How many drafts is really enough?

How long is a piece of string?

I look at my manuscript, The Mediterranean Source, with a bit of uncertainty at the moment. A book that has been years in the making, and just recently, has had some pretty serious rewriting done on it. Admittedly, the rewriting has made it a lot stronger… but it needs more.

I have had some really awesome and solid feedback from three trusted sources on this book after the last major revision… and now that I look at that feedback – I just have no idea where to start. In early January when it was relatively quiet in the office since only about ten staff had returned to work after the Christmas break – I managed to map out some crucial changes that needed to happen to this book. And where on earth I put those notes – I have absolutely NO idea.

For the life of me, I cannot remember what on earth I wrote in those notes either. (Thank you very much Babybrain!) However… What I had mapped out initially was a damn good start to the next lot of revisions that I wanted to get done on this novel.

How many drafts has TMS gone through? I have no idea. Seriously.I think that a part of me wants this book to be perfect in every possible way before I release it out to the masses for their opinions. But in saying that – I am afraid that if I don’t perfect the damn thing, then no one will want to read it – publishers included.

So why do I keep throwing it back into draft and not releasing it out to the world? Essentially, I think it’s because with each passing day, week, month, and year – I learn to see more and more fault with it. I seem to be stuck in this vicious little cycle. I want this book to be perfect, so I will just keep rewriting, revising, and editing it.

I don’t want this manuscript to be another big piece of work that I have done only to be thrown back in the musty old literary drawer. I think that it deserves more than that! So much time and research went into writing the damn thing, that I just don’t think I can file it away for the rest of my life. Action thrillers are what I want to be known for as a writer.

So far I have quite a few complete and incomplete manuscripts that are all sitting in that dark drawer… Many that I seriously need to finish up, and start the edits on them. They are good ideas. They have great plots and little thrills. But they aren’t ready – and for some unknown reason, I seem to be mentally unready to start tackling the pile. A while back I printed all of them out and bound them together to start making my way through. Perhaps this will be one of the onerous tasks that I try and complete while I’m on maternity leave. To read each one and allocate it to the priority list.

You never know what sort of gold I might stumble upon. Who knows – with some of it – it may be cast aside forever, but the ideas could be recycled into new work.

Those are options that are definitely worth considering. In the meantime – I’m going to go back to the drawing board of The Mediterranean Source, and see what I can do with it, and where I should marking my thick red pen all over it. After this round, I’m not sure I can do this process all over again with this book… So I had better make it worth my while.

 

My happy place – a parallel reality

I think that most creative people need to enter a special headspace in order to get those creative juices flowing happily away. To the ‘uncreative’ person, this can seem like an eccentric trait that creative people carry. I like to think of it as a different parallel reality.

After all, we are all living and sharing the same Earth, it’s just that some of us have tapped into an alternative universe. For many years, I refused to believe that there were actually people out there that didn’t have an imagination. I have a friend who claims she doesn’t have a creative bone in her body, but yet every now and then she come out with the most profound innovative idea that she should really start selling them, and retaining the rights. I can’t tell you what any of these amazing ideas are, or else she would kill me – but let’s just say that they would make everyday life a little easier. But other than these innovative ideas, she is very much straight up and down with no lateral thinking sideways movements.

Amazingly, in a sense I tend to agree with people who believe they don’t have an imagination. They don’t have an ‘active’ imagination that they tap into and draw ideas from. These people are sort of like droids in a sense. They do what they are told, they work within their boundaries, and they never ever ‘think’ beyond their sense of control. (E.g. wake up at 7am, have shower, get dressed, catch the same train to work every day, walk in through the office door at 8.29am, sit down at their desk all day, eat their pre-packed lunch, leaving office at 5pm, catching the same train home again, sit down and watch the news while their prepacked dinner is cooking in the microwave, and go to bed by 9pm. On Friday nights they deviate from the daily plan and have a beer after work. If they are feeling really rebellious, they may have a few more, pick up some drunk chick for a one night stand, and then relive those moment of life deviation for the next week.) Seriously. I actually know people like that. I’m not joking.

Then there are people like me and my creative peers who don’t mind pottering about at home, delving into one’s own mind. They don’t mind reading books, or watching movies. Good sociable occasions provide amazing fodder for our imaginations, so socially it’s good to be with people who make us laugh and tell us their own life stories. We build layers upon layers of information. We re-weave new stories with old ones to create unique situations.

For me, there is nothing quite as invigorating as a really good writing session. I feel as though I have just done a load of exercise, and I have endorphins streaming through me, electrifying every sense within me. I’m not kidding. When I get on a roll, this is my happy place. No one can interrupt it.

Once upon a time, I used to catch the train for an hour to and from work. Within that hour long stretch, amongst all the vibrations, rocking, constant stopping, and people movement – I could crank out 1200-1500 words.  I would plug in my headphones and play my book’s soundtrack that I had put together, and just write. Some days the writing would be rubbish, but other days it was golden. But the consistency of the train helped me sync into my writing groove.

