Blank Slates and Flat Rocks
April 11, 2002
7:27 a.m.
Got forty-two cents?   Yesterday's entry brought a few interesting comments, including an e-mail about the plethora of "Dares" that have sprung up over the past few years. I think I'll hold off on commenting on those for now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. [grin]. Having finished the book, and done all the prerequisite clean-up and whatnot, I found myself this morning to be in the position of deciding what to write next. Being here made me realize that I'm actually a bit rusty at this process. It's been awhile since I walked down the stairs and into my office without knowing exactly what I was going to attempt to write as soon as I sat down. So here's what I did. First, I went back into the old second draft of the last novel and cut out all the stuff that's going to be in the second draft. This I put in a little holding bin labeled "second book," and stored it away. This process made me feel good. It's the first time I looked at the mass of "extra" material I wrote while doing this first book, and the mere volume--some 60,000 words + gave me the sensation of accomplishment. Yes, this second book needs another 20,000 words or so, but it's a substantial piece of work in itself already. More important for my psyche, this work was evidence that I had done quite a bit more than write a book in the past year. It meant that I had really written a pair of drafts (not to mention the three or four short stories that somehow managed to slip out there somewhere between the cracks of time I didn't spend on the book. I see myself as productive and prolific, you see, so I like evidence that suggests that I am productive and prolific. I needed that this morning. Call me silly, but I ask you that if you can't cheer for yourself, then who can? I am not going to work on this second book right away, though. I decided some time ago that I needed a break from this world I've been writing in, and so I'm going to write short stuff for just a little while. So after I transferred material from the second book, I sat down and stared at the blank page. It stared back. It didn't taunt or chuckle or anything else. It just sat there, the cursor blinking with the patience of an old woman waiting on a bus. What should I write? Who should I write about? The world was so full of opportunities that they crashed together in this great cacophony that was so chaotic that it drowned out each individual voice. After about five minutes, I sat back, still with a blank page. I smiled at myself. Behind me, Brigid (who is working on her own book now, and is some 80-90 pages into it) was clattering away at the keyboard. Take it easy, I thought. Just have fun. And so I wrote a few words down. Nothing special--just a setting, not even a very good setting. And then I added a person. No, two people. I picked out their names. I made them mad at each other. They had an interesting conversation (interesting to me, at least). Pretty soon, it was time to close down, and I hade nearly a thousand words. Are they good? How would I know? The story's not done, or even taken shape, yet. But the working part was good. I know that because when I was done I felt that mental burn, that buzz that lingers throughout the day like heat spread over a big flat rock. So it was a good first day back on the job. Have a great day.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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