I used to have waitress nightmares all the time. Those of you who have waited tables know what I'm talking about. For those of you who haven't: A waitress nightmare is when you turn around and all the tables in your section have not only been seated while you weren't looking, but somehow they've all been sitting there for 20 minutes, and their water is empty, and you've given some of them the wrong meals, and the others have gotten so incredibly fed up waiting that they've gotten up and left just as you were about to get to them, and how could this happen?
I always joked that my waitress anxiety nightmares were worse than any similar ones I had about teaching or comps or whatever. But every profession has one of these. Where you are actually good at your job, but in your dream, everything goes so impossibly sideways that it's ridiculous and you wake up half-sobbing, half relieved that it's not real.
Here's one for academic researchers: you are on a sabbatical or other leave that you hardly ever get, and you get up and get to the archive your FIRST full day there, jet lag be damned, because you know how short and precious your time is. And for once you have made a list and are totally prepared, and you even have a plan of this archive in the morning and that archive in the afternoon and you've done most of your advance work for the first time in ages, and then you get to the archive and sit in the reading room by yourself because the entire staff has gone on strike, indefinitely.
That is some waitress-quality nightmare-ing.
But here's the twist: This time, it's REAL. And I don't get to wake up and shake it off. I get to wrack my brains for what to do, now that I'm here with no access to the materials I planned to consult, and no way to get this time back.
::sigh::
Showing posts with label another damn book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label another damn book. Show all posts
Friday, September 15, 2017
Saturday, June 3, 2017
Weekend Stockpiling
Once upon a time, I ran writing groups.
I ran a few here, and those became unwieldy. So then I ran a few on Facebook, and those were better, though still a lot of work. I realized that I can run a writing group, or write, but I can't do both without going nuts. So I'm not running them for the foreseeable future.
Still, I learned a few important lessons. The first was write every day. Every day you are away from the work is a day to lose your place. Every day you are writing -- even frustrating days where you only write two sentences -- is a chance that you might find your spark.
Paradoxically, the other lesson I learned was that some days you shouldn't write. I learned this from having writing group members with families and children, who wanted to keep those weekends sacred. As a solo flier with no children, I literally hadn't even thought of this. But I quickly realized how important those two days were: not just to recharge the batteries, but to stockpile raw materials for the week to come.
So, this weekend I've been trying to follow my own advice, reading and taking notes. So far, I've read two articles about Blerg City's fish market. Tomorrow I'm going to dive into my scanned sources and find out all I can about the city's porters and bearers. And then, come Monday, it'll be off to the races, I hope.
I've got an ambitious goal. I'll need to blow well past my usual 500 words a day to make it happen. But so far, so good.
This is going to be the least relaxing summer ever.
I ran a few here, and those became unwieldy. So then I ran a few on Facebook, and those were better, though still a lot of work. I realized that I can run a writing group, or write, but I can't do both without going nuts. So I'm not running them for the foreseeable future.
Still, I learned a few important lessons. The first was write every day. Every day you are away from the work is a day to lose your place. Every day you are writing -- even frustrating days where you only write two sentences -- is a chance that you might find your spark.
Paradoxically, the other lesson I learned was that some days you shouldn't write. I learned this from having writing group members with families and children, who wanted to keep those weekends sacred. As a solo flier with no children, I literally hadn't even thought of this. But I quickly realized how important those two days were: not just to recharge the batteries, but to stockpile raw materials for the week to come.
So, this weekend I've been trying to follow my own advice, reading and taking notes. So far, I've read two articles about Blerg City's fish market. Tomorrow I'm going to dive into my scanned sources and find out all I can about the city's porters and bearers. And then, come Monday, it'll be off to the races, I hope.
I've got an ambitious goal. I'll need to blow well past my usual 500 words a day to make it happen. But so far, so good.
This is going to be the least relaxing summer ever.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Procrastivity, and Why I Need It
Over the past several days, I have been engaging in procrastivity: Doing somewhat important stuff in order to avoid doing the really important stuff. In particular: I've been combing through the many, many files that have not so much been filed as... grown like a tumor. A proliferation of files choking out other files, to the point where I have no idea what I have.
Today I went on the hunt for one particular bit of information -- something about a grain storage warehouse. And I found a file that described just what I needed. And I even remembered that I discovered this last summer during my research. Yes, I wrote it down.
No, I apparently did not write down the source.
Sometimes I wonder how I ever manage to write anything. What a mess.
But it's a little less messy every day
Today I went on the hunt for one particular bit of information -- something about a grain storage warehouse. And I found a file that described just what I needed. And I even remembered that I discovered this last summer during my research. Yes, I wrote it down.
No, I apparently did not write down the source.
Sometimes I wonder how I ever manage to write anything. What a mess.
But it's a little less messy every day
Monday, May 29, 2017
The Final Push Begins
Ladies and gentlemen -- all six of you who are still reading -- the final push has begun. Over half a dozen years ago, I began Another Damn Book. Currently, I have three draft chapters, one draft intro, one hot mess of a chapter-shaped object, and one chapter that is largely notional. By the end of the calendar year, I aim to have a respectable draft of the whole thing. And, with the semester, grading, and commencement behind me, and a summer and a sabbatical semester ahead of me, that process began TODAY.
