We follow, as humans, the odd convention of celebrating tens of things—birthdays, anniversaries, other milestones—as if the decade mark in itself had mojo.
In this small observation of tens I am no different from anybody else. I celebrated my 600th Sky Diaries post. Soon I’ll celebrate my 700th. And this weekend, I celebrated my 100th page of notes for the new book.
One hundred pages is an accomplishment of sorts, I guess, although it is rather an artificial one. One hundred pages is scant reason for rejoicing. Characters and plot are still trapped in the lines. Nuance and deeper meaning are mere shadows. If I might find any reason for joy, it is the increasingly rapid rate at which the ideas are stepping up; from thirty-ish pages to more than 100 in just over a week.
At two hundred pages, I will have more to cheer about. At two notebooks full, I will be ready not to note-take but to write.
And yet, the process itself has a strange alchemy. The notebook begins to take on magic as its pages fill. The thing begins to glow as I pluck the energies out of the air. The characters’ quirks come to live there. Chapter titles. Scenes. Relationships. Meaning. Depth. The notebook becomes the diary of a created reality.
The more heavily laden the mini-book becomes, the more superstitious I become about it. I guard it, I carry the little volume everywhere; it is never out of my sight. If anything were to happen to it, the novel would be finished; there is no way I could ever recapture the subtleties caught in the net of pages. Should there be a fire, I would rescue cats, laptop and notebook.
When the notebooks’ pregnancy has come to term, when they are so heavy with thoughts that it can no longer carry them, they will deliver themselves of their burden. I will midwife the thoughts into sentences, paragraphs and chapters. I know that I can’t attempt that ultimate delivering until the notebooks tell me to.
For now, I must simply cherish the process. There is no rushing it. No reasoning with it. I am the servant of process and steward of a mysterious world. I carry the notebook. I do its bidding. Because it is, to borrow the title of one of John Adams’ musical pieces, the body through which the dream flows.
11 comments
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July 16, 2012 at 8:17 am
HeWritesOnePageADay
i think the allure with 10s is that 1-9 culminate at that number. the numbers 1-9 are the only single digits we know of (as whole numbers at least). when we reach 10, we’ve reached a benchmark where 1 begins again. most humans have a need to feel accomplished, this culminating in a repeating pattern where the same first nine numbers count out again until the next set begins. inside our minds, we think “ok, we’ve made it through the first nine, completely different numbers. since i’ve gone back to the beginning, i can feel validated in making a complete trip”. it’s a bit hard to explain, and i completely agree with you. this fascination we have with reaching goals of 100 pages, or 20 followers is quite odd. we should treat each post, each like and each blog follow as a milestone, a step in the right direction to getting where you want to be. we’re all bit strange in this regard, but luckily this is what makes human nature interesting. good read. 🙂
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July 16, 2012 at 1:30 pm
lynnbiederstadt
HeWrites…That reply was a lovely surprise! I’d never considered it that way. And you’re right–each word, sentence, chapter, blogpost, reader is a milestone. Now if I can only shake the despair that comes when those numbers move backwards…
-lb
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July 16, 2012 at 3:27 pm
HeWritesOnePageADay
Hah! Yes, that would seem counter productive. 😉
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July 16, 2012 at 8:26 am
Alexander M Zoltai
Pregnant notebooks—Love it !!
I’ve reached 249 pages of notes for my short story collection and the notebook has clearly said stop…
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July 16, 2012 at 1:31 pm
lynnbiederstadt
AZ…Are you excited? Stimulated? Shot out of the mental cannon? How does reaching that point make you feel?
-lb
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July 16, 2012 at 3:01 pm
Alexander M Zoltai
“Excited” isn’t quite the right word—“roused” might be better…
The short story collection will be much more work than the novel was…
Perhaps…
“Bestirred”…
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July 16, 2012 at 10:15 am
writerdood
Are we talking hand-written notes, or are you printing these and putting them in a notebook? I tried hand-writing some notes not long ago. My hand got sore after about a minute. I suddenly realized I’ve gotten lax in my handwriting! I used to be a decent artist with a pencil once too. It’s been too long. My keyboard is destroying me!
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July 16, 2012 at 1:34 pm
lynnbiederstadt
DOOOOOOOOOD! Yes, they’re handwritten notes. I tried typing them straight into my note file, and the process wasn’t nearly as satisfying. Less sensual. And (for me, perhaps because I’m dyslexic) maybe even a bit harder to read. So get those little finger weights workin’ and take up that henscratch!
-lb
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July 16, 2012 at 11:41 am
C.B. Wentworth
Tag! You’re it! See the details here:
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July 16, 2012 at 1:35 pm
lynnbiederstadt
CBW, thank you. Can’t wait to get to it!
-lb
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July 16, 2012 at 4:29 pm
mywithershins
Glad to read that ‘the body through which the dreams flow’ is beginning to fill out! 🙂
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