I’m edging closer to the full embrace of my next project. Step by baby step. How it goes is, I have a voice. A character. An idea. I wrangle some plot possibilities, and then abandon them. Wrangle, abandon, wrangle, abandon, and like that.
But meanwhile, I walk. Somehow, by walking, I can take the spits from the brain and absorb them. Through the skin, and into the nervous system. The ideas grab hold of muscle memory and the part of my body that knows, and alchemy begins.
Here is the endpoint of today’s walk. Time and circumstance required me to turn around before knowing what happens around that bend.
I’m going back tomorrow to find out.
This is from my friend, Maureen Kay: http://maureenkay.com/ReplyDelete
(who tried valiantly to post, but alas, I know my comment engine is troublesome.) "I wouldn't be surprised if brain scientists can tell us there is a physical reality to this--that when you retrace your steps, and then round that physical next bend, it will help the chains of neurons forming the story in your brain lead you to the next element in your story."
Thanks, Maureen! I totally agree.
Okay, when you posted this a few weeks ago, I was down with the mystery of it.ReplyDelete
What IS around that bend?A
Did you find out? Did you never go back?
I've waited patiently, but my patience turned into angst, my angst into burning desire, and my burning desire (a fine cliche if ever there was one. at the end of the day, after all, we must give it 110%.) has turned into ÀAÁAÂAÃAÅAÆRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!
At least I didn't decide to just hang myself up by the nuts until I found out. This time.
Blame it on ADD! Actually, Harry, thanks for keeping me honest here. And I apologize for my tardiness.Delete
Not only did I walk around the bend the next day, I wandering forth, up, over, down, and back up. Two hours of exploration. And thinking. And my biggest takeaway was the idea that I was on the hunt for "just the right house" in which to set a new project. And I found several possibilities, which I've since tossed out in favor of a hybrid of two crumbling mansions in a different, equally affluent neighborhood.
So, the answer to your question, harry, is, around the bend were several half-formed lumps of clay that were considered and dismissed for their direct artistic merit. Compost, you might say. Now ripening to its ultimate reincarnation.