December is almost half gone. The question of whether I’ll succeed in my deadline to complete a rough—very, very rough—draft of a novel this year remains in limbo. Will I or won’t I?
I’ve done a lot of soul searching. How have I written novels in the past? How can I change my methods? My previous works all happened over time. This is the first novel I’ve tried to shove into a deadline.
I thought, maybe I should create an outline. Except that didn’t happen. I am a pantser. To outline is not even possible for me. Why? Because my stories only move forward by my getting inside my characters.
Although—many times what comes out first from my pen is dialogue. Often I don’t even knowing who is speaking. Could I outline using dialogue alone? N-o-o-o, I don’t think so. There needs to be action, not simply talk.
Anyway, today I am taking stock. Of the 56,000 words in my file, I’ve printed out the last 15,000, which have not been neatly (or even roughly) slotted into chapters. My characters and their time lines need to be sorted out.
Sophie in her new pink collar; including an ID tag in case she gets lost.
I’ll report back again to tell you of my progress. Meanwhile, I have 15,000 bits to sort and piece together. Speaking of which, I once told an agent at a writing conference that I don’t do short pieces. I told her I’m a quilter, meaning—it takes a book for me to figure out what is going on.
So consider this a very intricate quilt I’m piecing in these last weeks of 2023. And the climax is still to come!
The crows are back, with their raucous calls, dropping signs of their pecan foraging. We’ve had some rainfall, dampening the falling leaves. It’s been a beautiful autumn, as the year rounds another corner, nearing its end.
This past week has been an exhausting one of minor and major upheavals, which put a temporary stop to my very slow writing momentum. Have you noticed (or is it just me) that the major upheavals seem to follow the fatigue of the minor?
Monday morning usually brings new beginnings, and so I sat in a brief meditation to discover where to put my energies. A poem (written a few weeks ago, needing some revision) rose to the surface. As you’ll see, it describes my own life’s ambiguities.
Ambiguous endings are so different from the sudden shock I experienced when facing the loss of a youngest brother some years ago.
There’s a book whose title says it all: Ambiguous Loss; learning to live with unresolved grief, by Pauline Boss. That term describes a place many of us share, whether mourning the state of our planet, or a failing parent, grandparent, child, sibling, partner, patient . . .
Treading Water
A college requirement——
tread water to graduate——
prove you won’t drown when tossed into life.
School offers wide lanes for laps,
teaches the many strokes
that keep body and mind in motion.
You find a life’s partner,
together you stretch your limits
in deeper, more vigorous waters.
While babies grow you might tread in place,
but soon you’re paddling out again
into more expansive crossings.
The years bring hard kicks,
uncertain seas, breathtaking sparkles——
until in retirement you swim relaxed——
with time to explore new oceans
new lakes new streams
unless— all too soon . . .
your partner fails——stranding you both
in uncharted waters——where you fight
to stay afloat among storm-tossed waves.
You know you must keep your head high.
You know you are needed.
You know
but not when——
your partner will sink
never to resurface.
You too will dive deep.
But the day will come when——
you’ll do more than choke on salt water, when——
you’ll stroke back into life’s currents.
I had company for the first week of November. My sister came and it was wonderful. I even kept up my daily writing—though I did skip a blog posting.
Slacking off on writing came after she left. Then last night, or early this morning, I lay awake for a long time, my thoughts circling and circling, telling me over and over to call about the water heater (but no insights, nothing useful for the current story).
At some point, I realized that I have to get myself back to work at writing. Writing is my best cure for insomnia. In the words of the song:
“Pick yourself up, dust yourself off,and start all over again.”
Right Brain
I think I’m all Right Brain
I’m going to confess to a writing technique which actually illustrates what’s going on in my head. My busy left brain gets over-active when I neglect the right (write) brain. That quiet side of me is where stories come from.
A long-time friend advised me to talk to the right brain before beginning a writing session. Sitting in a quiet room, I write down a question with my right hand, switch the pen to the left and wait. Sometimes it takes a while, but eventually an illegible answer gets written. Fortunately, the words also resound in my mind!
Why am I telling you my secrets?
The left brain is way too powerful—and I need to be reminded of that. So telling you reminds me to look for the quiet places to find my answers. Hopefully, I’ll sleep tonight.
