Write drunk, edit…soberish?


So I might be failing in my attempt to write everyday, and it’s only been one day…. It’s totally not my fault though.  Every year we spend a weekend in old timey Williamsburg, VA with the hubb’s family, and that weekend just happens to be starting today.  It’s possible there will be internet connection, so I am bringing my trusty laptop (Lola) just in case.  If there isn’t internet connection….don’t judge me…it’s totally Howl O’Scream time at Busch Gardens (you see what they did there?).

Today I was thinking about Hemingway, and his awesome advice to writers: “Write drunk, edit sober.” At first you just kinda laugh and think “Oh Hemingway….why are you so crazy and alcoholic.”  Then it kinda creeps under your skin and you realize the man is just trying to tell you to stop thinking so damn hard about it, and just let it happen.  Speaking from experience, when I plan, obsess, and painstakingly rewrite dialogue…it never sounds real.  It sounds fake and forced, and I practically fall asleep before I even get through the scene.  It’s hard to get out of your own head though, and is especially hard when what you are doing is so important to you.  A novel is something that exists nowhere in the world, except in you, and that makes you want to make it the best bloody novel in existence.

So here is what I plan to do: my goal for the day is to write out a very detailed outline.  I know what is going to happen and in what order, but I want to fill in the spaces and some details.  I will also test out Hemingway’s trusty advice, and dine at the Bier Garden tonight.  I will bring my Moleskine to the table, and we’ll see how many Erdingers it takes before my prose looks perfect.

In the meantime…here is the synopsis I wrote for my NaNoWriMo profile.  Hope it sounds like something you wanna read, because I’m going to talk about it…a lot…

Eloise Quinn is not your average teenage girl. She doesn’t text or tweet, and thinks the Jersey Shore is simply a geographical location. Despite growing up in Berkley, and raised by two sex therapists, Eloise is as conservative and serious as you can get. She has been homeschooled her entire life, and has always been more comfortable spending time with adults or books. So it is no great surprise when she gets accepted to Oxford University at only 17-years-old.

The problem?

Eloise’s parents refuse to let her go, unless she can prove that she is able to make friends with people her own age and function in social situations. She is sent to the Connecticut Shakespearean Summer Academy, and given two months to show her parents that she can be an extrovert and won’t go off to England and spend the rest of her life hiding in a library. She tackles the problem like any other assignment, but doesn’t account for how much Shakespeare, theatrical divas, or handsome, leading men can change a girl…

xx S

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