Thursday, July 21, 2011
It wasn't until today, then, that I printed the 50 pages I have written and sat down with them in a fan-assisted room (oh, this weather). I was surprised by what I had. I was intrigued by what was missing. And I knew, sure as I know anything about tensions and rhythms and novelistic pacing, that a big event was needed, round about page 24.
"What are you working on?" my son asked, about two hours in.
"Listen to this?" I asked him. He sat near the fan and I read.
"Very interesting," he said, when I was done. The arch in his eyebrow was lifted higher. "Going to be a good one."