Catching up

Sunday, 7/11/04, 9:34 am –

I think I’ve finally solved the puzzle that was blocking me from writing “Dotty’s Diner”. I didn’t know what the problem was, or how to write a complete story while staying true to the facts. I mean, what does our heroine [me] learn–how does she change? I’d thought that it was only that she realizes she loves her previously despised stepfather, but that didn’t seem to be enough.

Just now, I remembered an odd incident that clarifies it all for me: one day, my mother took me aside in the restaurant and told me that Hank, a favorite customer (and the husband of Rhoda, the waitress who saved my stepfather’s life “that” night [the central night of the book, to be explained later]), had mentioned to her that I seemed to think I was “better than” the people who came in to the Diner. I denied it vehemently, and was very sorry that Hank of all people had that impression of me, but inwardly I was thinking, “Well, I am.”

As in better than. Hank was right.

And that’s the key to the whole story. I think I can write it now, and in a way that includes everything I’ve learned since then about love, compassion and–

Oh, hogwash. What’s this thing about being “better”, LaVonne? Don’t you still feel superior to most people–smarter, more spiritually aware, kinder? Come on, admit it.

Yes, it’s true, I do. I try to keep it under wraps even from myself, but it keeps slipping out. What would my poor ego have done if I didn’t have ABC News on my resume to hang onto? Well, good. Gives me more “meat” to chew as I write.

Just be honest, that’s the important thing–brutally honest–and you’ll do fine.

So now–how to start the story? When did I first start to feel this sense of superiority? Well, from Gramma to be sure. There was always a feeling from her that we were better than my father’s family–which was a little confusing since I was part of that family too, plus they were a lot more fun and interesting than Gramma and her boring brood–but really, it was when Mom and Joe got married and we moved into a rooming house as caretakers.

I was fourteen then. I knew right from the start that I would write about this unique experience, and that being a writer [or dreaming of being one] somehow elevated me above the masses, particularly those I planned to write about: the residents of the rooming house and, seven blocks away down Washington Avenue, the customers at Dotty’s Diner.

That’s when the story begins.

Thursday, July 15, 7:45am

So of course, I went public right away and blogged my intention to write Dotty’s Diner. What was I thinking? Now I have to do it!

Well, yeah. that’s what I was thinking, duh.

So what’s the first thing to do now? String together the scenes that tell the story, eliminate the ones that don’t, then write each scene, then rewrite. Then rewrite again. And again. Easy. The real work of writing, that’s all, not just daydreaming about it, but doing it. Better read Tristine Rainer’s Your Life as Story again to figure out how to string it all together.

Friday 7/16, 8:46am

Now the real Morning Pages begin–now that I’ve committed to writing The Story, and publicly at that. By real, I’m not sure what I mean except that I haven’t been exactly satisfied with the quality of writing herein for a long time. Not that Morning Pages are supposed to be high quality, just that this has been way too much of a diary and not enough of just plain old writing. Does that make sense?

What I need to do is re-read Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones–or listen to her tapes again in the car instead of turning on the radio. I need to immerse myself in the process again.

I’ve done it before. The 2500-word-a-day rule is usually good for jump-starting “real” writing. that’s what I should do. Three Morning Pages is a good start for spewing out all the diary stuff, but it doesn’t quite to the job. 2500 words does.

I’m going to have to make some other rules too, such as:

1. No TV before 8 pm — because of all the other stuff I need to get done after the morning writing session, and also because TV seems to crowd creativity right out of my brain. [Maybe no TV at all? Oh, the horror!]
2. Write first thing on waking — MP’s first, then breakfast, then 2500 words.
3. No computer until MP’s are done.
4. No email or surfing until 2500 words are done. [Or until noon? Oh, that would be hard!]

[edited to add:]

5. No phone calls before noon.
6. NO GAMES!

What about blogging MP’s–or the 2500 words. Hmm, not sure. Don’t want to get sidetracked by blogging, yet again. We’ll see about that. [ed. note: Apparently, we have decided to blog MP's. We're still seeing about the 2500 words.]

Another problem will be integrating this schedule with my new regimen of gluten-free, organic, totally unprocessed food. It requires a lot of cooking–my God! I’m not used to even thinking about food until I’m hungry, and then grabbing a bowl of cereal or popping someing in the microwave. [Hence my sad physical condition.] That’s all over now.

Now, I have to 1) make sure the dishes are always done so I can cook all day long, 2) make sure I have all the necessary ingredients available, 3) starting cooking–no, wait–plan what I’m going to cook at least a day ahead so I can make sure those ingredients are here for the cooking, and 4) then start cooking first thing in the morning like Nicole does–but wait: how can I cook and write at the same time? I think I’ll have to cook after the morning writing session is over–except for breakfast, of course.

Speaking of which, better put the steel-cut oatmeal on. All this healthy stuff takes forever to cook!

Gramma would be so proud.