A Brook for My Book
I know, I know. Second post and I’m already rhyming in titles.
I have a full-time jobby job and a part-time remote editing dealie which I do from home about twenty hours weekly. We are at the end of the month now, and during the last several days of a month, the work slows to a trickle. This month, there is no such trickle. The work is nonexistent, the well is dry, the thrill is gone. I was ecstatic to find unexpected time for my book. Less thrilled about my empty wallet, but who said Ramen was just for twenty year olds?
Normally, I’ll spend five hours of a Saturday editing (for The Man, man, not for me). I spent about a third of this time refining and adding to my outline. I made some decisions in terms of what occurs when. Like the Cylons, I have a plan. Understanding where I think the major beats will land excites me. My previous attempts at novels have all had an A and a Z with nothing in between. Not so much as an LMNOP. I meandered. I despaired. I turned to unenthusiastic and too-frequent masturbation.
Horses and ships and embroidered doublets needed some researching. Nothing crazy, just enough to sketch with. I am trying to avoid my habit of writing ludicrous amounts of dense description. I will let my readers do some of that work. Loafers, all of them!
I drafted the second scene of my first chapter, because I had it in my head with fair clarity. It came relatively easily because it introduced an important character who will keep my main dude honest. Then, a friend called me, wanting to get outside before the day slipped away. I was hesitant to stop my momentum, but decided the company and a little exercise would reset my brain.
Thank Cernunnos I ventured out. We drove out of town a ways, no particular destination in mind other than the woods. My friend suggested a park she once visited. The park is large—about thirty acres, I think. The bulk of it is wooded paths and bridges twisting around and over a brook. This brook takes an absurd number of turns and dips. We walked slowly. The paths eventually wound us around to about where we started. Toward the end of our stroll, the brook quieted and widened into an extremely shallow pool that hooked around to a pinch point and a down slope.
The pool was shaped like a fat kidney. The water rippled over thousands of smooth rocks, none of them bigger than my fist. The trees and grasses were a vibrant but soft green, just as they should be in late June after an extremely wet spring. It was stunning.
The soul medicine of a couple of hours in nature would’ve been enough, but I got more than that. Something, I’m not entirely sure what, will happen in my book in a place very much like that sh. I got some photographs (I’ve included one) and made some notes. Perhaps a couple of characters will fight there. Maybe they will lose something important among the rocks. Or, they could just happen upon a breathtaking spot in nature and delight in it.
After a stop at a local joint for some ice cream and more conversation, I came home. I fluffed up the outline a bit. I made more notes about horses. I checked for ticks.
PROGRESS REPORT: Well, I know about how fast a horse can get you from here to there. I’m basically a shipbuilder now. And the word total on my first draft is just north of 2800 words.