Tag: novel in progress

The Writing Moment

I was in the coffee shop, writing the current novel in progress. In fact, I was writing the newest ending to it. This one was not an ending which I’d envisioned, although it was a path that veered from that planned ending.

As I typed, one of my coffee-shop writing friends came by. “I can see you’re deep into it,” she said. “You have the writer face going.”

She and I laughed and she went on. In truth, I was ready for a break because writing butt was settling in. One cheek felt numb and the other was sore.

But you probably know how it is. There was more to write. Hungry, thirsty, pressed for time, I kept going, writing like crazy till I finally took a breath, sat back, and said, “Done.”

We’ll see if I’m done, of course. If the novel is done. Finished.

We’ll see.

1

A Building Dream

Well, I dreamed my wife was driving the car. I was in the back seat of this dark green sedan beast. Weird, I was standing while my wife was sitting, sawing at the giant steering wheel. But my head was at her level. Oddly, the steering wheel was on the right, counter to the usual U.S. practice of having the wheel on the left side.

A gorgeous woman with a low top and cleavage displayed was on the seat behind me, wholly exciting me with her presence, trying to entice me to join her. I’m like, “That’s nuts!” My wife is driving us to either shopping or school. Note from the real-life side, my wife only drives me when my physical condition warrants it.

We stop. I climb out from the back seat. I ask my wife, “Where are we?” It seems familiar, like a beach we’ve visited but no beach is in sight. Instead, white pieces are all over the place.

I pick a few white pieces up with some WTF-self quizzing. They seem bigger than they were. At first, I thought them to be building blocks like the kind children use. Instead, these are as large as shoe boxes, but they’re light. Hardly weigh anything at all.

They’re all over the place, like wreckage. I can’t imagine what happened to cause it. Hurricane? Tornado? Both are feasible but what were the pieces part of and where were they before? I’m looking around, trying to place that.

A whim drives me to collect pieces. After doing that, I realize they can be put together and stacked as a wall. Amused, I do this for a bit. Finding and gathering more pieces, I put together corners, doorways, windows without much effort. I’ve been working a while in bright sunshine, a warm breeze coming along as a visitor. I was sweating and then realized I didn’t see my wife or the car. A little thinking about that progressed but I returned to my building effort. I wondered as I did if this thing I was building was strong enough to stand, and wondered, why am I even doing this? It seemed crazy.

Two other crazy aspects emerged as I worked. The building changed, becoming a real place. I was at once sure that I’d built it but also certain that I’d never done all the things I was seeing. Second, the day seemed to be progressing enormously slowly. I took some time to contemplate where the sun was, trying to think back to where it’d been when I began, but I couldn’t come up with any answer.

That’s where the dream ended.

4

The Writing Moment

I went to put in the changes in the manuscript which emerged after this morning’s dream review. I ended up instead reading the first 100 pages, fixing the odd typo. Astonishing experience. Like, I wrote this? It felt like I was reading a novel, and a lot of it seemed new to me. Yet, there was a yang part which remembered writing all of this. Fascinating experience. The other part, as I read, was how the main character changed and changed and changed, growing into the person I’m now so familiar with. Her voice changed. The novel’s voice changed. Just fascinating to reflect. Yes, just like driving through the dark, through a dark and stormy night of unfamiliar land, and then getting up in sunshine and looking back to see where you had been.

0

The Writing Moment

I suffered from writer’s block this past week. Yes, it’s real. Writer’s block exists. And it affected me.

I traveled with my wife to Pennsylvania to see Mom and celebrate her 90 natal day celebration and see family last week. I thought I’d write on the side. But no. Each time I sat down to write, my phone would ping with a text or ring with a call. I love ’em, of course, and was happy to do whatever favor was being asked, and appreciated getting updates, but The Writing Neurons were not as accepting.

Even on the flights, I had writer’s block. I pulled out my computer. Set it up. Began writing and typing.

Tap, tap, tap.

Wife: “How do I turn the volume up?”

Tap, tap, tap.

Wife: “I can’t get my tray up.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Wife: “Can you open this bottle for me?”

Tap, tap, tap.

Flight attendant: “Would you like more wine, sir?”

Yes, I know, I’m really stretching the complaining envelope here.

It’s good to be back in my cossetted, coveted writing routine. The Writing Neurons had become manic about getting more of the novel-in-progress written, pinging me via the headnet with new insights and plot points.

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

1

The Writing Moment

I was sitting on the porcelain can taking care of needed business but also reading S.A. Cosby because I like multi-tasking when a new aspect of the novel in process came in. Had nohing to do with what I was reading; my novels don’t run in the same genre as Cosby’s offerings.

But Cosby offers sharp, fresh writing and twisty plots. It awakens and stimulates the Writing Neurons. They come out and start playing. And suddenly the tale I’m working on has a new facet to be introduced. It emerged from one sentence, one word, really. And I said to myself, that’s something I should put into that scene I wrote yesterday. Then, bing, the rest flowered fast.

Such fun.

0

The Writing Moment

I’d been to the coffee shop, typing, writing a new novel. I love writing new novels, letting the ideas jump out of my head and into a document. They’re often crazy, and I frequently struggle to get it right on the digital pages.

