Dreaming & Scheming Deliver A Corker

Note:  In the fall of 2008, I wanted to try my hand at writing a book but that plan quickly hit a snag:  me.  For a month I tried to wriggle my out of some heavy duty resistance, but the resistance ultimately prevailed.  Which was a shame.  (Or, maybe not as I can’t even remember what sort of book it was I wanted to write!)  At any rate, working through the problem did lead me into some interesting exercises.  So, it wasn’t a total loss.  It was, in a way, a partial win. This post was the third of a series I called Writer’s Knot.

The progress report on the book in a word: minimal.

The week began well.  I finished the outline and a draft of the introduction.  And then in two shakes, or so it seemed, lightning cracked, thunder roared and Dreaming & Scheming reappeared with a real corker of an idea that they dropped into my lap like a golden egg.  Literary Ambition had her hands full.  For two days I was consumed by this new idea, like a parrot enamored with its newest shiny toy.  For two days I refused to peck at anything else.  Not even the book that Literary Ambition kept quavering about.  At one point, her voice officially hit “shrill”, but in response she received a sorry sweetheart but you have to chill.   But, you’ll feel so guilty later, she said.  To which I responded with a humph and my back.

She was right, of course.  (The bitch. Did I just say that?  No I didn’t.  Yes, I did.  I’m so sorry. But it’s kind of true.  Still, that’s a terrible thing to say.)

By Thursday I had obsessed long enough with Dreaming & Scheming’s latest and greatest idea that I was exhausted by it all.  This is what I call the time testing phase.  It’s a relief, in a way.  But it’s also notable for its emotional freefall.  Some of the shine has rubbed off the idea.  It’s not quite so new anymore.  Which is not to say that it’s not still a corker, a golden egg.  But it’s not brand spanking new and the Voice Of Practicalities prepares to take over and VOP has a completely different way of viewing things and can be a real downer and…well, you get the picutre.

Meanwhile, the guilties had crept in and made camp.

One would think that Literary Ambition would have sent a distress call to Unconditional Love, the guilties would be sent packing, and all would be restored to harmony and equilibrium.

But no, Literary Ambition called up The Organizer, the bearer of calendars and lists, clear plastic folders in which to put the calendars and lists, and a label maker.  She’s perky and prim, The Organizer.  I trust her but don’t want to.  And she has this way of getting you to take sensible steps when you least want to do them that is annoying as hell.  Her saving grace is that TO has zero tolerance for guilt.  It is not in her vocabulary.  Thus, it will not be in mine.  At least for now or once The Organizer has left the building.

TO slid a calendar onto my desk, and said now, let’s break this big ol’ enchilada of a book into smaller chews why don’t we.

So, that’s what I did.  I planned what I would do over the next two months and wrote it on the calendar.  Never mind that I’ve already missed today’s entry thanks to the spontaneous decision to drive to Nice and the ensuing scramble. No, I will not mind that.  I will perservere in spite of it.

That’s what I’m wanting to amplify today, my perservence.  It’s untidy and scuffed.  But from what I can tell, it’s never left the building.