Heading to Hawaii Tuesday.
North Shore of Oahu. My goal is to run every day on the jungle trails along the beach. Slow AF. Lots of humid tropical sweat. I'll set up my writing space at a table looking out at the ocean, like when I worked on Survivor. Something about the sound of breaking waves helps the writing process. Then I'll grab a book and spend the day reading. I won't wear shoes all that much.
I get emails asking for writing advice. Everyone has a book in them and they want to know how to put theirs on the page. My response is always disappointing. There's no pixie dust. Just tell a story. If you get stuck about how to start, begin with "once upon a time." Write one page a day and in a year you've got a book.
But I never tell them about the book report. . . .
Taking London is the best thing I've ever written. These past two weeks making one final edit were like Christmas. I'd literally wake up at 3 a.m., eager to find better ways to tell the story. Then I'd force myself to go back to sleep, reminding myself a rested edit is a sharper edit. I'd dream about the characters, letting them tell me more about their arc.
I make my living writing books, so I get understandably nervous when prognosticators make bold statements about print being dead. What else would I do? In my heart of hearts, when I hear about AI or a more video-centric world, I pray a little prayer that books hang around for at least forty more years. I'll be 102 by then and most likely out of stories to tell.
I hit my deadline. There is no pretending it was easy. Perhaps you missed last week's blog post — the one that never occurred. . . . No matter your business, hitting a deadline means hyperfocus and sacrifice. And it's not just working fast. It has to be the best, which means not just writing, but editing (and more editing), and research (and still more research). But now it's done. . . .
