What Do Authors Do For Fun?

Such a ridiculous state of affairs. Although I maintain that I am writing a novel, the fact remains that at the end of the day I have usually accumulated not one satisfactory page of manuscript. And this for some unguessable reason is, for me, intolerable.

Yesterday my daughter posted on Facebook a maxim that made sense to me. It was:

"Healthy habits are learned in the same way as unhealthy ones -- through practice."
--Dr. Wayne Dyer

When I read that my first thought was: Now that makes sense to me.

And I mused upon that sensible idea for a time.

By the end of the day I had concluded that my next step should be to set aside a portion of time each (and every) day wherein I allow myself to do nothing but write... and that means write my book.

It does not mean that I should THINK about writing -- not READ about already established writers and how they go about practicing their particular personal craft (or their art) of writing -- NOT scribble notes for my blog -- not check and re-check my email -- not absently MUSE upon my novel's theme or its originality or its publishability -- but that I should WORK at it by planting my seat on the chair and pounding the keyboard's keys until my absolutely-allotted time for this and EVERY day's WORK has expired.

Noble sentiment, is it not?

Now . . . to DO it.

. . .

Here is another piece of wisdom:

If we believe something about the world, we are more likely to passively accept as truth any information that confirms our beliefs, and actively dismiss information that does not.

. . .

Do I truly believe that I am a writer?

Do I really want to write a novel?

I'll have to ask Eva those questions and then pay attention to the answers.

Or . . . I could just sit myself down and write the novel.

Yes . . .

Ask And Ye Shall Receive

In the closing lines of yesterday's entry I declared my intention to attempt to honestly describe some of the instances wherein I believe something other than my ordinary, everyday self intervened to steer the course of my life in a different and better direction.

By that I mean, of course, stressful times in which some 'higher power' stepped-in (at my impassioned behest) and assumed an over-riding control of my actions.

But I found that doing so in a factual-memoir form is too terribly frightening and is much more difficult to report with stark honesty than I had anticipated.

So, I then decided to take a friend's earlier advice and present those essential truths in fictional form, announcing that the story is merely based on actual events.

Here is what came of that . . .

Brief Story Plan

TENTATIVE TITLE: To Be Or Not To Be?

(Main-Character-Name) at the age of nearly 40 finds himself isolated from family, friendless, dejected, depressed, alone, and apparently approaching an attempted suicide. (Show, don't tell)

(Name) prepares (how? be specific) for his evening-shift (where?) of mind-numbing and physically exhausting, unskilled labor. (Which is?)

(Name) suffers emotionally, (retreats into solitude) despair deepens, premature escape from life looks better and better, seems the 'only' solution.

Finally at the absolute nadir, (Name) calls out to the universe, imploring someone, anyone, any thing for help.

And is answered by a strong presence
from somewhere deep within himself.

"DON'T BE AFRAID."

"I WILL HANDLE THIS."

"I WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU."

"I AM HERE FOR YOU, ALWAYS."

(Name) stands up straighter, walks more briskly onward past all the formerly threatening landmarks until he reaches the work-place and perseveres throughout the long work-period in the sure knowledge that someone, some...Thing, some Fierce and Powerful being that is both a part of himself and yet somehow separate from his 'self' is protectively hovering over him, watching out for him with mighty muscles and nearly-invincible weapons -- keeping at bay the ever-present hordes of snarling attackers that inhabit the menacing world -- and is holding the entire legion of horrendous enemies at bay.

And that is the initial idea for a fictional
story of true Belief and Faith the size
of a single mustard seed molecule.

To be continued . . .