Doing the Math

My favorite English teacher in high school, Mrs. Buchanan, quickly got used to the idea that I could never plan ahead when I wrote a paper. I took a lot of classes from her throughout my four years at National Cathedral School but it is the two writing classes that I remember the most. I took a class called "Critical and Creative Writing" in which we took a week to write any particular assignment, handing in early scratchings mid-week before the entire piece on Friday. Somehow she was surprised every time when my first paragraphs were smack out of the middle of the essay -- I would add the introduction and conclusion later.

She was better about accepting my complete and total inability to write an outline. For a class on how to write a term paper -- I wrote mine on George Bernard Shaw's play Heartbreak House -- we had to hand in a detailed outline before we were allowed to begin writing. My outline looked like this:

I. Introduction
II. First Argument
A. Supporting Statements
III. Second Argument
A. Supporting Statements
IV. Third Argument
A. Supporting Statements
V. Conclusion

I swear. That's what I handed in. Mrs. Buchanan said that "for me" it was pretty good.

The point of all of this is that somewhere along the way I made a U-turn. I am now outline-obsessed. I have discovered that if I know ahead of time what I am going to write about everything flows. Writing -- in of itself -- is a piece of cake. Imagine writing a letter detailing your day, or telling a memory from your childhood. You are fully conversant with the story, so pulling together the words to tell it, and then typing the words into the keyboard is simple stuff. And so it goes with me and articles and books. If I know what I'm talking about, if I've done enough research, if I have written down an outline, even some simply bulleted list, the actual transfer of information into sentences is no work at all.

All of which translates to my currently having a 30-page outline for the book I'm writing. Three-Oh. Plots and conversation ideas and settings and ironic twists all mapped out. Eat your heart out, Mrs. Buchanan.

And it helps, it really does. I only stare at the computer screen for like 30 minutes before starting to write a chapter, instead of say an hour and a half. Because, I mean, what's supposed to happen is right there in black and white, right? It helps.

But here's the part where it doesn't. I know that my current outline calls for 96 sections (each section can be anywhere from a few paragraphs to a ten pages). I have a first draft written for about 20 already. I had this dream I was going to finish a full first draft by June 19, before going away to a science writing workshop in Santa Fe. So I did the math. I have 76 sections left to write.

And 64 days left in which to write them.

That's more than a section a day, including weekends. And, to be honest, it's been taking me about three days to do each section. (Though I had a banner day on Wednesday in which I pounded out a whole section in one morning -- it was a beautiful angry scene, and so much fun to channel the character while writing.)

Someone once explained to me about how runners feel somewhere about half way through a race. (An experience I will never in my entire life ever have, I assure you.) The feeling of disquiet, knowing you've already put in so much work, and yet there's so much more to go. To be fair, the years of research I've put into this book means I'm well over half way finished, even if it does take me longer than I'd hoped to write it.

But, my goodness. There's no way I'm going to get this finished by June. And I DO know the story already, so the writing isn't awful, and I have my pretty outline, and it's doable. One step at a time and all that. It's just. . . there's so much more to go.