For a brain wired for storytelling, ideas constantly move to the forefront of consciousness and demand attention. Characters move from undefined shells to full personas, personalities, back stories, and motivations. Story arcs unfold from prologue set-ups to the last page, last line conclusion.
No shortage of stories to write about. No worries about a missing muse. Sounds like a formula for a long list of best-sellers, right? My folders contain the seeds of five or six books. Some limited to a brief summary and a few lines of chapter or character descriptions. A few are more developed and actually show some potential.
I’ve written several books, most I’m proud to talk about with friends. But the majority were assignments from publishers that I approached looking for opportunities. My first two book assignments came not from acceptance of my own ideas but answering a “Are you interested in writing for us?”
No question, it’s a thrill to see your name on the spine of a book on display at a popular bookstore. It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed that emotion.
Too much about my writing life is “I’m going to” instead of “I just finished.”
Ten years ago, focused on raising kids, it was easier to rationalize delaying the start of a project. No longer.
This summer, overcoming my own long-suffering anxieties, I pitched a book proposal to the University of Minnesota Press. An idea that my folders say is at least 10 years old. Who knows if the topic would have resonated with an editor if I had pitched the book years ago? With a contract in hand and a deadline established, the only step left to take is to write.
Hundreds of pages of archived notes, reports, news articles and academic research organized into topic-specific folders removes any need to start the writing process by gathering more information.
Initially, setting a goal of 10,000 words every month sounded reasonable. Two months in, without reaching that standard, the anxiety ratcheted up a notch or two. While I’ve never missed a deadline, book or freelance assignment, I have found myself in situations where I had to produce thousands of words in tight time windows.
No longer willing to carry the weight of anxiety on my shoulders every day, I set a new goal. Five hundred words. Every day until I reached the manuscript goal. No days off. As of this writing, the streak is at 84 days. More than halfway. Some writing sessions were easier than others. Some were brutal word by word exercises. For every hard session, two or three the words flowed and goal reached easily. A third finished before noon, a third by 5 pm and the remainder by 11 pm.
Now, every day starts on a more positive note. Less anxiety about the final deadline and more a sense of momentum carried over from the day before. Rather than dread, more anticipation. Another day, another 500 words. Little victories.