I've been clipping right along with the manuscript. I've managed to keep to my 1,000 words a day for nearly two weeks now. I wonder what will happen when I finish the raw writing of the manuscript. I may have to design a self-hypnosis induction to tell myself to stop.
Despite the 50,000+ words as of yesterday I'm still not clear on the point. I know it's an awful admission, but it's the truth.
Other manuscripts have started with an idea or a scene in my mind and fell together as I wrote. This is sort of doing the same, and stuff does happen, but the characters are unwilling to grow or give much of themselves to me. Perhaps, I tell myself, it is destined to be such a long manuscript that developments must be parceled out carefully.
Underneath that is the strong hint that I simply don't have a clue what I'm doing and the characters are using this against me.
No matter what the reason, each day as I add to the file they take me somewhere. I suppose that's all I can ask for now. It is only a first draft.
Two lines from Dead Broke:
"I did the equivalent of a hard swallow.
'Someone will come to you and ask a little favor. Not too much, a little something such as you've done for us already perhaps.' "
I had the pleasure of reading Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club (Ivy Books, 1989) last week. It quickly took its place as a favorite. I think I'll be reading it every few years to savor the language, the characters, the story, and the strong spine of rich emotions that holds it together.
"For many years I could not remember what I wanted that night from the Moon Lady, or how it was that I was found again by my family. Both of these things seemed an illusion to me, a wish granted that could not be trusted."
Thanks so much for being here.
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Why My Wife is Amazing, Part 73,592
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