Each Day, Each Word

As I whittle away at the words I haven't written, I find a curiously familiar phenomenon developing. As I click each letter down, or scribble it in my knuckle-wearing longhand, as my spelling errors and plot variables increase, as this story begins to say something, I find that I am asking what I loved about it in the first place.

And the answer is nuance, essence, the joy of using words to mean something vague and specific, probably not really to anyone else but myself. But, most good things are slaughtered in their making, art included, and writing included in that. We are bound to read only the hilarious ghost of the original idea. And then, of course, to re-translate it into our minds into another fully fleshed idea maybe capable of existing on the same plane as the first.

So, while my word count increases, I must confess to a sin - the sin of losing sight of the journey.

I understand that this writing challenge exists almost expressly for that purpose – to whip a bunch of pansy day dreamers into shape and stop them from griping about how haaard it is to walk the trail (are we there yet??). I certainly am not going to drop my daily word count just so I can sip tea and visualize one scene for three hours before meticulously crafting a few paragraphs that I am really happy with.

But what I have written I already look forward to revising. When? When I have time. When I have time to bravely type or delete what I am in too much of a hurry for now. Ah. Of course. That time. The revision.

In writing more so than in life we can count on editing. Maybe that makes it addictive. And maybe, as in life, that is neither true nor false, vice or virtue. I believe that each word, each day, each step are remarkably similar. It is not content or form. It is not journey or destination. It is all, and it is all art.

So far, writing this month has improved my opinion of all books, and of all of us.

Word Count: 22,533

From the Sky to the Soil

I know it's full of thought verbs and telling not showing and it will love to be edited, but I loved every minute of writing it and it deepened my understanding of this story. It's nice to focus on this, and remember my creative and competitive streak ;)  Also, I donated!

Word Count: 17,128

Cowboys & Computer Mechanics

This back story is coming along nicely. So is the side plot. Now, if I can just get to the main plot...

Word Count: 10,602 (!!)

NaNo

Yep, that's right - I don't have time to write out "N-A-N-O-W-R-I-M-O" so I'll just share this informative link... In other news, that Old Testament class from four years ago is coming in quite handy. At least the part of it that was not lost to the kind of note taking I do when I am asleep, which looks kind of like: ~~~~~~

Word Count: 8,602

The Merriest Vigil

      Each knobby elbow and knee of the trees converged together, like friends leaning on each other as they strolled down a road. The trees made door frames for her, which she stepped through. She stooped her shoulders low and she lifted her feet high. From ahead through the forest she heard nothing but laughter. Their happiness sang out to her, and with it the flickering of fire light. Through the frames of the trees they grew closer, until at last she saw who they were and what was their task.
     She was confused, for they were dressed in black. They seemed to have many definitions of black and a preference for color, so here and there were streamers of purple and green, pink feathers and patterned hats. They were assembled around a central platform, and from the solemnity of their joy she knew at once who lay upon it.
     One face turned towards her, his eyes crinkled with laughter. He had a round nose like the top of a mushroom, and round ruddy cheeks, his woolen hat streaked with colors and hung with many pendants of dry leaves and needles. He slanted his curious shoulders and inquired as to her arrival.
     "I would quite know why I am here," she said, "except I don't know where I am."
     "Ah! Well, you are in luck; you have arrived at the merriest vigil."

Word Count: 6,802

Eat Your Veggies

Fancy a zucchini?

Psyche yanked herself to her feet and spun to the sound of the voice, apologies already on her lips. I am so sorry, I did not mean to intrude... But there was no one there. To her right a tousle of wide leaves began to shake, and a large vegetable raised itself from their depths. It floated on the path in front of her, tilted slightly as if held in someone's arms. Mouth slack, the princess stared in disbelief.

I do not mean to frighten you, child. But it's almost time for breakfast and you are dreadfully late.

Word Count: 5,076

Study In Trepidation

Nothing can match the shock of the first sentence. It's like the first time you realize a good friend is crazy and you'll love them for it forever. After the first paragraph, all else is determined, all else is familiarity, and repetition.

Word count: 3,403

Today I pondered the exertion of emotional and mental energy on something which will quite likely be deleted. Pertinent to writers, lovers, and grown-ups in general, this particular contemplation concerned a plot (said plot lies in question marks and open doorways, hanging from the rafters of my right brain. I look up at the options from an uncomfortable vantage, neck pinched backward, eyes squinted, mouth open to allow extra slack for gazing upward -you know the look- and I try to see the paths that the doors lead to and try to assemble the question marks into an enjoyable pattern of goal-conflict-disaster). As more time passes I have more experience to draw from and less surety of how to employ it. Today, at least, my hesitancy was stymied.

National Novel Writing Month!

Day One: 1,710 words

www.nanowrimo.org

Trusty Companions