Writing

I wrote what I hope will become a book. I placed words on the page to make sense of experiences, create order to them, define the lessons I’d learned from them and recognize the wisdom living inside them. I wanted to open a black box that had kept me stuck, the kind without a latch or a lock and no obvious way to lift the lid.

A quarter of a million words flew onto the page and still, I hadn’t revealed any lessons or discovered the wisdom in my story. And, the black box remained sealed.

I edited my words and submitted them to publishers, prematurely I suspected but what did I know? Were they worth anything to anyone but me? Would editors help me stack even better words into a story that made sense to others? These knowledgeable people sounded excited, their feedback helpful yet daunting: “Open the black box. Change the structure. Make it move quicker. Pare it down. There are too many words.”

Which words do I keep and what is structure? I imagined my words trailing in spirals taking readers nowhere. Other writers gave me insights about plot, themes, structure and making words leap off the page.

A short while ago, I began again, from a new perspective. I know the story I’ll tell and where I’ll be when I tell it. I strive to make characters dance on the page. Themes and sub-themes are still a tangled web in my brain but the fog is lifting. I’ve opened the black box a smidgen. Will I be able to throw the lid back and delve inside? We’ll see.

I’ll let you know in a couple of months.