Madeleine Overwhelmed Again (or Still)

I am sitting at my desk, trying to proceed with what remains of my novel (yes, Readers, that novel) but unable to proceed with it, because I am feeling overwhelmed, and so I thought that perhaps I should write down in a notebook what I was feeling (or "am" feeling, the tenses are not going to be consistent in this post, Readers, I am that overwhelmed--and the grammar is going to be poor as well), because sometimes that (i.e., the writing down) helps me organize my thoughts and choose what to do next, but then I was overwhelmed by the number of notebooks on my desk, and couldn't choose one (this is an ongoing problem with me--I have so many notebooks with so many notes but rarely look at them, and then when I do look at them, there are so many that I become overwhelmed)... And now I have to begin this again. I've lost my thread. I was using too many parentheses.

That was (is) a very confusing paragraph, Readers. Unfortunately, it is also an accurate portrait of how I am feeling right now. (Am I using "portrait" correctly here?)

(Also, did I use em dashes in previous posts? I love an em dash, but those aren't em dashes above...Perhaps I wrote my posts in Word when I used to write in the Mildred?)

But I left out the most important part of that paragraph! What I was trying to say was that in thinking that I should write down my thoughts while I was sitting here at my desk today, I suddenly thought of the Mildred. And I suddenly thought that I should return to it, that I should write my thoughts there, that I could return to the Mildred as I am finishing my book, that it would be a fitting end to the Mildred, i.e., proof that I finished what I set out to do.

This might be my worst post ever...

Is this helping? Or will this help? "This" being returning to the Mildred after so many years? Perhaps my desire to return to the Mildred means that I am truly going to finish the book in the coming months. I don't even know if this is the correct voice to use... Does this sound like me, Readers? I haven't read the Mildred in a very long time. I can't remember what I sounded like. Is a return going to make me feel even more overwhelmed?

One good thing is that I was able to write even these sentences, or thoughts. This effort at posting (ugh, the tortured language!) has at least made me organize some thoughts, or ideas, or something.

My point is: I might be returning to the Mildred as I finish my book.

I will think on it, see how I feel after this post has been posted. ("This post has been posted"! I am rusty...) Maybe I will mention it to Agnes, who is still by my side (figuratively), though I won't mention it to her yet. If she reads this post, she'll certainly tell me not to return.

Agnes, incidentally, still doesn't smoke. She achieved her goal. I must achieve mine!

Agnes Turns to Drink

Apparently, Mallarmé insisted that no sentence, no sentence of power, should begin with a monosyllable. And apparently the Réalistes (Flaubert, Zola, the Goncourts,) felt this was an overly fussy, even mannerist way to think about syntax. I think it's reasonable to have some sympathy for writers like the Goncourts, for whom Modernism was connected with the immediate presence of people like Courbet, manning the barricades of the Paris Commune and attempting to sever not only the aesthetics but the politics, economics, social hierarchies, and heads of the old order. Again. In other words: there was a great deal of excitement in the Paris of the 1870s.
     Last week not 20,000 but about 150 people were killed in Paris, this time by ISIS/ISIL/Daesh. 

Madeleine Refines Her Process

I am working on Draft 2 of the book. It is a struggle. I thought that by now I would have been at least halfway through my revision. I had it all planned out! I had a schedule and dates and a lot of enthusiasm.

It didn't work out that way, Reader(s).

If you read an earlier post, you already know this. And if you have been checking the Mildred for updates on a regular basis, then you probably figured it out, too. (Why isn't Madeleine posting? I don't have a good feeling about her revision... Madeleine never completes anything! Etc.)

But the truth is I have been working on my revision. But by "working on my revision" I actually mean "refining my revision process." That is to say that revision is hard!

You know what, Reader(s)? I don't like the way this post is going. I feel rusty. The voice is wrong.

There you go--those last four sentences (which were not written with this intention, I swear on Agnes's life) are the best illustration of my revision process. Stopping, questioning, doubting, blaming. 

Anyway, Our Dear Reader had a long talk with me again the other night and I feel re-focused. Stuff that I already knew, stuff that ODR had told me many times before, but this time, Reader(s), I feel like I got it.

