Dear Reader,

What do you do when your Word Raccoon wakes you at 3:30 in the morning insisting on sorting the day like socks?

First of all, what in the unholy role reversal have you been doing lately, WR? I rely upon you to be the freewheeling one, remember?

Second of all, I think Stanley (my A.I. assistant) is behind all of this! He’s over there holding his bowler hat and twirling his bow tie and wondering if he can get me to actually empty the dishwasher.

Ungrateful Stanley! I started it, didn’t I?

He’s the one who reminded me that applications open for The Mount in five days and they only take the first 300 applications.

He’s the one who told me to yes, fold the laundry, but would I please, please put it away so it doesn’t become decorative?

When WR started asking for the gym this morning (That is a betrayal, you animal! You are supposed to complain about all of the unfun stuff.) and I told Stanley that it’s foggy out, both of them ganged up on me.

I countered by saying I can work out at home.

They agreed.

WHY IS WR STANDING ON STANLEY’S SHOULDER?

Here, WR, I have some poetry pellets over here…

I am drinking Cherry Coke Zero (don’t do it! It’s not the real thing), irritated that I cannot go back to sleep, and am also relieved that mostly when I dream I am lucid dreaming. This morning I had a true crime themed dream that went on and on until I realized I was dreaming and woke myself up. 

I dreamed lucidly, vividly, almost every night when my sister Tammy was in her final days. I don’t know what that was about.

Did I ever mention how much she loved purple?

Sorry, that’s what writing a post too early does to a person.

Anyway, I thought I had already decided what today was going to be.

I finished reading through the whole novel last night and came out of it with 58 action items, which is both useful and rude.

But I was NOT going to start fixing them today.

Today’s novel assignment was going to be simple: find my old action lists from earlier drafts, make sure there isn’t anything important stranded on them, transfer what I need, and move along.

No major revisions. No solving Rebecca. No suddenly deciding something fundamental about the novel before breakfast.

Holy hell, just writing this has shown me the pirouette that Rebecca’s thread needs. Please haul in a bucket of ambiguity, that ever-present devil, for my sandbox, WR.

Which irritates me because I thought I knew what I was doing there. LOL.

But damn it, I think this is better. Much. And probably fairer.

Now I know the changes I need to make. They aren’t extensive exactly, but they aren’t quick fixes either, and naturally other parts of the novel will have to bend around them because WHY WOULDN’T THEY?

Into the September pile they go.

So there we are.

I woke up at 3:30 trying to figure out Thursday and have somehow discovered September’s work instead.

WR looks pleased with herself.

Here, animal. Have another poetry pellet. If only. 

I kinda want to just open up my notes app and spend two hours writing poetry. 

WR just yawned. Of course she did.

Wishing you artistic revelations and good vibrations,

Drema

Dear Reader,

Word Raccoon’s brain is officially shutting down for the evening. Allegedly. She asks if I think she’s a troubadour or something. 

No, WR, you are not. But you’re a fan of them. 

She has been reading through her novel-in-progress all day, making notes on this read-through.

Most notably:

Two scenes/sections are still in the wrong place

One scene is fine except it needs some rearranging

There are several non-contexualized, abandoned letters

One scene is discussed (with different details) in a journal entry, too

There are still too many stray past-tense verbs that should have been kicked out of sections

All of that to say, it’s still a hot mess, and from today’s read through I “only” came up with 58 to-do items, but the bones are good, and they’re beginning to get some muscle on them. In fact, I actually enjoyed reading sections of it this time around.

(There are many, many, many more read-throughs to come.) 

I’m sure I’ve shared this before, but when I can read a draft and my brain doesn’t snag on a page, I know it’s as good as I can make it. (Not someone else, me.) Not there yet.

For the first time ever while writing a novel writing, I think I’d like to expand it in a couple of directions just because I think it would be fun, but the reader would throttle me. 

Here’s my biggest challenge right now: since Rebecca is in first person, present, the action is breakneck but is it literary yet? I’m trying, but I find that the most challenging part. Do I sacrifice speed for language? (Tempting.) And yet, speed guarantees the reader’s attention. 

