Where have you been?

I just wrapped up the first draft of my novel! I know I still have a long way to go but this is a major accomplishment for me.

For the majority of my writing career, I've been focused on short stories and articles ( < 3,000 words). I never could focus on a single project for long enough to go much longer than a short story. The first draft is almost 78k words, a far cry from my normal < 3k. So, what happened?

A Dream Deferred

Years ago, I wanted to write horror and sci-fi. I knew I needed to get some publication credits built prior to doing that so I focused on what the smallest possible market: Non-fiction Software Security articles. ~30 articles later and I never returned to fiction. I just kept putting it to tomorrow. I'll be able to do it tomorrow or next year or in a few years. 

Instead of chasing my dreams of telling stories I've made up, I told stories I've experienced with work and my professional life. I love this work and really enjoy helping others with the professional stories I've accumulated over the years but in my heart, I want to weave worlds and characters that will long outlive me. 

Dreams have a funny way of withering over time when you find reasons to deny them. I don't have time to write. I don't have any ideas. That's too much work. Blah blah blah! Eventually you stop that dream and find others to replace it. But you never know what will happen to shake that dream awake, for a dream to storm into your life and demand attention. For me, what happened was my Dad died too young. Struck down out of the blue when he and I had a discussion about a project we were going to tackle next week the day before he died.

Next week we were going to have a picture framed. I wonder about what other plans my Dad had for the day after he died, the week after the years after. How many dreams were pushed off, told to go away, ignored because he could get to them some other day.

I knew if I died this year, I'd die with regret that I never wrote a novel. Never tried to build that fiction writing career I dreamed of in my younger days. 

Fire

So I took a writing class with my Mom. I wanted to spend time with her after my Dad's passing and thought this would be a good thing to play around with some writing. I saw the class as my Mom's class that I was just passing through but like all creativity, when I wasn't looking, I wasn't expecting it I caught it. The story started to flow out, and then pour out, gushing out, flooding out until I had to stop because I couldn't believe what was coming out. I've never written this much this fast. And I never like my own writing. But this writing, I liked. I enjoyed.

Almost every night I'd sit in my chair and write a few pages. My wife and kids gave me the creative space I needed (and I can't thank them enough). From July 9th to October 13th, I wrote. The first draft wrapping up tonight, October 13th after writing almost all day long.

I needed a spark to get me going. My Dad was that spark. I needed some kindling to catch. The class, my Mom's support was that kindling. I needed wood lobbed on the flame to keep it burning. My wife and kids threw wood, gasoline, and anything else I ever needed building a bonfire that kept me going. I can't thank these people enough for getting me to where I am now.

Now the hard work

I know the hard work starts now. The 2nd draft will be a beast of cutting, chipping, chiseling and adding until I find the story I have to tell. That is the right way to say it. The story I have to tell. This story didn't flood the screen with words just because or as a hobby - it was a compulsion. A story about a girl being picked on, being lonely and feeling abandoned by everyone even her parents. A girl seeking connection and finding it in an unlikely place.

The book doesn't have a title yet but it is heading into hibernation. I'm letting it ripen, sleep, rest whatever your verb so I can come to it fresh eyes and thoughts in a few weeks time. 

In the meantime, I'll be returning to write more here. The City of Duhr will continue along with other stories such as 100 Foot Rope and Unexpected Outcomes. I have a flurry of short stories that were patiently waiting in queue until I finished the 1st draft of the novel. Now they want their time in the light. I look forward to connecting and building more community here at Tales of Elsewhere while my novel prepares for me to return to it.

In the meantime, stay tuned here. I'll be posting more about my novel's progress along with all the other goodies that I've been growing for the past few months. 

Thanks for all the support!

Tonight I'll leave you with a poem I love by Langston Hughes - Harlem. I beg of you, don't let your dreams dry, wither or rot. Make them explode!

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?