The joy of writing

I rolled up my sleeves and got back to work today. As some of you know, I've put the theological book on hold and have gone back to the political novel. It just feels right, especially since book one, The Devil You Don't Know, is kind of languishing in query land right now.

I've made a deal with myself. I'm going to finish this current book by the end of the year -- a timetable I find very reachable considering how well it's going. I already have 15k done and blasted out about a thousand more today.

Meanwhile, I'm going to continue to fine tune TDYDK based on any feedback I get from betas. I also plan on sending out a handful of queries each week and retooling the query itself based on the types of rejections I'm getting. Who knows? Maybe lightning will strike and an agent will be interested. If so, great. If not, well then, I'll consider the book my learner's book and move on. I suspect very few writers actually get the first manuscript they write published. And while the money grows tighter each day, I've decided to press on.

I really like this new book. It's a completely different direction from the previous one and I actually enjoy writing it. I know this sounds weird, but when I think of the first book, I see the colors black and blue in my mind's eye. When I think of this one, I see orange and yellow. It's just not as depressing a book, despite some nasty violence and some big-time suspense.

I'm also curious about your writing schedules (for you writers out there). I decided to get up much earlier, hitting the gym by 6 or so and getting home by 8 to begin writing. I'm not sure why, but it just sounded like a good thing to do. But I'm so frigging exhausted right now that I'm having second thoughts.

For many years, while I was working at the newspaper, I had to be at work before 8 a.m. I got up every morning at 4:30 (yes, you read that correctly!) and headed for the gym, which opens at 5 on weekdays. I'd get home by 7 and be out the door a few minutes later. I lived this way for many years.

But when I left the paper, I discovered the joys of late-night television. From Scrubs to Letterman to Craig Ferguson, I'm usually not asleep until 12:30 or 1 a.m. I get up a little before 7, have a couple cups of coffee, watch Morning Joe on MSNBC and spend some time with the wife and kids before we all leave the house about 8:15. This gets me home about 10:30. I cook and eat brunch, read for an hour or so and write in the afternoons.

I usually only write during the week, although I've been known to work on Sunday evenings. I know there are writers out there who swear you have to write every day if you're going to be a real writer. But I really like to keep weekends for myself and my family.

Now this has served me well, but I can't shake the feeling that I might be more efficient if I wrote in the mornings and goofed off in the afternoons (you know, when the Cubs are usually on television).

So tell me, what's your writing routine? When do you write and for how long each day? Do you write on weekends, or just on weekdays?

My writing life

Today, I bravely brushed aside my horrific, mind-boggling fears and deeply felt insecurities and tore wildly into the massive manuscript -- rewriting, polishing and killing adverbs and adjectives as savagely as a wild-eyed barbarian with a razor-sharp, two-foot sword.

Ahem.

I also thought I'd use this snowy Monday to tell you a bit about my daily routine and my writing space. For some reason, all writers are utterly obsessed with other writer's routines and workspaces. I'm not sure why, but then I also don't know why dogs sniff each other's butts. So what do I know?

My weekdays follow a pretty rigid routine. I wake up about 7 a.m. and watch Morning Joe on MSNBC while gulping down coffee in bed. I get really grumpy if I don't get my daily dose of Mika, Joe and Willy, et al. When Wife and Child leave for work and school at about 8:20, I head off to the gym for an hour long workout followed by an equally long and relaxing steam and a cool, invigorating shower. It's both heaven and hell. The workout, of course, is the hell part.

I arrive home at about 10:15 and make breakfast. Since I stay on a very low-carb diet, it usually consists of an Egg Beaters omelet with cheese and onions, along with three slices of turkey bacon. And a small glass of one-percent milk. I read the newspaper after breakfast and then spend about thirty minutes reading the dictionary. That's right. The dictionary. Everyday. It's the only way I know to beef up my vocabulary. I find it oddly relaxing. And yes, I take notes. God, I've become such a geek. I also try to get at least an hour's worth of reading for enjoyment in each day (usually at night; more on weekends) since all writers must read. It's like a rule or something. And I'm just about finished with Stephen King's massive Under The Dome, which I plan to review on this blog, perhaps later this week or on Sunday.

Hey. You still with me? Good. Hang in there. There's some writing and editing coming up. I promise.

After breakfast, usually around 11, I head downstairs to the study where my work space is located. I fire up the computer and the little fireplace (in winter) and do an initial online visit to check e-mails, blogs, news stories, Twitter, Facebook, etc. I try to keep it to thirty minutes, tops.

Around 11:30, I pour myself a big mug of Starbucks, clip a nice cigar and get to work. I then work solidly until about 5 or 5:30, when the Wife and Child get home. Since I generally make dinner, I'll get that in the oven if it's something that requires baking (and it usually does). We eat a lot of baked chicken breasts. I'm getting very tired of baked chicken breasts, but that's a whole other post.

