I love anecdotes. I don’t know if this comes from meeting so many new people, being a preacher and telling stories to punctuate greater truths… I don’t know. But that is how I tell stories. I tell small stories. It is why I like writing this blog so much. I take out a little moment in time and use words to give it life.
The first draft of “Tree Farm Girl” was simply a series of stories lined up back to back. I was quite proud to have taken these many stories I have loved and put them to paper. Alas, they were a series of adventures with only the faintest connecting tissue. There was no sense of time or movement. Honestly, I managed to write a love story and skip the part where the principals fell in love.
So I have been editing for four weeks now. Every night I sit down at the computer, or lay down by the fire pencil in hand, and just work. It is hard. I think the editing may be harder than the writing. I have axed some of my favorite scenes. I have re-written the first chapter four times. I have restructured the story thrice. There have been moments when I considered just putting it forth as is and just giving up.
I feel like a sculptor. And in this slab of stone before me is the story that wants to be told. And I am chipping away at pieces, revealing strike by strike the beauty that I know is there. As my hand falls, I can see the sculpture in my mind. But I have to be able to bring it out to be seen by others. I don’t want to tell people about it. I want to reveal it. So I am still travailing.
There was a breakthrough. I was chipping away, and the vision was blurry. I could describe the whole but not the pieces. I know there was a head and a torso and legs… but they were fuzzy. Like a photo buffering on slow internet. But one night I was staring and thinking at the problem, and the pieces slid into the place. The image came into focus. I could see it.
I can see it. And it is good.
December 11th, 2017