I'm writing a book.
That might seem obvious -- what do I do but write books? -- but sometimes it's nice to, you know, put that down in writing.
I'm writing a book.
I think it's going well. Certainly I'm enjoying myself, something I'd say is integral to the long process of writing a book. I mean, if you're not enjoying yourself, why do it?
The money? Meh. There are better, easier ways to make a buck.
The story? Hell yeah. This is another one that, like The Seven Markets, I had germinating inside me for a long, long, long time, but was never quite able to crack. Then, one night, I did.
(I used to blog a lot, like every night, when working on something. I haven't been doing that. I'd like to try doing it again, so apologies while I get myself back up to speed.)
Finding that thing, that word, that idea, that image, that helps "crack" the story or move forward with the night's work, always makes me feel dumb. That's because the solution almost always seems very obvious.
You know, in retrospect.
With Markets it was changing the protagonist from a young man to a young woman. The original story there was very different from what I ended up actually writing.
With this story -- the title is somewhat in question, and I'd hate to refer to it by name and then have the name change, but let's just call it "the 2015 book" -- the "thing" was even simpler.
And once I found it the whole story clicked into place. Like, in less than a second I went from, boy, I'd love to figure out how to tell that story to, shit, I wish I could type faster.
Now, I don't actually wish I could type faster. The act of sitting down every night to write is another integral part of storytelling. Every night I learn different things about my characters, their world, and their stories. It's only by taking my time and plodding, a word at a time, through their stories, that I find these things out.
That's wonderful. It's also humbling. I never realize how much I know about these people until I, well, realize how much I know about them. One character, for example, has an affection for "old, silly words". I only learned this when he began using them. Even cooler: I only learned the words he'd use as he used them. If I'd tried to make a list it would have been pitiful. Writing him, however, the frigging words come on their own.
That's magic right there. It ain't easy and it takes a lot of time, but there's no other word for it but magic.