This fall, I'm going to Blerg City to patch holes. Which means that I need all the chapters complete, if not polished, by September 1. This gives me precisely 3 months to patch up Hot Mess Chapter, and to write Sometimes an Adequate Notion Chapter.** I am not sure if I'll work on them sequentially, or intersperse them. But today I sat down with what I have for Hot Mess Chapter, figured out how to organize it, and my rough word counts (which are short, but may expand). I even figured out how to start it: It begins with a map.
Here we go...
**oh, and i need to revise a co-authored article and write a book review somewhere in there, too.
This fall, I'm going to Blerg City to patch holes. Which means that I need all the chapters complete, if not polished, by September 1. This gives me precisely 3 months to patch up Hot Mess Chapter, and to write Sometimes an Adequate Notion Chapter.** I am not sure if I'll work on them sequentially, or intersperse them. But today I sat down with what I have for Hot Mess Chapter, figured out how to organize it, and my rough word counts (which are short, but may expand). I even figured out how to start it: It begins with a map.
Here we go...
**oh, and i need to revise a co-authored article and write a book review somewhere in there, too.
Thursday, December 8, 2016
The Accidental Writer
I haven't been writing much about writing. In general, writing is a frustrating process for me, and talking about how frustrating it is often finds me with my head further up my ass than when I began. Or, even worse, writing about writing takes away time that I should be using to write.
So it is with real pleasure that I share a bit of news. I may have shared at some point about "procrastivity" -- that is, procrastination, accidental or deliberate, that somehow turns into productivity.
This was not real procrastination. Rather, it was prioritizing a talk over writing my book. That's productive, sure, but not the thing I was supposed to be working on. But there it is: this semester found me plugging away at a "what I did on my leave" presentation for my department. I was supposed to present on my research for about 40 minutes, after which there would be another 40 minutes of Q & A, and then we'd all go home. It's actually a very nice thing our department does, and something you don't often find outside of research universities.
So I started writing. And here's the amazing cool thing that happened:
.....................................................
Late September: Should I present a chapter? No: since I'm close to done with this project, I should present an overview. So this will include narrations about what my big question is, and also what each chapter is, and how it contributes to the whole.
Early October: But then there's the question of audience: If my presentation is all medieval, then my colleagues (almost all historians of the 19th and 20th centuries) might find themselves at a loss for how to engage. So... Okay, I'll make sure to have a lot in there about approach and methodology and maybe even a little of that Cool New Theoretical Framework I've been trying to use.
Mid-October: This thing is getting kind of way to long. Remember THAT ONE PRESENTATION that never ended? You don't want to do that. Nobody ever complained that a presentation ran short after all. But I don't want to dam the flow. I'll just write it as it comes out of my brain, and the fact that it's about 8,500 words long is okay; I'll just cut it down for the presentation....
Hey.
Wait just one minute.
8,500 words. With question, argument, methodology, theory, narrative chapter outline...
DID I JUST ACCIDENTALLY WRITE A DRAFT OF MY BOOK'S INTRODUCTION?
Yeah. I'm pretty sure I did.
.....................................................
Huzzah for procrastivity!!!
So it is with real pleasure that I share a bit of news. I may have shared at some point about "procrastivity" -- that is, procrastination, accidental or deliberate, that somehow turns into productivity.
This was not real procrastination. Rather, it was prioritizing a talk over writing my book. That's productive, sure, but not the thing I was supposed to be working on. But there it is: this semester found me plugging away at a "what I did on my leave" presentation for my department. I was supposed to present on my research for about 40 minutes, after which there would be another 40 minutes of Q & A, and then we'd all go home. It's actually a very nice thing our department does, and something you don't often find outside of research universities.
So I started writing. And here's the amazing cool thing that happened:
.....................................................
Late September: Should I present a chapter? No: since I'm close to done with this project, I should present an overview. So this will include narrations about what my big question is, and also what each chapter is, and how it contributes to the whole.
Early October: But then there's the question of audience: If my presentation is all medieval, then my colleagues (almost all historians of the 19th and 20th centuries) might find themselves at a loss for how to engage. So... Okay, I'll make sure to have a lot in there about approach and methodology and maybe even a little of that Cool New Theoretical Framework I've been trying to use.
Mid-October: This thing is getting kind of way to long. Remember THAT ONE PRESENTATION that never ended? You don't want to do that. Nobody ever complained that a presentation ran short after all. But I don't want to dam the flow. I'll just write it as it comes out of my brain, and the fact that it's about 8,500 words long is okay; I'll just cut it down for the presentation....
Hey.
Wait just one minute.
8,500 words. With question, argument, methodology, theory, narrative chapter outline...
DID I JUST ACCIDENTALLY WRITE A DRAFT OF MY BOOK'S INTRODUCTION?
Yeah. I'm pretty sure I did.
.....................................................
Huzzah for procrastivity!!!
