What with all the family drama this summer, I am a little behind on my writing schedule. (Though I did get in a minimum of 15 minutes a day, every day, even when Mom was in the hospital!)
Right now I need about 16-18 hours a day with no interruptions or distractions. I have to hold all of the story threads in my hands at the same time to figure out how they need to be woven together.
I have dragged myself, my laptop, and several tons of research to a desert island where I am writing what shall forever be known as the “Desert Island Down-and-Dirty Draft”. The goal is to complete this draft and polish it to the point where I won’t be embarrassed to show it to my editor before I leave on book tour in October.
As these things go, it’s a fairly comfortable desert island. I have a supply of Diet Red Bull and fruit and I have music. Truthfully, it’s not on an island. It’s at a secret location just down the road from my mom’s rehab place so I can get there in a hurry if necessary.
Yesterday was the first full day here. I worked from 6am to midnight, with breaks to eat and an hour-long walk in the middle of the day. I could not type fast enough. The way the scenes unfolded in front of me was pure magic, as if the Muse had been impatiently waiting for me to come back and pay Her my respects.
It is much easier to hear the voices when the rest of the world stops shouting.