HANGING LIGHTS, DREAMING FICTION

I have never thought of myself as a good writer. Anyone who wants reassurance of that should read one of my first drafts.
--James A. Michener


The first draft of anything is shit.
--Ernest Hemingway


I'm stuck in rewrite mode, untangling my thoughts, my ideas, my words, trying to string them together like the Halloween lights attached to plastic hooks on the gutters of my house. I've scooped up the clumps of damp wet leaves and thrown them to the ground, an added measure in preparation of the fast approaching winter months. Soon all those colorful leaves will have fallen, making for perfect mulch, a natural fertilizer, an insulator for growth to come.

I'm studying characters, new and old alike, introducing them to various situations, waiting for their reactions, waiting for them to pound on my door and offer up a trick or two. Sometimes what they do and say is too predictable, other times they're out of control, shocking me, making me beg for more. "Ok," I'll say, "What if I change your behavior with a swift stroke of the pen, will that make you more believable, will that make you not return to your old ways?"
And if the answer is "yes," it's okay not to believe them, as long as I keep an eye on their mannerism and know that certain situations may arise, bringing out the truth.

I've been blogging now for six months. Some days have been more productive than others. It's a learning process, a matter of continuing to move forward. Writing doesn't always mean publishing. I've learned that. I've also learned to be patient, something I've observed in the inmates who are doing more time than they actually have.

The only thing worse than a bad story, is a bad story published.
--JR Thumbprints