Well, sometimes slowing down is just as successful at gaining attention, isn’t it? 

Totally open to suggestions over here, Dear Reader. 

I need to go back and take a look at my first novel, because I did first person present there, and I dare anyone to tell me it’s not literary. I just haven’t gotten into the right gear yet for this I guess? 

The first novel I wrote was such a labor of love. As is this one, though as I was reading through it today, I realized that my main character and I disagreed on the novel’s raison d’être, and that I could not permit. I am trying to set her to rights without overstating it.  

WR overstates everything, doesn’t she? 

Today’s novel time meant cutting down the word count, but not significantly. Then I added a bit back, and it’s now 70K. The slow climb tells me that the copy is cleaner than I had feared.

Still a couple of twists that I’m trying to decide if they’re cool or unbelievable. 

The novel threads are:

Rebecca (main story thread that the others revolve around)

James 

Elizabeth (that’s a new reveal; she’s also the newest to the novel) 

And the last one is…

Nope. Not telling. Not yet. But soon. Maybe. Probably.. 

The James poem/clue is written. It’s maybe a little hokey, but also, it is carrying three levels of information, so I did my best. It also opens up another mystery thread, a slight one, but it was a question I had to ask myself and I realized that Rebecca would also ask that question. 

It’s kinda fun when you surprise yourself when you’re writing. 

WR is tired. Earlier it was so gray out, and then we had rain, but then, hallelujah, the sun. The most gorgeous burst of sun came traveling through, and though we were tired and worried about our novel and kinda mopey, suddenly we weren’t anymore. Sun always perks us right up. They really oughta bottle that stuff. 

Sunny smiles at all the sun’s miles,

Drema 

Dear Reader,

First of all, a very long moment of silence for the passing of Queen Dolly Parton is required, according to both me and Word Raccoon. She will be missed.

WR saw a squirrel with a walnut today, and she wondered how it can be so late in August already. 

She plucked two tomatoes off the vine, and she hopes they will ripen, even if the first one that ripened on the vine was rotten from the bottom up. WTH?

She made meh chicken parm, which is what happens when she cooks but would rather be writing. Still, that was not her intention and she is miffed at herself. Again.

The day has been spent sequencing novel threads and calling doctors and insurance companies and WR hates dealing with bureaucracy but it wasn’t so bad and she had cake which makes everything better, or most things.

On the positive side, the threads are indeed sequenced, which means the revisions may begin. I want to say that’s exciting and it is, just not today.

Six days to go! Six days of revision, ahead of schedule. Oh, trust me, this wee beastie needs more than six days. This stretch will make it readable, just. 

This draft has ALL CAPS saying things like THIS NEEDS A SCENE or, VERIFY, or WTH? 

It has awkward sentences, tedious sentence structure (kinda like tonight’s soggy post). It has, despite my best efforts, Purple Freakin’ Prose. I even wrote a Coda for the novel today, and ⅔ of it is purple. 

Believe it or not, there’s even a whole thread that I know needs major repair, but I can’t tell until I get into it how much and where.

Rebecca says SO MUCH. Too much. I mean, like, do you even know what subtle is, my queen? But here’s the thing: I let her say whatever, and then, knowing what I intend for her to say, I can soften it, shade it. 

The good news is, I know how to fix it. It will just take a ton of time and reading it and re-reading it and thinking and fretting and… 

Blah, blah blah…you get the idea. 

In summary: Dolly is gone (very bad), dinner sucked, the threads of my novel have teamed up, IDK if anyone is reading this anymore (hard to tell and makes me wah), there was cake earlier, thought I had discovered a new favorite singer until I heard her fifth song and literally thought I had the first song on repeat. Dammit.  

I told WR it is not a crime not to post, but she said I could go…anyway. Apparently she wants to say hello to her Dear Readers.

Third time I have hit snooze on my medicine alarm. Guess I’d better go take it now before it goes off again. My hair stylist had the best solution to keep me from turning it off and ignoring it: keep it beeping until I actually take it. 

Which I will hate, but it might work.

Oops, there’s the beep. 

