This post is about 400 words.
Two summers ago, I posted a selfie from a marina on Lake Michigan. Accompanying the image was this statement: “When life gives you the opportunity to go Great Lakes salmon fishing, you jump into that adventure, even when you have a fear of drowning.”
It’s true. I’m deathly afraid of being underwater without enough air. Floating on it is fine, but sometimes, staring down into my distorted reflection, it’s hard to keep at bay the black thoughts of my watery demise. Now imagine the crushing embrace of all the water of the third largest lake in North America. Perhaps you begin to understand my trepidation.
That might be enough to keep a rational person off the boat. But let’s add to it my fish allergy. Yes, eating fish turns me into an exploding biological disaster. As such…I haven’t taken an interest in fishing.
So why in the world was I on this expedition?
On the other side of the coin, I’ve always considered myself an agent of chaos. It’s probably the scientist in me. I like to disassemble things to see how they work. I like to push the limits of software to see what breaks. I love chasing the worst-case scenario to discover where things ultimately land. I love dumb luck, jumping in with blind faith, and rolling the dice to see what happens.
Here’s why I took the trip: This chance invite was an opportunity to do something I never would have pursued on my own. When it came down to it, I really wanted to see how I’d face this challenge.
I had faith that I could handle it.
In my own story, I was looking to create another advisor for Tildy, someone to serve as a counterpoint to the witch, Tildy’s adoptive mother. I also wanted a way to have Tildy work through some of her own concerns without always relying on inner monologue. I didn’t want to add another companion on their journey, but if the advisor was also a secret, this could lead to future conflict. When I recalled Mimulus, I knew I had the inspiration I needed.
The writing was broken into smaller chunks. I’ve found my frequency increasing, which means I’m finding more opportunities during the day to sit down and do some writing, even if it’s only a few dozen words. Additionally, since the first draft is nearly done, I’m filling in some small holes (e.g. transitions, intro paragraphs, and conclusions). I’d previously been equating progress to the number of marathon writing sessions I’d have. Lesson learned.
It’s getting easier. Not that I know much about working out, but we all know that exercise increases strength and endurance. The same is true for your brain, as well as those nimble typing fingers. I’m quite certain I’m not the first to say something like, “The more you write, the more you write,” but it’s true. Over time, you’re changing the way your brain works, which is both awesome and somewhat unnerving. And perhaps an idea for an interesting short story.
I’m having fun. It’s feeling less like work, which is great because this novel is like a part-time job where I’m not getting paid…yet. I’m getting up early and staying up late. I’m investing so much of my personal time that, were this to feel like a slog of a job, I’d probably never complete the thing. To be a couple hundred hours into this project and having more fun each day, well, I think that says something about the subject matter, as well as the improvements to my work ethic.
The Lost Royals 