My forever project.  That’s what I’m now calling the work that has consumed the last four years of my life.  What was I thinking when I started out to write a book, expecting that it was The Year of my Book?  Naive as I was, I poured my heart and soul into the stories I wrote for the next year.  And the year after that.  Tales derived from the thousands of miles that Rich and I covered on our bicycle tours, along with the joys and the conflicts that accompanied them.

I supplemented my work with taking writing classes, reading books about craft, joining Lake Superior Writers, and networking with other writers.  I grew as a writer, but knew it wasn’t enough.  I decided to engage a writing coach, to get first-hand personal input on  my efforts to write a book.  Even as I packaged up my work to send to Mary Carroll Moore, I knew what I had was just a “pile of content.”  I relied on her to steer me through shaping it into a book.  I spent the next six months working with her, and she delivered.

It has taken me another two years to put those learnings into practice.  To whittle down my stories and turn them into a cohesive tale.  One that goes well beyond pushing the pedals of my bike, and explores the inner me that journeys through life.  I’ve learned that the bicycle is the vehicle, not the real focus.

Less than half of what I first wrote remains in this new version.  But so much more is woven in between those pages.  I’ve delved into my past, dug into my innermost desires, scrutinized my motives and exposed my biggest failure.  There were times when writing felt like therapy sessions.  But I could see how it all began to weave together.  I could feel it working.  Maybe.

I feel as though I’ve taken it as far as I can on my own.  I could spend months tweaking and fine tuning, but it would all be for naught if I’m not on the right track.  I’m yearning for that professional guidance and tutoring specific to my writing, to my project. I’m ready for another check-in with my coach.

As I prepared for the October start to our next engagement, I looked back on the notes I sent her the first time around.  Specifically, I read through an exercise focused on Why am I Writing this Book?  I was amazed to find that my original reasons no longer hold true.  My purpose has changed.  The themes have shifted.  The points I want to make are vastly different.  I think it’s progress.  I hope she thinks so too.

Yesterday I took my document to the printer, and came home with 320 double-spaced pages.  Nearly the same size as last time, but not at all the same inside.  This time I’m willing to call it a manuscript.

I’m both eager and nervous to get Mary’s reaction to the transformation.  I already know she will be encouraging no matter what.  But I have no illusions that I’m close to done.  I trust her to guide me from here, and teach me the techniques and nuances that will take this to the next level.

Mary is still the only other person who has read this volume.  I’ll keep it that way until I’m good and ready, until it’s good and ready.  I know I still have plenty of work to do.  So here I go again.  Coaching round 2.

We hear it all the time. The only way to get writing done is to “put your butt in the chair.” Show up and just do it. Punch those keys, push that pen. It requires mental fortitude, commitment, a will to write. And a willingness to shut out everything else, endure the solitude.

It’s been a quiet fall. The sudden cancellation of our September travel plans left me at home with an empty slate. An abundance of empty mornings that screamed Writing Time. A lack of excuses. A productive stretch. A lot of time spent inside my own head.

Yet as I look back over the last few weeks, I can see the benefits I reap from my so-called solitary pursuit.

A chance meeting at a birding event with my husband, Rich, led to a coffee date with another nascent writer. She shared her passion for submitting stories to publications, reigniting my resolve to pursue more short pieces and send them out into the world. We swapped sources, favorite contests and writing goals all with a heavy dose of encouragement.

Through Lake Superior Writers, I have met local writers and now call many of them friends. Most are far more accomplished than I, yet generously share their knowledge, their experiences, their support. I can pour out my fears and inhibitions and they get it. They’ve been through it. Just recently, I spent several hours walking the woods of Lester Park and Hawk Ridge with two such women. With each crisp footstep and breath of Northwoods air, I relished the one-on-one connection, the common pursuit of elusive goals. No matter our skill levels.

My very first writing class was a week-long immersion in travel memoir, sequestered on beautiful Madeline Island. The twelve women in the class bonded by week’s end, sharing our writing aloud – hesitantly at first, then more eagerly as the week progressed. Last weekend, five of us gathered for dinner. We’ve managed a haphazard schedule of reunions since we first met four years ago. Of course, we all brought a piece to read. We still cheer one another on.

My own writing group met a few days ago. We’re only three in number, but we hold one another accountable. Critique each other’s works. One member has accurately dubbed it the Motivation Group. Once again, it’s the common bond of writing that unites us. Enriches our lives with this connection.

