Out of the preparations and into the waiting . . . that’s how things go in my world. Out in my fictional world, kids are flying around watching the walls, others are on the ground, waiting for a moment they hope doesn’t come when they are required to rush out into battle and vanquish the foes who have come once again to ravage their school.
Then there are those back at the Great Hall, sitting and waiting for something they hope never comes, or readying their forces to fix those who are in need of fixing.
Last night it felt like I was off in a dozen different directions, helping someone here, helping someone there, all the while sort of wallowing in my own concerns about what I need to do with my story and my life. Writing is a bit like triage in that you look at what you’ve got before you that needs writing, and take that which will do the most good. When I heard people say, “I have all these ideas coming at me constantly, how do I deal with them?” it’s been discussed before, Bunkie, that you need to learn to concentrate on the work at hand and write down your initial ideas somewhere else, but the simplest thing to say now it, triage: you do triage on your head. Write down the idea you want and move on. Or get meds so you can stop getting distracted by the voices in your head. But that’s another story.
Last night I started Chapter Twenty-One. As I may have pointed out it was a bit slow going because I was also helping out others online–including a friend who was looking up an arrest record, and I helped them find what they sought. Hey, just like The Foundation, I know how to make my way around The Pond ’cause my Google-fu is not pig dung. I have my stations set up, I have my portals in place–no, a woman named Chell didn’t help set those up, but you will hear that name mentioned at some point–and now people are resting . . .
About those people. I needed names. Most I already had, because I’m crazy mad when it comes to getting things set up, but there were two people I needed to add. And once added, I needed to look up where they lived and decide what coven they called home. Once more I jump to the Scrivener Name Generator, and since I know just about where I want my two characters to live, I generate names somewhat based on those locals and throw it all into the notes. About fifteen minutes later I’m ready to rock.
I think this is one of the first times I’ve put “Nurse” Coraline down as the School Doctor. Which she is, really, but she got so used to people calling her nurse when she was interning as a healer while a student she just hung onto the handle. Not to mention that her return to school came not long after she’d graduated . . .
The Waiting is the Hardest Parts, and it’s also time for talking.
I’ll see about getting to that tonight.