The magic of a discovery draft

Wordy Winter Report #1 - Lifesavers, stats, writing logs from The 90 Day Novel Challenge

My first time capsule about writing a novel in 90 days — craft analysis, daily logs, breakthroughs, rut breaking rituals, and word count stats:

STATS:

After the first 7 days, I’ve written 8,465/7,000 weekly word goal.

• 1 day short, 6 days over the word goal

• 3 chapters written

• _?_ to go

• 8,465/90,000 words

Moodboard:

Here are my writing logs:

1. November 1st, day 1: The companion book, Alan Watt’s The 90 Day Novel slides into my crooked mailbox. Despite its sharp lean to the north after a random and very confused lady backed into it, it opens just fine to spit out my pristine paperback. I hold off on opening it. Soon the pages will crinkle beneath tiny fingers and crayons snapped in half. Reading this manual sounds lovely, but it comes last. I committed to write.

Before Lavie and Tristan wake for the day, I tiptoe out of our warm bedroom and crack open my old, blue notebook. The first chapter of this story lives here, untouched for months. I love this chapter. I love how much it surprised me when I wrote it. I love the details about the cafe and characters that slipped into life on the page. New faces, names, and backstories sprouted from the mud of an underdeveloped concept when I haphazardly sketched it months ago. It’s a treat to remember that. 

The second chapter is garbage — I remember that too. It won’t make it into the story. Skip. Now it’s time to write. I know where this session begins and what purpose it serves for the story. I need to reveal my main character’s problem and make her lovable. Enter Backstory. The scene takes place in her backyard with her mother and daughter. I see her cozy cottage and daughter playing beneath the cherry tree. I meet her French Bulldog and fall in love with her nosy, loud, adoring mom. Her fatal flaw appears. Her mother comforts her, aware of it but biting her tongue. 

It’s hard to write, because I’ve only just met these characters. When I pencil in a line of dialogue, they pull the yellow tool out of my hand, and turn it over to erase my words. “Try again.” The scene tests me, but I love writing it throughout the day. My early morning session wraps quickly when my husband and baby peel out of bed. I write through her nap, while Tristan watches her in the afternoon, and again at bedtime. Whenever I step away from the notebook, the story comes with me. It feels like waiting for the next episode of a dramatic series.  

Day 1 word count: 1,393

2. The minute I wake, I’m jazzed to draft again, stewing on possibilities from where I left off. I wrap a couple of quick tasks once Lavie falls asleep. After texting a quick update to my two writing friends in Oklahoma, my plaid armchair swallows me up. The words are slow going at first. I’m not in love with the dialogue between Demi and her love interest. (By the way, I still have zero idea what I’ll call him. For symbolic reasons, I’ll say Shep for now.)

The tone I initially expected for their conversation takes a huge 180 and feels much more natural. Then begins the interview scene. The story kicks off because she’s hired to write an article about her new town of Belvedere’s favorite coffee shop. In chapter 2, she interviews the owners. All of this roots entirely in reality. The cafe is, down to the smallest detail, my favorite coffee shop. The owners are based, almost entirely, on the real owners. 

As I write this chapter, I slip into the deepest flow state I’ve ever experienced. The true, incredible feats about this couple and their charming cafe sneak into the story. The man tells a funny story about an employee. The employee is my husband. It happened to him when he worked there in high school. I realize on day 2 that as a nonfiction enthusiast, reality seeps into my fiction more than I ever imagined. I relish in imagining my husband laughing his bum off when he reads this scene — an inside joke between just us two. 

The interviewees also uncover a web of connections that tie the entire cast of characters together. This opens up a slew of opportunities for future scenes and makes Demi’s run ins with Shep more realistic. 

Lavie sleeps a whopping two and a half hours, and I draft the entire time. 

Day 2 word count: 2,136

Grand total: 3,529

3. I haven’t told you this yet, but we are sick. Lavie came down with it on Wednesday, and by Friday (Day one of the challenge), I’m feeling pretty under the weather. It’s Sunday. I overdid it yesterday — not with the word count; that was fun. After that, I bopped around the store on the high of that creative energy. My overzealous cleaning spree and exuberance on Marco Polo all the while force me into my armchair until bedtime. I’m exhausting. How does anyone stand being around me?

When I wake up on Sunday, day 3, I’m completely wiped on my own energy hangover. Lavie falls asleep, and during her nap time, my allotted drafting time, I cozy up next to the wood stove at my parents’ house and journal instead. 

Today I draft in bed, in dark mode on Google Docs with the brightness lowered near invisibility so as not to wake the beast. This is when I realize why I love to write by hand. For starters, typing feels more sophisticated that scribbling in a rosy notebook. I’m intimidated by the screen. On a physical page, my inked mistakes stick. I don’t instinctively backspace them. When I tally up my words at the end of each session, I count the ones I second guess and draw lines through. They take brain power. They count to me. I intentionally avoided editing while I write, to stay in my right brain, but if a better idea floats by naturally, I’ll replace my last line. Docs don't do that for me. The screen, the habit of backspace, lodges in my left brain. They come with critique and cancel out my original words. I also can’t stand the pacing of typing. A brown ink pen resting between my thumb and fingers acts like a gentleman, opening the door, giving me a wide birth to dance the thoughts on the page. A touchscreen keyboard seems the equivalent of a salacious frat boy — no manners, no time, “I want it all now, now, now!” 

