My novel is in my editor’s hands.

I love that sentence.

My publisher is working on cover art and other important issues.

I love that sentence, too.

 

After years of writing short fiction and tiny poems, I’m back in ‘beginner’s mind” territory.

There was a need in me to experience the longer form — the literary novel. Then a character spoke to me and kept on talking. Margaret had chosen me as her scribe and her story would take some time. So, I adopted the stance of apprentice and gave myself to learning my way through the process.

I looked to mentors, attended workshops, and read widely. I tapped the genius of the teachers — Anne Lamott, Natalie Goldberg, Stephen King, Becky Rule, etc. — who sit always on my desk. And I let my own “novel approach” surface as I wrote.

At last, I had a book — a very long book — and a stack of note cards tied up in a ribbon. (My novel approach, it turns out, involves character and scene cards to keep everything and everyone straight.) I had a beautiful story with a beginning and a middle and an end; but, was it a novel?

I wasn’t sure.

I longed for a collaborative relationship with an experienced editor. At her book launch, a friend acknowledged the role of her editor – someone I know, but not well  – and my next move was clear. I hired this sharp, no-nonsense editor with the experience and sensibility needed to guide Margaret’s story to completion.

It was the best money I’ve ever spent!

Thanks to her insights and suggestions, I jumped into the revision process with renewed energy and a clear focus. I could feel the story tighten and move closer to that ideal I carry in my head as I made changes, killed some darlings (now safely tucked away in another file), and cut 35,000 words!

This midwife to creation is now doing the line edit as I, virginal elder, prepare to birth Other Wise in October. And I am smiling.

    I feel light. And happy. And grateful.

And I hope you are following your own call to create. Not someday when conditions are favorable, or you have more time, or the old cat doesn’t need your full attention, but NOW (or, at the very least, tomorrow) !

 

 

It’s that lovely in-between time. The rush before Christmas is behind us. New Year’s Eve has yet to arrive. The temperatures (in my part of the country at least) range from just below to just above zero. What more perfect time to snuggle in and write?

I’m not talking about writing resolutions or promises to yourself that you’ll probably break — that you know you’ll definitely break. I’m talking about journaling in a lazy, hazy sort of way. Pondering. Musing. Meandering. Wandering.  Wondering.

I’m talking about picking up your favorite pen or paint brush, tablet or laptop, and simply letting go.

I’m talking about exploring that story idea that’s been niggling or listening to that character who has shown up in your head. I’m talking about letting her ramble on and on and on gathering companions and conflicts as she goes until you get a glimpse of where you both might be headed.

I’m talking about putting this in-between time to good use.  Good.  Quiet.  Inward-looking. Use.

I’m talking about savoring the sweetness of this unhurried time. About being in the end of December. About deepening into the womb of Winter, shedding what’s served its usefulness, and resting.

And, I’m talking about writing it all down.

 

Winter Nest

 

 

I’m excited.  Today my first flash fiction piece went live! Please read SLAM and leave a comment if so moved.

https://flashfictionmagazine.com/blog/2017/10/23/slam/

You know how it is: the writer is the one who’s always taking notes — the one for whom everything is material. You know this because you’re one of us.

The spark for this story rose out of an actual experience. My inadequate response to an uncomfortable situation forced me to reflect deeply on my relationship with the world and with those I perceive, despite my talk to the contrary, as not me. Reflection meant writing my way through it, trying on other points of view, exploring the sometimes messy business of being human — of judging and distancing and forgetting.

What do you have to say about your experience with the world?  How might flash fiction work for you as a writer?  (Check out my August posting about flash fiction.)

Your comment will appear below shortly after posting it.  Please don’t hold back.  Let’s have a conversation.

As Jean Luc Picard would say, “Engage!”