ODR's most important bit of advice:

Break it down into goals.
Keep it at the task level.
Limit what you're doing.
Be brave.

If Agnes were a Viennese Housewife

Happy End by Peter Tscherkassky

Madeleine Reminds Herself in Public...

that the point of the second draft, or the goal for the second draft (not the point), is to make it more complete than the first draft. That is to say that the goal is not perfection. The book will NEVER be perfect. No book is perfect. This blog posting isn't even perfect.

Anyway, yes, Madeleine is having a difficult time revising. Madeleine also is shocked that this is her first posting of 2012. It has been so long since Madeleine posted on the Mildred that she can't remember if she posts in the third or the first person. The third person is feeling weird to Madeleine.

Madeleine Feels Overwhelmed

Have I used that title before on this blog? I must have! It could be the title of the blog.

The holidays are over, readers, and I have had this week off from work. I am working tomorrow, unfortunately. Also unfortunately, I had planned to rewrite the first story in my book--my completed first draft--this week, while I was off, to build some momentum going into the new year.

No rewrite, no momentum.

What happened? I don't know. Perhaps, as Our Dear Reader said yesterday, I just needed some time off. Perhaps. But now I am feeling the pressure.

What pressure--or pressure from where?

I am putting that pressure on myself. I know this but I can't seem to stop it! I think it was a mistake to tell people that I finished the first draft of my book. I was just so happy to have finished something, so pleased with myself, but now I feel like everyone is waiting and expecting something in the next few months.

Who's waiting? I KNOW, reader, NOBODY is waiting. Again I am setting myself up. Etc. etc.

These are the conversations I had all day long in my head...

I am most afraid of falling into bad habits again. Our Dear Reader is also most afraid of that.

I decided yesterday not to rewrite until January 1st (which is Sunday!) but still--NO rewriting until then. Instead I am reading draft one, from beginning to end. I read about 50 pages today. I have so much work to do. It is daunting. But there was a moment today when I suddenly felt excited; I suddenly felt that I was thrilled to see how this will all work out over the next few months, how I'll be able to revise these stories.

Then that moment passed.

I was reading some other blog, a food blog, and she was writing about deadlines and writing, and how she's finishing up her new book and she's so nervous about it right now, but she's come to realize that she only calms down when she's writing. I think (I hope) it will be the same for me.

I've set up a schedule, a number of pages to get through each day. I'm trying to be as concrete, as exact, as I can be. That's how the word count worked in Draft 1. Sometimes I hated the word count (oftentimes) but in the end it got me where I wanted to go.

Agnes is home! Blog writing must cease!

Today Is the Day Madeleine Begins Draft Two...

But now the day is over; it's evening, cocktail hour, and I just began my revision. I began it by reading the first few pages of my book. Then I decided that I needed to write on the Mildred--right now--so thus far I have only spent 10 minutes of my day revising my book. The rest of the day was spent rearranging my apartment with Agnes and creating my new office space, having lunch with Agnes and Our Dear Reader, visiting Our Dear Reader's apartment, returning home and catching up with the day's news, checking my email, balancing my checkbook, and talking about starting my revision.

I am recording my day's activities here on the Mildred because I want to make sure that too many days are not spent this way. Or lost this way.

Good news is that I liked the first few pages of the book that I read. "Liked" isn't the right word, really, but after reading them I felt like I could fix them and wanted to work on them. Of course I didn't work on them, I wrote on the Mildred instead, so...

This post is annoying me. I am going to end it now.

Madeleine Knows...And Feels Relieved

I know what the end of the story I am currently slogging through is going to be, by which I mean that I figured out what is happening and who is involved in the last paragraph of the last story, which will also be the last paragraph of my book. I am relieved!

This is not to say that the paragraph won't change when I actually write it--I haven't written it yet, but I've taken notes--but at least I know where the last story is going. And it is uplifting, I think, this paragraph. Uplifting for me, anyway.

I just remembered writing about the "dreaded paragraph" for quite a time back when I started the Mildred with Agnes. The dreaded paragraph must have been in Story 1. This paragraph did not turn into a dreaded paragraph, which seems to me progress.

I am trying to think of this story as just another story, but it's difficult, because it's the last story, and this will be the last paragraph people read of this book, if anyone ever reads it, and it's bound to carry a little more weight than most other paragraphs in the book.

Again, I am relieved. No more sadness or bleakity for Madeleine. For now...

Madeleine's (Sad? Bleak?) Thoughts on Her Latest Story and Her (Sad? Bleak?) Life

It's not working.
I am not enjoying it at all.
It is so flat.
I am forcing it.
I want it to be short.
I want it to be unlike the other stories.
I want it to be uplifting, but only at the end.
The last paragraph will be uplifting, but not too uplifting.
I can't write uplifting.
I don't mean "uplifting," I mean something else but don't have the word for it.
That's the problem--I don't have the word for it.
The opposite of bleak.
Writing this blog post is so much more enjoyable than writing the story.
I don't have a title for it.
I don't like the title of this blog post.
The other stories had the title first.
Maybe I should come up with a title first like I did with the other stories.
Time is passing and I must meet my self-imposed deadline.
The second draft is going to be really hard.
What if, after all this, I can't finish the second draft?
I will feel awful.
I am feeling awful about it already.
I know, Dear Reader, I should not think that far ahead, stay in the now, etc., etc., but it's hard not to think about it.
I have spent all this time and I've told people that I'm almost finished with draft one and that draft two will be finished in April.
I told them to make it more real, but I shouldn't have told anyone.
I will feel like a failure.
I will be a failure.
Agnes will still love me, possibly.
No she will love me, but she will be disappointed or at least she will be the opposite of proud.
That's a good title: The Opposite of Proud
Another good title I thought of this week: Please Don't Bring a Guest
Neither of those titles work for this story.
I never meet my self-imposed deadlines.
Think of something positive, quick: I know what happens in the story.
The story does not have to be long.
The story functions more like a coda, or should function that way.
The second to last story is the more important story, and the story before that is even more important.
This last story is not so important.
If I could finish this story, then I could move on and start rewriting.
I have been wanting to rewrite for months now, I love rewriting, I love polishing sentences, but I have to come up with a new process for rewriting, and that will be hard.
I don't want to fall into the old traps, i.e., take six months to rewrite a story.
I have two weeks to rewrite each story.
Is that enough?
Quick, another positive thought: I know what my next book is going to be about.
It will be a short book, and I will write it fast.
I just thought of a title for the story, but it's an old title, and I really don't like it. That's why I didn't use it the first time.
The book, the current book, I mean, is about time passing and I am thinking about time passing.
It's about time.
I have to give this post an uplifting ending, because it will make me feel better.
I have so many pages written!
I wrote so many pages!
Even if I change every single page, at least I have those pages to change.
That uplifting ending sounds forced.
I want the ending of my book to be like the end of Penelope Fitzgerald's novel, The Gate of Angels.
I remember thinking 15 pages from the end of that book, how is she going to get to the inevitable end, and then she did it, and then the book was over.
Endings are hard.

Madeleine Builds Momentum (Or Tries To)

I went to a lecture last week given by a novelist whose work I've never read, but I've heard good things about her, and I was in the mood; I had worked at my office that day, and I needed some uplift. It was billed as a craft lecture, on building characters in novels, or something, but it turned out to be a talk about what inspired her as a writer, which was basically everything from her childhood. She was charming, but the lecture wasn't very informative; it certainly wasn't a craft lecture. But one thing she said which I've been thinking about since then, and especially this morning, was the importance of momentum when writing a novel.

She said she had been working on a book for years, and she was bored with it. She felt like she had nothing more to put into it. She didn't quite hate writing it--in fact, she might return to it eventually, she said--but she wasn't excited by it, either.

That's when a friend asked her to write a short piece for a collection she was editing. It was completely unrelated to the novel she had been writing, and she enjoyed it. She realized that this was the story she wanted to write now, this was what she was excited about, and she called her book editor and told him she was abandoning her long-in-development novel to write about this character and situation. The editor was appalled, but the author assured him that she could write this book and still meet her deadline, and she did.

