how to write a novel blindfolded, while riding a horse backwards, through a lake, while eating a taco
Posted on March 10, 2010 - Filed Under writing
I love hearing writers talk about their process. I’ve heard many, many writers speak and I’m happy when someone asks the process question—it’s always so different! But I swear to chocolate, I have got to have one of the craziest novel-writing processes that I’ve ever heard of.
No outlining, very little prep, hardly an idea of what my topic is, maybe just a sentence or two of an idea, maybe an image of one or two scenes that would be fun to write, and that’s it. I start page one.
This is nuts! Do not do this!
Especially when you see how complex some of my plots end up being. Basically, I throw a bunch of stuff on the page, just pushing ahead until I get jammed up. Then I back up to the point it was last working (meaning, I still was excited by it, could still clearly see the scene I was working on, etc), trash everything after that point, and go off in a different direction. Then push ahead until I get jammed up again, etc, until I get to the end, maybe 50,000 words, maybe 100,000 words. Until I get to the end.
Then, the real work starts. I swear, those 100,000 words are just the clay on the wheel. The work of making the pot can’t start until all the clay is up there. I have no idea what I’ve got until I’ve got the whole thing.
It is at this point, the second draft, the I begin to find the plot. Not until now do I actually discover what the book is about. That’s right, I have no idea what it’s about until I’ve got a whole draft done. I start to notice repeating themes or subplots or cool side characters and bring those out. I cut sections that drag, sections that don’t fit the tone (the tone I didn’t know I was using until this point). I find the story in this mass of scenes I’ve written, cause and effect, the flow of what’s going on. By the end of that draft, the clay is starting to maybe, sort of, look like…something.
Then the fun starts. In the third draft, I start figuring out what’s really cool about whatever it is I’ve written. I mean, cool to me. The REAL story starts revealing itself. I love this part! Random stuff that I stuck in as filler suddenly gains all this meaning. I just keep brushing away the dirt and these sparkly goodies are revealed. (To me, anyway.) More stuff gets thrown out. More scenes get dialed in with the new awareness of what it’s all about. Layer upon layer, it becomes clear. But not until now. Up to this point, I was flying blind.
Last draft, typos, stupid sentences, blocking errors, cut and paste boo-boos. Etc.
Writing a novel is a lot of work! Writing a novel backasswards like this feels insane.
I hear about people who do all this work before the writing: outlining, world building, character sketches, polishing chapter by chapter, people who work out their work before they write it. Amazing. So organized! Honestly, there have been two times I tried outlining a novel and both times I never wrote the book. I kept working and working and the more I worked, the less I could actually write.
Writing a novel for me is all about faith. I have to believe the story is in there. I have to feel around in the dark for it, piece by little piece. Dive in, thrash around, throw stuff on the page, weed through it—how many metaphors can I cram into one blog post, I wonder? Shall we take bets?
I also wonder why it is that writing a novel must be done so differently by different writers. Altnerative brain wiring? Karma? DNA? Temperament?
But then I heard an interview with China Mieville the other day and he said this Most Awesome Thing EVER:
“…Rather than starting by thinking about it rationally, throw in something stupid and then rationalize it as seriously as you can afterwards.”
YES! That sums up my process PERFECTLY.
(And a Really Real Writer does it that way, too! So it must be okay.)
(As if I would stop if it wasn’t.)
(As if I could.)
tapas and a bit of intermediate
Posted on March 8, 2010 - Filed Under yoga
I wrote here about three things I didn’t (yet) get about ashtanga: driste, rolling over one’s toes, and tapas. Well, it turns out, they’re all related, so no wonder I was struggling.
First, the easy one. I figured out that toe-rolling and heat are linked. When I finally got strong enough to keep my knees off the mat for all the chaturangas and up dogs, I got warmer. Even the briefest of knee-touch-down on the floor for toe flipping decreased my temperature—like taking the lid off the pot, even for a second, lets out the heat. Even if I try to stay engaged, bandhas and muscles strong, that touchdown is an energy leak. So I stay up now. Not warm, but warmer.
