(Boring writing based post, if you’re looking for a rant or a funny conversation between me and Rick, is ain’t here.)
Some of my all time favorite books are those that track the threads of a large, compelling cast of characters and show them all coming together and the tapestry they can weave as a story.
Strangers by Dean Koontz was the first one I read like that.. I was in the seventh grade (don’t judge) on a school trip and ignoring the mean girl bullshit by sticking my nose in a book. Then the story grabbed me and I wasn’t there anymore.
The Stand by Stephen King was next… I think that was the summer before high school.
Fried Green Tomatoes hit while I was in college, and I fell in love with the homeyness of Whistle Stop as much as Evelyn Couch ever did.
Then came Olivia Goldsmith with First Wives Club, Flavor of the Month, and the Bestseller… the power of women specifically pulling together and defeating their personal demons.
I revisited the South again with Cold Sassy Tree… and laughed and cried.
George RR Martin came in and gave me dragons and despair.
And then, Maeve Binchy sauntered in and showed me all the wonders of Dublin over decades, from St Jarlath’s Crescent to Tara Road to Quentins. I both very much want to go see for myself, and yet want to preserve all those images in my own mind.
Over the years, as I’ve gotten more practice as a writer, this concept has lingered in the back of my mind as the Big One. The thing I’m afraid to try until I’m really truly ready cause I don’t want to mess it up. I’ve got character snapshots in mind- the mute, the savior, the naked guy, the city… and I want to paint it with humor and love.
And yet… I’m starting to get the sense that this tale, set in our world today, isn’t about people finding each other and accomplishing something great. I’m starting to think it’s about all of these folks, plus more than will surely come along in their own good time not finding one another so much as brushing lightly against one another before turning back to the prisons of their own minds. We’re not a people who can work together for any length of time anymore- we splinter, like shards of glass. Some cut inwards and other cut outwards, but few of us ever realize those shards are there and hold those edges carefully to do no harm.
The Big One is not going to be a fun, lighthearted book to write, and I’m pretty sure it’s not happening in 30 days. I honestly don’t know how to maintain the tone that I want, show the city through my lens, and still be true to the world that we live in now.
This one scares me. Not enough not to do it- let’s be real about this. It’s been lurking in my mind ever since I knew I wanted to be a writer, and it’s not going anywhere. And I know how to start eating this elephant- one bite at a time. One chapter at a time for these characters of mine, and I’ll plug through it and they’ll soon be more real than the people I talk to every day.
I just wish it was different.
Curiouser and Curiouser 