How DO they do it? These novelists that just prance down the literary road, spreading daisies and sparkles everywhere they go. I’m lost, man. I am so lost it’s not even funny. I have no idea how to move Will and Bill along. They’re in the backyard, then they’re at the park, then the library, then Will’s taking something out of his backpack, only I’m quite sure I never said he was CARRYING his backpack. I am still having those glimpses of brilliance, but they are little spots of sun shining through the leaves of the forest, and they do not go with anything else. I love the mirror image, but I only had it in the vision Bill has in the library. I forgot about adding Jody, the annoying Dark One, until just now, 8000 words into the novel. I’ll have to go back and add him at school.
I don’t know where Bill and Will are going yet. Off to find the Eternal Flame, but that term sounds lame, and I keep forgetting what the bad guy’s name is - oh, Argus. But I haven’t even TALKED about him yet - wasn’t I supposed to do that earlier in the book? Man - should I read about how to write dialogue? I’m reading the newest Ken Follett book, and it hearkens me to see that he intersperses dialogue with explanation, so maybe I’m not just the 19th century female novelist taking 4 pages to walk down the sidewalk. I don’t know! I just don’t know anything, so I guess I’ll just keep moving forward, trusting that this is probably what everyone feels like the first time they write a novel - clueless.
I remember trying to write a song in high school. I love music, and had listened to it so much that I thought I really had a handle on what goes into writing a hit song. La la la la la la - a simple chord progression, weak lyrics “to you I sing my song, my beautiful loving sister...” Wow - I even sang it at her wedding rehearsal. “Love is so precious when it’s shared by two like he and you...” Oh man - I’m having flashbacks!!!! BAD WRITING!!! But you know what - I did it back then, however horrible it was, and I’m doing it now, however horrible I think it is. Sometimes the only way to grow is to stretch beyond your comfort zone into no-woman’s land. For me, that’s novel writing. But I’m committed (I should be committed), and I want to do this for Bill, for myself, for the world. Who knows what will come of it, if anything? In the end, who knows anything at all? With that fabulously optimistic thought in mind, I submit my updated word count - 8806.