Monday, August 15, 2016
Picking Up the Thread
I don't know why, but today seemed like the day to pick up the blog again. Wait: I do know why. More on that below. But first, what have I been up to in the past... forever? Well, since my last post, which was basically a bitch-fest about notarial documents, I've done a few post-worthy things that I hope to pick up on soon (if anyone still has me on their blogrolls... if anyone still reads blogs):
This seems to be the theme now: relearning lessons about how slacking off for a day or two turns into a week, and month, and suddenly you're not writing, not blogging, not exercising, and smoking. Gah. So: today I try to pick up the thread. Let's see how this goes.
- Finished a trip to Blerg City in which, for the first time, I had some fellow US researchers who are also friends, and so was not a complete hermit.
- Procrastinated by poking around in a place where absolutely nothing of value to my project would be, and thereby stumbled on a Document That Explains Everything.
- Moved back to Grit City Beach, discovered the abysmal state of the rental market, and ended up moving into The Beehive.
- Had a lovely two-day roving visit with SquadratoMagico
- Begun planning courses, even though two of them were only for-certain locked-in three weeks before the semester started; panic ensues.
- Appalled myself by getting bent out of shape in a way that clearly has to do with some privilege issues I still have.
- Began work as member of the organizing committee for a smallish annual conference (I'm in a minor role)
- Quit smoking (again)
- Signed up for a yoga intensive workshop
This seems to be the theme now: relearning lessons about how slacking off for a day or two turns into a week, and month, and suddenly you're not writing, not blogging, not exercising, and smoking. Gah. So: today I try to pick up the thread. Let's see how this goes.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Research Notes from the Voices in My Head
You know those little notes we write to ourselves as we frantically scribble the drafts? Those little square-bracketed comments and reminders? Usually, they are something along the lines of:
- "Didn't I read something about this a couple months ago? Check notes."
- "Learn more about banking system to write 1 para."
- “Neither revolt’s perpetrator was kind enough to leave behind a manifesto telling later historians what their riot was all about. [Inconsiderate bastards].”
- "A great deal has been written about riots without realizing that not all riots are the same, nor even remembered the same: the meaning of a riot changes. [Yeah, go ahead: pretend you’re a cultural historian. That’ll be fun.]"
Saturday, December 12, 2015
Large to Small, and Back Again
About a month ago, I switched tracks from the chapter I put to bed (ready or not) so I could distill a paper from it. Anyone who's been reading my agonized posts knows that this chapter has been giving me fits. It was chock full o' facts, and even finally had an argument, but it just felt... flat. No, worse: it was simultaneously flat and bloated. How does that happen?
In any case, a few weeks ago I made the decision to put the chapter to bed. It was a draft; it had a beginning, a middle, and an end. I knew where the holes were, but I knew they could be filled later, and I didn't want to spend another month tinkering with it right now. Besides, I had a deadline: I had a paper to present at the Brain Ranch (not Hogwarts, but nearby) in three weeks, and I had to somehow condense something from the flat-yet-bloated chapter into 25-30 nice, tight, coherent minutes. Oh, and I had to make maps and genealogical charts.
I've always worked from small to large. I write a conference paper or two or three. Sometimes I expand them into articles. But probably a third of my first-book manuscript originated as conference papers. These gave me concrete deadlines and forced me to dig in and argue.
Here, I was trying to compress something big and sprawling into something short and compelling. And it was hard. I kept excising things. But here's what happened: that excision process forced me to think: "I've only got 12 pages. What's really important here?"
And in the process of writing that short paper, I finally discovered my chapter.
(Oh. And the maps and charts turned out nice, too.)
In any case, a few weeks ago I made the decision to put the chapter to bed. It was a draft; it had a beginning, a middle, and an end. I knew where the holes were, but I knew they could be filled later, and I didn't want to spend another month tinkering with it right now. Besides, I had a deadline: I had a paper to present at the Brain Ranch (not Hogwarts, but nearby) in three weeks, and I had to somehow condense something from the flat-yet-bloated chapter into 25-30 nice, tight, coherent minutes. Oh, and I had to make maps and genealogical charts.
I've always worked from small to large. I write a conference paper or two or three. Sometimes I expand them into articles. But probably a third of my first-book manuscript originated as conference papers. These gave me concrete deadlines and forced me to dig in and argue.
Here, I was trying to compress something big and sprawling into something short and compelling. And it was hard. I kept excising things. But here's what happened: that excision process forced me to think: "I've only got 12 pages. What's really important here?"
And in the process of writing that short paper, I finally discovered my chapter.
(Oh. And the maps and charts turned out nice, too.)
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
What I Meant by "Don't Write What Bores You"
I'm rounding the corner on a conference paper culled from the chapter that had been fighting me for the past few months, and that I recently put to bed, even though it was by no means ready to go. It had a beginning, middle, and end, so I could walk away. But I wasn't satisfied.
And about a week ago, I realized that the problem was that the chapter as I had constructed it just didn't interest me. The facts were right, but the argument was forced, in general because I couldn't make myself care one little bit about the stuff I was writing about.
I was, in short, writing the chapter for the same reason that I put on pants in the morning: because I thought people would expect it. "Where's your chapter on X?", I imagined them saying. "How could you possibly write a book about Blerg City in this time and place without going in depth into this Very Important Issue?"