Another place that I loved to write was in Cafés. Yes, I took a leaf out of JK Rowling’s ‘how to’ manual with that idea.  I thought, ‘If she can do it, then I want to try’. And so I did. And amazingly – it works for me. There are those writers out there who can only write in a deathly silent room, and be absolutely alone with their thoughts. There are others like me, who need constant noise – whether it’s just background noise, or soundtrack music directly relating to your manuscript. The sound of a coffee shop is strangely comforting to me. It has something to do with the sound of the coffee machine going, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and the scent of muffins straight out of the oven. Then there are the people. They sit around chattering amongst themselves, or perhaps they are reading a book or the daily paper. As I watch these people, I often wonder where they are from, their lives, and what they are feeling. Essentially, I start to character profile them.  This exercise of people watching seriously gets my active little imagination going. After all… how can we write about people and their emotions if we haven’t delved into the psyche a little?

The other place that I write in is in my library at home. (Really, it’s probably my spare room… but anyway.) This place is so special to me. I am surrounded by all the material things that I love. Books, music, sculptures, paintings, and a bunch of other things that I would probably prefer not to be in there. But however, nothing is ever totally perfect. But the space for me is perfect. I can very quickly get into the writing zone when I am working in there. I set it up for me to be able to do this. I have just managed to get this room back to the way I want it after six months. For the past six months it has been a storage area for all of Bump’s stuff. And if Bump’s stuff wasn’t in there, then people were staying, and therefore I couldn’t work in there. It’s amazing how much my writing feng shui gets out of sync when other people are here. Perhaps that is the introvert coming out in me? Anyway – after not having full use of my library for the past six months, I have now officially been back in it for the past week and a half. And my-oh-my how the creative juices are once again flowing. The music pounds around this room as I sit down and open my latest manuscript that I am working on. The door is closed. And somehow, I can just feel the balance of this room centring my creative soul.

In essence, my library is the place that I write in effectively when I am at home. There is no other room like it. In this room new worlds of my alternative reality are dreamt up and turned into a form of reality amongst the pages I write. In this room characters are born, and characters die. In this room, my mind extends beyond itself into other parallel realities.

I think that we all have a space like this somewhere in the world, where nothing can deter us from our focus. (Apart from the internet…) I think that it is seriously important for us to have this space… whether it is a mental or physical space. It’s our own little happy place, and that’s what matters the most.

 

Mental Feng Shui

Some of you may or may not know what I mean when I say ‘Mental Feng Shui’… but I know what I mean. For me, one of the hardest things about being a writer is maintaining the mental feng shui balance within myself.

I find that writers are creatures of habit. Cups of tea and coffee are poured as part of the writing ritual. Chocolate is devoured. And every now and then we head towards nature to renew the inspirations. I also believe that we are a superstitious lot. An example of this is when I’m having a downright rotten day, and I decide to write – I light a candle to banish away all the negative energy that is circling around inside me. 

But each of these little habitual rituals is part of what balances our mental feng shui. It’s a bit like tuning a radio to get a good signal. You have to hit the right spot first before you will hear any clarity of sound. With us, it revolves around coffee, chocolate, or even lighting a candle to help us tune into the creative airwaves. This is a fine balancing act.

Sometimes, though, static gets in the way, and therefore throws out all sense of balance that we strive to maintain. This can come in an array of different forms. Some days, we just don’t feel like it, and suddenly the TV seems so much more interesting. Other days we pick up a really good book to read, and can’t seem to keep our noses out of it till we finish. And as much as we absolutely adore our friends and family who support and love us constantly, they get in the way as well. 

Invitations to parties, dinner, movies, lunch, anything… If we writers are in the middle of some sort of creative winning streak – we start turning down those invites. I know that if I drink too much alcohol, then the next day I will be completely incapable of anything creative. Some friends understand, which is wonderful, but others can start to get a bit fickle about whether or not they will continue to invite us to spend time with them. My Dad who was staying with me last week told me that my Mother has been complaining to him about not being able to get hold of me. This is probably because I turn all the phones off if I’m in the middle of writing new worlds, and the characters that live within them. I just can’t afford to be distracted by the phone.

Two weekends ago, we had a bit of a graduation party at our house for one of my closest friends. Did I get any writing done that weekend? Erm. *blush* No. Why? Because I was busy entertaining, chattering away, and when the people had left, I then cleaned, and put everything back together again. Then that same friend had an issue on the road about twenty kilometres north of where I live, and we had to execute a rescue mission. My father then arrived to stay a couple of days after that. Needless to say, that was a solid week where absolutely no writing work was done. Zilch. My feng shui has been right royally screwed with.

This coming weekend is a long weekend in New Zealand, where I would normally be very excited to be able to spend three consecutive days writing… however we are off to work on the holiday house. Some friends are even coming to help! Gah! It needs to be done, and believe me, I wouldn’t be miserable about it if I had some decent writing miles behind me for the month of May. But I don’t, and it’s seriously upsetting me.  I’m hoping that I’ll be able to rise early to get in my writing mileage without distraction. However, today is a new month.

