Becky Levine

The winner in last week’s giveway of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide is…

Joyce Moyer Hostetter!

Joyce, I know I SHOULD have your address, but I’ve been so good about cleaning out my inbox lately, it’s gone! Can you email me at beckylevine at ymail dot com and give it to me again. And I’ll get a copy of the book out to you.

From Thursday to Sunday, I had extra time. Time while my son was in Anaheim, totally kicking it with the rest of his jazz band, the symphonic band, the string orchestra, and the choir–who all placed in their competitions. So much so that their high school took home the school award for the whole shebang.

We temporarily interrupt our regular programming to bring you a Mom moment.

Anyway….the thing about having your kid away for a few days AND knowing it’s pretty good odds he’s having a fantastic time, is that you are free to enjoy YOUR time. There’s something about unscheduled days that–even if you spend time sleeping in, time doodling around Facebook, time shopping and eating and movie-ing with your husband–makes it feel like you have so many more hours to spend…writing.

I sat with my historical novel this weekend. I worked through just one-and-a-half of the worksheets in Maass’ Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook, but I went deeper into those worksheets than I have a in a long, long time. I had Scrivener open the whole time, because scene ideas were popping up all over the place, along with connections between different character arcs and various plotlines. Ideas came to me when I wasn’t at the computer, which–honestly–just doesn’t happen to me as much as I’d like.

What did it all do for me? Well, yes, it brought me back to the love state with this WIP.

It reminded me what being relaxed and recharged is really about.

And it brought me back to a stronger level of commitment to this story and, frankly, to my writing.

To putting that butt into the chair and to showing up. Not necessarily to scheduling an hour here and an hour there, or to stressing myself out if that hour doesn’t happen, but to wanting to step into this world of words and hang out. And being open to seeing what comes from it.

Okay, honestly, I’m not all that impressed by the “success” record of my Monday-Map posts. Last week, I tried being flexible with myself and, yes, I was less stressed, but I also got almost nothing done on my writing. Other things, sure. Writing…meh.

I’m going to say that I was gathering inspiration. Some of that was in reading a couple of brilliantly written books: Dana Stabenow’s latest Kate Shugak mystery, Restless in the Grave and John Green’s The Fault in our Stars. Some  more was going up to Books Inc in Burlingame for a NYMBC (Not Your Mother’s Book Club) signing with Robin LaFevers (Grave Mercy) and Barry Lyga (I Hunt Killers).  Robin said something (as usual!) that really struck a chord for me: that she sometimes starts writing a book with a lie–the lie, to herself, that nobody else is going to read this book, that she’s writing it only for herself. This frees her up, obviously, to play with new ideas, but it also lets her push some limits that she might keep herself back from, if she let herself accept that the story would have a wider audience. Something in me feels like I need to get back to this place–back to what I love about my historical fiction’s MC, about what I want her to be.

This week, I’ve got some free hours. And the map thing? Well, I’m shifting directions, pulling what my GPS navigational voice calls “a legal u-turn.” The one thing I did get done last week was that I sent the two most recent versions of my picture book off to my critique group. I was feeling muddled, lost about which way I should be doing. I knew there were some big differences between the two drafts, and I was feeling like I couldn’t look at them straight, see whether one was better than the other, or whether I should be merging them both into something new…again. Lo and behold, my critique group loved the newest version and just had a few things to say about that.

So this week, I go back to being a picture-book writer and reviser. I’ve got a chunk of hours free tomorrow and later in the week, and I’m going to dump out a draft of one story that’s been calling to me (and being way too patient with being ignored), and then I’m going to put some more time into revising the first picture book. Goal? Get it back to the critique group for the next meeting for the next pass.

As to these posts: they may stay, they may go. I guess I’ll see next Monday!

Even as I typed that header, my brain was arguing: How can you go any slower than you already are? This book is taking forever.

Breathe.

Years ago, my son made this turtle for me.

You probably recognize him. Yes, he’s that little turtle that won the race. My son made him one of those (other) times when I was feeling like my writing work was going to slow, like I was never going to cross the finish line, let alone get there ahead of that hare.

My question for today is: What race? Personally, I think the turtle had a secret– he wasn’t in a race. He was just doing his thing, putting in the time and keeping the pace real, and…getting there. Oh, he beat the hare? Yeah, but you know, that wasn’t about anything the turtle did. He didn’t change his attitude or his behavior….he walked his walk and didn’t worry about what the hare was doing.

I think I forgot about that truth this past week. I started feeling the need to race again, and the feeling like there was no way I could win, and guess what? I turned into the hare. I stepped off the track and didn’t get much done. On any of my projects.

This week, back to the turtle. I got into the right pace on Saturday, just putting in steady, relaxed time at my computer, working toward a deadline. And, yeah, I got so much done. And then on Sunday, I took the day off: drove up to San Francisco airport to have breakfast with my sisters (one of whom was flying through), and then down to Great America to spend the afternoon strolling around with my husband and then attending an awards ceremony for my son’s Science Fair.

Yes, I said strolling. At an amusement park. Rides? Nope. My husband’s ribs are still healing from that bike crash, so for us, roller coasters were out. My son went off with a friend and did all the rides where you go upside down, get drenched, and try not to throw up. (Oh, wait, that would be me.) My husband and I strolled. Normally, this would have driven both of us crazy. But here’s the thing. It didn’t. Okay, yes, we needed a cup of coffee to get into the mood, but the sky was blue, and the park wasn’t crowded, and we sat in the sun and talked about work and house projects and what we want to do with our time when our son goes down to Disneyland for a jazz festival. We ate fried food and soft-serve ice cream. We walked. And then we sat for two hours in a theater watching hundreds of kids get called up on stage to win their science awards.

We did this all calmly, happily, and without feeling like we were losing the race. My guess? We needed a day like that. Who knew?

Okay, yes, I probably knew. There was a reason my son made me that turtle all those years ago. There’s also a reason I keep the turtle around–obviously, I need a reminder every now and then.

So, at least for this week, I’m not calendering things, I’m not allotting hours here and there, I’m not getting fixated on any finish lines. I’m putting my relaxed butt in the chair, and I’m channeling the turtle. And I’m not going to worry about what that hare is doing.