Rituals

I haven’t written much in the last couple of weeks. I’ve kept up my blog posts, started a story, and collected info for contests and freelancing. Except for jotting down notes about pertinent insights and ideas, I’ve done little on my novel.

The novel may have languished, but my garden is looking pretty good. I’ve weeded and trimmed. I’ve transplanted and watered. I’ve started some seeds. It’s all been about my springtime commune with nature, my annual ritual of digging in the dirt. I’m fairly pleased with myself and I’m sure the neighbors appreciate my tidiness, too.

However, as that ritual winds down, another is in the works. Cleaning. When starting a new project, or, in this case, continuing with an ongoing one, I have to start with a clean slate. So, for the last two days I’ve gone through stacks of notes, lists to myself, newspaper clippings, and assorted tidbits of information I thought I might use one day to see what I could recycle, throw away, or add to a notebook I’ve started that will organize the essential details of my novel. I’ve sorted and sifted and tidied up my indoor space. I take it all as a sign of progress.

While going through a file drawer, I found printouts of earlier versions of my novel. I can’t help it; I like to use real paper. I can write notes in the margins and just see everything better. What I found distressing was the sheer amount of paper I’d accumulated. On a whim, I picked the stack up and stepped onto the bathroom scale. The result: eight pounds of paper. I had no idea. It’s kind of embarrassing. I have to seriously think about using a novel writing program next time. 

But for now, I have clear space on my desk and a list of reasonable goals ahead of me for the next rewrite/revision. The novel will be better and another step closer to DONE.