There are two books that I really want to begin writing. They are very different from one another. One is set in the future. One is set in the past. I am having trouble deciding which to start, even though at the same time I am loving not having started either.
I love the part before you begin a tale--like standing on the edge of a cliff in terror. But you've strapped some wings to yourself and you are pretty sure they are going to work. Yeah. They will work. That cocky confidence mixed with utter fear--that is the best feeling.
That sense of not knowing mixed with an intense desire to discover pretty much sums up what I love about writing.
So, here I stand on this precipice. Waiting.
I should just start. I know it. But see, I've spent the summer rewriting one thing and revising another and anyone who tells you that rewriting and revising are easy are either lying or crazy or both. To revise (or rewrite) well you have to get out of your own head, which is hard for a writer because WE ALL STAY IN OUR OWN HEADS a lot. It is hard work. Hard.
And one day I took a little break from it all and wrote a picture book which pretty much stayed exactly the same from first draft to last. In other words, it came out right the first time. I know I was lucky and it was a gift, because it just doesn't really happen that way usually, and MAN OH MAN did I ever need it.
I needed to remember the ease of writing.
And now it is midnight and I have lost the thread of this post. Ironic, considering that is exactly what I fear when I am on that edge that I spoke of--the loss of the story early on, or worse, the inability to take the idea and find the story within it at all. The feeling that the idea, while amazing, is still too nebulous to become a story, and all of the coaxing in the world will not summon it.
It is sometimes much more fun to dream about the quest than to pack the bag, get on the safari jeep, and just go.