Well, yeah. I don't disagree. It's an important part of the larger story I want to tell. But I couldn't make myself care. And as a result, I had 20,000 flat, boring words that had taken me months to put together, and that no one could conceivably enjoy reading.
Once this realization dawned on me, I left my office took a walk around the Hogwarts grounds, which are lovely grounds for strolling. I muttered to myself[1] as I strolled -- "I don't care about that. What I'm really interested in is..." -- until I could finish that sentence.
Now, as heu mihi pointed out in the comments to my previous post, sometimes we do have to write boring-to-us stuff in order to get to the thing that interests us. True enough. But what I'm talking about is entire long stretches of writing -- a chapter, an article, god help us a book -- that we just don't give a damn about. The way I see it, if you don't decide to just trash it and walk away, and you don't want to publish something that just lies there like a dead fish, you have one choice: find the thing within the boring thing that actually interests you, and make that your center.
This is just what I did. I did it on a smaller scale: I have a conference paper in two weeks, so I need about 3500 words (it's a longer paper) on a nice, tight idea. So I'm writing this paper around that interesting idea. And I think -- I hope -- that this may save my chapter. But more on that later.
[1] As I did so, I tried not to worry that passers-by would think I was nuts. Hogwarts, I reasoned, is the kind of place where the first assumption might be to assume I was a mad genius. And anyway, I'll be leaving in a few months, so who cares what they think?
And about a week ago, I realized that the problem was that the chapter as I had constructed it just didn't interest me. The facts were right, but the argument was forced, in general because I couldn't make myself care one little bit about the stuff I was writing about.
I was, in short, writing the chapter for the same reason that I put on pants in the morning: because I thought people would expect it. "Where's your chapter on X?", I imagined them saying. "How could you possibly write a book about Blerg City in this time and place without going in depth into this Very Important Issue?"
Well, yeah. I don't disagree. It's an important part of the larger story I want to tell. But I couldn't make myself care. And as a result, I had 20,000 flat, boring words that had taken me months to put together, and that no one could conceivably enjoy reading.
Once this realization dawned on me, I left my office took a walk around the Hogwarts grounds, which are lovely grounds for strolling. I muttered to myself[1] as I strolled -- "I don't care about that. What I'm really interested in is..." -- until I could finish that sentence.
Now, as heu mihi pointed out in the comments to my previous post, sometimes we do have to write boring-to-us stuff in order to get to the thing that interests us. True enough. But what I'm talking about is entire long stretches of writing -- a chapter, an article, god help us a book -- that we just don't give a damn about. The way I see it, if you don't decide to just trash it and walk away, and you don't want to publish something that just lies there like a dead fish, you have one choice: find the thing within the boring thing that actually interests you, and make that your center.
This is just what I did. I did it on a smaller scale: I have a conference paper in two weeks, so I need about 3500 words (it's a longer paper) on a nice, tight idea. So I'm writing this paper around that interesting idea. And I think -- I hope -- that this may save my chapter. But more on that later.
[1] As I did so, I tried not to worry that passers-by would think I was nuts. Hogwarts, I reasoned, is the kind of place where the first assumption might be to assume I was a mad genius. And anyway, I'll be leaving in a few months, so who cares what they think?
Friday, November 13, 2015
My Book Chatper as Toddler
"We've had a long, busy day, haven't we?"
"yeah! we added words and looked things up and got lost but then got found kinda even though it wasn't where we were going and there was ice cream and coffee and..."
"Yes, honey. That's right. And now it's time to put you to bed."
"i'm not ready to go to bed!"
"Nevertheless. Grab your jammies."
"but... I want another drink of water. and to watch just one more show."
"No. It's bedtime. Don't worry though: tomorrow will be another day and we will watch a show together then. I'm sure of it. Just not tonight. For tonight, we're done."
"but i doan' wanna!"
"You've been up for way longer than I had planned already. Bed."
"but... you might not know this mommy: i didn't brush my teeth yet."
"That's okay, honey. Those baby teeth are going to fall out anyway."
"why do I have to go to bed when i'm not even tired!"
"Because mommy is tired. So that's the end of it. Bed. NOW."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Good night for now, sweet chapter. I know we've got loads more to do together, but mommy needs a break for a bit.
"yeah! we added words and looked things up and got lost but then got found kinda even though it wasn't where we were going and there was ice cream and coffee and..."
"Yes, honey. That's right. And now it's time to put you to bed."
"i'm not ready to go to bed!"
"Nevertheless. Grab your jammies."
"but... I want another drink of water. and to watch just one more show."
"No. It's bedtime. Don't worry though: tomorrow will be another day and we will watch a show together then. I'm sure of it. Just not tonight. For tonight, we're done."
"but i doan' wanna!"
"You've been up for way longer than I had planned already. Bed."
"but... you might not know this mommy: i didn't brush my teeth yet."
"That's okay, honey. Those baby teeth are going to fall out anyway."
"why do I have to go to bed when i'm not even tired!"
"Because mommy is tired. So that's the end of it. Bed. NOW."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Good night for now, sweet chapter. I know we've got loads more to do together, but mommy needs a break for a bit.
