Fast Start

I love starting a new project. I love the energy that comes with a new writing project. Energizing and freeing, it’s like I’m taking on a new life.

Nothing — I mean, writing projects — ever really starts easily for me, but then, if I can find and dislodge the right piece of idea, it all starts crashing down in an avalanche of story and characters. This is my third day of working on my new novel, working title, It Begins. The first two days were sputtering efforts. I’m a pantser, so I’d muddled some concepts, characters, and settings together. I managed about a thousand words on each day, but they were gritty writing sessions, real plodders. In today’s session, I managed to dislodge the right little piece, and the rest crashed in. All I could do was hang on and type fast. After an hour of that, I’d added over fourteen pages and thirty-three hundred words. Then I stopped and created the book’s bible so that I could keep track of everything.

Now, I’m depleted and hungry. Half a cup of cold coffee remains. As usual, writer ass afflicts me, and both buns feel like they’ve gone to sleep. Time to walk, wind down, think about the next piece of story, and find food.

It’s been a good day of writing like crazy.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

I was walking and thinking yesterday (amazing that I didn’t hurt myself), pursuing a flotilla of random thoughts when a scene between a traveler and a Tesla driver caught my eye. Traveler is the name given to homeless around here. Homeless is an easy term for a complex situation. Local agencies have interviewed a number of homeless and discovered that some are homeless by choice and enjoy traveling from area to area along the I-5 corridor. Ashland doesn’t welcome travelers but the community strives to enjoy everyone has a few meals a week and shelter during cold weather.

I don’t know what the conversation was about between the Tesla driver and the traveler. I knew the man was a traveler because I’ve seen him before and had bought him food a few times. I hadn’t seen him for a while, and thought he’d moved on. Maybe he did, and came back.

Watching the exchange, though, lyrics from the 1968 Sly and the Family Stone song, “Everyday People” came to mind. I feel fortunate that Sly and the Family Stone was making music then, as they released several terrific albums. This song is just one that I remember and enjoy.

The song’s sentiment is timeless.

Sometimes I’m right and I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my song
The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then
Makes no difference what group I’m in
I am everyday people, yeah, yeah

There is a blue one
Who can’t accept the green one
For living with a fat one
Trying to be a skinny one
Different strokes
For different folks

And so on and so on
And scooby dooby dooby
Oh sha sha
We got to live together

I am no better and neither are you
We are the same, whatever we do
You love me, you hate me, you know me and then
You can’t figure out the bag I’m in
I am everyday people, yeah yeah

There is a long hair
That doesn’t like the short hair
For being such a rich one
That will not help the poor one
Different strokes
For different folks

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Yeah, we’re all everyday people.

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