What are you doing tomorrow night?

Thursday, December 6th, 2007

You’re going to this art show, that’s what! (I’ve got comics in it.)

Please check it out, there will be bands and comics and probably beer and bratwurst too! I really wish I could make it, but I have a work function that evening. Be my proxy?

It’s strange. When National Novel Writing Month was going on there was talk of a door that exists inside your mind—the door to your imagination. It was suggested that the practice of daily writing would lead you to that door, open that door, and beckon you to cross through that door. Once inside the realm of your imagination, one proposed, there were really no limits. I feel like I may have opened that door when I was writing the second half of my book, but really just kind of dipped a toe into it. Maybe I took a cautious first step. Now that I’m finished with the month-long novel writing challenge, though, I feel like that foot is getting sucked further in. I introduced some characters, some situations, and my imagination is pulling at me, wanting me to explore further. Maybe this whole novel-writing challenge really was just an incredibly time-consuming warm up exercise. But I think I might be warmed up. I think I’m ready to go.

 

I’ve been having dreams about Northern California lately. About Humboldt County, to be specific. I may as well tell you that the second half of my book takes place in Humboldt County, which was an absolute blast to revisit (via the imagination door, not an actual trip.) I think that my next trip after Hawaii needs to be there—to Fortuna, Scotia, Ferndale, Arcata, Trinidad, and Eureka. A couple weekends ago we watched The Majestic, which was filmed in Ferndale, which is the town where we attended church on Sundays and where a couple of my friends lived. I had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from shouting, “I remember that street!” or “I used to go to that beach!” every time something familiar came on screen. I have such a fondness for that part of the country.

 

The first half of my book takes place in Milwaukee, or somewhere unnamed just North of Milwaukee. I know that “write what you know” has long since been removed from the official tome of advice for writers, but I still enjoy some old-fashioned advice. Probably, though, I shouldn’t be sharing any details about any of this, being at such an early stage. By the time this story is readable it may have shifted to Brussels and Miami or Sheboygan or somewhere, and then you will all be saying, “But we were looking forward to Milwaukee!” And I would hate to disappoint.