Benchmarks

 

I hit over 50,000 words in the first draft of Miraculous Conception. I feel like a rock star. Usually I need the help of NaNoWriMo to get that many words on the page. And actually, I probably should still give some credit to NaNoWriMo. This was a failed NaNoWriMo project one year. I wrote about 25,000 words. But I was super pregnant and my in-laws were in town for a long time. I choose to spend time with them instead of writing the ending of a book when I didn't know how it ended. 

But now I know. 

I'm getting so excited about this book. And I'm making insanely great progress. 

I keep showing up and the words keep showing up. 

It's amazing, really. 

Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on. 

-Louis L'Amour

You, again.

This weekend I drove from Louisiana to Austin for a girls' weekend with my college friends. It was weird to make the drive all by myself. The first three hours of the drive I plotted the rest of Miraculous Conception. I worked it out scene by scene, even writing some of the dialogue in my head. I often write in my head while driving long distances.

Then I stopped at Chili's for lunch. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten to take a yellow legal pad with me. I survive, in part, because of yellow legal pads. I carry little notebooks in my purse but they're not really helpful for writing out the rest of a novel. I thought about getting out my laptop but I wanted to write with one hand and eat with the other. I was only about halfway through the drive and I didn't want to take a long lunch. I found a piece of cardboard in my car and covered both sides with notes.

This is not the first time I have sat alone in a restaurant writing on trash I found in my car. Once I wrote on a wrapping paper tube I ripped up. This is normal for me. This is what I do. This is who I am. Every time I do it I feel a little crazy. Every time I do it I feel like Me.

So I guess the moral of this story is either:
Keep a yellow legal pad in your car at all times
or it might be
Always keep trash you can scribble on in your car

Pretend

So often this writing stuff just feels Pretend. It exists in solitude. The only thing I have to show for years of work is a huge Word document. On my computer. That I don't show anyone. Quite a bit of the writing only exists in my head. Sometimes when I do try to share it with people I feel crazy because I turn into wild-eyed up all night writing Emily and I get too excited and my voice climbs too loud. I tell near strangers way too much, too fast because they held the key to the introvert door and everything just came tumbling out like an overstuffed closet.

But I actually published a book. And people are actually reading it. That's real and tangible. So for the first time in my life when people ask me what I do I'm calling myself a writer. I've called myself a writer in my head since I was ten but for the first time it feels Real.

Twice in the past month I have listed my occupation as "writer." I listed it on the Parent's Day Out application for Little Guy and I told the student from my college calling asking for money that I was a writer.

It's more than a hobby. I have fans who want another book. That's pretty good motivation.

Bear Feels Scared

Bear Feels Scared is a book Little Guy and I checked out from the library. It's about a bear that gets lost and his animal friends go out to search for him, only to find that he's only ten feet from home. It has great pictures and it rhymes. One day I noticed the dedication.

Once upon a time, a writer felt scared. But standing by the writer's side was a friend who gave the writer courage. The friend's name was Sarah Lanier (who later became Sarah Goodrich). Dear friend, thank you. Write the novel. With love- Karma Wilson

A few weeks ago The Baker's Memory became available for purchase, I set up the Kindle copy, my webstie went live and I set up a Facebook author page all in two and a half hours. I'd been working towards these thing for months. The dominoes just started falling into place. Bam. Bam. Bam. I could finish things. It was thrilling. I felt so accomplished. But then my heart wouldn't slow down. I felt like I'd just blanketed the internet with Emily. I was everywhere, which was terrifying. I felt exposed. Then this bear started to feel big fears.

Then the congratulations started flooding in, the friends who said they'd already ordered a copy, the friends who said they wanted it signed. The friends gave this writer courage. I was able to feel confident in putting myself out there. My friends gave me bear hugs and they calmed my bear fears until this bear felt maybe not safe but brave. Brave enough to keep writing the next novel.