I recently saw a photo of Gray Man author Mark Greaney on a speedboat, laptop open, typing away on a new book while rocketing across a lake somewhere.
I can relate. My guess is that he was on deadline, squeezing in a few hundred words to expand his writing day. There's an illusion that serious writers lock themselves in a cone of silence whenever they make sentences. The world never intrudes. We light a candle, pour a cup of coffee, shut the door, and enjoy a daily routine that does not deviate one iota until the book is done.
It's not like that. I am on deadline for Taking Midway right now. Not the frantic final weeks, just the awareness that I need to keep a certain pace to my daily word count. My favorite part of the book process is editing the entire first draft. Usually, I write a chapter then go back over and fuss, losing all forward momentum until I get the chapter right. This time, I'm writing the story, rough as it may be. Once I get a full book complete, then I'm going to go back to start the payoff, bringing out themes, finding pretty words, and looking at the project from a new perspective.
I digress. Back to writing anywhere, any time.
I'm sitting in a comfy chair in the cancer ward at UCI while Calene gets an infusion in the recliner just across from me. I'll finish this blog and then open up Taking Midway to work until the treatment is over. This afternoon I'm driving to San Diego to see Springsteen. It's a solo outing because I'll be in the pit. This means I've got a couple hours down time after my drive south before they open the doors (hopefully, my wristband will get me a spot next to the stage). So I'll write in my Yeti chair in the parking lot. I'm not above a good pregame tailgate but making sentences is just as fun. And a deadline is a deadline.
Flying to Malta next week. Never been. I'll see the sights and do a little research but I'll definitely write. Stopping in London on the way back. Just a day but I'll head over to the Audley and write.
On the plane, in a hotel room, at a cafe while sipping coffee. At track meets. Alas, never on a speedboat. Now that I've made this list, I suddenly realize it reads like the writer's version of the Mile High Club.
So if you've been thinking about a writing project of your own, don't let life get in the way. Life and writing go hand-in-hand. I love it. It's not compulsive, not drudgery, and the work is addictive in a way I do not understand.
Join the club.