With "Tender is the Night" F. Scott Fitzgerald gave us both a fantastic title and the classic story that followed. That being said, I am also a little annoyed with what I recently read, that he may have wrote it in six weeks. That's not rough draft. Apparently it was six weeks to good draft and submission to his publisher. I'm hoping what I read was wrong.
There is no justice in the world. Not only did he write beautifully, he wrote ridiculously fast and he wasn't the only one. Apparently Hemingway finished "For Whom The Bell Tolls" in six weeks too.
How is this possible I ask self?
How is this even fair?
I really hope those researchers had their facts wrong. And if they do - I suppose it might make me feel better. Might. Of course, whether those books were written in six weeks or twelve or even twenty-four it would still be an amazing feat.
So where does that leave me?
Yes, I can write that fast. I proved it when I finished Nanowrimo with a complete novel and did it more than once. That was a novel in four weeks. Wait - that description of novel is fairly loose. It was a rough first draft and in none of it's incarnations would it ever rate a classic. I dream, of that some day - just not the books written on that day. Those books were gaping canopies of stories that required more revision than the initial thought it required to write them. Good - as a learning tool, definitely. As a way to write all novels? Possibly not.
But it was fun and I don't discount any of the effort put into a Nanowrimo novel. And, yes, I encourage all you stalled or struggling writers out there - go do Nanowrimo. It will get the fire lit under your butt and you may just have a novel at the end of it.
But that's not me - not Nanowrimo - not this year. The way things have been going I'd really like to take November off. It's been a busy summer and fall.
It's six o'clock in the morning. I've already been working for half an hour. The house is in darkness - daylight hasn't even given a small burp or even a gurgle. The furnace has kicked in a number of times already as the Prairies have settled into that pre-winter chill.
I began ridiculously early today - early even for me. Why? For one I'm making up time. A family commitment has me on the road today and whether I pick commitment A or B - on the road again tomorrow. That's two lost days. I'm close to the finish line and determined to get this novel done. Maybe I should quit pushing because soon I can just sit back and savour victory. I made it to the first finish line. And crazily already I'm stretching, thinking of the next novel.
I really need to put less caffeine in that coffee.
Any craziness in your life?