first draft summer

my newly acquired from
clothing swap, very tiny, thinking cap.

how many times in life do we begin something completely new?

maybe you move twenty times? you start only a handful of long term romantic relationships. you begin what, two dozen new jobs? over the course of a lifetime this isn't much. the biggest change - having kids - most of us only do 2.5 times. marriage? about the same. (oh my gosh, i'm kidding!)

maybe that's why change is so hard. the monumental fresh starts only come our way every so often.

if you're a writer, embarking on a new manuscript is no less epic. i will probably write around thirty books in my lifetime. still, embarking on a new one always comes as a surprise. first it's a spark of an idea, then a few words on the page. that one page quickly turns into twenty. it's around the fiftieth you know you have something. and it's right around then that you begin having commitment issues.

it's exactly like starting a new relationship. at first, it's golden. you love your new work. it can do no wrong. neither can you. imagine prairies with flowers, the two of you skipping through it. now imagine at page fifty you hear your manuscript use the bathroom for the first time.

no seriously. and i'm not talking peepee. i know you've had that moment, when you hear those noises and you think, wow. this must be serious. and suddenly you worry if you've made a good match. where this is going. if you actually want to be in this relationship (though very clearly you are).

if you're at all like me, when this happens, you call up a girlfriend and blather until you start to hear what an idiot you sound like. in my case, the girlfriend was Lauren Morrill.

Meant to Be on sale November 13!
woot!

Lauren and i met last year around this time through this very blog. and thanks to BEA, we met in person two weeks ago. lunch turned into wandering nyc, turned into coffee, turned into sitting in the park watching a hawk eat things, turned into folk singers arriving and Lauren and i fleeing. and through it all, there was constant gabbing.

somewhere in the middle of gabbing about books, writing styles, movies, boston, new york, we came up with the idea to embark on another new beginning together -- First Draft Summer.

two ladies. two ideas. two lightly begun manuscripts. one summer to finish a first draft. GO!

because here's the other thing about new beginnings. at first it's amazing, but sooner than later, you want to get it over. the: yay! we're moving to a new apartment! quickly turns into why aren't these frickin' boxes unpacked? the: omg i had a baby! turns into: why aren't you five and able to speak and do things on your own yet (or you know, so i've heard). the: i could listen to this man talk for a lifetime, turns into honey, hurry up and finish your damn story (which you've already told me...twice) and let's figure out what's for dinner.

same with a new novel. at first it's wonderful, but no sooner is it begun than you wish someone could rip it out of your head and smack it down whole on the page and let you work with the bloody mess from there. because while it can be fun tripping upon plot elements as you're walking down the street, it's less fun trying to make them happen while your brain is fuzzy from too much coffee or knowing that this is the next scene you need to write: Two Girls Talk About the Drama, but that it will take you roughly two days to get the five pages down with quality dialogue, place and physical descriptors and forward moving plot.

yup. thus was created First Draft Summer.

join us! (because aren't i making it sound like fun?) for Lauren and me it means we're emailing each other pages once or twice a week to keep up the motivation. but your First Draft Summer can look like anything.

the question is, what do you want to bring into creation?

a new recipe? a new trip to a new beach, (i wrote new not nude, but ZaZing! that could be a fun first.) either way, grab a friend and create something this summer! and then check back in and let me know how it goes.

another great friend once told me, we only get one little life.

so why not fill it with lots of fresh starts?

fifty DING DING DINGs and some grey

so i'm reading Fifty Shades of Grey. don't ask me why i'm doing this. no, wait. actually, please do ask me why, so that i might ease my conscience by explaining.

a friend at work passed it along to me. she said it was hysterical and smutty. for me, it's like reading the first Twilight book. i know in advance i won't like it, but it's something of a cultural phenomena, and who likes feeling left out?

that's one of the great things about books. if you hate them, you don't have to read the entire thing. i'm about seventy-five pages in. and judging by the sales figures, i probably don't have to tell you that, yes, it is one enormously sex-filled book, because it's probably already on your nightstand.

granted, i'm not at all familiar with the sex-book genre, but i'm assuming there's other titles out there like this? maybe? no? anyone? why this one is special from those and has sold whatever-million copies, i don't know. i don't really care. what gets me about the book, are all the italics.

it almost reads like a YA novel. (which is creepy). imagine if you will, a scene in a bedroom where lots of sexy stuff is happening, and the main character whispers to the heroine, "I want to kiss your face off." *this is a PG blog* the heroine's ensuing interior monologue goes something like this:

"He wants to kiss my face off?! Holy sh*t!"

EVERY frickin' TIME. i'm skimming the book as is, but i'm trying to let my eyes bounce over the italic parts. because you know what an italic, "Yow!" does in the midst of some sexy banter? it not only makes it really annoying and even less sexy, it's all my eyes see.

sexy scene sexy scene sexy scene. No frickin' way. sexy scene sexy scene. Holy crap. sexy scene sexy scene sexy scene Ugh. sexy scene sexy scene. Holy cow.

really? he has a room filled with all kinds of, um, stuff and the voice in your head says: Holy cow?

the internal voice in my head has begun shouting the italics in old skool Batman speak. every time i read one, i'm mentally turning it into BLAMMO! ZING! ZOWEY! which actually makes it more fun.

i probably won't give Fifty Shades more than another twenty pages. i was hoping for a fun read. something to curl up at night with, one of those guilty pleasure books you can't wait to get home to. instead it feels like homework. my eyes keep going to the library copy of The Man Who Ate Everything that's sitting open on my nightstand.

food writing. that's my guilty pleasure reading. clearly, i'm just not KABOOM enough for Fifty Shades. or maybe Fifty Shades of Grey is KABOOM enough for me.

SHAZAM!