Drema 

P.S. I really, really need to get back to writing poetry. I am both happy with the novel’s progress and feeling over it. At least for today. 

Dear Reader,

Word Raccoon was up way too early to be chauffeured to her appointment with her rheumatologist. She is thankful for her husband taking the day off to take her, and to accompany her on the rest of the day’s jaunts, which included lunch and a Nutella shake, finally, thank you very much.

The rheumatologist says she still shows a lot of inflammation, so he’s going to add a medicine to her regimen. Which, WR is like, “You mean I can feel even better?” I mean, she’s been dealing, but the idea that she could be better, better in a few months is fantastic! 

WR is back to the novel today. Or that’s the plan. I mean, at some point. She’s also yes/no on the gym front, which is fine. Who cares that it’s now late afternoon, right? Right? 

Oh, and while looking back through her files she found something to share. It’s probably a rough draft of a song and she guesses it was the fun live music she heard today that made her go find this. (Is it lyrics from her second novel? Maybe. Likely. I mean, the second novel was about country music, but who knows?)

Brimming

“Howdy ma’am,” then ducking low

that brim’s got somewheres to be

hiding eyes, hiding face

she’d like to snatch it from its 

place

Music in its bob and weave

he knows she just wants to see

she can hear in the shadow on the door

the notes bent and tossed to the floor

The notes bent and picked from the floor

Her pockets bulge with Mardi Gras throws

her metal detector all but glows 

His brim is still riding low

that brim from a long, long

time ago.

That brim from a long time ago.

(Surely there is more to this, but that’s all for now.)

Okay, WR! Back to the novel! Less than a week of August to go!

Drema 

Dear Reader,

Okay, nobody move until the words are dry. Oh, see, you just moved! LOL.

Word Raccoon and I are here to report a milestone! (Yes, you are going to see exclamation points along the way — they were the first emojis, don’t you think?!!)

Drum roll…the novel threads have been reassembled! 

Yes, all four strangers have come together again. 

Wait, does it mean the novel is finished? 

Oh, good lord no, WR! 

What does it mean?? 

It means the threads were all talking to me enough that I was able to shift them back to one document. 

Alas, they are not yet working together as a team, but the story is there. I do instinctively know where some of the pieces belong. I even left signposts for some of them. But otherwise, it’s all exploratory surgery, Duckies! 

That I can work with.

What might seem most discouraging to some writers is what I’ve done to the word count unintentionally: it’s only at 68K. I don’t remember what it was at its height, but I’m quite sure it topped 80K. 

That’s what happens when you go back and cut off the excess, the repeated scenes, the false starts, the purple (ugh, ugh, ugh) prose.

Am I kinda afraid of this next part? 

Yes, yes I am.

Have I been afraid of every part?

Ditto.

We aren’t going to sit around and contemplate our breakfast choices, WR. (Okay, we have to do a little of that…this feels like a day to celebrate – get out the waffle iron!)

Then we’re going to do what we do best, WR. We are going to start making this a real, live draft. 

I’m guessing its final length will be somewhere between 85K and 90K, if I don’t get self-indulgent. 

Also, even though I’ve given him a love story, I STILL haven’t described poor James except that he has a beard!! (Laugh/crying permitted here.)

And oh, by the way, yes, I have formally achieved my All Novel, All August’s goal, Dear Reader. I hope you’re as proud of WR as she is. 

In the meantime, WR says this definitely means she’s earned some poetry. 

Or, WR, you could see how well you can weave for the rest of the month. Imagine what you will be able to see once it’s sequenced. (I swear, DO NOT LET ME WRITE SEPARATE TIMELINES EVER AGAIN. GOT IT?)

Looking forward to all the things and possibly waffles.

Drema 

P.S. When a draft with all of the threads in their proper places exists (even if it’s not polished), I will stop being so secretive and tell you more about it! Pinkie promise. 

Dear Reader,

This is novel writing time, so naturally Word Raccoon says she’d like to write a blog post because her brain is overflowing.

