The Rudder

 Before I start writing a story, I (almost) always have a title in mind. The title acts as a rudder. It guides the story, taking it where it needs to go. It's not that I think about the title while I write, but rather that the title inspires or permeates the writing without my having to keep it in mind all the time. I guess my unconscious mind must take care of that. The piece I am working on now doesn't have a title. Ugh.

Writing Through Uncertainty

I am no longer (as) bothered by not knowing where exactly I am going when I write. The uncertainty, even the long periods of screen-staring, don’t make me as anxious anymore. I have confidence that if I sit long enough, words will find their way through my fingers and onto the screen. I have come to value the not-knowing element of writing because that’s where serendipity happens; that’s where new things are born, often looking very different than what I had originally imagined.

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scribbles...

I have never written a personal blog before, but my new publisher has encouraged me to start one. At first I was hesitant. I said to my self, I said, Dave, when was the last time you said something important, valuable, coherent, compelling, uh, even really good. When I realized I couldn't answer this question, I decided it was time to write a blog....about writing and other stuff.

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Polishing

The last thing I do with a manuscript is polish it, which means rereading it to remove excess words, take out as many "coulds" and woulds" that I can. Also 'ing' words. Check sentences for passive voice. Find any sentence that doesn't sound right and change it. I do this at least three times, sometimes more. I could do it for the next year and I'd still find things to change or improve.

Yesterday, I finished polishing LAST ALIVE. I'll submit it to my editor on June 1.

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In search of the perfect sentence

       I am working on something new, and, as you will see, I was very productive today.   

Originally, this sentence was:

Driving down Lawrence Ave she wondered if a second time trying to meet her father was wise.

After careful analysis, I decided to go a different direction:

Driving down Lawrence Ave she wondered if trying to meet her father a second time was wise.

So close and yet so far. Then it came to me:

Driving down Lawrence Ave she wondered if trying again to meet her father was wise.

My God, it was still wrong!

Driving down Lawrence Ave she wondered if trying to meet her father again was wise.

Within inches of perfection!

Now I'm going to take a nap.

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Hummingbird

     Yesterday, the hummingbirds returned. Well, at least one hummingbird. It's one of our favorite signs of spring. Each year I wait and wonder and then worry that they may not return. My doubt turns into confidence, much like my writing. Sometimes, I wait and worry about where a story is heading. Then my confidence returns, even though it may not arrive until I am two thirds through the story.   

What am I doing?

      I had decided months ago that my upcoming novel would be my last. Twenty-six years writing long fiction and eleven novels published seemed quite enough. My thinking is less sharp. New ideas allude me. Crisp words don't come. Last month, though, I started playing with a short story to see if it could evolve into something longer.  But I needed a brief set-up scene to launch the first chapter. I started working on that one scene, but it is evolving into a story of its own. Not sure where this bit of scribbling will take me.

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