The good news: the story is better than I remembered.

The bad news: my handwriting. I’m suffering for art. Deciphering hieroglyphics would be easier.

I blogged about this book every day in November 2010. The longhand manuscript was written in a Clairfontaine notebook with a Waterman fountain pen. When the month was over, the acupuncturist treated me for tennis writer’s elbow.

The manuscript is 201 pages at 320 words per page. Approximately 64,000 words. Short, I know, but the real work comes in revision, so I need to get typing. Hence, the bar graph to the right.

The book isn’t exactly a manifesto for creatives. Any tome that uses the word, entrepreneur, belongs on an end-cap at Office Max. But, I kept reading because Fields’ voice pulled me in. Before long, I was reaching for a post it note to mark a page or two . . . or seven. Here’s the laundry list including editorial comments:

1. There is often a great divide between creating exactly what you sought to create and creating what you were capable of creating. p. 130.

The book I wrote doesn’t resemble the book I started to write. Thank God for the process because my initial premise sucked in comparison to the actual words on the page. Yeah me!

2. Be true to the process, actions, and rituals that you can commit to. p. 134.

Finally, I don’t have to feel guilty for taking a walk in the middle of the day, or wearing my mom’s old cardigan sweater while I’m writing. Being an obsessive news junky is part of my process. Reading every book on the NY Times bestseller list isn’t. I don’t watch television, but I do collect visual images on Pinterest. I’m a bitch without morning pages, and I like to have the work almost done before I let anyone read it.

3. “Oh, sweety, that painting is so beautiful. You’re so talented” Or, “Great job on that math test. You’ve got a real gift for numbers.” Such comments sound innocuous enough on the surface, but are textbook examples of unintentionally programming your kids to adopt a fixed mind-set, capping their perceived ability to learn beyond what comes easily by attributing success, performance, and mastery to a perceived talent or gift, by implicitly discrediting work as the primary source of growth, mastery, and success. Instead of focusing on talent and ability, . . . say things like, “I’m so proud of how hard you worked on X.” I focus less on the outcome and more on the process, framing tests, trials, or contests as opportunities to see where you’re at and to learn how to use them to inform your work going forward. p.137.

Guilty as charged. My kids are talented, but as a former fine arts teacher, I know that sweat is most valuable gift.

4. Exercise and AT [Attentional Training], are extraordinary creation force multipliers. Together, they are capable of transforming not only what you’re capable of bringing to life, but how you experience the process of creation. p.147.

Fields runs a yoga studio. He carries a Hefty bag of praise for meditation. But, AT can be defined as learning to pay attention. Creative ritual helps. A routine helps. Having a strategic goal helps. Learn about setting strategic goals from writer, Bob Mayer, here at Write It Forward. When I’m stuck, I go for a walk. When I can’t focus, I listen to a sound track I created for my work in progress, or I turn on High Focus by Kelly Howell, beta brain wave therapy. Whatever works, use it!

5. Harvard commencement speech, J.K. Rowling in 2008: I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life. . . . The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned. p.183.

If there’s a silver lining to landing on your butt, J.K. Rowling found it. I wanna be her when I grow up.

6. “When you go to zero, all falls away. When you arrive at the bottom, fear of judgment has nothing to grasp on to, because fear is an anticipatory emotion . . . and you’re already there. You’ve cratered, you’ve been judged the whole way down. You no longer have to anticipate how it feels; you’re living that state. How much worse could it really get if you tried to innovate your way out of the abyss and failed again? Why not try?” pp. 183-184. also, “Without fear of judgment, your tolerance for uncertainty skyrockets. . . .”

I’ve been all around the fear of judgment ferris wheel, but until now, I’ve never considered how lucky I am to be judged unworthy by my peers. Why not try? There’s nowhere to go, but up.

7. “In the case of what I’ve identified as going to zero, be sure to explore the three key questions as well: What if I fail, then recover? What if I do nothing? What if I succeed?” p. 190.

