One year ago on this very Sunday I began a writing project which was to be called “For The Most Part.” You, my loyal reader, may recall me writing about it in previous posts. It was to be a tragic Christmas family saga, and well, actually, it still is. In checking last year’s calendar, I wrote 20,000 words the first month. I finished it at just over 80,000 words on New Year’s Eve. In January of this year, I printed out the whole manuscript and read it all the way through. A first draft edit. I decided to write out one of the siblings (there are five in the story) because his story line was weak. And besides changing the title of the novel and working on a prologue, that’s about as far as I’ve gotten this year…until a few weeks ago.
As you may recall, I devoted most of this year to STEALING WISHES instead. I changed its title, went through a vigorous edit three times, designed the cover, and formatted the entire manuscript for publication. The final product was released into the literary world back on June 9th. Since then, I’ve concentrated more on reading than I have writing. I tried to go back to an old historical fiction novel of mine that’s been lingering, but those characters were pissed off and just wouldn’t talk to me. You see, I’m a fictional medium. That’s right. Characters, inside my head, speak to me and dictate their stories through my fingers. I’m a literary pianist of words, if you will. No, I’m not crazy so don’t call the doctors. I’m just a writer. And somewhere between January and July, those characters in “For The Most Part” stopped talking as well. So here we are now…
The 9 to 5 will be slowing down again as Autumn approaches and we grow closer and closer to admiring colored bulbs on a fake spruce, surrounded by metallic wrapped boxes and shiny ornaments. I can already smell the cinammon spice in the air and my mouth waters for hot tea or boiled custard. And then I think about that family I left behind on the stack of crisp white pages, lying there on my desk until a fit of Spring cleaning sent the manuscript into the bottom of my closet. And there it sits. I don’t want to touch it.
That prologue from months ago got finished just last week. Like I said, I changed its title too (which also happens to be the same name of this post). Do you like it?
J and I just watched The Holiday with Cameran Diaz and Jude Law, so I find myself reading this post in my mind in an English accent as I type it, but that’s not the point. Not now, it isn’t. Although I think the Xmas theme of that movie is what got me started.
The point is that I need to get back to that family Christmas. I need to finish it. I don’t know if it will be “the novel” that my readers can walk into a bookstore and find already there waiting for them on a table up front labeled “new fiction” or “40% off bestseller.” I don’t know if it will be my claim to fame, and will be made into a movie, and have every publishing house vying for my attention to get their hands on the next book. I don’t even know if there will be a next book. But I hope it is. I hope there is. I hope…
So, it’s been a year. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.