For Saturday, December 26, 2015:
“The story I am writing exists, written in absolutely perfect fashion, some place, in the air. All I must do is find it, and copy it.”
Jules Renard, ‘Diary,’ February 1895
In the full moon-drenched hours between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I was wide awake. The characters in my second novel, still in draft formation, were awake, too, and talking up a storm. They’re already ready, it seems, to go forward and were giving me idea after idea almost too fast for me to catch them and take dictation.
It was exciting, to be sure, and I finally turned off the light with an inner smile. This has never happened to me before — seeing an almost-complete novel in my mind before the work-in-progress ahead of it is finished — so the trick is going to be to translate all those ideas, crafting dialogue and developments, into a story the characters will approve of.
Part of me wishes there were a way to print out what I saw in my mind yesterday morning so I could just copy it down and add an ending. Then again, that wouldn’t be as fun and there wouldn’t be any surprises. I do like surprises, so I guess I’ll just proceed the old fashioned way: word by word by word.