Monday, October 19, 2015
An Open Letter to the Six-Generations of Sprawling Medieval Family I am Studying at the Moment
I mean seriously: can you *imagine* what these family reunions were like?
"Clara! You remember your uncle Bernard, don't you?"
"Really? I thought you were dead. I mean, I know that's not polite, but I swear I heard you died at sea."
 |
| 3 of what would ultimately become 5 pages of ArghIckHate |
"Ah. That explains it. My apologies."
"And who is this fine young lad hiding behind your skirts?"
"Oh, that's my son Bernard. But since that's his father's name as well, we call him Bernardino until he comes of age. To avoid confusion, you understand."
"Of course."
Seriously. This has been my entire weekend. And that's with the aid of someone who wrote a 135-page article on one century of this family's history. Bleah.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Is there anything quite so joyous...
...as finding a gaping hole in the scholarship on a topic you are working on?
Seriously: I'm working on, say, the Great Pox Outbreak of 1402. And there's a huge literature on the topic of late medieval pox in general. The GPO happens to fall smack in the middle of the five-year-long War of the Three Henrys. Massive historiography there, too, in three different languages (one for each of the places contributing a Henry to the war).
And yet, somehow, none of these historians really makes much of a connection. Or, if they do, they mention it in a two-sentence aside. As I see it, these things are connected in a number of ways. Yet Pox scholars don't read most of the things on the War, and Henrico-bellists only mention the pox outbreak when it kills one of the major generals.
This, for me, is great.
As is the fact that both Poxers and Henricans (all three languages of them!) have meticulous footnotes.
Thank you, one and all.
Seriously: I'm working on, say, the Great Pox Outbreak of 1402. And there's a huge literature on the topic of late medieval pox in general. The GPO happens to fall smack in the middle of the five-year-long War of the Three Henrys. Massive historiography there, too, in three different languages (one for each of the places contributing a Henry to the war).
And yet, somehow, none of these historians really makes much of a connection. Or, if they do, they mention it in a two-sentence aside. As I see it, these things are connected in a number of ways. Yet Pox scholars don't read most of the things on the War, and Henrico-bellists only mention the pox outbreak when it kills one of the major generals.
This, for me, is great.
As is the fact that both Poxers and Henricans (all three languages of them!) have meticulous footnotes.
Thank you, one and all.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
A Week in Making and Unmaking
This week, I decided not to keep pounding my head against that wall that I smacked into late last week. Rather, I would look at it and strategize my way around it. I kept writing bits and pieces -- I'm a serious convert to the "write every day; even a couple sentences" school of writing -- but the word counter barely budged. I was clocking maybe a page a day, which is flippin' fantastic if you're teaching, doing service work, parenting, etc. But when you're on a fellowship without family or kids and have nothing but time to work, isn't going to cut it in the long run.
But I managed, finally, on Friday, to figure out a way over, under, or around that wall. I put together what I think is the fourth outline for this chapter so far (entitled "new-new outline"). I determined that some of the big, detailed bits I had cranked out this week were going to go in a chapter that I thought was already done, but that on second thought, will probably have to be lightly reconceptualized. Today, I wrote provisional headings for each of the subsections, and sometimes each paragraph, making notes as to what parts of the old MS went where.
And then the unmaking began.
At the end of last week, I had almost 14,500 words in this chapter.
At the end of this week, I had added a little over 1,000 words to that.
And now, after having re-configured and pulled and plugged... I ultimately pulled the plug on almost exactly a third of my words. Sitting here at this very moment, I have just under 10,500 words.
I'd be more freaked out, except for three things:
But I managed, finally, on Friday, to figure out a way over, under, or around that wall. I put together what I think is the fourth outline for this chapter so far (entitled "new-new outline"). I determined that some of the big, detailed bits I had cranked out this week were going to go in a chapter that I thought was already done, but that on second thought, will probably have to be lightly reconceptualized. Today, I wrote provisional headings for each of the subsections, and sometimes each paragraph, making notes as to what parts of the old MS went where.
And then the unmaking began.
At the end of last week, I had almost 14,500 words in this chapter.
At the end of this week, I had added a little over 1,000 words to that.
And now, after having re-configured and pulled and plugged... I ultimately pulled the plug on almost exactly a third of my words. Sitting here at this very moment, I have just under 10,500 words.
I'd be more freaked out, except for three things:
- The words are not really gone-gone. Many of them, as I said, are going into another chapter -- I already have a home for them. And others (though surely not all) may find homes eventually.
- I've done this before, much more definitively: I ruthlessly deleted -- I mean, made really, really gone -- somewhere around 35 hard-won pages of my first dissertation chapter, and when writing the book, I made the decision to cut an entire chapter that just wasn't working. In both cases, it was scary, and in both cases, after the shock wore off, what I had left was ever so much better.
- I like counting words, just like I like fitness monitors and to-do lists I can check off and little chore charts with gold stars. I like visible stats on my progress. BUT -- and heed me well here -- I've learned that it matters so much less how many words you have than whether they're the right words.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Smacking into a wall
Well, that didn't take long.