Author Kate Harrington channels her optimism for a hopeful future into her science fiction novels for young adults. Her most recent release is Planet Quest (March 2022), book two in her award-winning Pawn Quest trilogy that follows a group of teens marooned on a hostile planet. Look for Kate on her website at KateHarringtonWrites.com and on her Amazon author page.
Planet Quest is a finalist in the 2023 New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards. What else do you want readers to know about this second book in your trilogy? Three teens, linked to a mystery back on Earth, land on a strange planet with ten others, but where are the people? Ran, the only teen not recovering from SpaceSleep, goes in search and ends up trapped. But nothing’s going to stop him from rejoining his friends. This is a young adult sci-fi adventure.
Who are your main characters, and what do they have to overcome in the story? In Pawn Quest, book one, machine-empath Ran, researcher Pel, and impulsive Hallie each comes up against different aspects of a mystery of disappeared persons. The AI that holds answers propels them off Earth, but is it for their safety or to be rid of them? In Planet Quest, a hostile planet, an old alien shipwreck, and non-communicative adults challenge the teens to discover and use their inner strengths.
From inspiration to publication, how did Planet Quest come together? Over more than half my lifetime, the story grew in the background of raising kids and pursuing a career. I was always revising and never finishing. A couple years before Covid (BC?) I got depressed. It seemed I had a choice: to quit altogether—or—to self-publish something still incomplete. Choosing to publish provided a huge sense of relief and the freedom to move forward.
Publication fell into place relatively quickly. Chatting with Lois Bradley at a conference gained me a wonderful jacket designer. A presentation at Bubonicon identified E. M. Tippetts for book formatting. A church friend added me to her copyediting clientele. I took Sarah Baker’s Continuing Ed class on self-publishing and Rob Spiegel’s blogging class — though I’m still not into self-promotion. My IT son sat shotgun while I uploaded various files online. And none of it would have happened without invaluable feedback over the years from critique groups and individuals.
What was the most difficult aspect of world building for the Pawn Quest books? What was your favorite part of putting this project together? The most difficult part of world building was staying ahead of the future; our world is changing so fast. Actually, my favorite part was writing the companion book Ty’s Choice (December 2020), also a New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards finalist. I wanted to know more about a ten-year-old boy who appears in Pawn Quest. With the background of future Dodge City already formulated, and keeping to a single point of view, the book came together much faster than anything else I’ve written.
What sparked the initial story idea for book one, Pawn Quest? When did you know the storyline or characters were strong enough to carry a series? My heart was set on finding a library job when my boys reached school age. Instead, I found myself pregnant again and started writing to fill the gap. I had this view of teenagers on a strange planet, but no idea how they got there. About the same time, I read about a parent whose child had been unfairly taken from her. The strong emotion that article evoked got attached to those kids on that planet and kept me seeking answers.
I never intended more than a single volume, but the story ran away with itself. Pawn Quest answers who the teens are and how they arrive on the planet. Planet Quest covers their first ten days. In the final volume, Quantum Quest, they’ll have to overcome challenges related to that initial mystery back on Earth before they can return home.
When did you know you wanted to be a writer? And when did you first consider yourself a writer? I discovered both my loves—libraries and writing—in junior high school. I don’t think I dared call myself a writer until after retirement.
What topics or themes does your book touch on that would make it a good fit for the classroom? I’ve jumped over a lot of present/future problems with AI and social media technologies. It’s easier to solve them in retrospect. An interesting discussion might be how to get from where we are to the more equitable (but flawed) society I describe, or to any other society the students might imagine.
Who are some of your favorite authors? What do you admire most about their writing? I love Diana Wynne Jones for her humor, imagination, and ability to connect with children’s emotions. Space opera authors Lois McMaster Bujold and the team of Sharon Lee and Steve Miller are great world builders and storytellers. And so many others…
What writing projects are you working on now? While working on book three of the Pawn Quest trilogy, I’m also revising two verse novels — fairy tale retellings set in an ancient past — which I’d love to see published.
KL Wagoner (writing as Cate Macabe) is the author of This New Mountain: a memoir of AJ Jackson, private investigator, repossessor, and grandmother. Kat has a speculative fiction blog at klwagoner.com and writes about memoir at ThisNewMountain.com.
On a common theme—seeming boring to recount—I continue writing in 12-minute spurts of ink on paper. The words add up slowly. A plus is that with the limited time, my mind is less likely to wander into other topics; if there’s more to say, I can continue for a second 12-minute interval later.
