Yesterday I took the keys to Mom’s Cruiser, a box of snack bars, two kids–Eli, age 9; Everett, age 5–and headed down the rutted, twisting road to the bottom of the 9500-foot-elevation “hill” atop which my parents live. We drove into Florissant with $40 in cash and a thirst for adventure.
We came back with one (1) smoky quartz piece, and twenty-seven (27) or so flakes of paper shale bearing the impressions of insects, flower buds, seeds, and leaves that lived and died 35 million years ago.
None of this has anything to do with my novel or progress thereon right now, and neither do any of the six other entries I’ve started and abandoned in the past day here. It’s just too hard. The work is hard, writing about the work is hard. But here we go. Here is what I’m doing:
- Working on a detailed timeline. In Excel. So help me.
- Trying to get two characters to reunite with each other in the same place at the same time, instead of three months apart as their current timelines show them doing.
- Trying to get seven (7) POV characters to meet at the same time in the same place for the climax without ruining any of their individual timelines.
- Trying to figure out why each of those seven (7) POV characters even wants to be there for goodness sake.
- And what each of them is doing during the climax.
- And what each of them is thinking during the climax.
- And then, finally, from whose point of view the climax will actually be told.
- And also exactly how I feel about the fact that today, one of the search engine phrases that led to my blog was “sobbing after climax.”
- And wondering whether I really want to keep writing about climaxes or not.
- And definitely wondering whether I really want to keep writing climaxes or not.
But of course I have to. Writing them because I have to finish my book. Writing about them because reaching climax is hard for me. (I’ll let you know when Google searches for “Why is reaching climax hard for me” start leading to my blog. It will be a proud moment, surely. (I apologize to anyone who has arrived via that search. This is not the place to get that kind of help. But if you’re writing a book, now, come on in. We can help with that. Or at least empathize with how hard it is.))
So I just keep getting up an hour early and plugging. I thought I’d be done with my second draft next week, but now it looks more like next month or next year or maybe next decade.
Possibly by the time I’m done, the mosquito that ended up smashed between two pages of my first draft will be as old as the fossils in our paper shale fragments.
If anyone has tips, ideas, or inspiration for getting through this last part of the second draft… please. Share. I’d like to finish sometime this millennium.