Listening to: "Madness" by Muse
Weather: Brisk breeze, a chill in the air, time to get out the fluffy sheets!
Now that I've received my report back from Cornerstones Literary Consultancy going on two weeks ago, it was everything I can do to take their advice and not touch the manuscript for (on average) a month. Ashbourne Hauntings, in all its hobbled crippledness, wanted my hand, and was seeking my help. It needed guidance, a little TLC (well, okay, maybe alot), and maybe those braces that Forrest Gump had on his legs as a child. It wanted to run, Forrest, run!
But not yet.
The first few days were pure torture. I was brimming with insight, in the form of a 24-page report that took my breath away. It uncovered things in the story that I hadn't even realized were there - the good, the bad, and the ugly. It showed me the problems that disrupted what flow was there - it offered possible solutions to those problems. I wanted to roll up my sleeves and dig in! But I couldn't! They advised, no, do not do it. Don't scratch that itch.
It's best to let it settle and stew, and then bring out the right voice (my voice) later, when I'm ready to sit down and breathe some life into it.
And so I wanted to say: I have learned an immense amount of patience. I have learned to chew on it while I'm in the shower, when I'm washing the dishes, and, perhaps most importantly (for me, anyway), when I'm on my walk to work and back.
My workday begins and ends with a mile-and-a-half walk with the musical stylings of my Ipod Nano, and I truly believe that the sidewalk is paved with ideas. I am Michael Jackson, dancing to "Billie Jean," walking down the tiled road, each square lighting up on contact. The ground illuminates with the answers to questions I couldn't grasp for almost ten years of my life - ways to tie it all together, and bring it all home.
Billie Jean: not my lover
(I couldn't actually sit down and write it all out right now anyway; I don't have enough time. Fortunately, my wedding in less than 3 weeks' time distracts me if/when I need it. There's floral tape to buy, hairspray to test, seating charts to make, imaginings to imagine.)
I owe a lot to my editor at Cornerstones who showed me the way - and now I happily enjoy the story as it unrolls in my mind, and threatens to stop me in the street with its depth and clarity. And in about 4 weeks I will be ready to gently invite my muse back in, beckon her to sit in the corner, cross her legs as she elegantly does, and pretend not to notice me in the throes of the untangled, unravelled beauty that will be Ashbourne Hauntings.
At the end of this road, I will find someone who believes in a dream.
Meanwhile, I find I am having to keep my hands busier than usual. I find sometimes I'm like a smoker without a cigarette. So it's time for me to rake some leaves. And mow the grass. And do at least 18 loads of laundry.
Have a delightful Saturday, all.