By Sarah

I am writing this post at the end of a day in which I have written 9,000 words.

My 43-year-old hands are veined and arthritic from hovering over asdf - jkl;, ready for action. My world is no longer my reality. My reality is Lehigh, Pennsylvania, a fictitious town based on my hometown of Bethlehem where I am battling a murderer who kills with lethal hair extensions. The characters are named haphazardly after kids I knew in high school, thereby courting possible lawsuit. Stiletto and Bubbles are into heavy petting. They are having more sex than I feel I ever will. I am, in short, at the end of writing BUBBLES ALL THE WAY. The pub date? November.

That's right - this November. As in seven months. The manuscript was due today. My editor will get it Friday. This is what we call insanity.

It's tunnel vision, writing like this. Hours fly by. Food is consumed in alarming, unnecessary quantities. The peripheral has ceased to exist. Every once in a while a child will cross it, yammering  about something at school or what a fly's last moments on Earth were like or why a certain boyfriend broke up with a certain girl. Then they disappear. If I recall correctly, I threaten them. Sometimes with death. Often in Martian, as in, "Get out of my office before, wait, did I just write that, hold it, come back, I love you." Yes, that would be the standard line.

To torture myself, I think of people who have years to write books, who have the luxury of reflection. A friend of mine who has never written before is taking a year off from work next year. (I do not begrudge her that. She's a teacher.) Her plan is to spend a month in a European villa and set to writing A Book. I see her before a set of French doors open to a sloping meadow, her pencils sharpened, her complexion rosy and healthy from the breeze and fresh food and morning constitutionals as she takes pen to paper, "Call me Ishmael."

And then I sip a Diet Mt. Dew and curse the day I gave up cigarettes.

This is my writing life: Wake. Coffee. Shower. Debate the virtues of exercise. Send a couple of kids off to school. Put off paying bills until deadline. Scroll through the emails, the NYT, my shitty sales numbers, one game of solitaire and then, finally, work. At 11:30 I am always hit by an overpowering need to nap. I put this off until 12:30 when, twitching, I pass out at my desk. At 1, like magic, I awaken, trot downstairs for food and something diet with caffeine and then write like mad, on fire mad. This is brilliant, I think. Assuredly, I am the next something...not quite sure. Whatever, please make it breathtaking and saleable.

Children come home. CURSE THEM!! Play nice. Make a snack, possibly. Growl at teenager. Teenager growls back. We understand this language. Husband foolishly attempts to make loving small talk. CURSE HIM!!! Do something with dinner. Go back to desk. Ten year old son suffering from separation anxiety sleeps in bed in my office. I tell him to stop sniffling. I have written 8,000 words. Bubbles is hanging off a bridge or being suffocated. Will she or won't she with Stiletto. At eleven I look around, blinking. House is asleep, yet askew. Dog is still outside. Dishes are not done. Laundry in piles.

Bring dog inside. Lock doors. Do dishes. Throw in laundry. Thank the geeks at MIT for inventing the delay button on all appliances. Go to bed. Toss and turn thinking about Stiletto, about another writer's idea for a thriller (you know who you are), vowing to exercise tomorrow and then, at three, passing out only to awaken to the smell of coffee and the motivation to write more.

Maybe you're a writer and you can relate. Or maybe you're one of those writers who works from Italian villas and crafts each sentence lovingly, who cannot imagine writing 90,000 words in four months as I have done. But my guess is you might be someone who, like my friend, has always wanted to write. If so, here's a tip. I got it off a poster in my piano teacher's salon: YOU CAN'T PLAY UNTIL YOU SIT ON THE BENCH.

This is trite, but true. I was once on a panel with a feng shui writer who insisted on writing in a pink bathrobe in the rain facing east and then using only a paper and pencil. Oh, brother. Listen, if you want to write a book, sit down and turn on the computer (or, if you're JK Rowling, get out your legal pad) and just write. That's it. Write and rewrite and rewrite and then write and rewrite some more. Write on Saturdays and Sundays, too. Don't read it out loud to friends along the way. Don't practice signing your name with a flourish. Just write.

Because, I'm here as living proof that if you do that  - just write - you will have a book. It's that easy.

It's also, I'm sorry report, that hard.

Good luck and, well, good night -

Sarah

Comments

[toni mcgee causey]

A book. In 7 months (which means you wrote it in what? three? four month?) I think you just made my head explode.

