I tell you, this writing gig is hard work. I felt better today, however, when I saw this on Neil Gaiman’s blog:
I’m in Chapter Five of ODD…. I think this is good, although I have just realised I have no idea what happens next and that the plot I thought I was writing isn’t the plot at all, and that everything’s different. This wouldn’t be a problem, but the book is meant to be handed in on Monday. Argh.
Yup. I am so there. And no, this does not make me wish I was a strict outliner. Simply, the road has disappeared inside the forest, and I need to start sharpening the machete. Or, as Joseph Campbell says: “Writers block results from too much head. Pegasus, poetry was born of Medusa when her head was cut off. You have to be reckless when writing. Be as crazy as your conscience allows.”
Reckless. I can handle that.
I went to visit the Amish yesterday. We have friends of that faith, in that community—and one of them, Harvey, will be renovating and adding on to the old farmhouse, which has been in the family for about 100 years. I cannot wait. New office, new writing studio. More bookshelves!
Here’s a picture I took of Harvey and his nephew some years back when they were doing other construction work for us. And just in case you’re wondering, I did indeed get permission to snap that photo. Harvey and his family are sweethearts. And the sharpest business people I have ever met.
That’s it. More work to do before I keel over into bed. Otherwise, feel free to entertain yourselves with pink cats, robot spy flies, shirtless pictures of Milo Ventimiglia, UFO and other conspiracies; as well as this article on how odd behavior and creativity go hand in hand (shocking, so shocking!), an old interview with new Noble prize winner Doris Lessing, and her classic, delightful, response when she heard the news: