Choices, Choices

Argh.

Argh, I say, argh.

Here I am merrily writing away on my Kepler/Brahe book -- this entry coming to you from the 47th floor in an apartment in NYC, by the way, where I came for the week to hide from responsibilities in DC -- and I get an offer to write another book from someone else.

Now, I keep telling myself that the time has come to stick to the big stuff, to go for the really great projects, to say no to the other offers that are merely distracting. In fact, two years ago, I was in a similar position, focusing on the Kepler book and was asked to write a book on Einstein. I told the publisher that I didn't have the time to do it alone, but would do it with a co-author. I convinced myself that I could easily do both books at the same time -- no big deal. Well, that was a lie. I had a lot of fun with the Einstein book, but it certainly put me a year behind in terms of the book I'm working on now -- the book that has my heart and soul and which I've been talking about writing for three years now.

So, here I am, excited about this Kepler book, actually getting some good writing done, and I'm offered the chance to write a short-ish, 25,000 word book on a theoretical physicist. "Think New Yorker article," said the publisher, "back in the day when articles took up half the magazine." Yes, yes, yes. I want to do that. The physicist in question is a big name guy -- someone I would love to spend some quality time with. In addition, it would immerse me back into the world of current science, as opposed to this historical focus I've had lately. That would simultaneously give me insight into the book I'm doing now, which also has a modern component, as well as help launch me back into magazine writing, which has been a goal for awhile.

And I am torn. I can think of all these good reasons to do this profile:

--it would be fascinating
--it would be quick, just a few months
--it would get me connected to modern scientists again
--the physicist in question lives in NYC, so I'd have an excuse to be up here all the time

But, but, but. . . there are these problems. For one, it doesn't pay well. Which I can live with, honestly. Second, it's not with a big name publisher -- which I can also live with, since it's such a wonderful project, and an ideal one for me. But put those two drawbacks together with the third: it's just the wrong TIME. And I think I have to turn it down.

I haven't decided for sure. This morning I had talked myself into doing it. This afternoon I have talked myself out of it. I could waver a few more times before making a concrete decision. . . but. . . argh.

Mid-Career Writing Group

Hmmm, so both of my last two entries must have been rolling around in my head, since on Sunday, it suddenly became crystal clear what I needed to do. Since a) I want advice from mid-career writers, and b) I have a bad habit of thinking I should do everything alone and MY way, the time has come to form a writing group.

I have now sent this note out to everyone I know, as well as posted it on mediabistro.com.

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I became a freelance writer just so I wouldn't be held to anyone else's timeline. . . but, wow, if that doesn't mean I'm never beholden to anyone else's timeline. I need to inject just a tad more structure into this freelance lifestyle, and with DC's beautiful springtime as the best motivation in the world, now is the time to do it.

Calling all mid-career, freelance writers in the area who think having some truly talented colleagues with whom to brainstorm might just be the boost they need. We're forming a writer's workgroup of 5 to 8 people, to meet at Tryst in Adams Morgan, second and fourth Monday mornings 9 to 10:30, to get the week started off right with coffee, critiquing, and conversation.

Any genre will do -- fiction, non-fiction, journalism, plays, poetry -- but we are only looking for people who are already making their living/enjoying some success as writers. That is, the point of the group will be less to help one get into the field or to offer basic help; more about getting input from seasoned writers in order to really kick your work up a notch to the next level. Current participants include a nationally-produced, award-winning playwright; a science writer currently contracted for a non-fiction book whose last desk job was at Discovery Channel; and myself -- author of three non-fiction books, currently working on a fiction one.

This is an ideal opportunity for anyone at the beginning or mid-stages of a project who is craving both some outside commentary, as well as a burst of invigoration. There's nothing like a group of people asking to see the 5,000 words you swore you would write two weeks ago to keep you on track.

If you are intrigued, please send an e-mail to Karen Fox at kfox@nasw.org with a paragraph or two about who you are and what kind of writing you do. I'll take any questions you've got too. And of course feel free to forward this to anyone you know who might be interested.

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Interested? Contact me!

Newt Haikus

I went to a party Saturday night that was billed as a poetry slam. I have to admit I have this weird aversion to the whole artiste theme sometimes -- I was always going to be a physicist, and so admitting that I'm a writer gets stuck in my craw occasionally. I came prepared to listen to others read their poetry, and I was also prepared to be well-behaved about it, but I had a wee bit of a chip on my shoulder about the whole thing.

Instead, they totally sucked me in with a CONTEST. I mean if you're going to make me compete, then I'm going to get psyched up, completely involved, and try to win. (In fact to be honest, we were supposed to work in teams, and I pulled a classic Karen move, and left my assigned team, grabbing just two friends to go with me whom I knew I could work with. Hey, writing is about creative genius, you've got to indulge it.)

So we picked a word out of a hat and had to write haikus and then read them aloud. I worked with my friends Eleni and Elizabeth and we won handily -- though I think mostly because everyone wrote serious poems and we understood that the way to the judges' hearts was to make them laugh. . .

And, of course, we picked the best word ever: newt. Our four poems were (and for one of them you need to know that Sunday was the huge pro-choice rally in DC on the mall) --

The frog was not a prince.
They never turn out to be.
Next I'll try a newt.

Which newton to choose?
The best Newton is a fig --
My lunchbox food rules!

Newt is off the hill.
He's not marching on Sunday.
His sister may be.