Now, if I had the luxury of writing full time at home, then I could probably sort this mess out. Speaking of home, I have been getting more and more upset with my favourite room – my library. It’s a beautiful room, but it’s in such a pigsty. I can’t cope, and yet I don’t want to deal with it either. Some of the mess actually isn’t mine, but I’ll leave that ‘particular subject’ alone. But I will say one thing… When that ‘particular subject’ steps into my library, and proceeds to mess up this beautiful space that I have carved out of our house for myself, I get extremely pissed off. Yeah, I’m talking about the amount of crap that’s left lying around, equipment left on, dirty coffee cups, books moved about, or whatever. So, over the past few days I have been thinking very hard on my library, and the current tip that it’s in. And I think that I need to move it around to get a better sense of actual feng shui balance in there. I’m not happy about the state that it’s in, so therefore I would like to do something about it. If possible. Wish me luck on that one! I’m hoping that once I am happy with the room again, it will assist with getting my mental feng shui back in alignment.

In winter I am a hermit, and I’m happy like that. Even in the summer, I can be a bit of a hermit. I enjoy my own company, and I enjoy chatting to my characters in my head. And I love writing, because it makes me feel such an awesome sense of elation when things seem to be falling into place. It’s the way I have chosen to live my life. Friends and family are extremely important though, as they are the people you turn to when you need them. I think that I just need to find some sort of way to balance out my mental feng shui with those people included in there.

 

My writer’s journey: Part II – The Nom de Plume confession

Today I am going to take my well-worn mask off because I think it’s high time that I came out of my closet, and told my readers and writing circles. I’m going to tell you a story.

Once upon a time when I was a very young writer, I delved into the literary domain feet first, and it was in this realm that I tried to hide. I hid the secret life of writing from everyone in my real life, because this was my world. The only person who knew about this world was my husband, who thought that I had gone stark raving nuts. But I needed this sanctuary that I had created.

It was a form of escapism from the real and terrifying world that I was exposed to. There was my day job, which had political stresses in it, friendships that were on rocky ground, and my family life that was literally falling apart around me. The most solid relationship I had ever known (my parents) had disintegrated before my eyes, and there was nothing that I could possibly do about it. This action, in turn caused me to seriously question my own relationship with my husband. Why? Because their relationship was built on the same foundation that I built mine on: trust. And suddenly all of that shattered, and blew my world to smithereens.

So I turned to writing to get me through this terrible patch in life. Through my writing, I created a novel surrounding orphaned siblings, because that was how I felt. It was as if our parents had died. I guess that in some way, their unified bond with us kids had. But I am pretty damn lucky with my brother and sister – they are amazing people, and if anything, my parents separating have only thrown us closer together as siblings. However, in the writer’s world, I started to feel lonely. I knew I needed other people around me who were writing too. I did some research online, found that I was not alone in this creative endeavour and came across this beautiful creative community at Writing.com. But because my environment was turning inside out, I chose to disguise myself with a nom de plume.

This was the easiest way to keep two very different worlds separated, yet connected through one mind. Mine.

Some of the material that I was putting out on the great Interweb was personal to me, my family, my friends, and my work place. Yes, it was all fictionalised, but I couldn’t risk the association out there. I was on shaky ground. I needed to work through my emotions somehow, and so I chose to write my way through them. Then I threw the pieces out there into the world for critique and feedback from strangers.

And through these actions, I learnt and learnt, and captivated huge amounts of information. Before I knew it, Leigh K Hunt was developed into a real person. She was me, and I was her. She had these incredible friends and connections throughout the world, with some pretty amazing creative people. She still does… I still do.

All these friendships are built and developed on trust and communication. I thought, ‘How can these people trust me, if they don’t even know my real name? I trust them, and I know their names, even their pseudonyms – so why shouldn’t I share mine?’

So – my real name is Kate (Kathryn) Strawbridge. (Sounds ‘desperate house-wifey’, doesn’t it?)

You may or may not want to know how I developed my nom de plume, but I will tell you anyway. Leigh is derived from my maiden name, K represents my first name, and Hunt – well that comes from my ancestors in a very roundabout way. My ancestors were Scottish Highlanders, particularly known for their poaching methods – the Gunn clan. My husband’s ancestors operated a smuggling ring based inDevon,Britain. I chose Hunt, because it represents both lines of ancestry. Little did I know that there was actually a famous poet once named James Leigh Hunt, and by that time – it was far too late.

So now I am out of the closet. You may wonder why I am only just telling this piece of information to the world now… well, it’s partly to do with the fact that my husband encouraged me to do this, and the other main reason is that now my parents’ divorce is formally going through to be finalised. I refuse to hide, anymore.

Yes, I am a writer, and yes I use a pseudonym – just like a lot of other writers. I have taken my mask off, but you can guarantee that I’ll always be the same writer and person that you know, and yes, I will still use my nom de plume. I’m kind of fond of it.