Writing is very much a solitary endeavor.
My third novel has been a very quiet time, in other words, no asking anyone, “What do you think of this paragraph?” or “Do you think the story should go this way? Or that way?” Nope, I am not asking anyone about anything. I have enough confidence to have no need for others’ opinions. This is a first for me. I am delighted, but it has made this solitary pursuit much lonelier. I think that I may be talking to my computer a bit more, but at least it is not talking back. The kittens, though, don’t seem to care how much I read to them, just as long as they are not being scolded. It’s a fair trade.
I am working on three poems this month, along with the novel. It seems I work best when I have multiple projects to work on simultaneously. And then there are always a few other stories that I am pretty sure are books. “How I Never Made It To Paris,” a story that takes place in the late 1800s in, well, somewhere in the United Kingdom. A man is going on an unexpected adventure. “Magic My Dear,” this is a book I am writing for young adults - it is fun, and I love going to that place! It is about a girl who is a witch. Her name is Tiona Tardibone. The last is a dark story, Sci-Fi, “A Darker Night.” I don’t really want to write Sci-Fi. I threw away the first and second drafts, but when the third draft was still Sci-Fi, I gave up! It has one of my comparisons - a hole in a pocket to a man’s empty life. Here is a bit of “A Darker Night,”
His coat was torn. The jagged tear quietly moved back and forth as the night’s wind swirled about him. Lucy would be late again. He reached in his pocket for a match and felt nothing but a hole. That didn’t surprise him much, and it seemed to reaffirm his conviction about his future. Actually, it was more the lack of his future. Pete’s worn hands began to fumble with the buttons on his coat. His calloused fingertips found each button to be closed; then he felt the tear and also thought of the lone hole and understood. It was just another reason to let go, a sign to give up.
My meanderings are over for today. Back to work, back to “Closed Eyes.”