Monthly Archives: August 2012

Soap Bubbles

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Trying to make up for lost time over the weekend. I’m at the end of chapter four; it just keeps going beyond where I expected. Before I got to them, I knew the general series of events I wanted to cover in these last two chapters. I just wasn’t sure what would fit where, and what might go between. As it happened, everything got pushed back. The chapter two conclusion wound up in the middle of chapter three; most of the exposition that I planned for chapter three got delayed into chapter four. As a result, this chapter is fairly well packed with event. The subject can and does change from one page to the next, and yet somehow it all winds together.

There’s only one box left to check. Perhaps tomorrow we will see how that comes about. Then, on to chapter five. I’m looking forward to that one. It will be… different.

Thanks again for all your support. So far we have received nothing but positive feedback on this project. As it happens we are incurring a few unusual expenses over the next few weeks, as we move to New England to better raise our daughter. Inspirational as it may be, Brooklyn is no place for children.

If you feel like contributing, we have made it easy for you.

Twenty Thousand

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We’re past the 20,000 word mark. That’s about 80 pages, by standard measurements. (In Word format I’m up to 78; in my Moleskine… that comes to 62 pages, counting back and front.) I’m not quite done with chapter four, though I have reached a milestone in its content. From here it’s all smooth until chapter five, and I have something interesting planned there. After the last two chapters it will be a nice change of pace.

I’m going to be away for the weekend, and I may not bring my notebook. I’ll have other things to think about, and I don’t want to lose or damage my work to date. Sure I’ve been typing this out every night, but the hard copy is the real thing. I can always retype it if I want, but I’ll never have the original back again.

So, phew. One more chapter or so and we should reach 100 pages — a fact that will quite probably cause my brain to melt. So that should be fun.

Bucket Seats

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Oh, I see where this chapter is going. That’s good. I was hoping it would get around to all of this.

It’s odd how helpless one feels in the face of the creative process. You want things to happen, but the process has its own ideas and methods that it only sometimes deigns to share with its host. It will take your suggestions into advisement, and maybe — just maybe, when it’s done with its own little circles of contemplation — it will quietly stumble upon them. And then very likely it will pretend that they were all part of its plan.

Part of the skill in a creative field is to learn which battles to pursue. Few of them are worth the energy; just let the damned muse have her way. Little does she realize that it’s your ideas which inspire her.

The gratitude continues, with big thanks to Mr. Brandon Sheffield — whose enthusiasm I can credit with inching me toward actual production on this novel, and whose support does not abate.

A Growing Horror

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This week has been eventful; until last night I barely feel that I got any rest. My writing has suffered a bit. For a few days I barely wrote, and what I did write I hated. It just wasn’t working — and the structure was all out of whack. Every few paragraphs I would realize that I had forgotten to establish something, or to include a passage that I had wanted, or had just paced things poorly and needed more breathing room — meaning my moleskine is a maze of brackets and arrows, threatening to confuse my ever more constant inline corrections.

Then I got some rest, and I took a day off. Today I went for a stroll, and several mental blocks Tetrised into place. The linear writing is back on track, which is lovely; more significantly, my notes have begun to click. I now understand the nature and logic of some key story elements, and I now know how to approach a few difficult chapters.

The horrible secret has become that much more horrible. Which is to say, it has become that much more relatable. I dread to explain it all to my wife. Perhaps I had best let that element reveal itself in the writing.

Thanks to everyone who has been following the process, and to everyone who has donated. You have done wonders already. For anyone who missed the post about the reward scheme we have in place, go check it out. It’s kind of neat, we think.

Progress will probably speed up for the next few days.

Center of the World

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There’s chapter three down. That means another period of grasping while I get a feel for the next block — though as I expect the next chapter to pick up almost immediately, that may be ameliorated by the continuity. We shall see.

Another productive evening.

The Internal Coquette

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We’re at 15000 words. Chapter three still has some life, though. As I said, the estimate is very rough. I find it interesting how the scenes and the dialog keep dancing around the connections that I want to make, often flirting openly: “Almost, but not yet! You’ve got to work for it!” In the interim, scenes grow and characters play through their own natural forces. It’s all for the best. It’s the tease that keeps me going.

Since the start of this chapter I have been listening to WBGO, 88.3 FM. I have my reasons. It’s been a while since I have listened to jazz, or to the radio. If you’re going to do it, might as well do it in the middle of the night.

Indirect Exercise

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And now we’re a quarter of a way to the next 10,000 and about halfway through the third chapter. You can see a rough order here: around 5,000 words per chapter. It’s an inexact science, and each chapter will take exactly as long as it needs to. Still, twenty pages seems like the basic length they demand.

Writing fiction takes far more time and energy than even the densest non-fiction. However much information I pack in and however complex my thesis, for me an article is little more than a brain dump. I have this thing that I want to explain, and here I am explaining it in whatever words occur to me at that moment. Maybe if I’m feeling precious I’ll go back and redraft, to try to focus the discussion.

Here I feel a responsibility to the characters, the world, and the reader. It’s not as solipsistic as I am accustomed. Maybe that’s why it’s revitalizing me, instead of just depressing me the way that my articles do. There I always feel like I’m scraping away at my mind to extract an overgrown splinter. After a decade, the process has really worn at me. With this story I’m exploring and observing. I feel like a catalyst, permitting something to take form.

It’s an indirect thing and it’s exhausting in a different way. This is more like exercise, as opposed to self flagellation.

I like writing this thing. I look forward to completing it, so that I can go back and read it as a whole.

Introspect in Retrospect

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Today I rewrote a paragraph from two days ago. I do not plan on doing this again. The paragraph deals with a character’s thoughts on an issue. Two days ago, it sounded fine; maybe a little awkward; another draft would sort that out. Today I saw that the thoughts didn’t suit the character; further, they burnt a thread that I wanted to explore. So although I set rules for myself about editing, today I had to make an exception.

The start of a chapter is always slow going. There’s a period of reorientation, even if one knows the characters and the general direction that the story is headed. As the chapter goes on, the flow widens and widens until pages start to appear fully formed. Right now I’m still building momentum. The pieces are there; it just takes some scrutiny to find their trajectories and a gentle nudge to set them in motion. In a few pages I will reach a checkpoint where several elements cross. From there the chemistry should propel them through to the next juncture.

Since my last update the contributions have piled up! I have three more people to thank: a fairly new associate yet long recipient of my respect, Orb designer and With Earth In Mind author Mr. Joshua Turcotte; a long associate of my wife who shall be known as The Turtle; and — well, my own mother. Thanks to you all for your support. I hope you continue to follow the project to its completion.

And again, thanks to all other readers for your time and interest in this project. I am amazed at the positive response we have received already.