From nothing to something

I haven't typed The End yet, but it's only days away, if that. Could be hours, except that hubby was away, and now he's home, and, well, I'm just so darn glad to see him that any all-nighters in my near future won't be spent at the keyboard, ifyouknowwhatImean.

Ok, I lied. I have typed The End, typed it on November 30, 2004, as a matter of fact. But there was work to be done, and now Chapter Eleven is currently a big old blank Word document that need only to be filled in. And the "fill" is right here in my pretty little head. It's like colouring a picture in a colouring book. I've done everything but this one little part, and I know what colour it's going to be, and I'm sharpening the crayon now.

And it's not THAT part. What I call the IT scene (regular readers will know what I'm talking about) was written weeks ago, then improved upon, and wouldn't you know it, I even ended up with a second IT scene. So go figure.

I've written for a long time. As long as I can remember. And I write some good stuff, I really do.  But fiction - novels - were beyond me. Oh, I had ideas. But I couldn't seem to do anything with them.

Imagine, if you will, a lump of clay. It sits in front of you, daring you to turn it into something.  But then you spend so much time envisioning what that lump of clay could do, could be, that you never actually turn it into something.  So in the end, all you have are a bunch of visions, and a lump of clay that you've maybe poked at a bit. You have a lump of clay with poke marks in it.

Now imagine that you - and your lump of clay - are at the mercy of the clock. You have 30 days to turn that lump of clay into something. Doesn't matter what. A crappy ashtray. A wall plaque. A spoon rest.

So you just dig your hands in, and start making something. It might end up being the ugliest something you've ever made, but it's something.

On November 30, 2003, I had something. I had finished! And it wasn't as ugly as I thought it would be.  So when November 1, 2004 rolled around, I wasn't afraid to pick up another lump of clay and start manipulating, crafting, working the vision into another something.

I've spent the last six weeks turning something into something more. I've made it sturdier. Prettier. Better.

And it's better than any of the visions I started with.

That's what National Novel Writing Month did for me. It gave me permission to dig into a lump of clay and turn it into the best darn spoon rest I could.

By week's end, I'll be spell-checking, and proofing, but beyond that, I'm done. It's time to start putting my novel out where people can see it. And maybe they'll like it, and maybe they won't, but hey - it's not bad for something that started as a lump of clay.

Comments

[AGK]

AWESOME! I can't wait to read it :)

[kim]

Hurry.....
i have book money that is crying out to be spent! :)

[Linda Sherwood]

I loved the first chapter. Can't wait to read more!

[Eldest Daughter]

EEEEEWEEEE! Mom, you know I read this during whatever class I feel like, so why would you write THAT in the 1st paragraph no less? EEEEEWWEEEE!
Anyways, yes for all those who are wondering about the IT scenes, they are LAME! Way too tasteful Mother. I see more than that in the cafeteria.
Anyways, yeah...umm people are going to come yell at me because I'm supposed to be working on my Wanted Poster because I kidnapped someone. Oh and we killed the janitor too.
JOKES! It's for a photography project.

[Linda Sherwood]

I now know what is worse than your mother reading the sex scenes you wrote.... You're daughter reading them and declaring them lame. Eeeewwww.

[Eldest Daughter]

Linda you used the wrong your.

[kim]

Eldest daughter, shouldn't you be WORKING at school? (judging by the time stamp on your comment?)

[Eldest daughter]

Yes, I should probably be working. But that entails being in a class where work is required to pass.