Yesterday was a writing day, and so is today. Oh how I have always admired those writers who get up an hour earlier to write, or stay up an hour later, and just doggedly go at it every day. As for me, I’ve always needed long stretches. So I could sit down and write some stuff this week, but I wasn’t keeping up with the 1,666 daily target and I was mostly thinking about something else or wanting to be doing something else.
Yesterday I was going to post some photos of my greens and kale, which survived the first two-inch snowfall. That’s how bad the writing went– it’s always a good day in the garden! And it turns out my camera is at work, so no photos of the garden either.
Instead, I talked through the story with Steve and we determined what was not working. It was just too darn complex. There was a lot going on. But when he asked what it was about, I could say: “It’s about roles. How one guy who is not very heroic is cast as the town hero, and another guy is cast as a coward, but ends up somewhat redeeming himself.” We talked further about this idea. My main interest is really only in the guy who acts in a cowardly manner: a police officer who, when his partner is shot, backs out of the alley and leaves the scene.
Nothing else much matters in terms of what I know about the true event this novel is based on. So I need to let it all go. Cause I was getting wrapped up in some subplots and more and more convinced that I don’t know or understand these people and their motivations at all!
Also, I had fought my own first instinct, which was to write the book in the first person, from the perspective of Paul, my police officer. I wanted to be omniscient and be able to know more than he would know. Which was a bad idea. Because I’ll be lucky to figure out what he knows.
So today, I kind of started over. I went back to the beginning and, while stripping out some stuff (precious, precious words!!) I was able to so quickly write more words. The voice is confident and very comfortable for me. The scenes came alive. And I haven’t even felt the need for a flashback yet, which means I haven’t yet gotten stuck.
And thanks to all the milling about I’ve been doing, I think I have a slim idea of who dunnit. Because when I was casting about for plot, muddling everything up, this quiet, sad guy who lives in a trailer on his family farm following his divorce showed up. He’s the kind of guy who might have a beef and nothing to lose.
Foreward, ho!
Thanks for letting us share in the life of this novel. I’m fascinated with your wrestlings- something that every level of writing mandates. Good to know that my scrappy little skirmishes with my writing may oneday turn into real matches that produce quality work. Press on! Lift up your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees!