The Second time
June 7, 2000
7:38 a.m.
As always, I've struggled over the title of this story, and finally, I think, have settled on "Universe Three." I think it's a pretty reasonable title--but then you would have to look at the story to fully understand why I think it's a good title. So, maybe it's not as good as I thought. I hate titles. [grin] Following my normal process, I had someone look at it a day or so ago, and have been hemming and hawing over changes. When I'm done I may or may not find someone else to do a spot check. After that it goes to my not-so-secret weapon for copy editing. Then it's on to the next story.   Brigid is doing horse camp this week--which means she spends the morning at a horse farm with a bunch of other kids. They learn to groom and care for the horses, and they get to ride for an hour or so. Brigid has been riding a gray horse named Bud. My role in this process it to drive her there. The first day, I know she was nervous. She came down stairs tentatively and sat down to wait while I finished closing up my work. She looked sleepy and she looked cold, you know? All huddled over with her hands clenched in little balls. "Are you okay?" I said. "Yeah," she replied. It was a dreary morning that day, and would eventually rain for the first fifteen minutes of their camp. It took us twenty minutes to get there. We talked about what she might learn, and who might be there. She seemed at least a little better when I left her--other kids were showing up, and she had some things to do. The next day (yesterday) she bounded down the stairs a half hour early, and grabbed my arm in a big hug. "When are you going to be ready?" she said. Her eyes were wide and glistening in anticipation, and she seemed to glow. You know how kids get. Needless to say, she's having a great time. I think stories are like this sometimes. I know this last one was. I know I'm going to love whatever I end up with. I know this intellectually because I routinely believe in the stories I tell. I may hate them while they're in progress, but by the time I hit "The End" I think they're pretty much what I wanted them to be. If not, well, they never hit "The End." I have to accept a story for what it is before I'm really comfortable with it, you see. I have to understand the characters and the events. I have to know it. Just like Brigid was uncomfortable until she saw the other kids and the horses and the leader, I can be uncomfortable until I get familiar with the surroundings of the story. That's one reason I write fast, and "throw away" material. If I'm writing, I'm becoming immersed. All in all, I think it's great when a story just comes at me fully fleshed out. But that doesn't happen much. So I approach writing a scene for the first time as if I'm just meeting a new kid. It's okay if the first session is a little rocky. Heck, the story may not even know what it wants to be at that point--why should I? When I dropped Brigid off yesterday, she and one other girl were the only two there (Brigid wanted to be early, you know?). Brigid got out of the car and hovered there by the door. It was a beautiful day with lots of bright sunshine. Brigid held her hand to shield her eyes like a baseball cap. A minute later, the other girl came up to her. They were about the same age. "Wanna go down there?" the other girl said. "Sure," Brigid replied. "Bye, Daddy!" And they ran off together. Make the first draft happen as fast as you can. It's always easier the second time. And better, too.  That explains your web design practices Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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Pacers/Lakers ... David & Goliath, huh? |
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