I feel like I've lost momentum lately, just from doing other things. I've had to work four days at my office this fall instead of three, which was good financially but bad creatively. Also, thinking about the story I am writing now as "the last story for draft one" has been daunting. It's been good for me up to this point to aim for finishing the first draft of the book by Thanksgiving, having a target date (which I am going to meet), but I still have a lot of writing to do, i.e., draft two, which has to be completed before I can show the book to anyone, which is also a little daunting. (Not showing it to people--I am dying to show it to people--but having to write another draft. Actually I am excited to write another draft. What's daunting is that I want to get it right.) I had such great momentum all spring and summer and now I've lost it a bit, but I'm not going to abandon the book (oh my god can you imagine?); I'm still excited about it. I chose an epigraph the other day--actually I chose five--and that started to get me back into it.

I'm also using the Mildred as a way to build momentum. I'll try to write on it most mornings, certainly on mornings like this one, when I have to go to the office. (And now I'm going to be late.)

Incidentally, Agnes is STILL not smoking. Oh how I wish she'd write on here again...

Madeleine Returns Again

I laughed when I saw the headline of my last post. (And, really, it's been that long since I posted?) But this time, dear readers, I won't wait six months--no seven months--to post again. I am not going to make any excuses, though, for not posting. I read an interview with an artist a few months ago (an artist whose work I don't like very much, frankly) and he has a blog that features postings from other blogs in which people apologize for not writing on their blogs as much as they should.

That was a bad sentence, but hopefully you know what I mean. (That is not an apology, either.)

I thought it was a good time for me to return to the Mildred, because I am writing my last story for draft one of my book, and I am having a difficult time with it.

You read that right, readers. My LAST story. You might have thought that I stopped writing on the Mildred, because I stopped writing my book, and I was ashamed or nervous or embarrassed, etc., but I have not been writing on the Mildred, because I have been writing my stories. I found it impossible to do both. I have written nine new stories since March 2011, plus other shorter stories which will also be part of the book.

The last story is tough! I can't get into it. It occured to me yesterday, as I was slogging through my daily word count, that perhaps writing on the Mildred again would help me finish. We'll see.

Madeleine Returns

Agnes just came home from work, and I was telling her everything that I had accomplished today, a list that did not include writing, and she interrupted me and said, "Did you write on the Mildred?"

It surprised me, because we haven't talked about the Mildred in a long time, but I was ready with a response: "No, not yet," I said, "but I'm going to," but that was a lie, because I was most definitely NOT going to write on the Mildred today. I have lots of other things to do, plus the Mildred is a lot more work than people think! But then I felt guilty--not about lying to Agnes, but about the fact that I have not been writing on the Mildred--and so here I am.

At least I can say that I stopped writing on the Mildred, because I have been writing a lot. I have a new process, thanks, largely, to Our Dear Reader, which involves word counts and focus and writing every day--but this leaves little time to write on the Mildred. After writing at my job, then writing my daily word count and revisions, the last thing I want to do, the last thing I feel inspired to do, is write on the Mildred.

But part of the new process is also about inspiration, i.e., you can't sit around waiting for inspiration if you want to finish things. I think this applies to the Mildred as well. The Mildred was a way of keeping track of my progress with my stories in a public way, an effort to not get bogged down in my process, or--that's not quite right--an effort to make my process public and thereby less fraught. (Am I saying that right? Am I being clear?)

This entry isn't particularly inspired or fun or clear, actually I'm finding it quite frustrating, which is the way I feel most days when I write, which is why I should be writing on the Mildred, etc. etc. Plus I made a deal and I have to see it through. Agnes saw hers through--she is still not smoking, yay for Agnes, though she talks about it often...

Anyway, I think it's important that I get back to the Mildred. So I am going to make more of an effort at doing so from now on.

Madeleine Decides...

I am not going to waste my life!

At Long Last Madeleine

I had a dream last night that I was at a restaurant or café or someplace like that—there was no food on the table, but we were in public somewhere—for a meeting with three other fiction writers, one woman and two men, and we were going to write a collection of stories together. Actually, we were going to pair up and write stories together and then all of the stories would be put into a collection. We would be working with similar characters and themes and styles; in the end, the collection would seem as if one person had written it. I think, perhaps, the plan was to have a pen name for the group—one made-up author. (Perhaps Madeleine Moorhead? That’s an aside, Readers, not part of the dream.)

