A Writing Year

A Writing Year

November 1^st proved a celebration of sorts for me.

Last year on that day I began a process of writing a novel that thirty-one days later resulted in completion of the first full novel draft I’ve ever completed.

I’ve been writing since age ten, but over that long period I’d not put together a coherent story of any substantial length or a collection of poetry that felt comfortably ready for a committed revision effort. This after countless writing work-shops, visits to various writing centers, on-line fiction courses, and successful completion of a three-year university level MFA program.

I’ve written a lot but haven’t brought anything I considered worthwhile to a point where I believed it was ready to polish for prime time.

All that changed on November 30, 2012 with the arrival of that First Draft of “my” Novel. Laying the keel for that manuscript began on November 1^st when I participated in NaNoWriMo.

Here’s the link to NaNoWriMo for those who aren’t familiar and may wish to participate at some point. 

http://nanowrimo.org/about

This year, on the eve of NaNoWriMo 2013, I was less fearful then last year and more aware of the writing muscle that was going to be required for the month. I knew that Id have to place myself each day in my writer’s chair and hit keys that tell a story. I’d have to set word targets and trust that as I wrote the story in my head would take form on the page.

Looking back over the year since my first NaNo effort it became clear why last year’s experience was so critical to my overall work as a writer. In explaining why that’s so it’s probably best to lay out the schedule of events—happenings that took place after November 31, 2012.

Mid-December 2012: I picked up my completed novel draft for the first full read-through I had deliberately avoided any back reading in November as the days progressed and the word count grew over the month. Each day when I reached my word count quota I left the work behind. I returned to my non-writing life and tried hard to forget the day’s experience. It took some doing and I wasn’t adept at detaching for about a week or longer, but once I learned, that sense of freedom and enthusiasm for the next days’ effort increased and was intoxicating.

The Mid-December read-through made clear that significant change needed to take place, but the manuscript had a story that I liked, and the story had a beginning, middle and an end. There was tension on the pages and the two main characters had won me over completely. The sense of a whole was real, and I felt proud.

Mid-January 2013 through Summer2013: At Grub Street Writing Center in Boston a colleague convinced me to play with another genre (I’m a fiction writer) for a break from the work of November and together we joined an Introduction to Screenwriting course. I chose to adapt my NaNo novel—such as it was then—as a course project.

The script results over the next 10 weeks (and a follow-up 10 weeks of Advanced Screenwriting) resulted in a burgeoning (read, very fat,) but incomplete script.

In mid-summer I spent two weeks in Western Mass at ‘the’ perfect Writers’ retreat in an atmosphere of quiet and monk-like living circumstances. Other writers nearby were as committed to completing works as I was, but social interactions were minimal. The countryside was lovely; silences had great quality and time passed slowly. I wrote, adding to the work of the two ten week screenwriting courses.

Following that experience I consulted with a Grub St. Counselor and received more input on the work. Additionally, several of my Grub St. colleagues gathered informally for several weeks to review and critique each other’s scripts.

The script, now waiting further revision, involves some cutting trimming. It is as whole today as is the novel draft. More important, my screenwriting work exposed flaws in character development in the story and saw the emergence of a powerful female character as a major force in the novel and the script.

During the year I had medical issues that resulted in a number of surgeries. Though the recovery periods cut into writing time with medications fogging my thinking and physical therapy aggravating my solitude-obsessed need, I did not lose hope that I’d get back to work. Eventually I returned to the screenplay and in addition I dusted off a short story I’d written years ago and that I’ve loved since.

In autumn my daughter married and though that event proved joyous, it was time consuming. The wedding couple and my spouse performed the lion’s share of the work required and I was able to write more than I expected.

In autumn I worked with an editor I respect and have total confidence in and I have revised that short story I love. The experience was rewarding and I’m confident that the revision and editing still waiting for me (after NaNo II) will result in a work I’ll be happy to share with others.

Today I’m immersed in my second NaNoWriMo experience. The experience has been as magical and time-consuming as last year’s. A story is taking shape where none existed on October 30^th. Though it’s tough to say exactly where that story is in terms of completion I’m confident that I will have a first draft novel (again) on November 30 of this year.

So, as I look back, I see an amazing year of collaboration, of solitary writing experience, of writing milestones aimed at and reached, and a growing confidence in myself with the craft that I love.

I’ve had lots of help along the way –NaNoWriMo buddies, my colleagues and professional help at Grub St., Screenwriting formal (and informal) friends and colleagues, editors, guides, and amazing writer friends. My family has given me nice space and excused my absences as well.

I’m looking back at a year of writing accomplishments; had someone pointed out all that would occur since I sat down at that first NaNo blank page – how much I would grow – I  would have scratched my head in disbelief.

I’m grateful.

Keep writing!

ps: I’ve got to get back to my NaNoWriMo novel draft.

Artemisia Gentileschi: Summer Discovery in Florence

Years back, wandering the center of Florence on a warm July evening, I went into the English Book store on the Piazza della Repubblica and discovered there a biographical novel titled "Artemisia". The author’s name is Anna Banti.

The novel tells the story of a resident of Florence, a woman writer during the latter stages of World War II. In a parallel rendering it echoes the experiences of a painter, Artemisia Gentileschi, who lived hundreds of years earlier. The book cover, violent and explicit, displayed one of Gentileschi’s great paintings, “Judith and Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes”. I grabbed the paperback and smitten, I spent the rest of the day reading. The story sent me into research for the novel I was working at the time and deep into the world of Artemisia Gentileschi.

The discovery of the book in Florence was serendipitous, but what followed for me was immense. The very late Renaissance Gentileschi influenced characters and the atmosphere in my work. I used the book cover rendering as inspiration for the work of violent justice required of my own female protagonists. I explored everywhere for further examples of her works and read as many biographies as I could find. I began to feel the presence of female characters in my writing from perspectives I’d not imagined.

If you aren't familiar with Gentileschi you may find that her paintings have the capacity to excite. I believe she is the equal of Caravaggio and to my eye she creates with a similar attention to color and sensory appeal in her subjects—she’s vivid and shocking. As testament to the rich aspects of her brush, there is a shade of yellow that's named after her. When you encounter it you won’t have to be told that you’re looking at Artemisia yellow; it will shout at you.

Gentileschi’s courage in the men’s world of her time has captivated artists and historians since. There is too much to relate of her many perils, setbacks and successes to place in this small space but I suggest that you read about her life and her work.

Anna Banti's novel uses the lush background of Gentileschi’s challenges to tell the wrenching story of a woman's deprivations, betrayals, and her strengths in the protagonists circumstances as the Nazis withdrew from Florence in WWII and subjected the citizens of Florence to their fear, anger, and brutality, in the process. This is a personal account of an extremely vulnerable citizen inside fierce military actions and how powerless such people are in the face of the overwhelming forces of organized war.

When I think of that afternoon in the Book Store on the Florentine piazza, it occurs to me that there's a lot more than museums, monuments, cuisine, and churches, in Italy. Art remains alive there and it continues to change those simply fortunate enough to pass by over the millennia.