Monday, September 13, 2010. . . Technically speaking, it is not Day 1 for beginning to write my new novel, my new Work In Progress. Day 1 was back in Spring 2008 when the series storyline introduced itself to my imagination. But let’s not start there.
Let’s not start either with several weeks ago when titles, names, themes, scenes, character analyses, and whatnot skittered through my mind, when I browsed catalogues and magazines looking for faces that fit my people. Such horrid and glorious hours of following a thousand and one rabbit trails!
No, I’ll call this Monday, the 13th day of September 2010, the Official Day 1 of the current WIP because today I sat down to begin the day-to-day process of writing a novel. It was an easy plunge into new lives and situations. It was a sweet homecoming.
However, unlike with the 17 stories before this one, I am wondering if I am losing or have already lost my marbles. How on earth do I keep shutting out the “real” world to create another? Why do I keep doing it?
Will blogging serve as a release valve? Perhaps if I share this journey with others, I will maintain some sense of sanity, a touch with reality.
Many years ago I attended a workshop conducted by the prolific writer Davis Bunn. It was a distinct pleasure on two counts: I took notes which I still use as writing guides and the guy is a gracious Southern gentleman, very easy on the eyes and the ears. One significant thing he said was that it is best not to talk about what we’re working on because it takes energy away from the story.
This is true. I regret when I do it. And so I will not talk about the story itself but about the process, about how real life and the imaginary life make for strange bedfellows.
Of course the hope behind this blog is that others will identify and feel free to express their thoughts on the subject.
Is anybody out there?
At the end of the writing day, switching gears from imaginary to real discombobulates me. It’s like going from third into reverse without hitting the brakes. Whomp. Not good.
DETAILS. . . Writing fiction is life, the rest is just details. Hackneyed yes, but such tight prose. Today’s details: Laundry. Trimmed the dead stems off of an African daisy and promised her more water more often. No emotional space left for emails or phone calls to friends and family. Sigh.