Tag: novel writing

The Writing Moment

I haven’t been writing while under the weather, so it’s been a week since I sat in the writing chair. A lot of that was because breathing was a challenge and my nose and eyes were releasing almost constant streams. That didn’t stop me from writing in my head. More than anything, I keep generating new novel ideas. I would scribble notes with a work title and details that came to me. Ended up with five new ideas covering dozens of pages.

Ideas and concepts have never been my problem. Nor dialogue, back stories, settings, or even plots. My challenge is editing and revising the first draft into less than a million pages that others can follow. That’s where I often flail and go on to a new novel. I’ve written fourteen novels, edited and self-publishing three. But the others typically languish in piles or remain as files in a folder. With my most recent novel, I’m being more disciplined about revising and editing. I think that’s in part because I’m happier with its structure, characters, and story.

I look forward to getting back into the writing routine. I hope it’ll be this week but right now, seven inches of snow covers the ground. As with so many things, it’ll be wait and see.

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Hi Yourself

Stepping into the coffee shop, I immediately scan for a table and chair to sit and write.

It’s late morning and busy. Aha, though — two tables are there for —

“Hey, Michael.”

I’m being accosted from across the room. The speaker is a barista. Having shouted out my name, they’ve busy multi-tasking.

Spotting Kat first, I begin, “Hey, Ka — “

I see Natalie.

I don’t know which called out.

So I finish, “Talie.”

Chuckling to myself about this, I dumped my gear at a table and head to the counter. Kat is manning the register and Natalie is busy preparing my coffee. I hear Natalie say, “Curling,” before she turns away.

Kat asks, “Let me ask you, Michael. Are you watching the Olympics?”

“Only the curling,” I reply.

Natalie roars with laughter as Kat’s mouth drops open.

“No way,” Kat finally says.

“Yes, way,” I answer. “By the way. When I came in, I heard one of you say hello to me. I didn’t know who it was, so I called you Katalie.”

The two bend over with laughter. “We ARE Katalie,” Kat shouts. Whipping toward each other, she and Natalie exchange high fives.

I pay and take my coffee. The writing day has an auspicious beginning.

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A Traveling Dream, and Other Snippets

Dreamed I was going to a camp. Just a small sort of outdated place, with low wood-framed buildings painted brown or dark red, with a flat, slanted roof. A woman I’d just met was going with me, along with her sister.

We arrived in a 1970s era dark Dodge Charger or Ford Torino. I was driving and it was night when we arrived. The sisters had no place to sleep. I told them they could share my bed or sleep in the car, or I could sleep in the car, but I didn’t really want to. They ended up sleeping with me, one on either side.

Later, we got up to go find food and ran into other people I casually knew. They had soup and bread. We asked where they got it and headed toward a little shack they indicated. It was a dark place with a low ceiling, where we discovered we needed to pay in marks. I didn’t have any marks so the sister paid a 1,000 marks for food for me.

We ate and then separated. I wandered, exploring, following winding dirt paths between the buildings and trees at this tiny resort. Night was falling and I didn’t have any marks, so I didn’t know what to do. I did have dollars but not a large amount.

It was dark. I went back to my car. Another car, very like it, was parked beside it. Both with nose in, the rear ends toward me. As I reached my car, I looked over to the other car and saw the sisters sitting in it. I wondered if they’d gotten into the wrong car by mistake.

Dream end.

This was one of three dreams remembered from last night, but the most coherent and lucid.

Can’t recall much of the other two dreams. They’re shifting, like almost there, not quite remembered or forgotten. The strongest of the two had me carrying baking tins. Something finished was in it but I don’t know what. Others were doing the same. Many of the others looked like me but were slightly different. When I offered my baking tin, I saw that their offering was fully risen and mine was flat. I went off, got another like magic, and it was full. I went to give it to someone else, but discovered it was flat again. All of this took place outside in bright sunshine on a calm day.

The main thing I remember from the third dream was that I was happy and laughing a lot. And younger, but an adult.

Ah, night work.

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