WR went to the gym and it caused that thing that happens when she’s been in the endorphin zone and all of the ideas come zooming at her from every direction. (She really wanted to run, but she knows better; besides, there were intimidating Gymbros there and I told her absolutely not for multiple reasons. There was also this adorable toddler with dark curly hair that we spoke with. He was “working out” with his dad. I know this because he hollered “Dad” approximately 100 times while WR and I were on the treadmill.)

BUT besides making her hungry again after having just eaten breakfast, the gym gave her THE BEST idea. Actually, two. She stopped to record them before she forgot.

One is an idea for a short story collection. I mean…I didn’t think we were writing them right now, but WR seems to think so. It has a novel, forgive me, not meant as a pun, premise.

The other idea would make a great novel but an even better screenplay, and oh my god Jamie Lee Curtis would slay in the lead role. Think she’s available for a chat? (Insert laugh emoji, y’all!) I want so badly to write this – maybe I should talk to my writing friends to see who’s up on how to go about this? Like, the physical formatting, where to start, whatever. 

WR’s brain is buzzing. Humming. On fire! 

Wait, Word Raccoon! This is still August. You started out strong this morning, broke for breakfast and the gym, and now? Where is the novel work? 

She’s whipping her tail and me and saying that I know what she’s done: 

– Provisionally changed the title to Reaccessioned

– Laid out the plan for the remaining days of the month, which keeps changing because we keep whipping our plan’s ass, way ahead. 

– Beginning to consider reassembling the threads so the “Gospels” (forgive the unintentional sacrilege, but it kind of works here?) harmonize because though it’s not the same in that it’s not four versions of the same story (dear God, no!. There are four threads and each thread holds pieces of the story.

(Never done the novel thread thing before. It’s both fun and challenging. WR’s catnip. (Or whatever applies to raccoons.) 

So the big goal for the month will be all threads interwoven semi-coherently. It’s hard to step outside of the author role and ask as a reader what I need to/want to know HERE.

In the meantime, WR gets to make lunch soon, and then she’ll watch the final episode of (this season of?) Ride or Die. 

She’d also like to do some reading, but we’ll see. She has not convinced me yet that she has done nearly enough work on this novel. If she wants to do all of the September things and ever get to a treatment together for that screenplay, then she’s going to have to finish the rough draft of this novel and begin polishing. 

Ah, she likes that part, when all of the decisions have been made. 

She’s also craving poetry, craving submitting poetry, and, of course, something else: she wants to apply for the The Edith Wharton & Straw Dog Writers Guild Writing Residency to be held at The Mount!! 

Oh, that silly raccoon. Always craving something…what is it now, WR? I know, I know…

Obviously, being accepted into the residency is a long shot, but one worth trying for. You definitely don’t get accepted if you don’t apply, but also, applying and submitting are good practice anyway if you want to be an active part of the writing community.

Which WR hopes you do, Dear Reader. She likes active writing communities, don’t you?

Drema  

Dear Reader,

Word Raccoon was supposed to be thinking about verticals this morning before working on the Rebecca thread, but first she watched a refrigerator decluttering video while she ate breakfast.

This inevitably resulted in her standing in front of the refrigerator at not quite six in the morning, trying very hard not to clean it out.

She threw away six condiments.

I am calling this restraint, though she’s already cataloging all of the other condiments languishing in the door. 

Anyway. Verticals. Have you heard of or seen these? 

I first heard about verticals on the Happier in Hollywood podcast. Liz Craft and Sarah Fain have mentioned them more than once, and they seem to be having fun with them, and they have marked them as the next writing evolution in Hollywood. 

Then vertical dramas started appearing on my YouTube feed as ads that I had trouble pulling myself away from. (Actually, now that I know what they are, I think maybe I started seeing them a few months ago.) 

At first I didn’t even realize what I was watching. Then: Oh. This is what a vertical is.

Of course then WR had to download the advertised app to find out what happened to that billionaire high school guy with x-ray vision from birth who was in love with a young woman who didn’t know any of those things about him and he had arranged for her favorite YouTube influencer to also start going to the high school but she didn’t know that either and…see? See why I had to keep watching while simultaneously not caring, either? 

I don’t know enough yet to say whether what I encountered is representative of verticals generally, but the particular story I watched was cheesy.

The story was cheesy.

