Writing a novel, for me, isn't a process of starting at the beginning and continuing until the end. I start out with an idea, like a few words scribbled on a sheet of paper. This takes weeks. I think about it while, and the words become something like a drawing, with stick-figures in pencil. Somewhile later, after a little research, I begin the outline, and by then, my new world shifts again, over the course of a month or so, becoming like a charcoal sketch. With more research, and more outline, it stretches and fills. Color is added. By the time the outline is done, my new world is a pastel or a impressionist painting, with the subject and the background easily recognized. The actual first draft changes everything. Impression becomes photorealistic. The landscape stretches around me, becoming a wrap-around panorama. I can see the sky overhead and the dirt below. I can smell the flowers and feel the hot sunlight. And the characters, who were just stick-figures before, are people with fears and hurts, with love and hope. They stay with me, years after the story is done.
These past few weeks, I've been outlining, and as the story progresses, I've been traveling from New Mexico, through Colorado and Wyoming with my characters. I know that land. I've been there quite a few times. Just today, they are traveling down Interstate 15, through Utah. We just went through the canyon where I-15 cuts across the north-western corner of Arizona. The lights of Las Vegas, Nevada are up ahead, not more than a few outline bullets to go.
Change of Schedule - Henry’s Stories has been on-line and regularly updated for almost two years now, with a mix of new and old stories -- some short and others novel length. ...
4 years ago