I'm not writing near as much as I'd like to write. I have no excuses. I'm just not writing. Well, I'm revising, eliminating words, blogging here, there, and everywhere, but I'm not working on anything from Point A to Point Z.
Well, to be technical, I wasn't working on anything from Point A to Point Z.
I am now, but it's more like Point Z to Point A.
Yes, I'm writing backwards. I'm starting at The End and working my way backwards to The Beginning.
This is an experiment in chaos. This is a writing experiment. I know how the story ends. I have no clue how the story will begin.
Yeah, try those shoes on for size. I wrote the very last chapter . . . FIRST!
I began this experiment on Sunday afternoon. I've just had this urge to do something besides revise, edit, and blog here, there, and everywhere. I need to write, to explore the depths of depravity, to uncover the truth, to have my characters hear the police sirens wail in the distance as they look down at the body sprawled on the cobblestone driveway.
This experiment of writing from The End to The Beginning is also an experiment in trying to balance the various phases - writing, editing, revising, blogging (and life) - of the writing process. It's about trying to write something new while still fine tuning the brilliance I've already written. It's about fulfilling a need in me to . . . well . . . write, to create, to delve into the psyche of my imaginary characters, to make a political statement through my writing, and to have fun at the same time.
Life is hard. Writing is hard. Balance is even harder. There's only so much time in the day. I get up early enough as it is to exercise five days per week. I'm not willing to give up any more time in the morning, or truly at night. That's a self-defeating prophecy, btw. So, my life becomes more about divvying up the time I have in the evening, and on the weekends, between editing, revising, blogging, writing something new, bonding with the animals . . . and with Frank . . . and still finding time for me.
Wish me luck!!