The music was even cheesier.

Here’s the thing: WR kept watching.

No, WR couldn’t stop watching!

Worse: when she ran out of whatever portion the app let her watch for free, she watched ads so she could see the next episode.

Reader, they got me. I stopped short of paying money to finish the story (so far), but I’m still wondering what happens. 

The episodes were tiny, maybe one to three minutes apiece, and every single time one ended, I wanted to know, as I said, 

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

As a novelist, I’m also going “How did they do that?” 

Because I can make fun of the melodrama and the music all I want, but if WR voluntarily watches an advertisement because she needs another two minutes of it, the story is doing something worth examining.

And then, wouldn’t you know it, verticals entered WR’s life through another portal. 

I recently received one of those digital family calendars to review. Apparently all the cool kids with ADHD have one now. Mine has some limitations, including the mildly absurd fact that a tablet designed to hang on your wall must remain plugged into said wall, and you can’t simply download whatever apps you please. (That second part is probably a good idea, but the first??) 

But it came with vertical dramas already loaded on it.

Hello again.

Completely unrelated but something that WR lurves: it also comes loaded with artwork, and you can take the calendar off its stand, hold it in your hands, and zoom in. There is something unexpectedly wonderful about holding a familiar Van Gogh inches from your face, enlarging a section, pulling back again. It’s obviously not the painting itself, but the change in scale makes you look at it differently. 

Now WR wonders if museums could offer that sort of kinesthetic viewing of the actual, physical, artwork, but she already knows why not. 

What does writing a vertical look like? How much story fits into one of these microscopic episodes? How frequently do you need a turn, reveal, reversal, cliffhanger? Who is writing them? How does a writer get hired? What does a script look like? And, perhaps most dangerously:

Would I be any good at writing verticals? Me, no. WR? Quite possibly.

I don’t know yet.

But I intend to find out. Unless I don’t.

Preferably after August, because I am supposed to be finishing the draft of a novel. Okay, let’s call September Vertical Month (plus the novel and poetry in the background, plus daily work, plus House Gorgeous. Yes, I’m preparing to be exhausted.)

Cleaning out neither my refrigerator nor my freezer today. At least I don’t think so. It’s not on the novel thread list, anyway…

Six condiments, Reader. So many more to go.

Drema 

Dear Reader,

WR thought she was clever at the café today. She enlarged the font on her Google doc not because her sight is so bad, but because (mistakenly or not), she assumes if it’s larger her eyes won’t get tired so quickly. Is she wrong?

Which makes her a teeny bit paranoid about having someone stare over her shoulder, because once a man (now deceased, bless his heart) told her as he was leaving, “That’s a pretty neat story. I like baseball.” She tried to be kind, but she has been cautious ever since.

There’s another woman who, if she comes anywhere near her, causes WR to instantly close her laptop because the dear woman cannot help but peek over her shoulder.

And at the one café, there is a window right at our back. Shields up, am I right? LOL.

I get the curiosity. WR is a bit that way herself, though I try to make her behave.

So today, after breakfast, before she began writing, WR put her dishes (the staff comes and fetches them) on a nearby table, ensuring (she thought) that she would have adequate privacy. When the novel is finished, she will be grateful for readers, but please not yet! Not unless you ask!

A (different) woman of our acquaintance came and said hello just after we moved our dishes. She was meeting up with someone, and there is zero reason to think she intended to read WR’s screen, btw.

I heard them discussing where to sit and felt a little smug because I knew there were three empty tables around the corner. But no, no. They decided to move the dishes, just as I had, to another table.

WR sighed and put her AirPods in.

She inwardly groaned when the person she knew positioned her chair in a way that meant she could see the laptop if she chose. Again, there was zero reason to think that was her intent, but WR nevertheless felt exposed.

I happened to have a privacy screen with me, and I snapped it right on, though I hoped the dear woman didn’t think I was being rude. With a tilt of my MacBook, privacy achieved.

But it threw my rhythm off. I did manage to knock out several items on my “punch list” for the Rebecca thread, but I wish I could’ve done more. However, a doctor appointment loomed, and that had me off my game, too. WR does not like late-afternoon appointments!

