More Book Progress

It has been a long, cold, snowy winter in Vermont. Still is, in fact, even though the calendar says March 31st.

I hoped winter would be a good time to write my book. It has been, in some ways. But I learned something about myself: I do most of my writing in the afternoon and evening hours. Throughout January, sunset came between 4:30 – 5:00 pm. By the end of February sunset was at 5:30. Today, the sun will set at 7:15 pm.

As the days lengthened, so did my writing time.

To me, evening is those few hours after dinner and before sunset. Apparently, once it’s dark outside, by brain starts preparing for sleep. Part of my ritual before bed is a glass of wine (and probably two if life is stressful) as I wind down my day. But in winter? That ritual might start at 5 pm, while in summer, not until 9 pm or later. And while I keep writing as I sip my wine, bed and sleep beckon.

I wrote 95% of my first book between Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends in 2013. The summer months. Long days, with Idaho sunset arriving at 9:38 pm on July 15th, the summer solstice. Plenty of daylight for my early-morning runs, daily life chores, a noon-time nap, then several hours of serious writing and researching through the afternoon and evening.

The short, frequently stormy days this winter (e.g., the system that came through like a freight train the first week of February, with overnight temperatures of -29F and sustained winds of 30+ mph and a big dump of snow) had me eating dinner at 4 pm and wanting to retreat under my bed’s electric blanket by 6 pm, reading on my Kindle. There really was no “evening.” If I was still writing at 7 pm, well after dark, that was a victory.

Yet I did get a lot of writing done. Much of it good (I think and hope).

And in that process (so far), I learned something else: sometimes I have to write about something, or someone, spilling it all out on the page and revising it, in order to convince myself to remove it from the manuscript. What seemed like a good idea in my head didn’t survive the harsh light of the page on my computer screen.

I spent mid-January through mid-February working on sections about my family. I thought those topics were important to provide context and background for my life-long habit of running, both literally and figuratively (as in, running away from toxic people in order to run toward a better life and version of me). I recently learned that one of those family members I planned to write about, someone toxic to me whom I’ve avoided for over a decade, has dementia. At first I welcomed the news, thinking, Now I can write honestly about her without fear of a lawsuit. But as I wrote, and revised, I realized those words were depressing me. Why would I subject readers to such unhappy stuff? For what purpose? What would I gain, other than a sense of purging? Is it really necessary? Maybe a simple sentence, an allusion in the right place, will suffice.

I deleted roughly 10,000 words from what was at that time a 35,000-word draft manuscript. No regrets. I got it out of my system. Cheap therapy.

Focus on what’s uplifting and enlightening, I told myself. Showcase places (forests, wilderness, mountains) that few get visit, let alone run through with their dogs. Describe the ways dogs have expanded your worldview, your ability to venture into wilderness without other humans. Talk about becoming intimately acquainted with the wildlife, wildflowers, trees. Work on describing those scenes and events in ways that allow the reader to feel they’ve been there, too. Explain why such experiences are valuable.

With that shift in mindset, writing is fun again.

There will, of course, be some negativity in the book. How can there not be, when writing in part about wolves, their history, and how they’re currently mistreated in the western states? But those chapters will serve a greater purpose beyond a personal purging. I want to highlight the cultural/social disconnect between goals of preserving the natural world and human “management” of portions of it in ways that are short-sighted and beneficial to only a few, small, politically-connected interest groups. I want to expose some of the dark sides of wildlife management, and the impacts I witnessed up close in the 15 years I lived in Idaho. I hope to motivate, get readers to question, take action.

Today, the draft manuscript has 43,776 words. Structure, which has eluded me for so long, is coming together and finally making sense.

As the days lengthen, so do the hours of my productivity. Maybe sometime this summer I’ll have a manuscript ready to send to an editor and to a few “first” or “friendly” readers for feedback. (If you might be up for that, please send me an email.)

I’ve missed my WordPress blogging family! I’ve fallen horribly behind in reading and commenting on your blogs. I’m sorry. You’re important to me, as is the larger blogging community. I also miss creating my own blog posts. For now, though, I want/need to keep concentrating on birthing this book.

I’ll finish this post as I did the last one, from January, with some photos and a couple videos of my dogs as we enjoyed the (still) winter landscape under sunny skies this morning. First, Conall and I went for a run, then we brought Finn (age 15!) out for a walk. There’s still so much snow on the ground that it looks the same as it did in January. Last year by this time there were large patches of bare ground in the fields, the snow quickly melting. As I type this, there’s a least a foot of hard, crusty snow on the ground, everywhere, and… it’s snowing. Again. I am starting to hear bird songs when we’re in the woods, though, so apparently spring isn’t too far off…

Because of weather and other stuff, Finn hadn’t had a proper walk in two days. As you can see in the videos, this morning he had lots of energy when we started our walk. In the first video, all Finn wanted to do was pee and all Conall wanted to do was get Finn to chase him by being annoying. Once Conall’s shenanigans stopped and we got underway (second video), Finn trotted right along with Conall but stopped to do a happy roll. Getting up and discovering I wasn’t right behind him, Finn came running back to me. Given his age, I love seeing Finn roll, and run! I hope when I’m as old in people years as he is in dog years, I’ll still occasionally run with as much joy. I don’t plan to imitate Finn’s rolls, though.

Featured image: morning sun filtered by one of my favorite trees on a knoll, casting long shadows, taken during this morning’s run with Conall.