Next, driste. I ran across Richard Freeman talking about this on his Studio Talks disk on driste. He says driste is “allowing your eyes to rest on a single point, externally or internally.” “The eyes are a particular manifestation of the brain. The movement and engagement of the eyes take the mind, very much, with them. Practically instantaneously—” and then THIS: “To allow the eyes and mind to rest on a single point creates, very quickly, tapas, or heat.” So there you go. Me and my chilly yoga, me and my wandering gaze. But check this, he also says, “Without tapas, you’ll simply be floundering…The engagement of the eyes creates heat or concentration of the mind, and it’s the concentration of the mind which actually makes the practice a yogic practice.”
Damn. I’m just doing gymnastics! Well, okay, that’s fine, I’ll get there. Doing yoga in a room with two little kids, plus maybe Spongebob or a video game, or both, means to be distracted, to answer questions, to change the channel, to stop to wipe someone’s bum or get someone a glass of juice. I don’t think I would be better off waiting to practice until I can practice uninterrupted. Tapas-less yoga it is for the time-being.
But now that I know this, I’ve started noticing the distinct feeling of drops of heat building, and then being lost, when my focus is lost. Like a bar filling on the bottom of a game screen. I can actually feel my temperature going up and down depending on my mental focus. This is so cool! Yoga works!
And, wow, my mental focus sucks.
Moving on. Intermediate.
In ashtanga, there are six series. Primary is the one I’ve been working on, duh, because it comes first. There is quite a mystery around Sixth, also called Advanced D, as, I think no one actually practices it (maybe Sharath does?). Basically, for you non-yoga folks, in ashtanga yoga, you do 10 sun salutation, then the standing poses, then [insert series here, primary, intermediate, advanced A, etc], and finally everyone does the Finishing Sequence. I love the finishing sequence. David Swenson says ashtanga is like a sandwich, with the surys and the standing poses the bread on one side, the finishing sequence the bread on the other side, and the series—primary, intermediate, etc—the sandwich filling in between.
Anyway, after six months of eating primary sandwiches, I’ve decided to nibble a few intermediate sandwiches. Here’s the reason: (1) I can’t add poses to the end of first (the traditional way to begin Intermediate is to start adding new postures, one at a time, to the end of the first series, until you have enough to split it into two again) because my kids can’t tolerate me practicing that long. (2) Rather than a longer form, what I really need is a shorter form for a couple of days a week when I don’t quite have time to do the whole thing (like on horseback riding days). And, (3) I’m trying to work up to backbending, even though my back is like concrete, and hey, the first eight or nine poses of intermediate are heavy in back-opening poses. So, boom, I figured could do the first eight or nine asana of Intermediate and get my short form, and my backbending prep, a couple times a week. Alakazam.
I did the whole Intermediate once, just for fun, using Swensen’s dvd, and it nearly killed me. In a good way. I mean, I can’t do 80% of the poses, just variations, but that was fine. I was still trembling by the end.
But, oddly, I can do the first 8 poses pretty well, including the usually tricky Pasasana 
even with my feet completely flat. Everyone gets a gimme pose, right? This one, apparently, is mine.
Next is Krounchasana 
, doable, as long as my leg is far away from my chest.
A pathetically low Shalabhasana 
A & B, is next, which feel like cracking cement: much needed.
Bhekasana next, which feels freaking fantastic. I do one leg at a time like this 
, then the traditional two leg version.
Followed by Dhanurasana 
, which for me is this wimpy, collapsed thing, a balloon with no air, but that’ll change. And don’t even get me started on the Parsva version where I flop like a rustled calf onto one side then the other. Hilarious.
Finally Ustrasana, 
my nemesis pose, which I do three times, once up on a high block, once on a low block, once pressing my sacrum with my hands. Maybe in a few months it won’t feel like I’m going to break when I do this. It feels desperately needed.
And that’s it for me for my intermediate filling, pretty skimpy, given what comes next in the series, but it feels great to get these backbends in.