Four weeks into my stay here at Hogwarts for Historians. Two weeks into serious writing. One week after cranking out a jaw-dropping (for me) 4500 words in less than a week and learning a whole lot of new things about hard-tack and why you want a weasel on board your ship and all that... and I've gone and hit a wall.
This past week's progress has been fueled by the knowledge that I was going to work on a specific section this week, and I wasn't going to worry about perfection. I was just going to get the stuff down on paper. Today, though, I did my usual weekend thing of trying to plan what would be on tap for next week. And I realized that, while I had some broad general topics I needed to look into, I didn't have any good questions yet. And as any writer of anything from a five-paragraph essay to a 500-page book will tell you: no questions = no direction. And no direction, gentle reader, is the death of writing.
I will admit: I panicked.
And then I got out my pen:
There always comes a point in my projects when I get really, really stuck. Usually it means that I've written for too long with too little reflection. This can happen when I get all obsessed with word count and pages and goals and the like. But the truth is, I need to pause for reflection as well. And for me, reflection happens with a pen in hand, as I scribble summaries of what I know so far, accompanied by half-baked "what might it all mean" notes, and try to let the ideas come, rather than alternately shoving and dragging them. Shoving-and-dragging is good for word counts sometimes, but for me, I need to scribble my way in to this part of the process.
So that's my task: rather than spending the weekend stockpiling reading for the week's writing to come, I'm going to give myself permission for next week to be an extremely low word-count week so I can spend this weekend focusing on the ideas and where this chapter seems to want to be heading. Here are the questions I plan to ask myself (in no particular order, and not looking at my provisional outline):
And besides: I'm at History Hogwarts. Anything could happen.
Four weeks into my stay here at Hogwarts for Historians. Two weeks into serious writing. One week after cranking out a jaw-dropping (for me) 4500 words in less than a week and learning a whole lot of new things about hard-tack and why you want a weasel on board your ship and all that... and I've gone and hit a wall.
This past week's progress has been fueled by the knowledge that I was going to work on a specific section this week, and I wasn't going to worry about perfection. I was just going to get the stuff down on paper. Today, though, I did my usual weekend thing of trying to plan what would be on tap for next week. And I realized that, while I had some broad general topics I needed to look into, I didn't have any good questions yet. And as any writer of anything from a five-paragraph essay to a 500-page book will tell you: no questions = no direction. And no direction, gentle reader, is the death of writing.
I will admit: I panicked.
And then I got out my pen:
There always comes a point in my projects when I get really, really stuck. Usually it means that I've written for too long with too little reflection. This can happen when I get all obsessed with word count and pages and goals and the like. But the truth is, I need to pause for reflection as well. And for me, reflection happens with a pen in hand, as I scribble summaries of what I know so far, accompanied by half-baked "what might it all mean" notes, and try to let the ideas come, rather than alternately shoving and dragging them. Shoving-and-dragging is good for word counts sometimes, but for me, I need to scribble my way in to this part of the process.
So that's my task: rather than spending the weekend stockpiling reading for the week's writing to come, I'm going to give myself permission for next week to be an extremely low word-count week so I can spend this weekend focusing on the ideas and where this chapter seems to want to be heading. Here are the questions I plan to ask myself (in no particular order, and not looking at my provisional outline):
- What are the big themes of the book, and how does the chapter I imagined potentially contribute to them?
- What type of chapter is this shaping up to be all on its own? What questions am I on the way to answering? What does it want to be about, versus what I thought it was going to be about when I wrote an outline?
- How can I take advantage of that to help me answer a small piece of the larger question? Does this mean the larger question has to shift again?
And besides: I'm at History Hogwarts. Anything could happen.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Answers to questions I didn't know I had
One of the reasons that I settled on my current book project was that it allowed me to dig in and answer lots of questions that I have for myself. In other words, I am, in a sense, writing this book to satisfy my own curiosity, and I hope that other people will be interested as well.
But you know, I'm coming across lots of little tidbits that I didn't know I even would be getting into. This week, for example, I'm researching how you went about building and crewing a ship -- like a really, really big ship -- in medieval Blargistan. Over the past week, I've learned where in the city the ships got built (by the shoreline -- duh -- but where specifically), where they got their wood (pretty close by), what sorts of specialists were involved in the various steps of shipbuilding (lots), how you make a ship watertight (oakum + pine tar + secret sauce), who is on a crew (again, lots), where you hire that crew (again, near the ocean, but in another spot), what they're paid (varies).
Today, it's been "What sorts of food do they eat?" Hard-tack with stew, washed down with rough wine, I'd have said before. Turns out there's quite a bit more to it. More meat and way more fresh bread than you'd imagine. More live animals on ship. More vegetables, even.
What is all this going to add up to? Hard to say. But "Apply Butt to Chair and Trust the Process" is my new two-part mantra.
And in the meantime: this is all pretty neat stuff to know.
