writing – Page 34 – Michael Seidel, writer

I’ve been hearing a little voice in my head. Well, there are actually a few. I live by a committee of voices in my head. Some are writing advisors, editors, and muses. Others are DIY budgeteers. Several more very vocal citizens and progressives are in there, often spitting mad with exasperation and disgust as the Trump wrecking ball obliterates democracy, decency, and morality in the United States. Besides them and voices of memory who like to bring up things I have done and enjoyed, I also have a couple health consultant voices, a few therapists and exercise coaches, and relationship advisors. On the whole, they’re mostly civilized, respecting the other voices, only speaking up when the others are quiet.

One thing I’ve learned from all of these is not to ignore them. As time has threaded past, I’ve repeatedly been re-educated that the little voices often know a lot more than me about what’s going on and what I should do. When I ignore them, things will go bad, as they predict. Naturally, they then say, “I told you so. You should’ve listened.”

So I’m vowing to them again, “Okay, I’m listening.”

Naturally, one snidely replied, “Sure.”

The voices are a lot like me.

It was ticks past one AM. I’d just come in from outside, from admiring star- and moonlight, when a skunk’s powerful smell chased me back inside, back in to close all the doors and windows. Then I sat in an office recliner, television on, re-writing a sentence from the novel in progress, shaping it in my head. I’ve been working on that line in my head for the last three days.

That’s how it’s been with this novel writing journey. I say to myself, for example, “Okay, today I will write the earthquake chapter.” Then I sit and tango with words through the scenes, stepping forward and then retracing my steps, adjusting sentences, tenses, pacing, padding dialogue, subtracting dialogue. Nothing is completely satisfying at this stage, the first draft. I’m still getting introduced to the characters, still peering in to their psyches, still engaging in “Aha!” moments. I move on from a chapter after the essence is captured, but as my writing mind recalls some passages, I go back, fix that piece, and then write on.

I began writing this novel on May 9, 2025. It’s now 209 pages and 55,000 words. Given to writing epics, I’m trying to keep this one below 250 pages. So I tell myself today, “Arc toward the ending. Write this chapter, and then land this novel.”

I see the upcoming scenes in pieces. Hear it in snatches. It all needs to be woven together.

Then there’s the ending. I see it in the distance, too, a final scene lit up like a monument, beckoning me, “Come on. Let’s do this thing.”

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.