Monday, Day 251
I enjoy reading the Nancy Drew books.
Well, the first 3 of the famous ghostwritten series. I did my research and found out the first 23 books were worth it. The others, written by other ghostwriter, some are racists, some are simply boring. And I’m not gonna spend a dime finding out which is which.
Of course, if you’re looking for diversity in your reading, better leave those kids novels on the shelves.
Promise, this post isn’t a book review, it’s really about writing!
Reading those books teaches me a valuable lessons about
- how to make the reader care for a character with very minimal details
Is it old fashion? Yes. Is it over the top? Yes. Is it magic writer pen at times? Yes.
Does it work? Dang YES.
I can’t put the novel down. I have to know how on Earth this impossible, but belivelable situation will, because of the character and a truckload of luck, come to a happy end.
This week, I’ve started to work on the Second Draft, even thought I’m still not finished with the First Draft.
I’m revising a ton. I’m destroying the first chapter, reorganizing the ideas in there, cutting all the melodramatic info dump.
It’s great to improve the story. But it takes me some time…
Tuesday, Day 252
Rest in Peace, George Floyd.
Wednesday, Day 253
A golden stripe of sunlight got through the thick thunderstorm clouds, briefly.
That’s how revision and editing the second draft feels right now.
I’ve underestimated (or briefly forgotten) what kind of work it implies, writing a Second Draft, revising, and editing.
As for the First Draft, it still going. With this new pacing in mind, the words flow better.
It’s like I allowed myself to write what I truly want to read, what the young reader wants to read, and not what I think the traditional publishers would like to read.
Today, this week, I’m writing with my whole heart.
Thursday, Day 254
I’ve just reached the 80 000 words mark… Yeah, but…
Now, there’s probably a good 15 000 words more to come.
And as you well know, dear fellow writers of young adult and middle-grade novels, that means there’s a LOT of revising to come.
In other words, let’s keep writing!
Friday, Day 255
Well, house chores, right?
I spend all day cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Not brainstorming, not stopping to write for a half-hour or go check the good old socials.
Fellow writers, do you ever experience that feeling: when your desk, your living space is clean, your mood actually improves.
Saturday, Day 256
Today, Kiddo went into » but I wannaaaaaaaaa » mode.
It’s a mode we were well acquainted with. However, Kiddo definitely leveled up today.
What was suppose to be a fun, inspiring walk on the Fields Path soon became a long series of winning events, followed by deep breaths or eruptions of anger (on this writer mama side).
Ah, my dear fellow writers, if only it ended there. But no…
We were blessed with a bacon episode, followed by kiddo, in the « let’s calmed-down » corner screaming: I am calm, I am calm, I AM CALM.
When nap time came, I simply collapsed in my own bed.
Instead of crying like I really wanted too, because I yelled, because I got so angry, I pick up a book, an essay about Aliénor d’Aquitaine (research for my next writing project) and read for a bit.
It’s sometimes pretty hard to get rid of the guilt, or going over what happen and thinking of what I should I’ve done… thinking I failed at being a good mother. Again.
Writing a great story, for as many people as possible to enjoy, a story to make the reader dream and laugh is a life long aspiration.
But not screwing up as a mother is far more important.
Sunday, Day 257
Sitting in the backyard, sipping a beer, watching the dang rabbit eating the bird seeds fallen on the ground, I was wondering how the heck did I get there.
Suburban life is one weird one. I grew up in such a place, and I did promise myself to never go back to the world of small pools and lawnmowers.
Then, the pricey townhouses and the guy smoking crack next door drove us out of the city.
Near this small townhouse of ours, a beautiful water basin, on which many boats cruise around come summertime. Proud little hills. Farms. Fields.
I got here, in this backyard, listening to the rolling sounds of pool filters and lawnmowers, because I wanted to be safe, but close enough to the colours of the big city. Close to a world bigger than this.
Thing is, the world far away from the city, its suburbs, its traffic jam is so much bigger. Grand. Quiet.
Dear fellow writers, thanks for tagging along with me, once more, in this crazy writing quest. I truly appreciate it.
Next week writing’s goals will be to finish the First Draft. To finish the novel. And about time too!
May the good words flow your way ! Until next time !