Another William Said
A Bevy of Muses
After awakening with busy dreams, my muses immediately pounced on me.
“Add these sentences to this, this, and this,” one was telling me.
“You need to pick up Sly’s point of view,” another was saying. “It’s ready and needs to be expanded and told. Here’s what happens.”
A third was saying, “We’re not done with Selena. There’s a lot more for Selena.”
“Okay, okay,” I was answering all of them, making mental notes about what they directed.
That didn’t mollify them. I think it even energized them. Much more was directed, becoming a tsunami of scenes when I was walking to the coffee shop where I write. “Alright, alright,” I kept saying, nodding as each muse bubbled up to add more. I was trying to keep up and trying to shut them up, but without offending them. Never want to offend the muses or piss them off, nope, nope, nope.
Got my coffee. Yeah, time to obey the muses and write like crazy, at least one more time.
Boom Days
Boom days are here. I’ve had four or five great writing days in a row. The muses have arrived on time and sober each day and fed me the tale, sharing character details, pointing out the story arc and plot lines like they’re good friends. They’ve been amazingly generous…so far.
Ah, good times. One hundred pages are completed, twenty-seven thousand words, on It Begins, the novel-in-progress begun at the beginning of this month. I know, doesn’t sound like much, but this is the foundation stage. Once things are established, the story starts flowing more quickly. Ten main characters have been introduced. Think of it as And Then There Were None, but in reverse.
Having multiple main characters with separate points of view and varying story arcs complicates matters a little. I solved that (for now, at least, as it’s working) by focusing on one or two characters, writing their scenes until they reach a major plot pivot point where the first three characters stopped. Today, I continue to focus on Selena, the four-year-old. She amazes and surprises me.
I’ll take the boom times. I know from my experience that there will be bust days sooner or later, forcing to take a deep sigh and a long swallow of coffee, gird myself with grit teeth, sit down and type, damn it.
But for now, all is well.
Meanwhile, I’ve not heard anything from agents on my previous offering, April Showers 1921. Three expressed interest a few weeks ago and requested more material. That was sent. Now I wait. Is longer time of waiting good or bad? It’s a Schrödinger situation, innit?
Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
A Storm of Scenes
The muse had warned me, “Set aside expectations.”
Of course. Muses are always telling me that. I readily agreed. She was the muse. Lead on. That’s how it works.
“I’m serious.”
I didn’t doubt that.
“You need to discard preconceived notions. Drop them like they’re too much clothing on a hot, sunny day.”
Um…okay.
“Can you give me some clues about we’re where going, what’s going on, and all of that?” I asked. I tried not to sound miffed; I don’t want to irritate the muse. I know my place, but… “I am the writer, you know. It’s supposed to be my work.”
“You’ll know when you need to know.”
She was pretty damn haughty.
She was right, though. I’ve always enjoyed writing my novels. I’ve had a lot of fun writing them. They entertain me. The muses do usually lead in unexpected directions.
This one, though, has been wildly different. The writing and story-telling pace are much, much faster than usual. And as she warned, the scenes, characters, and ideas introduced are constant shocks, little that I expected.
It’s a storm of scenes keeping up with her. Write, write, write, faster, faster. Then, after writing, update the bible to ensure everything’s been captured as far as details so I’m not slowed down by searching for some detail later.
It’s tense, exhausting, and exhilarating, leaving me on a natural high that life just can’t match. It’s a shame, then, to stop. But stopping is required, to go on to do other things and deal with the mundane of existence as a married white American male in 2019.
Once again, it’s been a great day of writing like crazy. I highly recommend it.
Michael Seidel, writer 