Day 3 word count: 1,014

Grand total: 4,543

4. The chapter I nudged into my phone last night pressed me. Demi’s backstory and fears were tried in a conflict at her parents’ house. I didn’t know their voices yet, so the dialogue seemed fishy. Heading into today’s scene on that note, I run into the same problem. This chapter introduces one of my favorite settings, sure to house a handful of scenes throughout the novel: Shep’s family farm. I have to imagine the layout and looks of acres of land, so it takes me a while to find my footing. Once I get my characters out of their car and gathered with the others, I get even more stuck. 

I’m not in love with the sensory details yet. Those will come through in revision. I barely know this (now humongous) group of people. At this point, writing feels like playing house with Critters in a plastic, Victiorian dollhouse. I’m not concerned about this. My plan for this book accounts for it: Step 1. Write a disastrous, unfinished, unpolished, ugly draft. Step 2. Select the scenes that make the most sense. Cut anything boring. Rearrange, rewrite, flesh out sensory details and character actions. Step 3. Send to writing bestie and beta readers for feedback. Drink coffee, go on walks, take a break for a bit. Step 4. Revise with feedback. Step 5. Revise with feedback 6 more times. Step 6. Query??? Burn???? 

Day 4 Word Count: 1638

Grand Total: 6181

5. I wake up with a throbbing headache. It lasts through the early afternoon. Lavie’s sleep takes a funky turn today. I’m ahead on words. I’ll plan to write a little in bed tonight, but take it easy. 

Day 5 Word Count: 147

Grand Total: 6,328

6. It’s 11:34 A.M. and I just finished my drafting session. It took me an hour and 10 minutes to hit my 1000 words. I think that’s pretty slow, plenty of pauses to think and lou or coffee breaks. When I draft on paper, the process moves at the perfect pace. I find the story naturally unravels. Characters reveal themselves to me, because of the quiet moments between words. The pen lifts off the page and lets them act out a play in my mind. 

I started today confused. This scene asked a lot of me, more characters than I’ve ever written at once, the biggest hurdle being that I still barely know any of them. A dinner with the owners of the coffee shop, Demi’s family, and Shep’s family. I’ve only learned his family’s names in the last 24 hours. Their mannerisms, personalities, and opinions evade me more than any other characters’. 

As I draft lately, I note an obvious pattern: When I bundle up to write, I’m intimidated and lost, nervous about how little I know about what happens next. I stare at my Christmas tree for the first ten minutes of this writing session. Shep’s dad’s blurry, imagined face frozen mid/sentence at the front of my mind all the while. Then I remember my strategy. This is my strategy. Not knowing is my strategy. I love not knowing. 

If I would’ve plotted out the fine details, I would’ve missed all my favorite features in the draft so far. My characters know the story far better than I do, and they make it interesting, not me. Meeting them on the page is like a lunch date with a new friend. It’s a little awkward at first, but once we warm up to each other, the connection flourishes. 

All I need is an in. Today, I try to pick this mystery man’s mind, as it waves on my shaggy VHS screen. Once I finally stop searching for the perfect thing for him to say, the tape resumes. He simply introduces himself. Demi shakes his hand, and then the conversation shifts entirely to Shep’s dad asking Demi’s if he’ll sub in his flag football league this week. 

Where did that come from?

This is exactly what I mean when I say I need to get out of the way and let the characters do as they will. That opens up another opportunity for Demi and Shep to wind up at the same place again. Writing that conversation out gets me in the flow. By the end of that meal, a family secret spills onto the picnic table, Demi connects to Shep’s sister, who will become one of her closest friends, and another potential storyline seeds for the future. 

Day 6 Word Count: 1,059

Grand Total: 7,387

7. I wasn’t sure I’d get to my nap session today, because Lavie woke up early and fell back asleep at 7:30 this morning. That’s way too early to crack down 1000 words. She took another nap, though, and my creativity took off. Another true story weaves into the tale. This time it isn’t about me or Tristan. This time recounts a memory of the sheep, when two of our twin ewes went into labor together. 

The craze of it at this casual barbecue gives Demi and Shep a perfect reason to be alone. This is the moment where they really discover an emotional connection. The two of them finish up their tour around the farm. Demi jots notes down for her article about the coffee shop, (which has now turned into an article about the coffee shop and Shep’s family farm, the tea suppliers). Since his mom is helping the sheep, he needs to take over the tour and ends up showing him the cob home he built (Okay, now that’s definitely inspired by real life Tristan). 

Today I write to my very first writing sprint livestream. One of my favorite authortubers, Brielle, hosts regular write alongs. I watch the replay and find myself hyper focused in the writing stretches, but I don’t like getting pulled out of the story when the 25 minute timer rings. I end up turning off the stream to focus without interruptions. Next time I’m unmotivated to write, I’ll try one again. It’ll probably be nice to expect some breaks between sprints and relax with some of my favorite writing folks. 