I should add that about at this point, in the finishing postures, Sophie gets interested and comes to do her practice. She does a full backbend, then lies on her tummy and rests her head on the soles of her feet (backwards), while I do my limping, supported Urdhva’s. She does a handstand and a headstand while I do headstand against the wall (I can get off the wall, but I’m too scared to not have it there, just in case—she does not have this fear). Then she does full splits, both out to the side and front to back. And finally she does the three padmasanas of finishing with me, although I only do half lotus, and she does full. And she can actually lift herself off the floor in Utpluti 
. I have to leave one leg down. Sophie is a total yogini badass.
I’m not sure I understand the choice in current ashtanga training of keeping the Intermediate poses back until you are really awesome at Primary. They feel fantastic and just what my extremely stiff back wants. Kapotasana, forget about it. But since I know it’s going to take me years to get there anyway, I might as well start now with the prep poses.
Even if I have to wear a sweater.
luc-ism
Posted on March 7, 2010 - Filed Under kiddo life
Luc, 4, says: Mom, when your brain doesn’t have mad thoughts in it, then you’ll be able to think straight. So if you’re fighting with somebody, then the person who has the mad thoughts all cleared up from their brain will probably win. Right?
the shawshank redemption way of effectiveness training
Posted on March 5, 2010 - Filed Under mayalife, writing
If you haven’t seen The Shawshank Redemption, you really ought to netflix that puppy at your earliest convenience. If you’ve seen it, you’ll get what I mean. If you haven’t seen it, I’m not going to explain the title of this post because I don’t want to give any spoilers. Just go watch the movie and then come back here. I’ll wait.
The other day a friend asked me how I do it all. “All what?” I said because on my end it feels like I’m hardly accomplishing anything. She rolled her eyes. “Homeschool your kids, write a novel a year, run a small goat dairy, daily yoga practice, and that’s for starters.” It does sound kind of impressive put that way. I once heard Donna Jo Napoli speak—she puts me to shame in all areas, amazing published novels, professor, a bunch of kids—”how do you do it all?” she was asked and, nonplussed, she answered, “I do all of that, yes. And you can eat off my kitchen floor,” pause, “for a week. And not go hungry.”
Something’s got to give, right?
Aside from minimal cleaning, something I also subscribe too, routines help. For me, if I do a little every day, I get a lot more done over the long haul than if I try to do a lot, every now and then. No matter how big the goal, no matter how long the tunnel one has to dig to freedom, a little every day will get you there.
Is this too cliche for a blog post? But it really works! I’m serious! Any small amount, done daily, gets it done.
Also, if I ask myself what to do all day, the answers are usually watch some tv, read a book, hang with the kids, nothing bad, but novels don’t get written that way. Better to have part of the day where I don’t ask. Or where the answer has already been given.
Okay, I have fantasies where I’m one of those happy-go-lucky wild-childs, drifting from one adventure to the next, fearless and fascinating. But honestly, I would probably hate that. I’d be a bundle of anxiety about a million uncontrollable things, and there’s probably some mental illness in here somewhere, some seed of OCD or a path down which I could easily become a shut-in with twenty cats, because usually, I’d rather stay home. Sad truth: I like having the same thing for breakfast every day. To my great shame, in many ways, I’m really rather dull.
So, the routine at the moment makes me terrifically happy, because I love it, and because it helps me get a lot done. And it’s embarrassing, because it’s a routine, and because, well, it doesn’t include nearly enough housecleaning. Or any, really. Okay, maybe a little.
Here it is.
Get up at 5:30. I stall and fiddle but I’m writing by 6. My whole day is vastly improved, just by getting this one thing done first.
I do that until the kids come and get me, sometime around 7 or 8.
Next, I make breakfast for the crew. Coffee, hooray! Talk to Paul before he leaves. Do a load of dishes. Usually.
By 8:30, Sophie and I go out and milk the goats. Unless it’s just me, because she has decided it’s too cold, or too boring, or what’s on tv is too good. Chickens, cat, goats, milking, clean up the barn, put up the milk and eggs, clean out the milker. Get dressed—that’s right, I do barn work in my pajamas, so sue me—put in a load of laundry, some minimal grooming and…
…hit the yoga mat by 9:30.
