after scribbling that on a piece of paper, i wrote:
This is the most fun I’ve had writing a novel!
I have not committed myself to A Tale To Tell as I did to the first two novels, but it is a joy. I leave myself notes all over the place for it. It is different because I decided to tell a story | stories. It is the most enjoyable when I do it, although
the characters float around me at all times,
yet it has been the most difficult because I am planning it somewhat. And even though part of me wants to un-plan and go off the cuff, most of me wants to craft + design + draw it out. Like an architect. The first novel wrote itself, words gushed out — I needed to write. The next one I wrote after I widowed — I needed to write. This one I feel I should | must write. 🤓 It has too many characters and could (may) go anywhere! The others had no beginning or end;
they just morphed themselves.
This one, although the premise has changed, the impetus behind it is still there. It is already not what the original concept was, although the purpose and reason for being are the same.*
I AM SO IMMERSED IN THE STORY ❣️
i believe its time is at last here
I see that in May of last year, the novel had 20 complete chapters and 5 started ones … so, since then, I’ve written outside of it and not within what was already written. COULD IT BE TWO? If so, then maybe the first installation is done! (Done as in written, not as in finished.) This changes my entire perspective, as if I have unburdened myself from a weight. Why, you ask? Don’t know, but it’s true. Perhaps because now I can hyper-focus on pulling it together. Maybe I had sensed it was done — done enough before I could push forward to what the future could | will bring. Indeed, it is interesting.