I had been on a roll with writing my book and had made it pretty far into the home stretch. I have the first part, the second part and the Epilogue written. The third part, about 13,000 words of it, was in progress and humming along…and then I had to go away for a week for a family celebratory vacation. I did not want to bring my laptop and work on my writing while away because it was on a cruise ship, and my laptop sucks ass because it has to be plugged in all the time…so I figured it would be a good time to take a break and back away from it.
I was wrong.
When I finally sat down and started writing this story back in November, I told myself that I would give myself a year to write it. Unfortunately, I need a goal and a timeline…Type A and all that. The Type B artist within me just laughed and laughed. I have a full time job and so it isn’t so easy to spend dedicated hours to writing.
Since my girls are grown now, I certainly have more free time, but I figured that writing the story would be so much harder than it actually has been. When I began, it just flowed out of me, like the finger had been pulled from the hole in the dyke. I’ve started this particular story a few times, but then I’d get discouraged and throw it away. This time, it was different. I guess “it”…whatever “it” is…was ready to be told.
When I’d write, a new idea or a new path would come to me and take me there, creating something else that I never thought of before, whether it be a new character or a new storyline to explore. The process is much like how painting is for me. I have an idea, and once I get started, the idea turns itself into a picture. Almost like I’m not really controlling much of anything at all.
Scout’s story began as an idea I’ve had for a long time and has taken me in so many different directions, to places I never thought about before. I suppose that has something to do with the subconscious and the body/mind always finding its way to heal itself, using art to massage whatever is within the artist, even stuff he or she doesn’t know about. Art expresses life, but it doesn’t necessarily match life.
People run marathons, which is something I have no desire to do. I’ve run for exercise for many years, and still…no desire to run a marathon. But I am writing a marathon! This is the most excited and scared I’ve been about a personal accomplishment since I became a commissioned Army officer back in 1993.
So while the break was nice, it wasn’t so good for the rhythm and hum of my writing process. I’ve decided to go back and just start to edit my other parts, edit the part I was working on and then hopefully get back into character soon. I can see the last few miles of this marathon. Just need the proverbial second wind.