"But the author does not only write when he is at his desk; he writes all day long, when he is thinking, when he is reading, when he is experiencing; everything he sees and feels is significant to his purpose and, consciously or unconsciously, he is...storing and making over his impressions." W. Sommerset Maugham
I am in the early stages of actually putting words on the page for my third novel, but the truth is, I began the hard work months earlier. It started with a character. One little interesting character. I had no plot, I had no setting, I had nothing at all but this picture in my head of someone who might be interesting if we were to actually meet, face to face.
I kept trying to hurry the process...to contrive some sort of drama that would catapult this lone character onto the page. The more I attempted to stick her somewhere, the more frustrated I became. She didn't seem to fit anywhere and I almost gave up entirely. You would think by now, with two novels finished and out in the world trolling for readers, that I would realize that persistant patience is a necessity.
I eventually let go and allowed her to skip through my mind, dipping her fingers in the quiet pools of my imagination, stirring up the sediment of contrived scenerios, until she uncovered something sparkling and new. The amazing thing is that, within a few hours, she introduced me to a cast of characters, a small town, and a juicy plot outline that made me remember why I love to write.
But, it took time. Like a fine wine, I had to let my budding idea of a character breathe before she came to life. This seems to be how a book finds its way into my world, ready to spill out on the page. Kind of like playing follow the leader with someone I can't quite see. Certainly makes my life interesting.
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