I have a novel in my mind. It’s been there over three years. I think it’s a Phoenix. It frequently will soar high and make wide circles of thought and let the wind carry it far into a space that is filled with characters, who meet ach other, and sometimes fight fiercley, and then they fall to the earth. Dead. Nothing happens. No interest. Piles of personality carcasses…buried beneath the novel…temporarily dead
Then after awhile, it rises from the ashes, and takes flight, slowly spiraling upwards. Oh how I want it to complete its journey, to gather the characters, to finish well. I want it to shed the feathers of the Phoenix and become an eagle, flying into the sun, nesting high, controlling its life.
I need to leave the daily doo-dahs behind, and focus on my novel, extend the journey, fulfill the dreams, see the end. It needs to leave my head, and land on the laptop. My characters are always near, always talking, wondering who they will meet, and how it will affect their lives. And I’m wondering how they will affect mine.