EDIT: I've decided that I needed to start looking up photo credits. The first one came from a Danish group that makes and sails replica Hanseatic cogs. As far as I can tell, the one for hardtack came from a survivalist website, which also provides a recipe, so you can try it if you want it. However, the website's statement that "When it has the consistency of a brick, it’s fully cured" makes strange bedfellows with their insistence that it's "delicious."
 |
| Someone built this. And sailed in it. |
 |
| Someone cooked this. And, one presumes, ate it. (Or, at least tried to.) |
What is all this going to add up to? Hard to say. But "Apply Butt to Chair and Trust the Process" is my new two-part mantra.
And in the meantime: this is all pretty neat stuff to know.
EDIT: I've decided that I needed to start looking up photo credits. The first one came from a Danish group that makes and sails replica Hanseatic cogs. As far as I can tell, the one for hardtack came from a survivalist website, which also provides a recipe, so you can try it if you want it. However, the website's statement that "When it has the consistency of a brick, it’s fully cured" makes strange bedfellows with their insistence that it's "delicious."
Thursday, September 3, 2015
More about FPU soon, but first: a hopeful note
I've been flailing for so long I've almost forgotten what it feels like to do otherwise:
"Breathe, Notorious," I tell myself. "It's okay to write your way into this one. The idea will come. It always does. For now, just write." And so that's what I've been doing. And lo and behold, earlier this week, I got one of the "big picture" hooks I'm going to need for the book. Still nothing on the chapter... until this morning. I kinda-sorta figured it out. For now, anyway. I'm willing to let this change and evolve. But I no longer lie away at night thinking that this chapter -- and maybe even the book -- will amount to "Look at all this neat stuff I found!" And that is a huge relief.
- This summer, I flailed in the archives, as I worked with an entirely new genre of documents in new archives with no idea what I was looking for.
- I've been flailing a bit about the "so what" of this book as a whole. When someone asks what the argument of my half-drafted book is, I contemplate faking my own death -- even though I know this is really the most important question to ask
- More proximately, I've been flailing about what the chapter I'm working on meant.
"Breathe, Notorious," I tell myself. "It's okay to write your way into this one. The idea will come. It always does. For now, just write." And so that's what I've been doing. And lo and behold, earlier this week, I got one of the "big picture" hooks I'm going to need for the book. Still nothing on the chapter... until this morning. I kinda-sorta figured it out. For now, anyway. I'm willing to let this change and evolve. But I no longer lie away at night thinking that this chapter -- and maybe even the book -- will amount to "Look at all this neat stuff I found!" And that is a huge relief.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Settling In at FPU
Greetings from Fancy-Pants University!
Yeah, okay, it's been over a month since I've posted. But to be fair, in that month, here's what I've done:
And, of course, there's the work of organizing the actual work. I was at that yesterday and today, trying to figure out what I had (more than I thought), what I still need to transcribe (again, more than I thought -- depressingly so), and where I'm at with the chapter drafts (not as far as I'd like to be, but a good respectable third of the MS in draft form). I'm hoping to really dive in and start writing on September 1. Every time I try to think beyond that, about how much writing I need to do, or what my daily/weekly pace needs to be to get there, or (gods help me) what the real "so what" of my book is, I start to freak out a little. So I've decided for now to stop doing that. Just put in the work every day, rain or shine. And enjoy the hell out of FPU, which truly is a wonderful, wonderful place.
Yeah, okay, it's been over a month since I've posted. But to be fair, in that month, here's what I've done:
- Finished up a last frantic week of research in Blerg City
- Gotten a cut that got infected four days before leaving (shivering in 75-degree rooms? check!)
- Traveled back to Grit City, and moved in with friend for 10 days
- Visited doctor for antibiotics for infection, then got sick with some new upper-respiratory thing
- Spent ten days finishing final good-byes in Grit City; dealt with address changes; mailed 7 boxes across the country
- Moved self (with two suitcases) across country
- Settled into new apartment and new office and new... well, new everything.
 |
| My new office is pretty fancy-pants in its own right. |
Saturday, July 18, 2015
"Mop-Up Trip" ha ha ha!
I've been in the archives & libraries pretty much solid for the past couple of weeks. Hell, it's Saturday night in Blerg City and the neighborhood is jumping... and I've been inside for hours reading a book about Carmelite friars.
Yeah. My life is a nonstop party.
But just a quick thought that occurred to me that I wanted to share before I called it quits for the evening (and it's five minutes till midnight here, so I ought to do just that): When I began this research way back in 2009, I had a vague idea of what I'd be doing. And I collected a bunch of documents. I thought I had most everything I needed, and that this would be a quick mop-up trip. But here's the thing about having a clearer idea of where your project is going: you realize that entire collections of documents that you had previously skipped as irrelevant are now revealing themselves to be highly relevant. And, in fact, you could probably spend another year in the archives before you feel like you've got everything you need. And that this book is going to be a much bigger job than you thought it would even just a couple of months ago.
Or, to put it more succinctly:
Yeah. My life is a nonstop party.