I was familiar with these other writers; we had been brought together by friends that we had in common. The other three writers were published writers, more well-known than I was, but they thought I was talented and were treating me as an equal partner in the scheme. Perhaps “scheme” is not the right word, perhaps “project” is better, though the purpose of this arrangement was so that we could write this collection very quickly, certainly quicker than we would have been able to write a complete collection of stories on our own. (Yes, this sounds like a dream I would have, doesn’t it, Readers?)

The other writers started talking about prose that they admired; they were all in agreement. They liked beautiful descriptive phrases, long sentences with many, many words—in essence, they all liked the kinds of writing that I despise. I stayed silent. I feared that if I disagreed with them, I would reveal myself as a fraud and get kicked off the project. And this would be a very public humiliation; I would be rightfully ridiculed and then tossed out of the diner.

That’s all I remember….

But not much mystery there, right, Readers, as to what it all means…

January Madeleine

It's January...

You know what? I'll do this later...

Episode 100 of The Mildred: Drinks with a Friend

This is the 100th post on the Mildred. If this were a TV show, it would mean syndication and lots of money for me--and for Agnes, too, I guess, even though she has abandoned the project. Maybe that's an idea: turn each post into the episode of a TV series called The Mildred...

No, Madeleine, focus on the stories!

We had someone over for drinks last night, and she was talking about a visual artist she knows who has not been as successful yet as she could have been, because she has not focused on one medium, her interests are too diverse, etc. etc. Draw whatever conclusion you can, Readers, from that little anecdote...

So where am I now in this project? What has happened since I last posted?

I am applying for another residency. I am writing the application at the office so as not to take time away from writing my stories. I did write some of Story #3 yesterday--I think it's Story #3, I am still confused about that--and I am going to write more of it today.

I am going to work only one day a week at my office in January--did I altready mention this, Readers? It is slow at work right now, and I want to get away from there a little and have more time to think only about my stories. (Last night, our drinks friend also made the point--but not in a mean or deliberate way, by which I mean that I drew this conclusion from what she was saying, so I made this point, she was not talking about me, etc. etc.--that working only three days per week leaves a lot of time to write. That is true, I said, from the outside, but when you're working there every week, even three days seems like a lot.)

I am not liking this post at all.

If this were episode 100 of a TV series, I feel like it would be a turning point, a psychological cliffhanger. The friend comes over for drinks and makes Madeleine feel bad or at least like she was not living up to her potential--Agnes would insist that that's NOT what the drinks friend was saying at all, that "Madeleine, everything isn't always about you!"--and so Madeleine decides, that's it! She is fed up and she is going to focus and she is going to change everything and she is going to shock everyone with her productivity next season!

Madeleine Makes an Early Resolution

I will write on the Mildred at least once a week from now on until my project is done. So forever, then. Ha ha.

Our Dear Reader complained recently that I am not writing on the Mildred enough amd she is right. But it--I mean, keeping up with the Mildred--takes time and energy and given the choice between writing on the Mildred and writing my stories, I will choose my stories every time. Actually lately I have chosen to do neither, which is making me feel bad--and making me re-commit to the Mildred once again.

I can't believe there is only one entry for November. I remember writing at least four.

But I have a schedule which I wanted to share: finish one story by the end of December (2010), rewrite another story and complete that by end of January, and have a third story finished by the end of March. I can do it. And if I miss the first two deadlines (i.e., Dec., Jan)--well, the point is that I want to have these three stories finished by end of March 2011.

That's my plan. And now it's on the Mildred so, I don't know, I'm feeling nervous all of a sudden.

Madeleine: Neither Upbeat Nor Downbeat But Perhaps a Bit Full of Herself, or Candid Madeleine

Here I am again.

I felt like I should write on here today, though I don't really have anything to say.

I am thinking about the stories I am writing, i.e., Story #2 and Story #4 (I think--I am starting to confuse myself), and have been thinking about stories I've been reading lately, i.e., published stories that are not my own. In short, what I 've been thinking is: my stories are better.