Apple, apple, splat
Under the tree Newton sat.
Aha! Gravity!

Intermediate Writers

Why are there no books for intermediate writers? There are wonderful, spectacular books for beginners. Stephen King's On Writing -- brilliant. Carolyn See's Making a Literary Life -- delightful. Annie Lamott's Bird by Bird -- great read, great lessons.

I've learned a lot from these books, and I go back to them regularly to get reinspired. But at a basic level, the solutions they offer are ones I already know -- aimed more at convincing yourself to keep going, to be confident in your writing, to force yourself to sit in the chair and just pound it out, to keep mailing off manuscripts despite rejection. But I no longer need the "buck up kiddo" speech. I no longer need to do affirmations to convince myself that I'm a writer -- I am. I know it. I don't have those awkward moments when I tell someone I write and they say: "Oh. Are you published?" Yes, I am published. What I want now is a book that magically takes me up the next level. I want the handbook on how to be an A++ writer. And, most importantly, to have it be simple.

Let me explain. Several years ago a book came out on housekeeping called Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House. It was all the rage. Everyone gave it to everyone else for the holidays. I, on the other hand, was supremely disappointed -- it didn't give me tips or tricks or ways to protect myself from the onslaught of ever more dust. It suggested instead that I. . . clean things.

Every week, said the book, I was supposed to:

"Change the bed linens and bathroom towels.

Vacuum rugs, floors, upholstered furniture and lampshades.

Wash all washable floors.

Dust all dustable surfaces and objects, including pictures, mirrors, light fixtures, and light bulbs.

Wipe all fingerprints or smears from doorknobs, woodwork, telephones, computer keyboards.

Wash down entire bathroom: toilet, sink, tub, wall tiles, toothbrush holders and all fixtures, cabinets, mirror, floor.

Wash all combs and brushes.

Clean entire kitchen: clean refrigerator, wipe down stove and other applicances inside and out; clean sinks, counters, and tabletops; extra-thoroughly wash backsplashes; scrub floors

Clean air-conditioner filters and humidifiers according to manufacturers' recommendations.

Wash out and sanitize garbage cans."

EVERY WEEK. I don't think I've sanitized my garbage can ever. And cleaning the fridge is definitely a twice a year affair.

I mean this book was just no good. I was supposed to keep a cleaner house, by becoming really organized and caring about cleaning. I wanted the book that said: "If you do these three things and jump four times on one foot and howl at the full moon, your kitchen will stay clean 17 times longer." No such luck.

I have solved the problem by hiring a housekeeper. Starving writer stereotype be damned -- I'm happy to starve so I can pay and not have to deal with that stuff.

Books about writing are kind of like that housekeeping book. Oh, they have some suggestions. You know like you could tie yourself to a chair in order to keep yourself there. You can set a timer to ensure that you work for 45 minutes straight before rewarding yourself with a peek at your e-mail. You can write friendly notes to editors in order to get on their radar screen. But these books still insist that you have to do the work.

Where's the book that tells me how to make it easy? How to skip the hour of bloodletting that happens as you stare at the keyboard before you finally get into flow? How to bypass the query letters or the book proposals and just have an automatic in with all the editors? I need that book. Where's that book??

--From a girl who wrote 1257 words today.

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.

Pilates

As you may have noticed, there's been somewhat of a lapse in my keeping this journal. . . It has something to do with the fact that I, um, got myself an additional part-time job. I have been addicted for the last few years to pilates -- a form of exercise that if you're not careful can bleed your bank account dry faster than you can say "six-pack abs," since it requires having a personal trainer. I decided the only way I could afford to keep doing it was if I became a trainer myself. I would be able to use the equipment for free and suddenly even the clothes I bought to do it were legitimately tax-deductible. Tax-deductible clothes are a very good thing.

So, beginning in October, I took a three-month course -- for which they wanted me to be in the studio, like, 23 whole hours a week. A commitment of that kind from a woman who's had nothing but a perfectly flexible schedule for five years, is a bit dramatic. It took me a few weeks to not feel like my life was completely running away from me, another few weeks to snare myself some free time to maintain my sanity and a few more after that to actually get back to writing again.

I began to think that having a part-time job really sucked.

On the other hand, I was earning money teaching pilates during all of this, so the fact that I wasn't writing wasn't the end of the world financially. Nevertheless, it certainly side-tracked any idea I had of getting that book proposal done tout suite.

Which is ok, actually. I think I'll get to it at some point -- it's a good book idea. But I have another book that I've been talking about writing for about three years now. I've researched it extensively, written an ever-lengthening outline that is now some 30 pages long, and generally lived with it in my head for quite some time.

The problem is . . . it's fiction. It's still based in the history of astronomy, but it's most definitely fiction. There are two problems with fiction. First, it's HARD. Really hard. And really different from writing non-fiction. That's what this online-journal will be about, so you'll hear more on that. Second, unlike non-fiction, you can't sell the book ahead of time. A publisher wants the whole finished thing before deciding to buy it.

And that's where the pilates comes in. I have finally worked it successfully into my schedule so that I am not overwhelmed that I'm spending --ok, only ten -- hours a week working outside the house. It's also a nice extra source of income. All of which means I can afford the time and money right now to focus on this book. After three years of talking about writing this book, I can finally let everything else go, and pay attention solely to it.

Part-time jobs rule.