The Writing Moment
A cat came knocking on the bedroom’s slider.
Papi the ginger blade was demanding entry back into the house.
I let him in and returned to bed. The time was 4 AM. I told myself to go back to sleep. My brain wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, I thought about going into surgery on Wednesday. I felt I was close to finishing the novel in progress. It could be done before the surgery if I have three good writing days. I wanted that. Then I ended up staying awake, writing the story in my head.
When I sat down at the coffee shop, I put those words down into the document and realized, the end.
I was inspired by the book, “Gravity’s Rainbow”. I’d read the book in the past and was just browsing, and came across some reference to it. Then I had an idea, and “Gravity’s Emotions” was begun.
Word can tell you some things about a doc. Tells me that this one was started July 19, 2024. 432 pages, 117,480 words. 9218 minutes of editing. Anyone who knows that a day has 1440 minutes knows that’s not a huge amount of time. Just 6.4 days if you do the math. 6.4 days if I’d worked 24/7.
As always, it feels a little weird to be finished. Bit sad. “Like a death in the family” a writer of fame once said.
I worry about it. Don’t know if the plot makes sense or if people will buy into the character. I fret over the ending is too pat.
I told myself when I began writing this thing, just get out of your own way and stay out of the way.
Now, with it ‘done’, at least in this phase of novel writing, I need to remind myself again: just get out of your own way.
The Writing Moment
It’s a bumpy writing ride right now.
The novel in editing, Memories of Why, fishtailed and went sideways. On page 550 of 580. Realizing that it needed work brought me down. This is the manuscript’s rev 6.
Fact is, it’s sloppy at that section and the thinking behind it needs tightened up. A few inconsistencies are evident. I gloss over them, but I hear my reading side saying, “That’s weak. I don’t buy it.” Grumbling about it to myself, I thought, look, put it off, ignore it, the first five hundred pages are good. But I can’t. I know it needs work. I can’t look away from that. I’ll need to mask up, get up the scalpels, and go in there. It’s for the patient’s own good. Yes, I’m mixing things there, aren’t I? LOL. More coffee, stat.
Reflecting on it and my writing process, I realized that this section was written late. I’m a writer who likes writing and editing a great deal. I overwrite, then retreat and revise, smoothing and polishing. As this was written in the late stages, it’s not been subjected to as much revising, smoothing, and polishing. I also suspect that the rest of the ms reads and feels better because of the process, so this section comes off as shabby.
The new novel, Gravity’s Emotions, is going fast. Or so I thought. Started on July 19, I’m on page 120. I thought, that’s pretty fast progress for me. But when I actually crunched the numbers, it’s average.
Thinking about why it seems or feels like it’s going faster, I realize that I’m thinking about it less. Attempting to write in a different manner than usual and utilize a different approach, I told myself to get out of the way, don’t overthink it, and just let the words go. It often feels edgy and terrifying. But I’m pleased with how it’s going, knock on wood.
Writing yesterday, I was so caught up that I realized that I’d gone into overtime. See, we had this thing planned and I was to be home at a certain time, which means, naturally, leaving the coffee shop by a certain time, and there I was, still hammering away when I was supposed to have been gone ten minutes before. But the scene, the scene, I had to finish it. Type faster, I mentally exhorted my fingers. Be more nimble.
It all worked out. The scene was finished and I made it home with time to spare. I’d already begun writing the next scene in my head before finishing that scene, so I now have a firm jumping off point for this morning.
More coffee! Here we go. Rock and write. Cheers
Clarity
Watching events through one of the coffee shop windows, he saw a car suddenly appear out of nowhere and wheel into a parking lot. Where’d that come from, he wondered, studying the lines of traffic. Just a white BMW SUV. Not the newest model and not the largest one.
The driver and passenger emerged. Neither looked human. Holy shit, he thought, straightening, eyes widening. Both of them were tall, pale green and – naked? Squinting hard against the glaring sun, he focused as intensely as possible.
Yes, they were nakd. He looked around the coffee shop, hoping another witness to what he was seeing was noticing. But the rest of the shop denizens were into their laptops, phones, and books. None seemed to see the two tall, naked, green aliens walking away from a white BMW toward the bakery across the street.
Then both changed, becoming a middle-aged couple, he in khaki cargo shorts with a green polo shirt, she in a yellow sun dress showing naked brown legs, and sandals.
He’d seen enough, though. He knew what he’d observed and pounced on several conclusions. Aliens were arriving in spaceships that looked like cars.
It made perfect sense, explaining the recent spate of bad driving he’d noticed, the unusually heavy traffic, and why others’ political thinking so frequently seemed alien to his own.
It was a perfect storm of clarity, and only he knew it.
Michael Seidel, writer 