to sit down and visualize the scene (including setting)
3) I really need to squash the writer's inclination to be 'nice' to their characters and really put mine through hell
4) I need to stop being a perfectionist and just write!

It probably will help if I do a little more research to help me with #2... but that's another danger. I LOVE to procrastinate writing with the excuse that I'm 'researching'. But that's the subject of another post some other day.

-k.