What I Have To Show For It

Remember when I started a blog?

I know, it's been a while. In fact, it's been a while since I wrote as regularly as I determined to when I set off into the "blogosphere" (who came up with that word? that word is ridiculous). In terms of "sorry", I do not regret the other things I have done in lieu of upkeep my poor little page. But I do apologize if you were waiting for something and it never came.

Here it is!

I've been very busy with my real writing project. It has swollen to enormous proportions since I grafted the original draft to the current draft. In fact, it's almost long enough to be classified as a novel. But there is still so much work to be done on it that I'm slightly staggered. So tonight I'm here, treading water, writing without actually drafting. That is how I tend to handle things by which I feel overwhelmed: do something- anything- else until you can't live with yourself unless you tackle your project. I read it a couple of passages out loud to some family and family friends while I was on vacation a few weeks ago, and it seemed to go over well. Maybe I'll take a page from  copy what my novelist friend Leri Lake did at the beginning of the year on her blog, and take a page from (nope, couldn't resist after all) my own manuscript to show you. Might be good luck.

I think I have a new working title. Well, subtitle really, and that leaves us with a novel in progress tentatively titled: The Book of John: The Battle Hymn.

I can't stop thinking about it. I'm trying to see the end before I think about the aftermath. It's so important for me to do this one thing that all other things are on hold until I get it finished. My routine is so precarious- every day feels like all-or-nothing. Either I hit all the marks I wanted to: exercise, dinner, writing, time with Bryson, or I totally surrender and watch Netflix on my iPad all evening. But everywhere I turn I'm reminded of what I should be doing. Like now, with Spotify on while I scrape for anything else to muse about with you, all I want to hear is my soundtrack playlists.

Aren't you glad you tuned in for this?

I am. It means a lot that you're here. It means a lot that you are still listening, still waiting. I'm grateful.

In fact... here. Here's a scene that might possibly (anything could go on the chopping block come the third revision, but I like how this goes for now) be found near the beginning of the book. Lucy, my protagonist, is on her way to join her friends, including her boyfriend Earl, at band practice when a stranger stops her to ask a few questions and then says something that really gets her attention:

[H]is eyes met mine again. “You’re a special sort, I can tell, my dear. Be aware of what truly defines you, in this cacophonous world. Other people will try to substitute their image for yours. Don’t let them.”

At this point my latent weird-ometer began to read positive, so I smiled and told him well, thank you for that thought, you have a nice day now. He gave me a smile. It was like a baby’s smile, absolutely pure and fond and full of goodwill. He gave a short bow, thanked me for my time, and we mutually turned from each other.
Then, I thought I heard him say “Good luck, Lucy.”

“I’m sorry-?” I began as I turned once more.

But he was gone. I mean, gone. My stomach dropped a little and my skin prickled. I must have imagined… what? That a stranger had said my name? That a stranger had been talking to me a moment ago, and then vanished?

My cell phone vibrated. I pulled it from my back pocket. It was Earl. I picked up.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied accordingly. “Are you on your way?”

“Yeah,” I said, still a little dazed. “Just stopped for a minute to get a snack. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Okay. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You sound a little… I dunno, not alright?”

With the phone to my ear, I shook my head and blinked several times, hard. “I’m fine. I just- something weird just happened. I think. I’m not actually sure. If it’s still bothering me by the time practice gets over, we can talk about it.”

...By the time I got to the Jukebox, I had forgotten most of the details of the incident. I knew there was a man but I couldn’t say what he looked like. I knew he'd asked how to get to the church, and that I told him. And that was all I remembered about it for a long, long time.

There, what do you think? 
No? Not enough? Okay, you glutton. I'll throw ya one more bone. 

Dad asked me to find him three songs that would take you to heaven or raise hell played in tip-top stereo sound in the great big musical box that used to be the truck I drove to school. Here ya go (warning, they will sound considerably less epic on your computer speakers):

Old School:
1) "Second Home By the Sea" by Genesis
2) "2112 Overture/The Temples of Syrinx" by Rush
3) "When the Levee Breaks" by Led Zeppelin 
OR 3) "'Heroes'" by David Bowie (duh)

New School (AKA The Ones Dad Might Not Like, But I'd Love To Hear Them Properly):
1) "Get Lucky" by Daft Punk (yes, really)
2) "'Til The End" by Yann Tiersen
3) "Aya" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club


  1. Yay! Looking forward to reading the scene (or whatever might replace it should it be cut) in context.

    And always--ALWAYS--"When the Levee Breaks". Mmmm.

  2. First-great song choices, didn't know the second set; my mind is notably expanded...
    Second-Way cool and from the nibble you posted it looks like a promising work.
    Let me know if I can do anything to help. The first few drafts... well, mine weren't even drafts really, just a bunch of ideas pasted together; ...are tumultuous to say the least. Anywho, after you get a workable time line, it gets easier. Good luck!