“Human beings, we have dark sides; we have dark issues in our lives. To progress anywhere in life, you have to face your demons.” — John Noble
When was the last time I talked to you about writing? Almost three months ago.
Granted, if you’re coming here from my Facebook page, you will have been updated since then. If not, here we go.
Over the course of the last three months, the characters who were so rarely speaking to me have found their voices again. And in about four days at the end of May, I did what has been eluding me for over a decade now.
I plotted a novel.
I emailed myself some files that I had been periodically working on for the last few years, intending to give them a good once-over and maybe, maybe write something new, something to kill some time on these ever-longer 11-7 shifts when I’m alone in the dark. (I am actually just now about 1/3 of the way through a twelve-hour shift, after which I will surely pass out – if not at home, then on either the couch here in the lobby or one of the suites. I’m tired already and I have eight hours left.) But in a measly four days I had written the skeleton of an entire book, and made a page worth of research notes to accompany it. My babies, who I have allowed space for as long as they wanted it, finally spilled their guts to me, and told me all about their (mis)adventures. They’re looking at me now and laughing, giddy as schoolchildren even though they are essentially an old married couple. They’re so in love it’s sickening.
In the process of writing up this outline, I also discovered something I hadn’t considered before. This story is going to be at least two books, if not more. Honestly I’m considering writing things in various styles. I’ve always wanted to make a film adaptation of this story, although I’ve never written a screenplay before, and I’m also thinking about an accompanying epistolary work which would cover a section toward the end of this first book. This is on top of the two novellas I could write about the history of just the central country and a vignette surrounding one of the secondary characters and her business. (This character is the deposition of another long-standing, vague idea for a story, and I’m so glad I could work her into this plot.) I could also write an entire origin story novel for my male lead.
But all of those things are a long way off. I need to get through this book first. One thing at a time, Lyndsay.
So far I’ve written just north of 11,000 words, and I’m barely through what I consider to be the expository portion of the story. It’s rather disjointed, and could use a thorough once-over with a red pen, but for now all I can focus on is just getting it written.
I have two people, both of whom I trust with my life, let alone my intellectual property, looking over this beginning portion for me at the moment. If it suits them (if they even read this blog – I need to contact them directly!) I would like to have periodic round-tables about the direction of my writing and things that need to be clarified, edited, or scrapped. At some point (and I don’t know when this will be) I may have an open call for beta readers. (Those who have current editions of the text I consider “alpha readers,” although I’m not sure that’s a universally recognized term.) I will discuss the responsibilites for those individuals when the time comes.
In the meantime, I’ll tease you with a bit of indistinct dialogue.
She hadn’t seen him come up to her until he put a hand on the back of the chair next to her and asked, “Is this seat taken?”It startled her enough that she tripped over her words as she tried to get her head around the situation. “What? Yes—I mean no, no, no one’s sitting there. Please.”“I apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” He took the seat, setting down his own drink on the table.