The Great Wendy McClure (Author of I’m Not the New ME, The Wilder Life and the Amazing Mackeral Pudding Plan) made the thought provoking observation that the rapturous descriptions of food in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Farmer Boy is the author’s way of rewriting the history of the winter she and her family almost starved to death.
My thoughts are provoked because it is November 1, the beginning of NaNoWriMo (as if I need another acronym crowding it’s way into the alphabet soup in my subconscious).
I am hoping to at least get a good start on a new story. I am going to tighten up the draft of Circumstance and get it in the mail to my new Beta Reader, CWH, by Monday. I did manage to find the time to put the whole draft into one file so I can edit it in order. I am two weeks away from the end of the next six weeks and then I will be working on the Christmas play with the kids and I’m finally getting the endurance that allows me to have a few extra moments of brain power at the end of the day.
I want to write something new and not poke at the semi-conscious body of a work in progress.
I’m kind of stuck for a new idea, so I ‘m going to just ramble for the first few days of Nanowrimo.
I’m wondering if I should dance down the what if path. Even thinking about writing the trite makes we wince. So that’s not really a choice. Maybe the genius will find me.