Self-imposed deadlines and other forms of self-abuse

So close, and yet so farOnce upon a time, I had a goal. That goal was to be done with a tight first draft of The Panama Hotel by the end of October. Well guess what? Happy Thanksgiving!

When I started this sucker in early August. I had two things in mind. One was a well-organized outline. The other was Orson Scott Card’s advice to "make your first draft your final draft"––the preposterous notion of getting it all right the first time. If you know you’re straying, back up and fix it then and there. Do your research well enough that you can nail it down on that first draft. And by golly it was working. I wrote 10,000 words a week for the first five weeks, went to Seattle, finished my research, then came back and got stuck. Not stuck on the writing. Stuck with deadlines at work. Stuck with jury duty, on Halloween no less. I thought about wearing an executioner’s costume that day but figured it still wouldn’t get me out of serving). I’ve also been helping my lovely wife with her one big show each year–-she’s an artist and this is her one insane month of the year.

Oh well, the good news is, I’ve finished 300 pages that will only need a loving edit––no major rewriting. The bad news is, I can’t seem to find the time to polish off the last 40 pages. Maybe next week! Wait, is there some sort of holiday thing going on that I should know about?

Short stories. How short? Six words.

If you haven’t seen these, it’s worth a peek. Wired is featuring a collection of 6-word short stories from 33 writers, including Orson Scott Card, Stan Lee,  Alan Moore and others.

My favorite is by Frank Miller––“With bloody hands, I say good-bye.”

Check ‘em out.

Have a 6-word short story inside you?  Let's hear it. 

Performance anxiety, or why I feel like I’m 16 again

Okay, so I’ve slowed down on the blog––a temporary situation. And as much as I wish I could say it’s because I’ve been hitting the book like Star Jones at an all-you-can-eat-buffet, I can’t. We’ll maybe. (Does staring at the screen count?)

I heard Mark Childress give a talk this summer on “The Fear of Finishing.” It was all about how writers have a hard time actually finishing the things they start. Why? Because the finished product is never as good as the movie that’s been playing in their heads. Maybe that’s part of it––but I don’t think so, not in my case anyway.

In my situation, I did all my research, have a flexible but workable outline, but am slogging though the final chapters now. I wrote 273 pages in an amazingly short amount of time, but now I’m at that part of the book where I’m finally cashing in all the emotional currency I’ve been banking. And since it’s a razor thin line between touching, heartfelt emotion and maudlin schmaltz, I’m treading lightly and carefully. And my productivity has suffered.

But that’s okay. Life is good. And I’ll be done in two weeks. (Knock on wood).  

Barnes & Noble, or Broadway?

"I wanna sing! I wanna dance!"Ok. So I’m at my son’s flag football game last night. He’s the one and only natural athlete in the entire Ford brood––a total scrapper––he’s a 2nd grader that wants to join the local boxing academy. (Must be a recessive gene or something).  

So what do I end up talking about on the sidelines at each and every game? Zone coverage vs. man-to-man? Recommended remedies for jock itch?

No, I talk about musicals.

Turns out the mother of another player is a composer, and a casual friend. She’s written the music for 4-5 productions and is looking for a new writing partner, since she split from her previous partner of ten years. (A writer based in Vegas that is now probably writing future mega-hits like Liberace on Ice).

So I get the pitch. “As soon as you finish the book, let’s get together and write something. You can write the story and the script and I’ll write the music and the lyrics.” Honestly, I was terribly flattered, because she’s really talented and actually knows what she’s doing. And I was kind of interested, partially in that macabre way that compels you to look at a horrible car accident as you drive by, but partially because it could be a fun gig. I’ve written a metric butt-load of commercials and long-format videos, and I was trained as an art director, so it’s somewhat familiar territory.

But, it’s nothing I’d ever considered. So what would I write about? What would you write about? Would it be something serious or something tragic and poignant? Or something totally bizarre like Silence of the Lambs––The Musical.

What about an adaptation of your book? 

I’ll go lace up my tap shoes while you think about it.