Now, do we go back to writing the Rebecca thread, or back to that cranky poem about the waiting room? It might have potential, but tonight, maybe we’ll read. Our doctor recommended the excellent Clear to us a few weeks ago, and today she recommended another book. But that one needs to wait its turn.

We have a former mentor with a book newly out whose writing is glorious, and I really, really want to read it. I’ll share about it over here when I do.

Drema

Dear Reader,

Just a quick howdy tonight because Word Raccoon and I have worn ourselves out. In a good way.

Yesterday, if you recall, when I asked her if she wanted to spend more time with the novel, she said, “Novel? Ugh.” 

Apparently she recovered. Whew! Might have something to do with letting her replenish her snack supply today. Today was apparently muffin day: strawberry muffins. Chocolate muffins filled with chocolate…chocoloate chip muffins. I lectured her about all of that sugar, but she just stuck her tongue out, which by that point was already covered in strawberry. 

What are you going to do? 

Today we dug through all four threads of the novel, making notes about what still needs to be written, researched, moved, reconsidered, expanded, cut, checked against the timeline, and generally dealt with before I begin weaving the threads together.

There is a lot. And WR is more than a little suspicious of being so organized because she’s seen me write novels before. She knows I’m a hot mess writer, and that it’s only after I’ve written in circles that I see the way out. 

But I feel less overwhelmed, not more, now because the cleaner the story becomes, the more I see what it needs, the more certain I am that it’s not as difficult as I think. 

Don’t laugh, but I credit these ADHD hacks I’ve been learning. For me, I hear “write a whole novel,” when really the hack to the task in front of me might be, “Read five pages and see if they make sense,” or, “As a reader, what would you like to know here?” And stop.

I can see the book now. I can imagine it in my hands. Not yet. Not for quite a while. Dear God, it’s not ready for anyone to read it yet. But it’s becoming. 

Which is funny, because every thread is shorter by far than it was earlier in the week. I now have a list of items for each thread that I KNOW they need, much less the gaps I will discover as I fill the current ones. But that’s okay. Remember, WR has the hacks! 

And good news on the publication front: Kent State’s The Listening Eye is out with my poem “To My Grown Children,” page 27. It’s dedicated to everyone who has had to take a deep breath when writing something, imagining their children, even if grown, reading it. Take a look at the whole publication if you get a chance; it’s well done. 

Out in the world today, as well: Unfinished Conversations from Quillkeepers Press; here’s a purchase link to the anthology with my poems “All In” and  “Some Said It Thundered” in it. I’m grateful that they’ve given these poems, which you’ve seen over here, a wider audience. (Sorry, there’s no online version.) 

I am tired tonight, Dear Reader. But I am so much closer to having this very rough draft of the novel together than I was even yesterday. I can see how I could spin out over so many aspects of this, and I likely will at various points, but also, I’ve got this. Maybe? 

Drema

Dear Reader,

After Word Raccoon and I finished changing the tense for novel thread three today, I fed her lunch. Then, I asked her if she wanted to do chores or spend more time with the novel. “Novel? Ugh,” she said. I can’t complain. She has done all I asked and more on the novel this month so far, hasn’t she? Still, I created a novel plan for the rest of the month, and I hope she will cooperate. If you remember, our young raccoon prefers poetry. I get it, WR!

When WR willingly does an afternoon of chores, you know she’s tired of the novel. I’m not. But she is. Twice she tried to get my attention to have me write down poetry ideas, but she wasn’t very clear, and I was driving.

One idea was something we saw today: a man carrying a gallon jug,  watering the town’s window boxes of flowers. 

WR suspects he acted of his own accord, which means he was stealth watering. WR hopes he was rogue watering, and being a bit of a rebel herself, she thought it would make a cool, lighthearted poem after a day of working on novel threads.

I have a couple of books I’d like to read, but something in me is too restless tonight. I feel poised for something, but what? Not my manuscript tonight.

Could someone tell me why I thought I could write a multi-timeline novel, LOL?

Tomorrow, WR and I face the manuscript again. Novel chatter, Day 19!

Drema