I am wondering re: my long headline today: should the comma have gone after "or" or is my placement correct? I should know this.... I guess I'm not so great after all.

It is November. November! I just ordered our turkey today. In two months time, I will have finished Story #4 and Story #2 (or is it #3?).

Upbeat Madeleine

I am feeling energized and upbeat! And yes, readers, I read Agnes's lovely post. While I am sad that she is leaving, she is right to do it. She met her obligation, after all. If I had met mine I would have stopped writing on the Mildred a long time ago...

I do hope, however, that Agnes will continue to post from time to time, or at least comment on my posts. It's sort of exciting, actually; this new development could boost my readership to three.

But let me say again--and it's true, readers: I am feeling energized and upbeat!

What happened, you ask?

I don't know for sure. Perhaps it's just the excitement that comes when one starts writing again after a period of NOT writing. It also has to do with my writing what I want to write and not punishing myself (by not writing at all) for not writing what I should be writing, i.e., the stories.

Anyway, I feel like something is loosening in me, does that makes sense? Perhaps I'm not trying to control everything like I usually do? (Surely Agnes would not agree.)

Why Agnes Worries: The End of an Era?

It has been a very long time since I have posted, but there has not actually been that much going on in my life. I have been sick. Sick, off and on, for six weeks which is far to long a time to be sick. Especially for someone like myself who has sworn off la vida loca for, like, la vida conventina and doesn't deserve to be sick. And there is something about illness that puts things into strange perspective and a false consciousness arises.

Being unemployed and unwell is not the best combination (though I did, during a brief lifting of the veil of utter exhaustion, manage to find myself a couple of jobs neither of which has started yet.) It brings out an amazing voluptuousness that sees nothing wrong with lying in bed all day long—though the final effect was marred by our rather conspicuous lack of servants. I thought about making a list of received Proustian revelations for the delectation of our readers, but upon actually getting out of bed these realizations fell off like crumbs and I now realize that being sick only makes me stupider and ornrier and more bourgeois. It exacerbates my fears of the outside world and makes me feel simultaneously pressed for time and completely unable to accomplish anything, indeed even to figure out what exactly it is that needs accomplishing. It is a kind of being drunk—one is able to postpone responsibility. This feels amazing for three of four days. After three or four weeks, however, it begins to burn. Bed sores, I suppose.

With the above preamble in mind, it is time for me to rethink my relationship to The Mildred. Madeleine has been on my case to post for some time (remember, dear readers, that our home does not have internet access which makes posting from bed impossible not to mention Netflix on demand) and it has become more and more apparent to me that this is, after all, her party. I have not smoked now for over four and a half months and though I do have the odd smoking dream, I haven't slipped even once since I quit. New York City's continued program of health fascism combined with my own stinginess means that $12 for a packet of cigarettes is probably enough to stop me late night at the bodega even at my most drunkest. I'm not out of the woods forever—I will always be addicted to cigarettes whether I am smoking them or not—but I've definitely reached a plateau plot-wise. There are things that I do want to write about, however, and it is important for me to focus on those things. I am certain that writing is going to play a larger part in my art practice than it has up to this point; I have always written but I have never published any writing relating to my own work.

As a present for my graduation Madeleine gave me a gift certificate for a psychic reading (the psychic was a recommendation of Our Dear Reader.) One of the things that she said to me was that I didn't like to talk about my own work. This is true. I hate talking about my own work. I get mealy mouthed and want to change the subject. This is a problem and she said to me “THAT IS A PROBLEM.” The point is that I don't think that I want to spend time writing for the Mildred anymore because I am not sure what exactly I should be writing about and I'm not sure exactly how I should be writing about whatever it is. It is clearly important to Madeleine that our identities be somewhat obscured here. I can understand that from her perspective, but I guess it leaves me wondering a little bit what exactly my “hidden perspective” is supposed to be. I started writing on this blog in a show of support to M and because I really was struggling with smoking. Ironically I think it made for a much better blog when I just kept falling off the wagon every other week. Now that I am doing better I feel very constrained by the format of The Mildred and by its low profile. Maybe Madeleine and I can have a come to Jesus session and figure out what the future holds—but until then I think that I will be on hiatus. I will still be around, just very, very quiet.