Writing hasn’t always been this slow. I’m envious of my son’s steady progress on a novel he’s currently posting on RoyalRoad.com. Look there for Leo’s Return, by Jman8763, written in the RPG genre and told with a delightful dark humor.
Blog progress:
I missed posting last week, due to preparing for a birthday celebration (rare in my life but I decided achieving a round number deserved some validation). I now have a clean house, other than my messy papers, and a taste for more such gatherings. The next celebration will be New Year’s morning coffee. By that time, I will have completed drafting the end of this trilogy.
The dining room table makes an occasional doggy den.
November is NaNoWriMo (national novel writing month). The first year that I attempted to write 50,000 words was my last. Every NaNoWriMo since, I’ve settled for much more achievable goals. This year I hope to pull together the climax of Quantum Quest, leaving December for clean up detail. That way I’ll have something to celebrate on New Year’s day.
January—or possible a month later if I need a break—will be time for revisions.
Here’s Sophie, who goes to the beauty parlor today. Next week’s blog should feature a less shaggy dog.
I almost let this week’s blog slide, since I had no draft prepared nor theme in my head. However this morning’s chauffeuring started me thinking and composing. Unfortunately, I lose half of what I think if unable to get it down on paper. Let that be my excuse for a very brief post.
As an October baby, my year always begins this month. Trees are still green, but beginning to show signs that change is coming. Today is the first time we’ve used the furnace or the car’s heater since last spring. After a super hot summer, our fall is swinging back to normal, with rain during the state fair, and now perfect blue skies for the Balloon Fiesta.
Last night, I realized our AC unit hadn’t yet been covered for the winter. This morning, I made a whole list of jobs, including switching the storm door from screen to glass. All are now completed—except for cleaning up the backyard, which will take more time than a morning allows.
Here’s a picture of autumn crocus in our backyard—a perfect excuse for not mowing!
Our Maximilian daisies, a gift from the neighbor across the street
I’m still slowly reading Cloud Cuckoo Land. Some books are made to be gulped down, but Doerr’s multiple characters span centuries and the globe, and they require slow savoring. I’m nearly to the end, where everything is cohering beautifully.
This has been a week of meetings and emergencies. (Only one emergency but its ramifications made it feel like more). That’s why this blog is so late. Through everything, I’m seeing how we humans are all linked.
A man walks daily through our neighborhood—going to work, carrying groceries, or simply exercising. He always has time for a word of greeting (he calls Sophie “Princess”) and on Tuesday he came to our rescue. I’m eternally grateful that he knew us well enough to go out of his way to help.
Then yesterday I was priding myself on having a day with no need to drive anywhere at all—until I discovered an Amazon package. The address was ours—except for an added apartment designation. This wasn’t the first item to come to us with the wrong quadrant, but unlike the post office, I had no way to contact Amazon. So after grumping and grumbling, I got in the car.
A young woman with blue hair came to her door, and was so grateful to receive her package! She’d already realized her error and amended her address, but had decided against driving to retrieve the package.
I’ve been feeling warm ever since. My good deed doesn’t equal our neighborhood angel’s, but I’m glad for an opportunity to help someone in turn.
As mentioned in my last blog, the timed writings continue (though I did take Sunday off). Those two daily sessions of scribbling for twelve minutes are paying off. And the desk calendar is filling up with green circled 12s. If I connected them, they’d shape an irregular zigzag—just saying, to keep with the theme.
was my forward writing momentum, temporarily regained by setting a timer for 12 minutes and writing nonstop. That worked for two days, and then distractions intruded.
Keeping it simple—So now I’m back, aiming for two timed writing sessions a day. After all, what’s 12 minutes (or twice 12-minutes) in the whole scheme of things? But this time, I’m adding a reward. Each time I complete a session, it gets marked in my calendar as a 12, circled in green.
I’m also experimenting with beginning with a question for each timed write. Yesterday I wrote: “What Melody told Ran.” Not exactly a question, but it shaped my direction. Twelve minutes passed before I reached their encounter, so had to continue a bit longer. Forward, march!
Today’s topics: “Ran’s take on the other teens’ activities” —completed; and “Perk’s report on the Rift” — to be done.
Autumn Vegetables
are a failure. My spinach and chard didn’t come up, probably from insufficient waterings, and lack of attention due to keeping the seed bed covered because of that marauding squirrel.
