And now... the Today meme is hosted by Masha! Join in over at Piękno, or leave your own sensory notes in the combox. Today I am...
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Feeling... odd. Shaky. Hopeful. A little bit alight. Here's what happened:
This summer I've been considering giving up on my 2009 NaNoWriMo novel, A.D.'s story, together with its sequel and worlds and characters and everything. This early fall, I've been hearing whispers in my ear that I'm one of those writers that, as Flannery O'Connor suggested, academia ought to stifle outright.
Tuesday, after a bout of discouragement with my fairy tale retelling immediately followed by a bout of discouragement with my ability to write decent music, I sat down to my journal and wrote this:
That thing where you are convinced that nothing you write can ever be good enough. That the critic will always be Right and you will always be Wrong... When it's halting both your novels and your music... What do you do?And I stared at the words, pathetic as they are. Stared long and hard, and thought of A.D., and of Mom saying that I ought to consider reverting to the previous draft, and of the reasons she says that—they're serious—and the reasons I can't quite go that far. And I thought: I'm going to pull up that old draft and read one of the emotional scenes, a scene I haven't looked at or worked on this year. If there's something worth saving, I'll see it in that scene.
I read it. And as I finished it and scrolled back up, the epiphany hit—the way to save that story.
It's beautifully simple. It means starting over again from the beginning and working from both old and new drafts, but this time I'm mostly not revising—I'm just rewriting. Keeping scene, character, setting, storyline, mood, but modifying the voice. Making it work for the audience it's designed for.
The other book has to be prioritized, but A.D. must be rescued. I'm giving myself three days a week when I can work on her tale. But hey, I once rewrote half this book in nine days—it's just a matter of knowing exactly what I need to do and getting mentally and emotionally caught up into it.
I am caught up into it. For the first time in well over a year. It feels wonderful.
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Seeing... that it's a huge mistake to leave a defenseless plant on the dining table overnight. But then, I knew that.
|The poor little peace lily wishes I would've remembered to put it back|
out of Maia's reach...
Also, more autumn:
|...some kind of white non-edible berry bush|
|Mums growing under the crocosmia|
|One of the last fairy roses|
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Smelling... coffee. So needed.
Tasting... well, tonight we're having family to dinner. I'm making orange salmon, cream of leek and chicken soup, Caesar salad, and Italian parmesan bread in the bread maker. Also, baked brie. None of that is prepped, and the house isn't clean yet either, so possibly I should not be blogging right now.
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Listening... to vintage Evanescence. I am no Amy Lee, either as vocalist or pianist, but this has been fun to learn to play. Also, I totally love her skirt.
Grateful... for the ability to love writing fiction again.
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Reading... A Ceremony of Innocence by Dorothy Cummings MacLean. It was pretty hard to put down yesterday; I'm not allowing myself to pick it up again till after company leaves tonight, or I'll forget to clean house and cook dinner.
Studying… This week I got in two study sessions on Evoking Sound and one on music theory, which felt good, although I just about burned my brain out on the last. My knowledge of music theory is desperately patchy. Most of what I do is instinctive and self-taught; hence the aforementioned lack of confidence.
Maybe next week I'll get Spanish in there, too.
Working on... two novels, naturally, and ensemble prep for the upcoming concert.
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Loving... surprises that come in the mail after you more or less forget you ordered them. Look at our baby quince tree! I am so excited about this.
Hoping... for a happy evening with the family tonight, and for lots of quiet time for Lou and I around concert rehearsal and cantoring this weekend. He wants to work, and I want to write.