The drafting cycle

words word words more words and i'm sorry who are you?

Dear Writer,

Well. I’m here.

I’m drafting.

Yesterday marked the first week of active drafting—the part of the writing process where it’s typey-typey-typey every day—and it’s been so long since I’ve participated in a daily, active drafting process that I forgot what it’s like.

First of all, it’s awesome. My word count as of this morning 18,490 words, which brings me to about 20% of my 85,000-word rough draft goal. Every morning, I wake up sometime between 6 and 7 a.m. and get started. Because of the time spent in Discovery, things are moving. Most days—not all, but definitely most—I find myself ready to go, instinctively moving through this story with moments that surprise me and yet are kind of perfect. I know I will hit the doldrums, probably sometime in week three or four, when I’ve written myself into a corner and have no idea what I’m supposed to do next. But right now, I’m in the glorious first act and things are going pretty great.

Except that there are things I’ve forgotten about what it’s like to be in an active drafting process; mostly, how it is for the people in my life.

Oh, I’m sorry. Did we have a date to hang out/walk/have coffee/talk on the phone today? Did you call me ten minutes after I was supposed to show up and I had no idea what you were talking about?

Yeah. Sorry. I’m in drafting.

Oh, did you tell me something yesterday and today, I have absolutely no memory of that discussion?

Oh. That must be really annoying. Did I mention I’m in drafting?

Oh, do I have a bit of a funk because I haven’t showered or changed my clothes in a couple of days?

For fuck’s sake DRAFTING.

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My eldest moved in with us last week, one day before I started drafting. Now, they have a lot of experience with Mom in Drafting Mode, but it’s been a while. The last time I wrote like this, they were a freshman in high school. Of course, now they’re an adult and everything is different, but it’s their first week living in Colorado. My plan was to take them places, do some fun stuff together. As it turns out, they’re still recovering from a cross-country move and altitude sickness, so they mostly just want to rest anyway… but still. I was looking forward to having fun with them and mostly what they get when we pass in the hallway is me blinking at them like I have a vague memory of who they are… but I’m not 100% certain.

Here’s how my days have been shaking out this week:

Morning: I hop out of bed, ready to go, delighted with my characters and my world and myself for creating said characters and world. I text people things like, “I turned the dentist into a dragon this morning!”

Afternoon: I’m staring into space, playing video games or watching movies because I spent all of my brain power on the book in the morning. My brain shuts down. I got nothing.

Evening: When the light starts to change, I wander out into the living room where Ian says, “Hey, how’s it going?” and I say, “What time is it? What day is it?” and when he answers, I don’t listen. Then I ask what’s for dinner and he reminds me that I said I would cook, and then I go, “Oh, yeah,” and knock on Sarah’s door because I realize I haven’t communicated with them all day. When they come to their door, I blink at them, forgetting in the three feet of hallway that I just traversed what I was going to tell him.

(Oh, yeah. What are we doing for dinner again?)

The drafting process for the Year of Writing Magically workshop lasts for two months.

It’s been one week.

On the bright side… I turned a dentist into a dragon this morning. How’s your day going?

Everything,

L