Today I just returned from the North Shore Readers and Writers Festival in Grand Marais. This bi-annual assembly of authors, instructors, book lovers and writers is the pinnacle of literary indulgence. For four days, I attended classes, listened to speakers and panels, and rubbed elbows with other writers all day long. Socializing over wine, meeting up for dinner, or just sitting in the same sessions widened my network of fellow writers and friends. But even better I could share my passion with like-minded folks. People who ground me. Reinforce my desire, and fully share the journey.

I came home exhausted but inspired. Ready to put my butt in the chair again. New ideas racing through my head. Suddenly, I don’t feel so alone anymore.

Last time I checked in on my writing journey, I had just emailed my book manuscript to my writing coach, Mary Carroll Moore.  I waited in anxious anticipation while she took a month to read it, think about it, reread it and send me her initial report.  In addition to feedback on my manuscript, she provided an in-depth description of the process she used to evaluate my work, and laid out a plan for working together.  While it was overwhelming, I was certain I had chosen the right coach.

Now, seven months later, I have come out the other side of that experience.  After dedicating myself to the writing process for the duration of my coaching, followed by some time to reflect, I thought it was high time to report back on what it was like.

I will readily admit that the coaching process was not at all what I expected.  I naively assumed it meant working through my manuscript.  Tweaking my writing.  Developing its flow.  Working the chapters into it into a cohesive structure.  We worked on all that, but not via my words.  Instead, it involved carefully devised assignments that led me to take a step back to look at the content as a whole, then tear it down into small modules, scenes.  Work on those, then reshape them into the chapters.  Pay attention to the reader’s perspective, not the writer’s.  Finally, rebuild it back into an overall structure.  All of this took place within a list of my chapters, not the manuscript itself.  For me, that systematic approach perfectly suited my analytic nature.

Logistically, this occurred through eight sessions conducted entirely by email. For each check-in I sent in my assigned work.  I also kept a running tab of questions and observations as I worked and included that as well. Mary emailed back a wealth of comments and answers, followed by background materials and instructions for the next assignment.  Several emails usually flowed, as I reviewed the feedback and asked clarifying questions.  Then I was off on my own until the next check-in.  In her original set of instructions and guidelines, she strongly encouraged holding off on emails in between.  Chances were, I would solve any problems on my own and learn from the process, she said.  And she was right.

I started out thinking 2 weeks per assignment would be plenty.  But the further in I got, the more time I wanted.  I was eager to accomplish as much as possible, and to make the most of Mary’s tutelage.  Each assignment was comprised of a number of different tasks.  She readily admitted to assigning more than could be accomplished in the time allotted, allowing me to choose which pieces I wanted to tackle.  I couldn’t helpful myself from trying complete it all.  In the end, the process stretched out over 5 1/2 months, thanks to Mary’s willingness to be flexible and extend the time between check-ins as much as possible within her schedule.

Early on, Mary had me doing a lot of freewriting.  As this book is a memoir, she gave me writing prompts which provided me with an inventory of thoughts, ideas, influences, experiences, and life shaping moments that might ultimately find a home in my manuscript.  She also asked me to read as many books as I could find written by touring cyclists, since that’s the nature of my book.  I quickly found the value in that, sizing up what made them boring, compelling, repetitive, well crafted.  And especially, what made me really care about the cyclists.

Not until assignment 5 did I begin sending in chapter rewrites for editing.  By then, I finally felt ready to build on all my new knowledge and try out the techniques I was learning.  They came back with a warning that she made “extensive suggestions.”  I welcomed the honest feedback and heavy hand – those have become treasured examples.  I continue to look back on them as I rewrite other chapters, taking her edits to heart and trying my best not to repeat the same mistakes.

Throughout, Mary was supportive and encouraging.  And I was right about the benefit of personalized attention, and working with someone who knew my work intimately.  Each assignment was based on my progress to date.  If one approach didn’t work for me, she’d try another tact.  And she always stressed that her insights and suggestions were just that – the final decisions always rested with me.

I started with a pile of content – I admitted to Mary that’s all it was.  By the end, I mostly have that same pile of content.  But now I have a roadmap.  I drastically narrowed my scope.  I identified critical elements that need to be woven into my existing chapters.  I have a detailed revision list.  I know where I need to add chapters.  And I understand how to structure those chapters to be a compelling read.  Have I mastered all that yet?  Hardly.  But I feel like I know where I’m going with this.

I want to note that none of this was dictated by Mary.  It came about through the artful learning and discovery process she led me through.  True to her role she was my coach and mentor.  She taught me skills and I practiced under her guidance.  Now it’s up to me to play my own game.