But just a quick thought that occurred to me that I wanted to share before I called it quits for the evening (and it's five minutes till midnight here, so I ought to do just that): When I began this research way back in 2009, I had a vague idea of what I'd be doing. And I collected a bunch of documents. I thought I had most everything I needed, and that this would be a quick mop-up trip. But here's the thing about having a clearer idea of where your project is going: you realize that entire collections of documents that you had previously skipped as irrelevant are now revealing themselves to be highly relevant. And, in fact, you could probably spend another year in the archives before you feel like you've got everything you need. And that this book is going to be a much bigger job than you thought it would even just a couple of months ago.
Or, to put it more succinctly:
Saturday, May 23, 2015
How the Second-Book Fellowship Year Began
Let's kick this right off, shall we? Not content with reveling in the thought of the academic year off, I've decided to think about how my fellowship actually began the minute I submitted my grades for this past semester. In fact, I actually gave that last senior portfolio a kiss when I picked it up.
Of course, the first 48 hours of my leave have been less than spectacular, given the fact that my Kalamazoo cold is still lingering, to the point where I only go out in public if I can maintain a three-foot distance between myself and the nearest other human being. The week-long sore throat is gone, but my apartment looks like the place where Kleenex go to die.
Still, I'm not too troubled. I count on a full week to ten days at the end of every academic year to be sick, get well, and be a couch potato. So that's what I've embarked upon. There have been TV shows (Game of Thrones and The Fall, in case you're wondering), there has been a great round of long-delayed self-care appointment-scheduling (dentist, hair, chiropractor, massage, orthopedist, etc), and there has been gazing at the piles of papers and two weeks' worth of unopened mail and wondering whether today has been the day I'll tackle it.
My goal is to enter June with a clean-ish, organized-ish home and office, so I can set about the business of really thinking about my summer research trip, in which I will, at long last, tackle the notarial archives, which are always a bitch to sort through.[1]
And now... I think I need to get at least one chore knocked off my list.
[1] Oh, and about that research trip: since my secret identity is less secret with every passing year, I'm probably no longer gonna be quite so guarded about what I'm working on. You may even see pictures from Blarg City that clearly identify it. I will, however, continue to make up and insist on pseudonyms for people and places (myself included) -- purely because it amuses me to do so.
Of course, the first 48 hours of my leave have been less than spectacular, given the fact that my Kalamazoo cold is still lingering, to the point where I only go out in public if I can maintain a three-foot distance between myself and the nearest other human being. The week-long sore throat is gone, but my apartment looks like the place where Kleenex go to die.
Still, I'm not too troubled. I count on a full week to ten days at the end of every academic year to be sick, get well, and be a couch potato. So that's what I've embarked upon. There have been TV shows (Game of Thrones and The Fall, in case you're wondering), there has been a great round of long-delayed self-care appointment-scheduling (dentist, hair, chiropractor, massage, orthopedist, etc), and there has been gazing at the piles of papers and two weeks' worth of unopened mail and wondering whether today has been the day I'll tackle it.
My goal is to enter June with a clean-ish, organized-ish home and office, so I can set about the business of really thinking about my summer research trip, in which I will, at long last, tackle the notarial archives, which are always a bitch to sort through.[1]
And now... I think I need to get at least one chore knocked off my list.
[1] Oh, and about that research trip: since my secret identity is less secret with every passing year, I'm probably no longer gonna be quite so guarded about what I'm working on. You may even see pictures from Blarg City that clearly identify it. I will, however, continue to make up and insist on pseudonyms for people and places (myself included) -- purely because it amuses me to do so.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Good News, with a Side of Nostalgia
This morning, I had occasion to visit my very first post on this blog. That was way back in June of 2007, almost 8 years ago. Yes, I've been blogging for that long. Not as regularly as some, but I've been hanging in there.
This post, among other things, announced a bit of my motivation for starting the blog: I had just gotten a fellowship. And just in the nick of time: I had tenure review staring me in the face and one lousy article plus one revise & resubmit (one that I didn't know at the time would plague me for a full year). And I needed to finish a book.
So I figure that chronicling the first-book process would be cool, and that I'd actually have time to do it. And I did.
And then my post-tenure malaise set in, and blogging declined for... oh, half a decade or so. Inspiration waned. For everything. Until... one magical day, the shape of the next book -- the one that had been digging in its heels -- appeared fully-formed in my head. And I wanted to write it. But how? with what time?
And so I applied for fellowships again. Two long-shots.
And I got one.
So, next year, I am off to Fancy-Pants Institute (FPI) to write, write, write. A book, one hopes.
And maybe even a few blog posts.
This post, among other things, announced a bit of my motivation for starting the blog: I had just gotten a fellowship. And just in the nick of time: I had tenure review staring me in the face and one lousy article plus one revise & resubmit (one that I didn't know at the time would plague me for a full year). And I needed to finish a book.
So I figure that chronicling the first-book process would be cool, and that I'd actually have time to do it. And I did.
And then my post-tenure malaise set in, and blogging declined for... oh, half a decade or so. Inspiration waned. For everything. Until... one magical day, the shape of the next book -- the one that had been digging in its heels -- appeared fully-formed in my head. And I wanted to write it. But how? with what time?
And so I applied for fellowships again. Two long-shots.
And I got one.
So, next year, I am off to Fancy-Pants Institute (FPI) to write, write, write. A book, one hopes.
And maybe even a few blog posts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)