How Not to Write a Book

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The Crappy Dragon Book is really coming along.

Mel and I are a pretty good team. . Oh, sure, we’re still in that butterflies and rainbows “dating” part of our work relationship.  I get that.  Still, we work well together. Our strengths/weaknesses really compliment each other.

I think in a perfect world she and I could regularly churn out 3-4 books a year.  I’m not just saying that – I know exactly how much work goes into a book.  The thing is, there’s a lot of forward momentum when you have someone to regularly brainstorm with, and it’s easier to avoid dead ends with two sets of eyes.  Also, we both type fast.  I’m not sure where she is, but I know that when I know what I want to write, I can churn out a clean 2-3,000 words in under two hours. Most of my blog posts take me about 30-45 minutes, from beginning to end.

Three to four books a year is actually a low estimate of what we could do, in a perfect world. I’m taking into account that we would have to plot out and write new books every single year, year after year, and lowering the number accordingly.

I mean, drive is not a problem.  I can’t stop writing.  Oh, sure, sometimes the words dry up to a trickle, but whenever I go too long without writing, I end up narrating things in my head.  The words are there, and they demand an outlet.

Drive is obviously not a problem with Mel, either.  I mean, she doesn’t just run.  She runs ultras.  And she doesn’t just run ultras…. oh no.  No, that’s not hard enough.

I kid you not, the woman just posted something about how she wishes she could run a 200 mile race.

A.

Two.

Hundred.

Mile.

Race.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?!  I don’t even like driving that far without plenty of snacks, and a book on tape, and a really good reason.

So, yeah.  We could do it, in a perfect world.  Easy peasy.

There’s just one problem with that:

We don’t live in a perfect world.

Mel and I both have full time jobs.  We both have kids.  We both have animals we need to care for, and husbands who want love and attention, and house stuff that goes awry.

The truth is, whenever I had this mental image of me for-real working on a book, it always looked so peaceful, so creatively serene.  The light would filter in through the windows, afternoon sun filtered into a golden haze.  The breeze would stir the curtains slightly, casting shadows against the art on the wall.  There’d be a meaningful paperweight sitting at the corner of my desk, from which I would draw inspiration when times got tough.  I’d be sitting at some kind of giant mahogany desk, leaning back in my chair with my brow furrowed.  My head would be tipped back and I’d gaze at the ceiling as I fought to find the right word, the right descriptor, the right plot twist……. and then, suddenly, everything would click into place. I would nod my head decisively, bend forward over the keyboard, and my fingers would begin to fly as the world that lived in my mind spilled forward into living words.

Can’t you just see it? Isn’t it beautiful?

Yeah.

That is NOT what real life writing looks like at all… at least not for me.

Here is a list of real-life issues that have occurred while Mel and I were working on the book:

  • Sorry, BRB, I need to go clean up kid vomit.
  • Sorry, BRB, my car is crashed.
  • Sorry, BRB, gotta cook dinner for the kids.
  • Sorry, BRB, I need to go hose puke off the car seat.
  • Sorry, BRB, friend died
  • Sorry, BRB, there is diarrhea all over the couch.
  • Sorry, BRB, I need to go run a 100 mile race.
  • Sorry, BRB, goats are puking.
  • Sorry, BRB, dying family member.
  • Sorry, BRB, all four kids are fighting.
  • Sorry, BRB, haven’t slept in two days.
  • Sorry, BRB, my mom broke her leg.
  • Sorry, BRB, computer broke.
  • Sorry, BRB, gotta operate on a cat.

actual photo from one of our Facebook plotting sessions

 

Author life: It’s such a glamorous life.

Scat, Reverie

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Hey, Reverie. Yeah, I see you sweetie. You just need to back off for a bit, okay? You can’t share Carrots’ grain. I mean, even on a normal day I want you eating out of your own bucket, but right now hers definitely has too many medicines in it. I’m just going to stand guard till she finishes it.

Yes, you look pitiful. No, I’m not changing my mind. Scat.

Yeah, see, where I come from “vaguely turning your head to the side while giving me sideye” does not constitute a “scat”.

I’m sorry, did I use too many words? The basic underlying definition of “scat” means “get further away from me”, not “try to get as close as you can with a soft, sad expression.”

