Another Anthony Said
Synopsis Time
I’ve read through and revised (once again) OMDT – Other Moments, Different Times. That fifth draft looks good. Now I’ve turned it over to an copy-editor for proofing. As that’s progressing, I turned to writing the synopsis.
I usually dislike writing queries and a synopsis. They’re different from fiction writing, and I need to turn on a different skill set for them. It’s work I’d rather not do.
But I’m having fun this time. That’s a surprise and a relief. However, the coffee mug is empty and the butt is bemoaning the hard chair. About four hours have passed. Most of that time has been sitting except for hourly breaks (hello, Fitbit) to walk around. Besides that, my stomach is saying, “Hey, um, hate to be that guy, but food would be welcomed, you know, like lunch?”
So, time once again to stop this crazy writing thing and go off to other matters.
The Corner of Concentration
I was just settling into place, unpacking my laptop and stuff at the coffee shop corner community table. (Saint Seata had rewarded me again — thank you, Saint Seata. Now, if the muses will cooperate (yeah, they’re even required when editing and revising.)
A young woman approached. “Are you expecting someone else or saving these seats?”
“No, join me.” I indicate the rest of the table.
“Thank you. I like working at this table.” She’s unpacking her computer as she speaks. “I get a lot of work done here and it has a plug.”
Yeah, people call it a plug, but it’s an outlet, innit? Whatever; she’s young. I reply, “Yes, I notice that people who work in this corner tend to be focused. I call it the corner of concentration.”
“The corner of concentration, I like that,” she says with laughter. “You have a good vibe. I like it.” Before I can do anything more than smile, she says, “I’m a writer.”
“What are you writing?” I ask.
“A cookbook.”
“Oh, cool.”
“It’s for women and will have recipes for women to help them manage their energy for different situations.”
“Sounds like an interesting idea. Good luck.”
“Thanks. What’re you doing in the corner of concentration?”
“I’m a writer, too.”
“Oh, what do you write?”
“I’m working on a novel.”
“Is it fiction?”
Isn’t a novel by definition a work of fiction, I don’t say, because I’m non-confrontational and I don’t want to spoil my good vibe. “Yes.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a speculative novel about life and memories.”
“Interesting. I think I want to write a novel someday.”
She goes off to get her coffee. I sit down, take my first sip, and settle in.
Time to write like crazy, one more time.
Michael Seidel, writer 