An End and a Beginning

Getting to the end of a manuscript I’ve lived with in various ways for years meant a time of small small steps. I’ve been obsessing over words and the sounds of syllables, tidying line breaks, taking an ant’s eye view on the look of the way letters stood side by side. Titles were changed. Lines clarified and mystified and clarified in new ways. My nose was kept close to the paper. The heat helped keep the house hushed so I could hear if words rubbed each other the wrong way as I read them aloud. 

Then I got to hit send. Let the wild rumpus begin.

And waiting, of course. To steer clear of over-obsessing, I’m thinking of ways to celebrate. Perhaps a bit more swimming, or going to lakes farther afield. Enjoying some of the books stacked around. And plunging into the new, which isn’t entirely new but working with memories of old research to stir up a ne plot and voice. After staring down commas, I’m glad to be reckless with punctuation. After forcing things into lines, I’m happy to let sentences and phrases fall where they will. I love this messy part of creation, putting down words without regard for the housekeeping that will have to come later. And I like to stare away from the pages and ponder. Especially in this season of day lilies. Which I'd show you, if the funkier-than-usual-this-week LJ would let me. So imagine, please, a sea of orange and green.