I am now thanking my lucky stars at having a year for the next deadline. (Shit. just checked calendar. Realized I have exactly... 7 months. Am now going to go cry. Or find super secret chocolate stash the kids don't know I know about.)

I once dropped my youngest off at day care and went home to write, and the writing went extremely well. I was due to pick him up at 2:30, and at 2, really found inspiration. No problem, I had a few more minutes. Then the phone rang, and a woman said, "Toni? Are you coming to pick up Jake?" And I swear to God, I looked at the pages on the screen and said, out loud, "Jake? There's no Jake in this scene."

"Um, your son? You know, the two-year-old?"

It was 4:30. I have yet to live that down here.

Do your kids pull the, "Let's wait and ask mom/spring on mom the really serious thing, the one we know we won't get away with... while she's writing? She'll never know." Mine did that. A lot.

[Josh]

I envy those of you who have the guts to lay it on the line, put a piece of yourself out there for criticism. Posting to a blog is about as close as I can get to that. I don't have the self-confidence, let alone the stick-tuitiveness, to do that.

You quit smoking?

[Kerry, the Martial Tart]

I freely admit that I once attempted my own version of the writing life (textbook, not fiction) and it was the hardest thing I've ever tried. I don't know if it would have worked had I not also been teaching full time, but I have my doubts. Parts of it were really fun, including those times when the words just flowed off my fingertips onto the keys. But the times when nothing worked were miserable beyond belief, and I found that I simply didn't have what it took to keep working through those while the rest of my life was on hold.

Sarah, you have my fullest admiration! Any chance you can convince the teenager to handle the dishes and laundry while Mom works?

[nancy]

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!

(Hysterical, maniacal laughter emanates from office deep in the heart of Pittsburgh where another author toils in the desperate hope of reaching THE END by next Friday.)

ps. Who did you send to the store for Mt. Dew? We're down to crackers and leftover pizza here.

[Stephen D. Rogers]

Sarah,

A brilliant piece of writing. Oh, and good luck with your book. ;)

Stephen

[sarah S]

LOL yourself, Nancy. I'd kill for crackers. And, yes, you bet we have leftover pizza here.

Josh, quit is such a funny term. I mean, the French have at least 50 variations of the word. I have never been one to a)smoke during the day b)smoke in front of my kids or c) smoke without a party. Therefore, I am a vampire party smoker. Judge not lest ye be judged.

Okay, I gotta get Bubbles out of this cell she's in. Then there's the whole wedding thing and I'm done. Also, waiting for the NYT to call - wrote them a letter in my insanity. I know they will request a longer OpEd piece to run along my modeling photo.

Toni - To answer your question, no. The daycare has never called and asked me if I'm picking up Jake. Perhaps because my son's name is Sam.

[Josh]

I expected almost that exact "glass houses" riposte and thank you for leaving it at that. Touche'.

Would a metal nail file or maybe hairpin have some use here? Dumb blonde sex appeal? Daughter's bi-sexual boyfriend and lye-based hair-care products?

Just trying to help.

[Joyce]

Great post, Sarah!

Nancy, I think I can hear that maniacal laughter all the way over here in Shaler! And no, I don't do no stinkin' store runs.

[Bob Morris]

Nine thousand words?

Jeez...

Can I borrow a few?

[j renee stuart]

Sarah, you are amazing (AND amusing). Just remember Byron - "For if I laugh at any mortal thing, tis that I may not weep."
Keep laughing. Meanwhile, I'm nominating you for dual-'goddess-ship' in Literature and Domestic Harmony.

[nancy]

The Power of a Blog: A good Samaritan just came over with a bag of groceries from Whole Foods. Chicken with mango salsa. Asparagus with lime sauce. Ciabatta bread. Pasta with roasted vegetables.

IT'S A MIRACLE!!!!

[nancy]

Toni---I had a writing day like yours once. At four o'clock my neighbor Peggy came over after her day at work and innocently asked, "Where's David?"

I was supposed to pick up her son from daycare hours earlier. Hooboy.

Bob, how was the sailing? You mean you didn't get your book finished on the boat???

[sarah]

TOTALLY UNFAIR! We don't even have a fancy, dancy Whole Foods here. Plus, I am out of gum!! No gum? I can't write without gum. Man, oh man, Nancy. You burn me.
Okay, thanks for the dual goddesship. Does that come with any dual gods?

