I'm sitting here reflecting on what possessed me to start a novel, my first novel, at this point in my life. It doesn't make sense. I have a full-time demanding job, I have two small children, I'm in the middle of completing my MBA which requires at least a few nights a week and most of the weekends. So, why choose now to kick-off such a huge project?
Would you believe that I found this cool-ass new (to me) writers software called Scrivener (Mac only) and I really wanted to put it to the test; so I decided to write a book and see how it does? No? You wouldn't believe that?
OK...
Well I guess that's not the complete reason, but you may be surprised at how much the Scrivener discovery had an impact on the decision. Really.
There's also an element of father-ness at play here. It turns out Boy Prince is quite good at writing. He's beginning to own descriptive language and adjectives as he develops his style (at the moment mostly made up of dinosaurs and an uncomfortable level of poop & pee & farts). As I offer guidance in his homework and try to help him understand the elements of a good story I've become acutely aware of how much I miss storytelling.
...your monitor goes all flashback on you now......Frampton's talking guitar plays unexpectedly...
...you're a little freaked out that I can do that from here...
I spent two weeks a year in summer camp in the mountains of North Carolina. In the middle of every summer, from eight to fourteen years old, I would board a charter bus with about 40 other "under-privileged" boys in the parking lot of a K-Mart in downtown Raleigh and wave bye to my mom & sister as the bus began the 7 hour journey to The Elks Camp for Boys. Good stuff folks. Some of the best memories of my childhood.
I told you that so I could tell you this: At camp I was known as the best ghost story teller. In fact, I would be asked to go from cabin to cabin at night to tell my stories, many of them made up on the fly as I walked between the cabins. I would hit 2 or 3 cabins a night at the cabin leaders' requests. It was like therapy for me, sitting on the stacked suitcases and duffle bags lining the middle of the long hall that served as sleeping quarters, waxing poetic about Jeddahdia Dawson as he turned from a soft spoken, kitten loving lumberjack into a sociopathic mass murderer who used catgut (yes, same cat) to affix the hatched to his severed forearm. Too much for you? Oh I got so much more! The escaped madman (who I always imagined favored Doc Brown from Back to the Future), and the moonshiners were the best. But I digress (again, warned you).
...OK. Back to present day...
...What are you doing in my daydream anyway??...
...GET OUT OF MY HEAD...
Working with Boy Prince in developing his Inner Storyteller lit the fire in my belly again. So, after several stop & starts at getting a space setup for the task, I finally got a room in the house all to myself. It's not a man cave, but it is a place where I can yell at the kids if they go in there and not feel (too) guilty about it.
The idea for this novel came to me one night in a hotel in Washington, D.C. The family and I were up for a long weekend taking in God's Icy-Blue Teardrop (aka the Hope Diamond. I mean! Have you seen that thing?). I woke up from the dream at 3AM one morning; the dream that turned into the idea, that turned into the 6AM presentation to Boy Prince and Girl Prince and Wife Prince, that turned into this project.
I've just begun the character profiles. Next I'll move into getting the synopsis together I think. Not sure really how the next steps will go, but I'm going to apply the same advice that I gave to my friend Alegra Clarke:
"Having written the equivalent of a moderately sized novel while pursuing my masters I realize that, taken individually each piece of work and each essay is a thoughtful document into which I put a great deal of effort. Taken in the entirety, the work is a vast and in depth study of all aspects of business theory.
If I were to set out from day one to produce this entire body of work, there’s no way it would happen. I’d be so overwhelmed that I’m sure I wouldn’t even get started!
I think this is a great analogy for the process of writing a novel, and of looking at the complete body of work of other authors; they placed all their efforts into each chapter, one at a time. The end result is the body of work we see, which overwhelms us in its near perfection.
Consider this: The chapters or parts of the novel are islands connected only by weak & brittle ice bridges. Put all your effort into producing the most interesting islands possible, throwing all of your struggles into each of them in their own turn (oh, you’re God in this analogy), then move back and sure-up the connecting ice bridges; sometimes by eliminating an island or two, or moving a few around, but mostly by building larger concrete expressway bridges which traverse the vast oceans of plot failures.
In any case, I suppose it depends on perspective and how we attack the tasks. And as is my usual modus operandi, I have offered solutions where none was requested…Wife Prince hates that.
Well, too much typed out now to delete; so taking the Alegra Clarke example, I’ll just “go ahead and do it!”
All IMHO"
Yeah. That sounds like good advice.
So, I need inspiration folks! Best advice/Funniest comment will get a sneak peak at the first chapter. What do you suggest I do to keep the momentum? Do you have an interesting story about when you first started writing? Let us know!
Sid.