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Writing AdviceGetting it Right the Twentieth Time
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WRITING IT DOWN WITH SCONES I had spent the last several mornings in front of my computer screen, making little if any progress on a middle grade novel. The first several chapters were complete as were character sketches for all major members of the cast and even a few for the minor ones. I knew what my character wanted and had a general plan for the ending. But the vast gulf of emptiness in the middle was intimidating me. It was time for some drastic action. I grabbed a pen and blank book, printed up a hard copy of the last few chapters for reference and headed off to the St. Louis Bread Company for a spot of café writing. Our local franchise on Highway K in O’Fallon had a warm, pleasant atmosphere. The scent of fresh-baked bread and bagels mingled with that of coffee. Inside, I could forget that it was located in a brand new strip mall. (Yes, the layers of atmosphere in Merano’s six and seven hundred-year-old buildings spoiled me dreadfully.) In any case, the most important aspects to consider for a round of café writing are a lively, level buzz of conversation, a flat surface for writing, and the complete elimination of homebound distractions: no emails to send, no floors to sweep, no phones to answer. As for the large cup of Caffe Mocha and cranberry scone at my elbow, they were aids to creative thinking. Really. As I sipped from my cup of coffee, I reviewed the last two chapters and marked them up. I glanced at the clock. Just five more minutes of this. In a purist’s eyes, café writing time should not be wasted on editing. I had this picture of Natalie Goldberg, a woman who dedicated many chapters of her book “Writing Down the Bones” to café writing, staring at me in outraged horror. After all, her most often repeated advice was to keep the hand moving and to write, write and then write some more. Relax, Natlalie, I told her outraged, fictitious image. I’ll get started soon. I’m just priming the pump. And it worked. The words began to flow. It was not polished prose. It
was fragmented, disjointed. Scraps of dialogue fell between outlined action.
But I was firmly inside my protagonist’s head as she worked out
at soccer practice—an American girl demonstrating her skills to
soccer-crazed Italian boys who have always considered their national sport
a man’s game. I followed her home for a talk with her dad and a
full-fledged scene emerged. I didn’t worry about tag lines and included
just a few stage directions. Over the course of two hours, I scribbled
ten pages in my project notebook. I’ve been filling in the gaps
ever since. When I’m ready to move on to the next chapters, I’ll
see whether composing on the computer works. If it doesn’t, I’ll
know where to go.
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