Another exciting break through in my novel drooling! My writing coach (my brother Kevin) encouraged me to take some time to consider my characters, consider my time line, consider the chapters. He reminded me it could all be tweaked and reordered. At first I was hesitant, I was afraid that trying to press the ramblings into a story would make me fizzle. So I sat down again tonight and just started barfing out words…my fingers were flying on the keyboard and I was only half-paying attention to what I was writing.

Then I stopped. I thought for a few minutes. When I started typing again it finally came out: a character. As the sentences marched across the page I felt so calm, and so capable. After another twenty minutes, the title popped right into my head. Little Ghost. I don’t know if that will be the title when it’s all said and done, but for right now I can’t stop smiling. It’s as if my little ghost gave me a gentle press, a reminder to listen to the advice of my coach. As if my little ghost was ready to come along and guide me.

I knew I could write 50,000 words, but secretly I thought it’d just be 50,000 words of shit. In fact I really had no idea how anything would ever take shape, and just expected to write 125 page blog entry. Finding this one character feels like getting struck by lightening. No, it feels like I woke up one day and finally lost 20 pounds.

I still look at my scar sometimes and marvel that my little boy was inside, then in minutes he was outside. When he arrived he carried a whole new me under his little arm. My little tiny son. He was such a person, such a presence. I would die if it would make him live, but that’s not what happened. The story is that he dies, and I have to live to keep a little piece of him here on earth. It took a lot of courage and strength for him to deliver the new me to me, so I’ve got to do something with it. I can’t just let it sit on the closet floor all wrinkled and dusty, for god’s sake.

I have a theory that the day before (or day of) a therapy session something monumental happens that will emotionally precede whatever you had planned to talk about all week. It’s like a reliable derailment of a planned progression. Sometimes, the day after therapy some monumental event will happen to prove whatever annoying thing your shrink said was right. Considering that I’ve long feared that attempting to write a book would be like undergoing therapy akin to that freaky rebirthing stuff, it shouldn’t be surprising that today went a little haywire. Instead of diving into my NaNoWriMo manuscript, I just want to angrily hash out today’s events. In fact I’m finding it impossible to even look at a word document right now.

So what’s the answer? I think I’m supposed to just keep writing. Maybe if all I can write about is my work day, that’s what I have to write about. Eureka! Either my tranqs just kicked in or I just got the point of this whole thing.

Gotta go!