2010 is a book year

[bodlon]

Five days into 2010, and the shiny hasn’t quite worn off yet. I’ve been looking at my writing plans for this year, and feel pretty darn fantastic about some of the things I’ve got in the works.

January is all about practice and getting my butt in the chair. I managed in December to get all but 3 things that had been on my plate for a long while in 2009 finished and out the door. My weekends will (I hope) be enough to finish the rest. Otherwise, January is the month I’m letting myself more or less off the hook. I’ve got a month’s worth of prompts, and I’m kicking out a short piece (under 1k) a day for fun and for practice. This month, I play.

February is, I hope, going to be a short story or essay month. I’ve got some ideas that will translate well, and I’m kind of watching for magazine and anthology markets already so that if something tempting comes into view I can pounce accordingly. I like working on short pieces because of the gratification I get from finishing something. I like that feeling. February is also the month that if I have anything unfinish, I’d better be clearing my plate.

March through November are noveling months. Some of you might remember 2008, when I took a year-long workshop and failed to finish writing a book because I was, ah, effectively writing one in the background. Not a good strategy. Since then, I’ve learned a lot about my process and my habits, and have been working up to make another stab at it.

(I do anticipate picking up small projects here and there during those eight months, but that’s exactly what they have to be. Small. And few enough in number that I don’t get sidetracked. Seriously, people. Lesson learned.)

At which point I get December. Which is like my big shiny candy apple at the end of the year because it gets to be whatever it wants to be. Mmm. December.

It’s very strange feeling like my whole year is laid out. I’m inclined to feel uncomfortable with that kind of thing. In general, I tend to plan for things to go wrong, and to resist structure. I like to believe I can sort of blaze my way through anything. I prefer play and open options and serendipity.

I’m also itching to get moving on this book thing. I spent all of last year saying to myself, “2009 is a story year, 2010 is a book year.” My fingers are twitching. Everywhere I look I keep running into things like the Novel in 90 thing that Elizabeth Bear is involved in, or Catherynne Valente’s post about writing a novel in 30 days (that includes a link to Jeff VanderMeer’s post about writing a novel in two months).

And, you know, I stop myself. Because I swear, this is what I did last time. I jumped the gun, took on a big project because I was aching for one, and I tripped myself up.

So when I start kicking myself and going on about serendipity and the delight that comes of navigating the unexpected, I force myself to reflect on my bus trips to and from Minneapolis and Atlanta this past summer. As fascinating as they were, and as much as I learned by experiencing various modes of being stranded, powerless, or otherwise biding my time in a place with no comfortable surfaces, that doesn’t mean I should do it every single time I travel.

Because really, when I read VanderMeer’s article, I see a list of resources I haven’t really got at the moment. When I read Valente’s, I sort of cringe and go “oh gods, why would I do this to myself when I don’t have to?”

I have written novel-length manuscripts in 30 days before. I’ve done it twice. And then I’ve put those manuscripts in binders and never looked at them again. One of them is on my list of things to revisit eventually, but even years on, I’m not chomping for it.

2010 is a book year, but the moment has been prepared for. I just have to remember that.

This post has been mirrored from Christian A. Young's Dimlight Archive. To see it in its original format, visit dimlightarchive.com