[laurenjharwood]

Sarah, it's taken me YEARS and lots of dollars spent on every writing book I thought would help me that all I needed to do was sit down and do it. It's that easy. And that hard. ;)

[juanita]

Cursing children? Letting housework suffer? Oh, yes! I can relate! Unfortunately, not due to my life-long dream of writing that *one* book...My problem is READING these books! I can't tell you how many times I have been late to something because I just need to finish that one chapter..which, of course, ends in a cliffhanger so then I need to read the next chapter...and the next...and then I realize it is 3 in the morning and the alarm is going to go off at 6 so why even go to sleep? Might as well finish the dang book! Laundry? Dinner? Sex? In your dreams, maybe.

Which just goes to show you that your hard work is greatly appreciated...Anyone who does this for a living has my eternal admiration. And anyone who can come up with 'lethal hair extensions' - well, that's just brilliance!

[Harley]

Oh, Sarah, Sarah, this is so much scarier than the scariest movie, scarier than THE SHINING or THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT.

And as Sarah, Susan, and Nancy can attest to, the day we were thinking up The Lipstick Chronicles, I got a call on my cell phone asking if I was planning to pick up my child from preschool. Since I was on the east coast and my child was in L.A., the answer was, uh, "no." Accompanied by a whole lotta panic.

[Kathy Sweeney aka Smart Tart]

Bwah! 'CURSE THEM' - classic.

I'm just trying to get regular work and kids handled - cannot imagine having to produce something out of whole cloth in the amount of time you're talking about.

By the by - tried the Coca-Cola Blak - sounds like a great afternoon pick-me-up - coffee and Coke all in one cute little bottle. Maybe it's because I prefer my coffee in the form of Frappucino (really just a thin milkshake in a cute little bottle) but - YUCK! It perks you up, all right - my lips are still pursed and my mouth is still cursing me and demanding more straight chocolate to chase the shock.

[Daisy]

Man, you make my paltry little 250-words-a-day goal look pathetic. (But not as pathetic as agonizing over being dropped by the super-hot guy I've been fantasizing about for the last week, because of a couple of short-answer questions. That's pathetic.)

This gives me an idea for a new business: Author Support Services. To be hired on a temporary basis for an exorbitant amount of money by authors on a deadline, to keep track of children and pets, provide emergency snacks and, if necessary, light carpentry. Wadddaya think?

[sarah]

I'm DONE! Finished BUBBLES ALL THE WAY and have crossed the finish line at 89,000 words. With rewriting and recipes will be more. Whoohoo!

Daisy, I think that's a great idea. But what about the hottie?

[Bethany]

Deadlines are a fear-inspiring creation. My fingers hurt in sympathy.

[Daisy]

Yay, Sarah!! Guess I'll have to start looking for customers somewhere else.

The hottie... sigh. I got a request for communication last week from this guy- tall, cute, former pro mountain biker, most recently read book was 'Men are from Mars...', looking for a someone to be her knight in shining armor- you get the picture. So I'm going though the e-harmony communication stages and everything seems like it's going great and then, right after I answer his questions for me, I get the dreaded 'match is closed' message, with the reason given as 'other'. Which, frankly, sucks.

[Kathy Sweeney aka Smart Tart]

Party on Wayne! Party on Garth!

[J.B. Thompson]

First, let me say, WAY TO GO, SARAH!! Whoo-hoo, indeed!

Second, and this may sound completely nuts, but ... I want your life! Well, at least the part about having someone give me a deadline for writing these books so that I can justify the rest - like you, I growl at the teenagers, don't eat or eat too much, barely remember to shower. I'm working on three (four if you count the one I'm currently shopping) books right now and have nowhere to go with them. Sigh. Someday - for now, I'm just keepin' on. But I'm both ecstatic and impressed at your achievement - it's stories like yours that inspire me to keep doing this.

Thank God my oldest has her driver's license, although I can say that before that blessed event the only time I ever got called to pick up a child was from soccer practice, and that was because the coach ended it early. I was only two minutes away, for Heaven's sake.

Daisy, as soon as I get an agent and a new publisher, I'm calling you. The one with the license is going to college in 2007. And keep lookin', sweetie - there's another hottie for you out there somewhere.