It's hot. Not oppressively hot...but uncomfortable enough for we South Californians who are slaves to our usually temperate climate (the Santa Ana winds...blowing dry off the desert...are no friends to us.)
But we soldier on (being the troopers we foolishly imagine ourselves to be.)
My less frequent updating of this site is not at all connected to the weather. It is, instead, completely related to the progress of a novel...an extremely intimate work that waited for years (after several abortive starts) to come to flower now (I wasn't ready...or able...to write it before but, for whatever reason, I am now.) The eventful greater part of a year in a boy's life...it's not autobiographical (except for the parts that are.)
I eschew continuity in the writing this time...capturing scenes and chapters as they come to me and then placing them into the narrative as they fit (some entire scenes may end up not fitting at all and they will be sacrificed for the greater good of the finished work)...a modular novel of sorts.
More than two dozen characters have claimed speaking parts thus far. The prologue and first four chapters are set...the final chapter is almost completely finished...the longest, most emotionally taxing chapter (the heart of the piece) is done...other scenes and chapters are in various states of completion...the epilogue is sketched out in my head...
It's chaos. And it makes perfect sense. And, thus far, it's working (knock on wood.)
I love writing.
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