That first surya namaskar is just divine. Sophie often does some art project, making a bracelet, painting, something like that, or maybe she and Luc watch some Scooby-doo or kill some Zombies. We chat a little while I do my yogi thing. I’m done by 11 most days. Which is good because we’re hungry again by then. So lunch, a bit early, but then the morning routine is done by noon.
After lunch, we go out. Outside, to the yard, to the forest, to the pond, or out to the store, park, library, museum, planetarium, horseback riding, aikido, whatever. Play. They don’t get much of me in the morning, so I give them as much of me as I can in the afternoon. We get home, play some more around here. Maybe a game, maybe a book, maybe we wander away from each other for a while.
Until we’re hungry again, time to feed people, time to milk goats again. Paul gets home, and I get my blessed twenty minutes by myself in the bath (thank you Paul!) and my new amazing discovery, tv in the tub! Hulu on my laptop, which sits (safely) on the table at the foot of our bathtub, it’s awesome, add a pomegranite martini, some bath salts, and a semi-dark room and I’ve got a half-dozen relaxation techniques going all at once, ahhhhh….
Then kid baths, a load of laundry, clean up the yurt a little, maybe, if I can still move, okay, probably not. Hang with Paul, that’s more fun. Then slide into bed. Another day, another homerun, another few steps in the right direction. Not thousands of words, just 1000. Not a heroic yogic effort, just today’s practice. Not all the laundry, just one load. But do it every day.
But here’s the thing about routines: the minute I get comfortable in one, it changes. A kid starts sleeping at a different time. A kid starts NOT sleeping at a different time. A class, an activity, somethings changes. I’ve had this routine going for a while now, so I know its half-life is approaching, spring is coming on, and then summer, it will all probably morph i.e.fall apart, any minute now. Which is fine. There’s always the next routine.
But this one is a groove I’m enjoying right now, and it does help me keep moving on my long term projects, even if it isn’t a whole lot of movement on any one day. It adds up. It does. That’s how I do it all. One pocketful of crushed rock at a time.
playable art
Posted on March 3, 2010 - Filed Under geeklife, reviews
We’ve been digging around the internet lately for some new games. Because, holy cow, will this cold weather ever stop? 80% chance of snow AGAIN today. We’ve been hunkered down in the yurt for what seems like forever, and immersing ourselves in the fabulous art of a new game has been a great way to get a vacation from the stir crazies. And by art, I mean ART. Some of these games are simply gorgeous.
Samorost is a regrettably short, rich, quirky, funny, surprising, flash (meaning you play it on the web for free) game. The kids and I spent an enjoyable hour or so playing it yesterday. It’s a point and click adventure game where you’re trying to change the course of one living space-ship, to keep it from plowing into another. More than the plot, however, Samorost is a mysterious and cool world with funny puzzles to solve. I see that there is a Samorost 2. Something for us to look forward to!
Samorost is by the creator of Machinarium, a more recent game that is amazing to look at. Here’s a shot from that one:
The art begs for long looks—which is good, because I tend to stay on one screen for a long time. I wouldn’t say that Machinarium is a great game to play with little kids—too hard—but it is fun to explore with them, walkthrough by one’s side. I am not above judicious use of a good walkthrough! It’s cool to see how the artist’s style carries forward and deepens in the progression of his games. Just as it is with an artist who hangs his work on a gallery wall.
Hanamushi: Flower Insects—This is another gorgeous, creepy and cute, puzzle game, that the kids and I found and spent a goodly time fooling around with. We figured out about half the puzzles on our own, but needed some hints for several of them. The quirky, weird art and creepy, but somehow friendly, characters kept us going until we all were hungry and had to pee. You know you’re engaged when you forget your bodily functions! We just really wanted to see what the next area would look like! There are also some strange-in-a-good-way youtubes from the artist you can watch, as well as an art gallery, but mostly we played the puzzles and talked about the pictures, making up explanations for their odd behavior. A great afternoon. Improved by snacks.