Reaching home, talking with my wife, I shook my head. “I really wrote some weird stuff today.” I was honestly baffled. “It wasn’t planned at all. I don’t know where it’s going.”

It scared me, too. My nerves were screaming, that stuff is all so crazy. And it was completely contrary to what I’d planned. Yet, you know, it felt right.

That night, I awoke thinking about what I’d written and how it had ended. Suddenly, lights went on in my head. The dark and twisted path of the plot and story that I could barely seen was brightly illuminated. I knew what to write next, and abruptly comprehended the novel’s full course. At least for now.

Who the hell knows how it’ll change? It’s all a mystery to me. I’m just the writer.

2

The Writing Moment

The coffee shop had net problems today. Shrugging that away, I told myself, “Just write and check the net later.” Two and a half hours later, I’d finished 2300 words and the story had progressed as if I had some notion of what the hell was going on.

The Hunger Band was on my stomach’s center stage by then, their first notes careening through the rest of my bod. Coffee shop net still down, I listened to the Hunger Band’s sorrowful lyrics about dying of starvation and decided, “Yes, I’ve written enough. Time to go home and eat.”

Now to explore the kitchen to see what the Hunger Band will find acceptable. Salad? Maybe. Burrito?

Hmmm.

0

Wenzda’s Theme Music

Sunshine and blue skies are beckoning me out in Ashlandia today. Supposed to be 78 F today, but it’s gonna have to climb from its current 52 F. Feels like the local weather has it in it to do so, though.

This is Wenzda, May 21, 2025. May is splitting past me faster than forked lightening. I’m astonished by its speed. They tell me that time goes faster for you as you age. If I reach 80, I’m be blinking away in the morning and getting ready for bed at the same time. Maybe it’ll just feel like it is.

I’m in a very good mood today. Don’t know what nutrition and hormones and factors out of my dream network and thinking network brought me to this zenith of eagerness and satisfaction. It’s a periodic thing, though. I wrote almost the same words not a few months ago. How the world seems like it’s getting thrown into the garbage disposal and the water is on and the switch is about to be thrown, taking many good things down the drain and into the past. I hear of Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” and I just want to puke with disgust and anger, yet here I am, with high spirits and happiness. Probably a high from editing myself. Reading the novel again to fix what’s wrong, I’m happy and pleased. I wrote what I like to read, and I’m enjoying it. Just like that, it’s all about me. Really is a surreal existence.

Today’s music is a ZZ Top cover. Isaac Hayes and Dave Porter wrote it. Sam and Dave recorded and released it. Then along came ZZ Top with their version of “I Thank You.” I do like ZZ’s version best; it just better suits my sensibilities. Why the song has settled into my morning mental music stream is only The Neurons to know. I’ve been reading about recent research on dreams and how they’re made. I was interested because I dream a lot. They speculate now that it’s a network working together using many more functions than originally guessed, and not housed in one specific place, like the hippocampi. Reading that, I wondered if some similar network worked to produce the songs that land in my morning mental music stream.

Going to the music, I’ll give you Sam and Dave and ZZ Top’s offerings, because we all don’t have the same musical tastebuds. Both are terrific.

Coffee is lifting me higher. I’m ready for another day, at least for the moment. Hope you have a great one. Here we go.

Cheers

1

Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

I’m feeling très upbeat today. I’m not sure to what I attribute this mood. Maybe it’s just something in the stars and the moon. It could be coffee lifting my spirits, I suppose. I’ve also had very productive writing and editing sessions this week and immensely enjoy the novel in progress.

It might be sunshine. Loads of it washing through the wind waving trees. Maybe it’s just my hormones, some cycle, or due to the series of terrific dreams dropped on me while I slept.

Query: do the dreams cause the mood, or does the mood cause the dream. Feels like a chicken and egg thing.

Whatever it is, hope it stays a while. Such a terrific feeling, ya know?

5

The Writing Moment

Eighteen pages. 5070 words. This is the gist of the chapter in my book which gave me so much trouble.

The chapter is called “Reconciliation”. Consisting of eight sub sections, this part of the story swung back and forth between two points of view.

Man, was editing and revising it a challenge.

I began with reading it after finishing the previous chapters. Right away, my brain was screeching to a halt. A grimace of displeasure spread. This wasn’t working.

Okay, recognizing there’s problem is a good first step. Identifying the problem is the second step. Fixing it is the third step. Then reviewing it to confirm it works is the fourth step.

“Reconciliation” begins on page 532 of 646 manuscript pages. So a lot of the story is well underway by then. Until encountering “Reconciliation”, the editing and revising was going well. I think I owe that to my process. I write and rewrite and polish as I progress. If I’m uncertain about what happens next, I’ll drop back and read and edit until I’m ready to write the next stage. Also, this is the novel’s third official draft. So there’s already been a lot of effort in it.

“Reconciliation” was a whole different animal. The story and the flow balked and balked again. It was like a squeak that must be fixed but first I needed to locate the squeak. I went through that chapter seven times before I was satisfied that I could go on.

The chapter after that, “Camden”, 23 pages, 6400 words, was done in a day.

Yet, with all that whining, editing and revising “Reconciliation” was very satisfying. There was a problem to be fixed. Fingers crossed, that’s what I did.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