I should be just about wrapped up with the first draft of my first book around September. I’m taking a month off of writing beginning Feb 16th, which marks the end of my year of blogging. I’ve already put in quite a bit of work outlining chapters and building out characters, but I won’t really start the bulk of the process until March 16th.
In between that time I’m going to be doing a lot of research, including taking a few long weekends to explore some rare books at the UC Berkeley library. Research will likely continue through the process of writing the book, but I want to get most of it done at the beginning so my brain can be as loaded up with good ideas as possible.
The longest single piece I’ve ever written is about 37 pages. I’m aiming for about 120-150 pages for my book. It’s really not much of a jump, especially considering I wrote at least 300 pages last year without any sort of daily writing goal. If I can keep to the modest pace of on page a day, I’ll meet my goal.
I really wish I had a permanent place to sit and write. Having a place of solitude to retreat to and work is a true luxury. Our loft is certainly a major step up from our old little 435 square foot shack in San Francisco, but there still isn’t really much privacy, except late in the night when Mrs. Lott and the dogs are finally asleep.
I’d love to have a little spot with all my books and hokey talismans arranged to my liking. However, I can’t ignore legacy of the writers who got it done no matter what. Stephen King worked on his first book while sitting on the washing machine in the back of his trailer, his typewriter sat on a TV tray on his lap. He typed away into the night while his wife and kids slept less than 20 feet away. That’s grit. And grit makes books better.