So far, I have written 15,000 words for this story. I'm not stuck, but I'm past the point of free flowing ideas, using any available inspiration to give me ideas for the story. I have all those down now, I know the story and now I need to do some work to connect the various actions with their motivations and plan how they will affect the characters in the future. This is turning out to be real work. I'm surprised by this.
It will make me feel personally proud when I have finished this first book, even if it is never published. Writing a novel is indeed an accomplishment. I have no desire to climb mountains, but I have desire to write a novel.
I wonder if those desires are somehow similar, somehow linked in the human condition. Do they come from the same place? Is the ember only different because of the material it comes from? It's an interesting question; one that has application in character motivation too. I can see now, slowly unwrapping itself before me, the idea that the plot happenings in a book can be more about how the different characters deal with it than the action itself.
I know this on an intellectual level, it is not that deep or esoteric. However, actually getting that concept down into your gut, into the inner workings of your writing takes chewing on it. It takes a contemplation that takes time.
Like a good beef marinade. Invariably, all things return to food metaphor and simile. Yum. My husband made a steak last night that was to die for. If I could just write and eat for the rest of my life, I'd be happy.
I'm happy now though. I eat every day, whether I need to or not (really, I don't think I need to for awhile). I write almost everyday. Life is good. No matter how much desire you have for something, it takes time for the learning you do to sink in. I'm just a big chunk of meat at the moment.
Working on becoming a steak.