The late playwright Sam Shepherd once wrote that the go/no go point in some new project came after writing fifteen pages. I remember reading that back in the 1980s and thinking that fifteen pages was a hell of a lot of writing before making up your mind. His quote is one of those things that finds traction in your brain pan, though for no particular reason. I mention all this because I'm fifteen pages into the new historical fiction piece and I'm having a blast. Turns out I can write fiction. Let's do fifteen more.
Like the stray dog that you don't dare name because you might just fall in love with it, there's no title to this book. The characters are still telling me who they are, so to speak, coming up with habits and attitudes that define them. I have only a vague idea of a plot. I have no plans to show any of this to my agent or editor for a few months, preferring to let this project get pretty over the course of cross country season (97 days to the State Meet).
What I did not see coming in all this is the freedom. I'm writing a book in my own voice, of my own choosing, in a new genre, and on my own timetable. Last week I thought it would be scary. This week it feels liberating.
It's filtered over into the rest of my day, giving my workouts and coaching a greater sense of purpose. Amazing what the simple act of exercising your creativity can accomplish. There's absolutely no certainty in any of this and yet I've been about as carefree as I can be. Wild.
To top it all off, the first race of cross country season is this Saturday. Christmas in August.
I hope you find your own fifteen pages. No telling how it might change your outlook on life.