Touching Life

His elocution stuns Exact in its sense Dynamic in delivery Such perfect prose Wrapped in irony Like sweet music Lilting and melodic Untainted by rhyme And happenstance He writes by rote His words a river Flowing into sea Touching life’s pulse For mere seconds Changing on command As natural as air He breathes it out … Continue reading Touching Life

The Uncomfortable Closeness of Narrative

A-blog-is-basically-an-online-journal.“The most important character in every novel is the author’s personal story. The anguish in the narrative, as well as the tender moments, they all derive from it and make it necessary for the entire novel’s existence.”

I write in first person. Sometimes. And every single time I write in first person I wonder how much of it is me, my own thoughts and fears, my own variances and expressions, my own essence. If we really do write what we know, then maybe all of my characters have a little of me in them, which is kind of scary but kind of comforting at the same time. My imagination is vast and varied, and my experience a bit less so, but my words take on a mind of their own. I’m sure other writers can agree with me on this, if not quite on process, because we all go about it in a way that makes sense to us, the process. But with that imagination and the potential of every single character I write, all of that influences the narrative a lot more than my own life.

Then you read my first novel, and you tell me that so much of it sounds like it’s my life. Because so much of it is directly from my own life. What the conundrum, huh? And yet, even though so much of it derives from my personal anguish and my own internal conflicts, it’s still a work of fiction. Even though it’s in first person. Even though it’s largely from my life. When I sat down to write Detours that first day, I had no idea where it was going to go, what it had to say, and where it was going to take me. And when the main character spoke to me, he used my voice. I felt like we were as close as twins, that we shared so much history, but that in the end we led our own lives for better or for worse. Continue reading “The Uncomfortable Closeness of Narrative”

Year One is Paper

“We practice the most concealment from ourselves when we avoid sharing with others.” – Theodicus Exactly one year ago today I started Sam’s Online Journal with the singular purpose of continuing my daily writing, and it has grown into so much more. It’s easy to think about it now and think how idealistic I was … Continue reading Year One is Paper

Day Twenty-Five

So, I did it. Five days early and I pushed past the 50,000 word mark on my novel. 50,000 words in 25 days, which gives me a win for NaNoWriMo, but more importantly it gives me the satisfaction of doing what I set out to do. Of course it’s about writing a complete novel as … Continue reading Day Twenty-Five

Day Twenty-One

the-number-21-profile21 is blackjack. 21 is the legal age to drink, and to gamble. 21 is the name of a best-selling Adele record. It is an extra chromosome in those with Down syndrome. That’s what I think when I consider 21. Oh, and it’s also the title of a cool movie about gambling, but its importance to me right now is that today is the 21st day of NaNoWriMo, the novel writing month when writers everywhere try and blaze through 50,000 words in 30 days. Here are my stats through 2:46 on the 21st day of NaNo…

Words written today: 1,044
Average words per day: 2,037
Target words per day: 2,000
Total overall words: 42,787

My story has evolved in several sections since I last blogged about it on day 15, and my two protagonists are several steps closer to meeting. There have been two major reveals since last we spoke as well, one of which is the turning point of the story. Now the characters are hurtling on a collision course of consequences for actions that took place long before the novel began. Here is an excerpt:

“The cloisters were long hallways that branched off into open spaces that looked to be door openings but that had no doors hanging within them to separate them from the hallway itself. The entire place was as drafty as a castle, which is what it most closely resembled in looks and in atmosphere. Continue reading “Day Twenty-One”