Why, yes. Yes, that is Finn. And no, I’m not buying your sudden intense interest in the 3-year-old. You and I both know that as soon as I move away, you’re going to dive headfirst into the grain pan that you’ve “forgotten” all about. Yes, I just waved my hands in the air with sarcastic quotes around the word “forgotten. It’s a human thing – you wouldn’t understand.

What you can understand, right now, is that scat means move. So, you know, move. Away.

Yeah, nope. “Move Away” does not mean “move to the other side of the pony and try for the grain again.” Nice try, though. Keep on moving, sister.

Oh heeeee-double-hockey-sticks-NO.
Uh uh.
No you did NOT.
You did not just subtly angle your butt towards me and give me that pissy body language. Uh-uh. Nope. I don’t think so, girlfriend.

I hope you like moving, because this was just going to be a 3 minute scat thing, but now it’s going to be a whole session.

That’s right, pissy pants. Move.
(And yes, Finn. I see you, “wunning with Wevewie.” That’s such a wewy, wewy, bad idea. I’m gonna have to ask you to stop when I notice it in a few laps.)

(Insert joke about chestnut mares)

Okay, but for real. Why are horses prettier when they’re being total snots? Did I just bond unnecessarily hard with some evil-eyed carousel horse at Disneyland or something? Why can’t I get that fluttery feeling looking at a placid-eyed horse in a stall? What is wrong with me?

That’s a vaguely better expression, but not good enough. Keep moving. In fact, why don’t you turn around and go to the right.

Yes, yes, I know you prefer to do everything in a half rear levade thingie. Impressive.
Now go left.

Nice, but your eyes still look..,.I dunno. Not kind? Keep going.

Holy moly, you’re beautiful. Like…. like seriously. Wow. You totally fill my eye. How are you only a yearling and already so gorgeous?! You are 13.2 hands of absolutely perfection. Someone who desperately wants their next show horse is gritting their teeth in frustration at my luck, while I’ve got you ungroomed and just hanging around in my backyard, jogging through poo piles. Ah, well. Such is life. I have to admit, you’re pretty enough that you kind of make me want to take you to shows, although I’d probably end up throwing dirt clods at anyone who points out your supposed faults.

Maybe it’s better if I don’t take you to shows. I don’t think I want to be known as Dirt Clod Becky in the Morgan showing world. Still – golly, you’re pretty.

Oh, are you trying to say you’re sorry? Are you all calm and submissive and wanting to “join up”? Are you lowering your head and asking to be my friend and… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA – Oh, man. Sorry. Sorry, I’m out of breath from laughing so hard. Reverie, I was not born yesterday, and I have lived with you for almost a year. You are such a dirty liar. Don’t you dare start slowing down.
**Insert kissy noise**
I said MOVE.

Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. What happened to that soft, sweet, totally apologetic filly from three strides ago? LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE, that’s what. Now, move.

Mmm hmmm. Don’t you wish you were over here, getting scratched and loved on, instead of moving out in endless boring circles? Well, maybe you should have thought twice about talking back to me with your butt earlier, hmm?

Keep going.


That’s a much better expression. Good girl. Please turn around.

That’s a good girl on the side, too. I love that look on you – listening, respectful, but still enjoying yourself. I believe that expression a lot better than your earlier pretend head skating.

Okay, I’m gonna get closer, just to make sure you can still be polite with a little bit of pressure. Turn around, please.

Very good girl. Now, turn around and see if the right side of you is still in a better mood, too. I need to make sure both RightReverie and LeftReverie are in agreement.

You are gorgeous when you gallop, but you don’t have to run if you don’t want to. We could do this at a walk if you wanted.

Excuse me. Yes, I know Carrots is over there, but I’m over here. Kindly pay attention to me.

Much better.

Gorgeous, inside and out.

There you go – good girl. See, now that’s a face I believe. Turn around again, please, one last time. Does your left side still remember how to be a nice, respectful filly?

Oh, good. Good, it has. It looks like you’re good, through and through. You may stop, whenever you want. All pressure is off.

(Literally every single time I set aside a weekend to clean the paddock this summer, it has poured and made everything wet and super heavy. Every. Single. Time….. which is why I now have photos like this. I shall title this one: Million Dollar Dream Horse Standing Proudly On Poopie Mountain.)

But seriously, very good girl. Stand there for a moment, so you don’t think you can run at me every time I take off pressure….. okay. Good. Would you like to come over for a scratch?

I’ll take that as a yes. I love you too, girl.