I Know What You’re Thinking

I know what is on the top of your mind as we turn the calendar to August. It is not the record heat (which has been keeping us indoors longer than a frigid winter). It is not the presidential election (with all of the noise and moving pieces). It’s not the medaling athletes making their dreams come true at the Olympics in France (or the opening ceremonies that were conceived by someone in a dream-like state of mind). You are not puzzling over how to get the moves right for the TikTok viral dance set to the mash-up by Eminem and Snoop Dog (like I am). No, I know what you’re thinking about.

On August 1, 2024, you have one question on the tip of your tongue. Go ahead, just ask it. “Where has Grizzlybearma been?” 

Good question. In 2018 I created this blog, and I set out to publish a post every single day for one whole year. Whether it was a single photo of the puppies, a whimsical poem, or a 1500 word narrative, I stayed true to my commitment. Since then, my posts have been sporadic, the time between them growing longer with each passing year.

“Why?” You ask (or at least my son Jack asked). “Why aren’t you writing on your blog lately?”

I thought I owed Jack and my other readers an answer. Get the drum roll ready. My announcement is big. It is huge (as some in the public eye might say while drawing out the vowel in the middle). I want to share the huge news with you.

I finished writing the first draft of my manuscript. That’s right, you heard it here. Three weeks ago I typed into my laptop the last words. Technically, it was smack dab in the middle of the epilogue that I ran out of gas. Mid-sentence. Done. Finito. I made it to the finish line of the first distance event. Hurdles along the way did not throw me too far off course. They say the toughest slog to get through is the third quarter when you’re asking yourself, “Where is this story going?” Even if you know the ending, somehow the last stretch is arduous. But I did it!

By the numbers: I wrote 105,000 words, which comes out to roughly four hundred pages depending on format and font. Three parts. Thirty-three chapters (plus a half-written epilogue). Ten months (if you’re counting the first ideation).Ten pounds (need to figure out the sedentary part of writing). Think of one hundred blog posts as long as today’s. Each word came out of my head, through my fingers, into my notebooks and then to the keyboard into Google docs. Let’s just sit with this for a minute…

One minute is over.

The manuscript I have written is a long wordy story. I know that. It is a rough draft. I know that (and I know I am repeating myself). “This is a rough draft,” is the mantra I used again and again to stay on track and not give up. The alternative was to go learn to play the drums. I actually once said, “I will either write a book or learn to play the drums.” Maybe both one day. From all of the experienced authors out there who’ve been quoted in craft books or who I heard interviewed on podcasts, they all agreed on one thing. The first draft is the “poopy” draft. I wish not to use profanity, but you get the idea. 

The first draft is getting the ideas out there without interrupting the flow. Most writers say that their final draft is very different from their first draft, after all of the revisions and editing. This next part can take months or years. I am here for it. (Is that still a popular saying? Not sure, since I have been holed up writing in my office.)

One month ago I sent my manuscript to beta readers who are also writing coaches. I was nervous. To sit with ideas in your head about characters and a storyline, and then work hours, days, weeks and months without sharing them with another person, it is terrifying to hit send. All the self doubting questions circling my head sung in unison, “What are you even thinking? You? Writing a book?”

I credit three sources that propelled me forward. First, there was a zoom workshop I attended two summers ago called, “Spark for Compassionate Change.” It was led by two life coaches who are my daughter’s age, in their late twenties. A spark ignited for me inside those virtual discussions as I listed my dreams. I examined what was stopping me, and what it would look like to take small steps, incremental changes, and build new micro habits. The wise women were on to something. The next week, I signed up for my first writing conference and jumped into the writing world, and have never looked back. I am going for it.

The second source of support is my husband. To sit at a computer or write in a notebook for hours at a time means something else is not happening. Chores for starters. It’s also that my attention is elsewhere. He wants me to pursue this so wholeheartedly that he is out there with the chickens, goats, horses, cats, dogs, etc… after a work day full of meetings while I lose track of time. He listens to me puzzle over plot ideas or lets me read passages aloud that I am excited about. I do not say this lightly, “I could not be doing this without him.” Most of all, he believes in me.

The third source encompasses all the writers who support other writers. It is a community like no other. You’d think that they are competing for the same shelf or group of readers, and that would spur the kind fierce competition I witnessed at the football combines or music chair competitions of my children. But every aspiring writer or published author who I have met has been nothing but supportive and real. My favorite part of workshops is walking away with the feeling that anything is possible, and that others share my fears and dreams.

Erma Bombeck said, “Chasing your dreams takes courage.” Among many of her wise words, this is one that pushed me forward when I was scared to send the rough draft to the beta readers. Last week I received their feedback, and met with the writing coach for our first session. My big takeaways are that I have a lot to learn about the craft of writing, AND they liked my story and characters. The breath I was holding in for three weeks exhaled in one big whoosh. 

Stay tuned for more updates from me as I enter into the revision era. I will be hacking away at my excessive word count. If you’re curious, this post is right around 1200 words. A contemporary women’s fiction novel averages 80,000 words. Mine has 105,000 words. I have some trimming and truncating to do. Fun stuff!

PS: The entire time that I have been writing the Grizzlybearma blog (six years) I have never once passed it through another set of eyes. No proofreaders, editors, or feedback before I hit “publish now”. Maybe I’d have learned a while ago the economy of words had I done so. Thank you for reading my wordy posts anyway!

This is my writing hat I bought at the bookstore in Santa Monica owned by author and podcaster Zibby Owens.