Sushi Cat —Compared to the previous mentally challenging puzzlers, this game is pure fun. Basically, you drop a gelatinous fat cat from a pair of chopsticks down through a pachinko sort of arrangement of adorable sushi. The cat eats, the cat becomes fatter—what can I tell you? It’s fun! And the incredibly cute, smiling sushi, done in anime style, make me want to eat a couple of trays of the stuff.
Flow —There are a bunch of these games where you are some kind of critter and you go around in a liquid-like medium, eating everything smaller than you, and growing. Tasty Planet is a funny one. Spore is a big ticket one. Flow is a flash version with intriguingly simple, yet beautiful graphics. Fun for a bit, and when you’re done with that one try…
Osmos — This one is a combo eat-and-grow-big game and a puzzler with simply gorgeous graphics and lovely music. The big thing here, though is a complex physics that involves momentum gained through loss of self-substance…that is, the more/faster you go, the smaller you get—and the more you push things with your jet stream. But the smaller you get, the fewer pretty orb-thingies there are that you can eat. Quite a balancing act—it makes you think. Very cool to watch the kids work these screens out. (We got our copy through Steam.)
I’ve noticed that playing puzzlers has been working on our brains. They cultivate a way of thinking, a willingness to problem solve by trying any weird combination of things drawn from what you have on hand—a flexibility in the application of solutions. Sideways thinking. I hear people saying “video games rot your brain,” but I don’t think those people are actually playing them. Maybe they are still thinking of games as they were twenty years ago, pixelated blips. Today’s games teach you how to think. I really believe that.
The other day I was milking the goats and Mochi, our cat, kept bugging the goat in the milking stand—she really wanted some milk—so I asked Sophie if she could get Mochi out of there. Sophie carried Mochi out, but Mo ran back in. Sophie carried Mo out and closed the barn door. Mo darted back in under the barn door. Sophie carried Mo out, closed the barn door and put the feed container in front of the crack. Mo wiggled around it. Sophie opened the feed container, got out a handful of food, and fed it to Mochi, one piece at a time, stalling her until I could finish the milking. It worked! Level cleared! I gave Mochi some fresh milk, and Sophie and I went in to the next screen, I mean, next activity. But I was impressed with how Sophie stayed with it, trying this solution and when that didn’t work, trying another. She never got mad at Mochi, just kept trying a new solution. Maybe if you do it this way? Maybe if I use the [object] upside down? Maybe if I…?
I started my game-life playing a pixelated Jumpman on my Commodore 64.
I loved Jumpman. I know, I’m a dinosaur!
But games have grown up, too. They’ve become beautiful, when they want to be. Art in every sense of the word. Art that makes me think.
podiobooks anyone?
Posted on February 28, 2010 - Filed Under geeklife, writing
In other news, I’m thinking about podcasting one of my novels. Just for fun. Although today I’ve been in and out of the tech-world, trying to fix my blog editor problem—turns out it’s a bug in the PHP my host uses, whatever the fuck that means, so I can’t fix it anyway, they have to—which doesn’t make the idea of another tech project seem so shiny. But that will pass. And I’ve been turning around the pod-novel idea for about a year now. My how time flies when you’re doing other things!
audiobook + podcast = podiobook
Basically, I would create an mp3 recording of me, reading one of my books, a chapter at a time, and then post the chapters/episodes up for podcatchers everywhere to download and enjoy. A bit of tech-learning-curve and I’d have to buy a mic. But it would be cool to have some listeners, and maybe some comments. I’ve got no ulterior motives beyond that, as in, “Podcasting, the path to fame and riches!” Oh, yeah. But, as my various manuscripts wind their way through the dungeons and towers of the publishing world, in the meantime, maybe I could do this podiobook thing, have some fun, and maybe find a few readers, er, I mean listeners. Maybe.
Anyway, I’m in the Research stages at the moment, we’ll see if I move into the Taking Action stages.
Because, when would I do this? In the middle of the night? But here’s the thing: I woke up from a dream the other day where I was certain this was The Thing To Do. Do I dare ignore such a dream?
