Right now, Justine and I are in nothern California on her How to Ditch Your Fairy tour. So while I”m on the road with sucky hotel internets, I thought I’d hand over the blog to Robin Wasserman, who I just interviewed a few days ago. She’ll be around for the rest of the week, till we get back to NYC.
Take it away, Robin!
First of all, thanks again to Scott, for letting me camp out here while you’re gone. I’ll try not to burn the place down.
Second, thanks for all the awesome comments on Monday’s interview. And thanks, in advance, for tolerating my continued presence. As opposed to, say, throwing rotten fruit. Stepping in for Scott feels a little like opening for the Beatles. (Just fyi, I’m not nearly as old as that reference makes me sound. Technically, I’m not even half that old.)
Third of all, because before we go any further I figure you should know exactly where I stand:
(If I knew how to make that font bigger, I would. My love for Zane requires sky-high neon letters. Preferably flashing.)
Scott suggested that as long as Iâ€™m here, you guys might want to hear a bit about my writing process. Unfortunately, these days my process is as follows:
1. Wake up.
2. Stare at computer.
3. Bang head on computer.
4. Take some Advil for throbbing head.
5. Stare more. Bang more. Wonder if it’s too soon to take more Advil.
6. Type something. Delete it.
7. Freak out when computer crashes. (Possibly connected to all the banging?)
8. Cross fingers and reboot. Eat a cookie for luck. (And for sugar high.)
9. Type something else.
10. Stare at computer.
11. Go to sleep.
The sad fact is, by this point in my â€œwriting processâ€ (ie book due in a few weeks), my brain is basically cheese. And not the sharp kind, like cheddar. Think soft and runny and totally useless.
Iâ€™m also at the point where everything I write makes me think, â€œWhy would anyone ever want to read this, or anything else I write? If I ever had any talent, which is debatable, it must have leaked out while I was watching Gossip Girl, because clearly the universe is punishing me for watching too much TV, and now Iâ€™m going to have to quit being a writer and go learn to juggle or something so that I can join the circus, and maybe thatâ€™s not such a bad thing because even hosing down elephants while scary clowns are stuffing themselves into tiny cars and pretending to pull fake flowers out of each otherâ€™s fake noses would be preferable to SITTING IN FRONT OF THIS COMPUTER FOR ONE MORE MINUTE.â€
This point in the writing process is, as you may have noticed, a bit of a downer. So for your reading pleasure â€” and my own sanity, I figured I would treat you to a glimpse of my favorite part of the whole thing: The end.
A lot of writers I know figure out their stories as theyâ€™re going along. But Iâ€™m a big fan of outlines, which means I almost always know how my things are going to turn out. Sometimes I even know what the last line will be. You know how sometimes when youâ€™re reading a really good book, you start going slower and slower as you approach the last page, because you donâ€™t want it to end? Thatâ€™s almost how it feels to be finishing up a book â€” once the end is in sight, once you can feel it coming, youâ€™re almost sorry.
I said almost.
Because eventually the end comes, and writing that last line is like eating a brownie sundae. (And not the kind where the brownie is stale and the ice cream has freezer burn. Iâ€™m talking homemade brownie, hand-churned ice cream, hot fudge sauce. No cherry. I hate cherries.) The only thing better is pressing â€œsendâ€ on my email and shipping the book off to my editorâ€”-then, for a few brief, blissful seconds soaking in the fact that the book is DONE.
At least until itâ€™s time for revisions.
Bring on the Advil.
Questions, comments, requests for my next post? Iâ€™ll answer anything youâ€™ve got since, as you may have guessed, Iâ€™d rather be reading your comments than writing my book!