Wednesday, September 28, 2011

A Plague of New Ideas

Today at lunch I had two (2) exciting ideas for possible novels. I also have been thinking about the Antarctica novel I have outlined, as well as the abandoned written-on-the-blog-a-paragraph-at-a-time novel I was writing earlier this year, and on top of that there are ideas spinning and congealing that have to do with the possible sequel to the transcendental/philosophical detective novel I've just finished. All of these ideas are a fog descending upon my brain, a curse, a plague.

Why so grim about my overactive muse? Because I know that I'm only thinking so much about all the novels I could be writing as a way to avoid the one novel I should be writing, the novel I've got 11,000+ words of already, the one that stops after the first paragraph of Chapter 3, the one that I carry around with me in my briefcase, swearing that I'll work on it during lunch or on the bus ride home. Yes, I am avoiding that particular novel. Why? Because it's hard work, that's why. It's labor and I know that to actually commit to this book is to commit to a lot of serious thinking and to chain myself to an exhausting project for God knows how long. Maybe I'd be playing avoidance games no matter what novel I was pretending to write? Maybe I'm just enjoying not writing, enjoying the freedom to read as much as I want during my designated writing hours. Well, that can't last. A writer writes, et cetera ad nauseum. And I should be writing. I need to find a joke around which to build the first scene in Chapter 3. Jokes are always helpful when imagining scenes.

As Mighty Reader's nephew would say, "First World problems." I disparage my whining. But I don't--you may well note--delete it.


  1. From the Monster Child.

    A duck walks into a supermarket and asks the clerk for a loaf of bread. The clerk asks, "How are you going to pay for this?" The duck says, "Put it on my bill."

    Okay, you said you wanted a joke. Remember she's only six.

  2. That's a good joke. Mighty Reader's niece had a favorite joke at that age:

    Q: Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?

    A: Because he was dead.