I’m taking a brief moment to post here because I need to take a deep breath and dive into my book tonight. To focus myself, I often write my thoughts down here. It also helps me get the cofusion out of my head so I can focus on things like story and character and language. Sometimes I come back to what I’ve written here to get perspective on these moments later on. I usually call it “priming the pump.”
Sometimes people like following along, which is also kinda fun! I feel like those paleontologists at the Denver Museum working away on those dinosaur skeletons while people watched from above with their faces pressed against the glass. That was always one of my favorite stops at the DMNS. Still is!
Tonight I’m working on a section that actually takes place in a near future time. It’s really challenging myself because the world the main character is inhabiting there is so much different from how he began. For so long I’ve had rules to follow, and now, I get to break them. It feels so weird! I can take him anywhere I want to take him. Make him as miserable or successful (maybe both?) as I want. Yet, I am a little hesitant since this story takes place in present day, and if anything the last couple of years has shown us, the world can turn on a dime. I think about how an author might have been writing a book in early 2001 and their character is visiting New York City in 2006 and he describes in vivid detail what it is like to visit the top of the World Trade Center towers. Yeah. The future is a fickle thing.
For all I know, in seven years, aliens could have come and told us we are no longer capable of handling our own shit anymore. We will all be their pets, like in that Porno for Pyros song.
Anyway, I have to give myself permission to take that step into the unknown in the story. Things are so hazy, when before they were sharp. It’s a lot like a dream. But I’m doing my best. That’s all I can ever do. Try my best and don’t give up.
I feel like there are great things this story will bring its readers and I’m the only one who can tell it. The story chose me.
It’s a Friday night and I’m home writing my book and honestly, it feels really good to be saying that. I was a good boy and wrote three articles for pay in the last 24 hours. And sold them too. Earlier I went to the North Park Christmas festivities and upon realizing I could be writing instead, I took my leave, walked home through the below freezing night, and put my but in my chair with a hot cup of coffee. Outside the wind is blowing. I can hear Penny snoring in the next room.
Time to dream up a future. To work towards the life I want. Who’s with me?