(It’s all probably a distraction from beginning Draft Three of the current novel in progress which is finally, finally, shaping up into something I find kinda cool. But the twist it took to get there is hard. I mean, hard for me to write. So I’m flailing a bit. Which is fine, that’s how it goes, I can flail. I’m an excellent flailer.)
If I do decide to do it, podcast a novel, I’m thinking the semi-trashy vampire novel of last year. Plenty of action seems like a good plan in a serialized format such as a podiobook. But here’s the Other thing: would I be able to read the sex scenes out loud without cracking up?
Doubtful.
Update: When Evo Terra, one of the founders of podiobooks.com and coiner of the phrase, left me a comment on this post today, I realized I had neglected to do the obvious, which was link to podiobooks.com, the biggest hub of serialized podcasted novels on the web. Duh. Thanks for stopping by, Evo!
trying out qumana
Posted on February 28, 2010 - Filed Under geeklife
pYet another blog editor trial. Blah blah blah./p
pimg height=”916″ style=”margin: 5px” width=”400″ alt=”" src=”http://mayalassiter.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/wizard-luc1.jpg” //p
pThere’s Wizard Luc. Let’s try Witch Sophie…./p
pimg height=”300″ style=”margin: 5px” width=”400″ alt=”" src=”http://mayalassiter.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/sophie-witch.jpg” //p
pNow the moment of truth. Publishing./p
p/p
p style=”color:#008;text-align:right;”/p
still broke
Posted on February 28, 2010 - Filed Under uncategorized
Well, that didn’t go so well.
This sucks! If I’m understanding correctly, there is some bug that removes the < and leaves all the html in the post.
ARG!!!!!
I’m going outside now.
trying out blogo
Posted on February 28, 2010 - Filed Under uncategorized
p style=”clear: both”>p style=”clear: both”Okay, I’m trying another blog editor a quick try before my kids and husband kill me. It is SO HARD not to be a grump monster when I’m frustrated by tech things. My poor family. /p>p style=”clear: both”>Now I strongwill/strong utry/u emsome/em ssettings/s./pp style=”clear: both”So far, so good. /p>p style=”clear: both”>How about our Wizard Luc photo?/pp style=”clear: both”a href=”http://mayalassiter.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/wizardem>luc-full.jpg” class=”image-link”img class=”linked-to-original” src=”http://mayalassiter.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/wizard/em>luc-thumb.jpg” height=”570″ align=”left” width=”250″ style=” display: inline; float: left; margin: 0 10px 10px 0;” //abr style=”clear: both” //p>p style=”clear: both”>Huh. You can’t see the photo in the text pane, just this picture of a camera, but you see a little thumbnail in the lower right. Better than on a different window, but why not right here in this window?/pp style=”clear: both”/p>p style=”clear: both”>Well, anyway, now I will try posting./pp style=”clear: both”/pbr class=”final-break” style=”clear: both” //p>br class=”final-break” style=”clear: both” />
trying out marsedit
Posted on February 28, 2010 - Filed Under geeklife
The sad fact is that fixing ecto is probably not going to happen. I think wordpress 2.9 broke it. But too, late, I’ve gone and upgraded. If I’d known ecto would break, I would have bided my time in wordpress 2.8.x until they fixed it. I hope they plan to fix it.
As a stopgap, I’m trying out a new blog writer, Marsedit.
A test photo.
Here we see the mysterious Wizard Luc blowing Ginormous Bubbles. Or trying, anyway. That spell has always been tricky.
img src=”http://mayalassiter.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/wizard-luc1.jpg” alt=”wizard luc.jpg” border=”0″ width=”400″ height=”916″ align=”left” /
Hmmm. That didn’t work. Who wants to look at all that gobblydeegook? And I don’t like how you can’t just stick the photos in the typing window, why does it have to be on a separate ‘preview’ page? The cool thing about ecto is you can put the pictures right in the page you’re typing on, move them around, write from the photos. This way, I don’t know, it’s awkward.
And anyway, I have no idea how to get it to show the image and not the img src stuff. I’ll poke around another few minutes, but if the answer doesn’t reveal itself soon, Marsedit trial may be abandoned. Tech is so awesome when it works and so annoying when it doesn’t.
keep looking »
