I am back, safe, unharmed, wiser and partially sated. I have indeed drunk the nectar of creativity, and the lengths to which I went to in order to reach this golden fluid have amazed me. I note with some amusement that the central moderator felt it necessary to post an “Author Missing” note to keep you all informed. The jungles of Peten in Guatemala are indeed a fearsome place and steeped in the magic of the Maya people, as my young hero/victim found out during the course of his creation. Indeed my extended absence from the world of Reality did cause some problems and issues.
My encounter with the magic dust of self-enlightenment prompted me to pen the words:
I may not write words on paper every day but I think and live in stories that will be written every single day.
I wonder now if that revelation I inadvertently described as a dust, is in fact some magical drug, because I can only liken my behavior after my exposure to it, as that of a junkie. I was addicted to my story, I was a word junkie, a plot freak, a character nut, I spent a week living inside the head of my main character, digging through his memories, creating his past, present and future.
From writing my blog entry, The Tortoise and the Hare to the following weekend when I would have the opportunity to put pen to paper, I was obsessed. I will confess to neglecting areas of my other life because my mind was transported into the jungle, caught up in the plot that is to be my masterpiece. I couldn’t concentrate on the TV programs I watched with my husband, I clock watched my mornings work waiting for lunch time when I may grab 20 minutes to vent my thoughts in notes or get back to my new lovers arms, the all-embracing arms of google, and research Mayan culture.
When the weekend came I had created a total history for this young man who is my main character. My readers require little of his background, for they meet William Lee Mason for just one adventure in his life, but for me, to get that adventure right I had to understand William’s psyche. Why would he find himself lured from the relative safety of a gap year in Mexico with his so-called uni friends, into the heart of the Guatemalan jungle with a Mayan girl with whom he enjoys nothing more than a primal sexual relationship.
The weekend had been meticulously planned so that my other life, reality, should not impinge on maximum writing time. Convenience meals were ready in the freezer with readily prepared excuses for my husband, yet even they, were left on the side while the oven heated and I dashed back to the jungle, only to be pulled back rudely an hour and a half later by my husband suggesting the pie might cook in the oven, better than out on the side where it still sat. Once the pie was finally in the oven it emerged 10 minutes over cooked with a burnt, inedible pastry top.
My short story, started without a whiff of a market place and only the barest of plans re length, oh what sweet release that was, I had thrown the rules out of the window and I was writing for me. Inevitably the chrysalis that emerged from my creativity arrived in its finest long-winded glory and by the end of Saturday I realised I had only covered the “beginning” the middle was not started and the end was nowhere in sight!
Sunday took me back to the jungle, aware of the dangers of my extended absence from the other world, Reality, and the need to crack on. I resisted the urge to edit, although I knew my carefully crafted story was full of irrelevant hot air, I forged ahead convinced I could write to the end of the story by sun down. But the joys of the plot were to be tasted in the middle and I lost myself, engrossed in the dark terror I was creating and the web of intrigue and magic that I was unleashing.
My story remained unfinished and the trials and tribulations of another week in reality were upon me.
This past week has been less frenzied, with the bulk of the story disgorged from my sub conscious I have not felt so much like a junkie. Amazingly, I have felt a great sense of satisfaction and knowledge that I have got it right. My novel has re-entered my mind, fresh and clean and with a new motivation and desire to crack on. As I write this entry my story is completed and nestled in the airing cupboard awaiting a severe and brutal word cut. I have researched markets and am decided on a competition.
In conclusion, I need the adrenalin rush of writing that new “best thing”, as I go along the Publishers Pathway, slowly and painstakingly inching my way forward to my achieving my quest. I need to operate outside the rules of the comprehensive writing course.
I need to do it my way.