So I’ve given up on fall veggies. Instead, I planted pansies on the porch. Our Maximilian daisies (aka sunflowers), begun last year, are looking happy.
Current reading:
Cloud Cuckoo Land, by Anthony Doerr, on my tablet.
Enter the Body, by Joy McCullough, from the library. McCullough gives Shakespeare’s most famous tragic women, now ghostly, a chance to tell their own stories—in verse.
And I just finished Patricia Wrede’s brand new fantasy, The Dark Lord’s Daughter. A fun, yet thoughtful read, with sequels to follow, I hope.
Weeding—to a librarian—means clearing the shelves of battered, or sometimes unread, books to make space for new materials.
Weeding—to a gardener—means clearing out unwanted plants to make space for wanted ones. I kept eyeing a plot in our front yard, wanting to go out, clear out the “weeds”, amend the soil, and plant something that might thrive. The weather continued hot, and so I waited.
Weeding—to me as writer—means working through all these bits of paper that are cluttering my desk. Er . . . desks. At least three desks are cluttered. No, make that four. Two desks for writing (trying to keep projects separate but sometimes they get mixed), one for checks and finances, one that simply accumulates odd papers.
I’m making headway, but it’s slow going.
Planting
Some spare time sent me to our neighborhood nursery, where I inquired about plants that might suit our plot. I got good advice, reinforced by a neighbor with a thriving yard, concerning how much water even a desert plant needs to get established. Three times a week, dropping to once a week in winter.
And a cool day had me outside weeding and loosening the dirt, followed by a rainy one adding in a bag of compost. All that in the spirit of planting.
Here is the Texas Sage (Lynn’s Legacy) installed just before our promised 100% chance of rain. It should grow into a sizable bush with summer blossoms. And with a watering routine, there’s hope I can also add flowers here next spring.
Writing Thoughts
Rains (and a tumble while planting yesterday that shook me up) have brought a new mindset. I finished the latest review and tweaking of my Goose Girl verse retelling—Sky’s Daughter. My critique group will read it all for our November meeting.
Meanwhile, I’ve discovered again that it’s not possible for me to work on two tales at the same time. (One tale and a blog, yes.)
So much writing advice tells you to write the whole draft, then go back to revise. I wish I could!
Instead, as long as I’m wearing my revision cap (and don’t know where to find my writing hat), I’m going back to the beginning of Quantum Quest, to straighten out what’s already occurred, with the hope that I’ll have built up a good head of steam to continue forging ahead down new rails. (Maybe I need a conductor’s hat.)
Oh well, we each have to do the work in our own ways.
One day this past week, I was feeling particularly tired. Instead of pushing against that fatigue, I allowed myself to do whatever appealed.
One thing I did was pick up my battered copy of T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets. I’ve read it more than once, usually at bedtime, always silently. I love his flow of words, though when I come to the end, I’m never sure what I’ve read.
In the empty house, I read aloud the first section. Hearing the words made me more aware of sounds and rhythms. Like watching ocean waves, one following the next, you only know their beauty. You don’t worry about the wave’s meaning.
Another day I read through the second quarter. With T. S. Eliot ringing in my ears, I was drawn to look over one of my verse novels. Ouch! What a comparison.
Sophie keeps her brain cells well rested.
Freeing up (Poirot)’s little grey cells
So that was a day or three ago. On Sunday driving home from church, I was thinking about (not quitting, because I am determined to have a complete sci fi draft this year), but more along the lines of why push for a speedy publication? Why not turn more focus to those two verse-novels-in-waiting, and bring them closer to completion?
With that thought, what came to mind was a partial—every solution comes in fits and starts and parts—a partial solution to the dilemma at hand—the causation of how to bring all to a satisfying conclusion in Quantum Quest.
One of my many papers posted over my desk tells me to NOT try to control the process of creativity. In this case, I’m taking that to mean EACH barrier my protagonists face is surmountable. They (or I) simply haven’t gone deep enough.
Little grey cells are tricky. Sometimes you have to let them figure things out. They’ll announce when they’ve done their job and let you get on with yours.
Be regular in your habits. Little grey cells don’t work alone. You have to show up. That’s advice I’ve read and heard many, many times.
So I think my grey cells are telling me to keep all these projects alive, to allow the solutions to mature in their own time.
Good news—Planet Quest was just announced as a Finalist in the NM/AZ Book Awards.
Kate Harrington 