... The right word at the right time ...
April 28, 1999
4:32 a.m.
Good progress on a story over the past two days. I'm not certain how everyone else is, but the most exhilarating moments in my writing life don't usually occur when I'm finished with a story. Actually, I tend to get a little depressed when I'm either done or nearing the finish of something--especially if that something is a story I'm enjoying. I think it's probably a lot like postnatal depression, but then, I'm a guy . . . what would I know about that? No, the best times are that split second when I finally understand the reason behind a story. Yesterday morning I was feeling a little dumpy . . . okay, actually I was feeling more than cranky. See, I had used my Sunday PlotFest story to take a shot at something I've been needing to write for a little while, but that I've been hiding from because it's going to play out on a larger scale than any I've tried before. It's, let's say, ambitious. (Yeah, I know I keep telling everyone that idea generation is easy, so where do I get off getting grumpy about it myself? Well, just put it down to the fact that I'm a better advice giver than an advice follower, okay?) Despite my best effort this Sunday, I felt like I failed. Lisa, bless her heart, tried her best to point out the stuff that was there for me to work with. But it just wasn't working for me, and to be honest, I felt like I had just augured myself into the ground. Worse, I figured I had wasted a full day's writing when I could have spent it on a real story. That Lisa's Sunday story was so incredible was the saving grace of the day. So Tuesday morning my positive bent was, well, bent. Then I read a blurb that Lisa wrote on her page. She said she could see that the story I was struggling over would be sweeping. Yes. That was it. Sweeping. It's just one word. Sweeping. And it's not what my story was at the present. But it felt right, and it immediately put my mind into the idea space where it needed to be. I called up the front of the story, and just started typing what I was thinking. Sweeping. It was a crystal clear word. Perfect. It immediately became my goal. Sweeping I didn't try to type a story at this point. Instead, I typed about people, and about planets, and about the relationship between the two. Pretty soon it played out. I found myself coarsely outlining scenes, scene by scene until I got to the end. That was when the point of the whole thing hit. Ping. It was something physical, resonating inside. I swear to God it was like the peal of a church bell. Icy spiders crawled over my spine. As a writer, I live for that moment. It's better than a check (not much, mind you--but definitely better). It's better than someone asking for my autograph (which is always cool). It's better than standing in front of a group of people and giving an acceptance speech (although, I suppose if I had actually won something, I might have a different opinion). Yes, I've got a lot to figure out. This is still a daunting story, and I've still got lots of intricate stuff to resolve in my mind. But I knew what the thing was about, and suddenly the whole morning took on a different color. I hummed in the shower. I could hardly keep from dancing in the car as I drove into work (of course, it didn't hurt that ZZ Top's "Just Got Paid" was playing . . . anyone who can't get at least a good head wagging going to ZZ is nearly dead to my way of thinking)--in fact, I almost decided to take the day off to work on this thing, I was so pumped. Alas, I didn't, though. So, I'm here this morning, putting the first layer of the first draft down, enjoying the act of watching it run out in front of me. There will be times I'll hate this story again, and times that I'll love it. And I'll certainly finish it. But I know the best part of this story is behind me. And if I let myself dwell on it, that makes me feel a little out of sorts.   Glad to see the west coast folks had a good retreat. Have a good day.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"Do I feel bad when I lose? Sure I do. But I can't let myself feel so bad it affects my ability to come out and play again the next day." Michael Jordan (paraphrased: from an interview after losing a close playoff game) |
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