Whining about Writing

Sometimes you just have to whine. Or rant. I’m doing some of both today.

For the past several weeks, I’ve only been able to work on my novel about one day a week. Maybe two. I am in a weekly critique group, in which each participant (there are six of us) can submit up to ten pages per week. When I am actively working on a book, I try to submit the full ten pages each week I attend the meeting.

Ideally, I would be writing several chapters ahead of the critique group, so that I can circle back and edit what I send to them before I send it with the knowledge of what comes later in the novel. But I haven’t been able to do that since starting my current work-in-progress. I’m drafting the pages, then emailing them out the next day.

I am researching, plotting, drafting, and submitting all at the same time. And I’m not comfortable with this process. I’ll probably never be a real “plotter,” but on this book, I’m writing more as a “pantser” than suits my nature.

Meanwhile, I am also writing two or three blog posts each week for this blog and another one. Both blogs have a self-imposed schedule for posting, and I do everything I can to maintain that schedule. So forgive me if this post is doing double duty—providing me with something to publish, while also permitting me to vent.

A writer friend sent me an email over the weekend asking about formatting her book for self-publishing. She said, “I should write books faster, so I’ll remember the process from one book to the next.”

Ditto, I replied. I should write faster also.

Sometimes I do.

And sometimes I don’t. This is one of the “don’t” times.

Why? Well, I could blame a number of things.

My laptop that my husband stole

I could blame my husband, who has appropriated my laptop because it is more comfortable for him to use than our desktop. “How would you like it,” I asked him, “if I stole your work computer?” I’m trying to be lenient because he is still recuperating from his kneecap surgery, but I’m getting impatient. I offered to buy him his own laptop, but he said, “This one is working fine.” Of course, it’s working fine—it’s my writing laptop and I depend on it daily! And it’s the only computer in the house with Scrivener loaded on it.

I could blame the IRS. I’ve had to spend the last few weeks gathering and organizing our tax records to submit to the accountant.

I could blame my own health. I’ve had two respiratory illnesses so far this year, plus all my annual doctors’ appointments seem to have been scheduled during this period, on top of my husband’s many medical visits and his physical therapy.

I could blame other obligations I volunteered for. I committed to interviewing three applicants to my alma mater in January. Then I committed to reviewing two books that applied for an academic writing prize in March. Doing justice to these students and to the very good authors who submitted their work to the writing contest both require a lot of time.

But really, despite all these distractions, I know I can only blame my slow writing progress on myself. I could write more. More frequently. More words at each setting.

I could plan my writing better—plot further ahead in the book, research sooner, so I don’t feel like I am doing everything at the same time.

I could also cut myself some slack. The work-in-progress is progressing, even if more slowly than I would like. I have been able to submit to my critique group each week, albeit not ten full pages each time.

I have a four-day stretch soon when I will have no obligations or distractions. My plan is to write two chapters a day. That would get me comfortably ahead of my critique group.

At least until the next crisis hits and I’m slowed down again.

When have you been stymied on a project that means a lot to you?