Of the three questions, What if I do nothing? is the most pointed. It’s the question I must remember to ask when I feel like quitting. Should I die, sad and miserable, because I didn’t get what I wanted out of life? Or, should I die, fighting for my dreams?

Jonathan Fields’ Uncertainty is a must read. Skim the business guru stuff. I did. The best parts are worth it.

Tilt: (Historical) a combat for exercise or sport between two men on horseback with lances; a joust.

I’m ready for the final turn on SCHOOLED. Most of my Beta Reads are back. One was so good, so concrete, I felt myself nodding at every red-lined comment. The things I knew were wrong–are wrong. The things that needed more–still need more. I’m lucky to get a great critique. Not great in the expansive ego building sense, but solid. I know I can fix this. She said the nicest thing, “This is a very good story–I found myself thinking about it when I was away from it.” What writer doesn’t live for that?

November is National Novel Writing Month. Last year’s manuscript is tucked away, a Clairfontaine notebook of a novel. That’s right. It’s still in longhand, ready to be typed. The ending is wrong, but thanks to the New Mexico fire season, I know what to do. The collage hangs above the buffet in my dining room-cum-office. It would be reasonable to start typing as soon as possible.

I should be reasonable, but I have another bright, shiny thing going on in my head. Not a fully formed plan, barely a spark. I can’t quit thinking about it.

I’ve never been a fan of all things in moderation. I favor submersion. Full tilt.

Cherry’s been taking classes at a community art center for over a year. This week, when she tried to enroll for fall semester, every class she wanted was cancelled. The choices were: repeat a beginning class or enroll in a medium that isn’t her thing.

From writing a novel, I’ve learned there is no substitute for time. I’ve also learned to trust my own judgement, to make the story mine, and to keep writing until it’s something I want to claim.

With her tuition money, Cherry bought art supplies. Real artist supplies–acrylic paint, a pallet, calligraphy pens, canvases, books on technique. This week, she started logging her 10,000 hours.

I started to title this post, How I Spent My Summer Vacation. But when you write full-time, you are never on vacation. You write. All the time. Which brings me to the point.

I finished the book.

That’s scary. I’ll say it again.

I finished the book.

Typing those words is like getting off the roller coaster and getting back in line. Seriously. I sent it to my Beta readers, and while I tap my fingers in anticipation of their comments out of habit from pounding the keyboard, I’m  lost. Between worlds.

I’ve never been good at transitions. I’m a full-out kind of girl. I’ve written a query. I’m stumbling through the synopsis. But it feels a little like watching the out-takes from the end of a Mary-Kate and Ashley video. I know there’s something better to do, but I haven’t gotten off the couch to find the remote.

I’ve been so immersed. I’ve developed a social anxiety about blogging. That thing where I avoid something so long, I’m intimidated–afraid of over-sharing. I have two choices:  A.Quit  B.Write every day. I’m going with B for a while, but I’m turning off the comments for the time being. I’m crazy enough to keep checking back to see if you’re reading. And, I can’t handle waiting on the Betas AND the blog readers.

• Tab SCHOOLED with Donald Maass workshop notes (Did it.)
• Write O’Keeffe/Dickens paper. (I did the research.)
• Rewrite SCHOOLED. (I finished lessons 1-14 and 34 of Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook.)
• Create a comic throughline for three new books. (I did it for one new book.)
• Choose one of the throughlines and create: a collage (Did it.), scene cards (Did it.), a rough draft in longhand (Did it!)

This year’s 3×5 looks like this:

For SCHOOLED:

• Finish Lessons 15-33 of Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook.
• Write a synopsis.
• Clean, refine, and edit a final draft.
• Query.

for LAND OF ENCHANTMENT:

• Type it.
• Write the second draft using the Breakout Novel Workbook, Lessons 1-34.
• Write a synopsis.

Research FEARLESS and write a throughline.