Autumn has finally arrived here in Chicagoland and the change in seasons finds your narrator slogging away on what is either the fourth or fifth draft of the novel he's been attempting to write, on and off, for the past 11 years.
It's all about The Voice, and in the decade-plus that I've been wrestling with this thing, The Voice has always come out muted, doped, strangled and/or unbearably pretentious and solemn. After about 40 minutes of unadulterated whining and puling while on the phone to my agent last week (whose role in the exchange was more horrified onlooker than participant), I ended my petulant soliloquy with the announcement that I was walking away, forever shutting the door on the Novel That Couldn't Be Written. Hadn't I suffered enough? Wasn't it obvious by now that I was only beating my head against the wall? How much more is a man expected to endure before waving the white flag and moving on? Etc. Then, of course, 24 hours passed and I removed the cilice and began working on a new draft.
The problem is that I've never received actual instruction on the art of writing, so the only thing I have going for me is The Voice. If I have The Voice, everything else is just a matter of filling in the blanks. It's like piecing together a complicated jigsaw puzzle; it may seem impossible at times, but you know that a little elbow grease and a lot of patience will guarantee success. Trying to write without The Voice is like trying to ride a bicycle without legs; I suppose theoretically it can be done, but it's not likely to be very pleasant to look at.
As it stands, The Voice has finally made itself known, and writing has been a breeze these past few days. Words flow effortlessly from the keyboard with a speed that almost makes it tough to find the time to chuckle at my own prose and pat myself on the back for doing such a fine job. Of course, it's a bit of a mess at the moment, but that's what re-writing - and editors - are for.
More updates once I've convinced myself that the current draft sucks and I've pulled out a few more fistfuls of my own hair...