Day 7 Word Count: 1,078

Grand Total: 8,465

I‘ve forgotten how much I love a challenge. This is the consistency I’ve been searching for in so many areas of my life — a small, attainable goal to meet almost every day over a long stretch of time. NaNo isn’t for me. Diets aren’t for me. Marathons aren’t for me. Slow, easy, cozy habits I can keep up day in and day out — in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, those are for me. I want to marry my writing!

Now that I’ve proven to myself that I can be consistent, I have more confidence than I’ve known since before my pregnancy. Forgive me for sounding dramatic, but this is changing my life. 

It’s fascinating to dissect my writing process and pin down what specific mindsets and practices work well for me. I love recording my writing logs and piecing them together at the end of the week. Writing (and probably any other venture) becomes a lot more manageable and attainable with self reflection on the process. 

Still, I obviously ran out of steam at tough points. Some comfy rituals juiced me back up. 

Here are my lifesavers:

If you’re still around after those 2300 words, I have one last, lighthearted segment for today. Hailey (writing bestie) and I were talking a lot this week about the tiny treats that keep us together on hectic days. I know she might do a roundup series on her newsletter, and I figured I would share a few of my lifesavers this week — just for kicks. 

• Egg nog + Milk. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Lavie eats a lot more people food now, so I’m not making as much milk. Since I had her, I’ve had the most insatiable breastfeeding appetite, but it’s calmed now. I’ve returned to my old, peckish self. Then when I turn out the nights to fall asleep, my tummy grumbles. I realize how little I’ve eaten, and I’m famished. This tip hits 10 birds with one stone (mega exaggeration, I’m just hyping it up). If I forget to eat a good dinner and know I’ll be hungry in bed or if I just want a last minute treat before I enter the belly of the beast — the baby’s bedtime — I mix together egg nog and milk. Creamy sips of that while reading her bedtime story and brushing her teeth make the dark hours magic. 

• Beauty routine - Since becoming a stay at home mom and hobby writer, I have no consequences. I can veg out on the couch in my 8 day dirty hair and milk stained sweatpants if I want to. No one will fire me. No one will even see me except my husband, and he wouldn’t complain because he’d be afraid of getting fired. But I love beauty. I love doing my hair. I’m getting into makeup. Fashion is my kryptonite. I’ve been primping in the mornings, and I swear it gives me superpowers. 

• Clean space - Those superpowers begin with my witch’s broom — the kitchen broom. After I put on my peachy jeans and cream sweater, I want to pretty up the house too. I want to gaze on her with hearts in my eyes. The momentum works. I relax in the morning, make breakfast, do my makeup, then pick up loose toys, fold our crumpled blankets, and wash any accumulated dishes. When the house looks nice by Lavie’s nap time, it feels so good to take a rest and write. 

• Lavie’s snowsuit + our winter walk clothes - Winters past, I’ve avoided the outdoors like a plague. They can be dangerous here in Utah. This year, I have a baby. She needs sunshine, play time, and vitamin D through the long, cold months. I do too, but I haven’t been very good at accounting for that. It’s easier when a baby holds you accountable. Last week, T, Lavie, and I went on a thrift date. The store snagged tons of expensive overstock coats, so we bought one for Lavie, black for any baby boys in our future to use as well. By luck, we stumbled upon the most adorable pair of pink snow bibs for her. I ordered some boots, mittens, and merino wool socks. With her new gear and me in my old layers, we’re all set for long, afternoon walks. These strolls around campus and my favorite, quaint neighborhoods in town end up my highlights of the week. I catch up with Hailey, old friends, grandma, and my mom on Marco Polo or the phone. Lavie snacks on bits of apple, blissed out, all the while. I just pray this sticks in January, when the average high is 33 degrees. 

• Routine writing time - When I set out on this challenge, I carved out a time to consistently commit to writing: nap time. She naps every day. Life with a baby is unpredictable. The when, how, where, how much change daily, but she will nap. I’ve realized that the predictability of this creates a perfect trigger for me. I know she’s going to fall asleep in the late morning or afternoon each day, so all morning, I prepare myself for it. The second her eyes close, my brain naturally switches to writing mode. It knows what it’s supposed to do. It’s time to write, no excuse, just get it done. This gives me relief. I don’t have to muster up the willpower to write or dig around for time in the day, because I know that this one moment is the only one I’m promised. I don’t have time to waste. I better take advantage of it. The baby makes for a great accountability buddy, let me tell you that.

  

   

Alrighty, there’s your Red Gingham sampler for the week. I have no idea what the next one will bring. I like tracking my breakthroughs, so maybe I’ll do that again, or maybe I’ll go in a whole new direction. If there’s anything you’ve liked about today’s post that you want to see again, please let me know in a comment or email back. If you have an idea for one of these writer’s diaries or a future post, I’m all ears. 

Take care and see you next Saturday, friend!

<3 Ally