I don't turn on the study television set, nor do I listen to music when I write or edit. I know some do, but it's too distracting for me. I do, however, listen to music when I brainstorm. And I generally crank it up real LOUD. I set aside Fridays for more outwardly pursuits (like seeing other people for lunch, hanging out at coffee shops and things like that), although I seem to end up working more often than not. It's very easy for me to isolate myself to the point that I am no longer in touch with the world I'm trying to write about. That's not a good thing.

I reserve evenings for family, reading, computer time, sports and cable news shows, although I do work Sunday nights (and blog, as well), since the wife works nights on Sundays and the Child and I get bored once football is over.

Saturdays are freebies. Once my gym time is over, I do whatever the hell I want. So there.

And that's my life. Looking at it in black and white (or tan, since that's the color of my blog), it ain't much. But it makes me happy and it allows me the time I require to write, edit and pursue my dreams. And in the end, isn't that what matters most?

Starting things off with a BANG

My word count for today was a shade over a thousand, about average for me. While they weren't great words, they were pretty good. Acceptable. I'll polish them tomorrow until they are all bright and shiny. Either that, or I'll kill 'em and start over. My problem today? I was winding down a very intense opening chapter. See, the new book (unnamed so far; cast your vote below!) opens with a bang. It drops you, the reader, into the midst of a suspenseful and horrifying situation and then, well, rubs your face in it.

God, it was fun to write.

My previous book, THE DEVIL YOU DON'T KNOW, opened a bit more sedately (see its prologue posted Dec. 17). I intentionally sought to create more of a moody, eerie feeling, as though something just isn't quite right. Then it pretty much goes into a straight narrative, telling the story from start to finish. Eventually, the reader discovers exactly what it was that happened during the prologue -- one of those ohhhh moments I so dearly love.

Meanwhile, I'm waiting for a call from the book editor who is finishing up her edits on DEVIL. I am terrified. What if she hates it? What if the plot doesn't hold up? What if the characters are cardboard and the story structure falls apart after Chapter 4?

My God, what if the whole thing just sucks?

Crap. I should have stayed at the damned newspaper! Arrrggggggg!!!!!

(Breathing deeply)

Ok. I'm fine now. Nothing a little coffee and my third cigar of the day won't cure.

A haze of creativity

Well, I stayed up until 3:30 a.m. today in the throes of mapping out my new novel. I'm not sure why I go into these almost manic phases of creativity, but I do. And it seems to be effective.

A few days ago, I had a very general idea for my next book--a spark of an idea if you will. It's a return to the theological thriller genre of my first book. But a general idea does not a completed manuscript make! So I put on the mp3 player (music is essential to my creativity process), cranked up the tunes and thought the story through. And through. And through. Ad nauseum.

It started coming to me in large chunks yesterday while working out at the gym. And it kept coming off and on throughout a fairly eventful day (our 12-year-son broke his foot at a snowball fight. Go figure).

For some reason, this is how I create. The idea comes to me in the form of a daydream and I spend the next few days feverishly taking notes from my own thoughts and committing them to paper so I don't forget them. Of course, the story continues to change and grow right up until I type "The End." And sometimes, even beyond that.

At 2:20 this morning, the ending finally came to me in a thick haze of cigar smoke with REM pounding in my ears. And what an ending! Man, I love it.

So I wrote it all down in my pretentious little Moleskine notebook. (Hemingway used one, you know!)

The book idea is big, deep, sexy, scary and damned exciting. It's going to take every ounce of any talent I might possess to pull off. But damn, I'm looking forward to trying.

I am a "seat-of-the-pantser" when it comes to writing, meaning I don't really work from a formal outline. Sure, I do several outlines, but when I write, the story just goes off to where it's going and I seem to have very little control over it. Sounds weird, I know. But my characters seem to think for themselves once I start writing.

I suspect that, when it comes to fiction writing, that's a good thing. (Or it means I'm truly insane.)

I'm going to continue laying the groundwork this week and hope to start writing in earnest next week (although I admit I do have the first few paragraphs already done).

While I'm not ready yet to disclose exactly what the book is about (ooohhhh, a secret), I will keep you updated on my progress. Of course, I have a month's worth of editing and revision on my completed novel coming up soon, so that will untrack me a bit.

Happy New Year!

UPDATE: Crap. I'm so wiped out today that I forgot to wish my 12-year-old son, Brennan, a Happy Birthday! The poor kid broke his foot yesterday and is spending his birthday creeping around on the smallest pair of crutches you've ever seen! They are so cute. ;)

Oh, and he can't wait for school to resume on Monday so he can tell his friends all about his horrid injury. He might even tell a girl or two ...

Anyway, happy birthday Buddy. I love you. Dad.