Changing One Story For Another

morning in garden 007

Here, on the West Coast, July was a living breathing taste of honest summer weather. No rain, no clouds, just sun, sun and more sun. Followed by a barely damp August.  Glorious!  And I’ve tried not to miss a moment of any day, from dawn to sinking sun. Which makes it painful to see the days growing shorter and knowing we’ll be rising and bedding in dark soon. Which means—crap, I’ll have to remember where the light switches are again.

Last winter I bullied my brain into a habit of starting its pink matter bubbling roughly an hour before anyone else’s—to give myself uninterrupted time to write. And I’m happy to report it’s worked out so well I’ve recently finished the first draft of my mid-grade story—all 58,436 words of it!

And that means my first rewrite will be annihilating close to half of those words. Can you hear me sniveling in the dark?

Aw, not really. I’m looking forward to the next step which will be the first rewrite. I’ll be taking the 118 scenes I’ve created and blending them together to create something resembling chapters. I guesstimate I’ll be taking four to six scenes and making a chapter. So, yeah, the creation party is over and the cleanup is about to begin.

But before I jump into it, for a tiny time, I’m going to be facing a writing pad instead of a computer screen in the early morning.

For as many mornings as weather permits, I’ll be perched out front in one of our wonderful Adirondack chair. On one wide chair arm  I’ll have my favorite writing paper (a Cambridge Mead large-sized, wide-ruled, cream-colored, heavy-weight notepad) and my favorite writing pen (a Sheaffer Calligraphy wearing a fine nib and oozing Noodler’s black ink). On the other wide arm will sit my ‘G’day’  green smoothie followed by a coffee chaser.

Each day, three full pages per day of thoughts, grumps and cheers will pour out before I gather up the tongs and the matches and burn the thoughts back into non-existence—a satisfying ritual of self-purification.

Which sounds way better than —the crazy old lady in black is burning things on her patio at dawn again.

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