I’m at that point when you’re writing a novel when you’re not even actually writing the novel but still you think you’re gold. You know: The ideas shimmering… Your words poised to come out… Not a single line on the page, but the whole thing seems finished somehow, in your mind.
I bet there are tens of thousands of writers out there having this feeling, what with NaNoWriMo speedily approaching.
This morning before work I got a more solid handle on my idea and started outlining. Then at work I got swallowed and forgot all about the idea, and I only remembered on the subway ride home. And giddiness ensued:
I was so giddy, I had to write it down on the train. To translate:
I found the November novel this morning. ‘[Title blurred due to superstition]’ is the working title. [Initials of the working title blurred due to further (perhaps paranoid?) superstition]… don’t want to talk too much about it in front of people. I don’t want it to get ruined. But it has my idea for ‘[Title of short story, blurred, of course]’ and expands on it (maybe one chapter could become a story?). Also has the idea for the novel, the [name of place] novel, but I am not going in that direction (adding the adult perspective) yet. If you are wondering [who am I talking to here? my future self?] why my handwriting is all goofy it’s because I’m writing this on the subway. While riding backwards. (Plus my fingers are tired from work, my palms aching from being clenched.) [It’s from holding a pencil. Really.] I love going alongside another train. So this novel, YA or not? I am not sure yet. The end will differ, depending. The perspective. The length. I am almost home. I need to keep outlining. I am going to write a new novel! (shaky train)
Oh, and if you were curious, the outside of the notebook looks like this:
How delectable. It wants to be filled with wobbly, giddy scribbles. Maybe that’ll happen next month.