First, I have to congratulate my beloved San Francisco Giants, who are once again in the NLCS. It was another nail-biter, but the guys managed to beat the Washington Nationals three games to one in the five-game series. No baseball for a couple of days, while the Giants and Cardinals, Orioles and Royals sort out their championship league series line-ups, but that gives the husband and me a breather; after the last two days, we need a small break from sport.
So, in the meantime… Goodness, what haven’t I been up to? Errands, crocheting, plotting, planning, sewing, reading… Reading, um, yeah. I had harbored *very very VERY good intentions* about getting back to writing. Writing The Hawk, of course (what else is there these days?), but as life or fate or Bruce Bochy would have it, I started re-reading that novel-in-progress, and currently I’m up to page twenty-two. Out of… Oh, I truly don’t want to consider that number (in the four hundreds); it’s more than enough to start at the beginning, which now has been nearly a year from when I did initiate this rather long tale.
I considered that fact, about two chapters in; a year ago, give or take a few days, and an entire baseball season, I woke to a rather intriguing dream, mulled over the idea for barely a week, then started typing what I *assumed* would be a short story.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahah! I can hear you laughing from, well, not this nation’s capital. With the Nats out, and the drubbing the Redskins took on Monday, not much pleasure in D.C. for sports fan about now. And while I *would* rather be writing, I accept that for this moment (and the next several) reading must commence. Not all that sure why, because it’s only been five weeks or so since I last worked on this book, not like the six months that had flown in the previous break. But I know better than to question the muse. It would be like asking why Bochy let Hunter Strickland pitch to Bryce Harper, after what had happened a few days back in Washington D.C….
Yeah. But, oddly enough, Strickland overcame those debacles, ended up as the winning pitcher last night, go figure? Equally I have to let go and let God, when it comes to The Hawk, and anything else in my life. I *could* get my knickers in a twist, wringing my hands agonizing whether or not I’ll ever complete this behemoth. Sure, I mean, better to fret over that than say Matt Carpenter of the Cardinals, who as lead-off man for St Louis made the Dodgers’ brief (hehehe) tenure in this year’s post-season quite a headache for LA. (Hahahahahaha, um, okay, enough Dodger-bashing…) Our lead-off man, Gregor Blanco, is fantastic in center field, yes he surely is. As the first man up for the offense, well…. He gets a walk now and again, yup. And um…. Well, there’s nothing I can do about who the Giants put in the lead-off spot, just like my hands are tied when it comes to writing more than a blog entry or a grocery list.
When it comes to The Hawk, it’s all about reading.
In the noveling process, sometimes the process trumps the creative spark. Revision isn’t the wildly imaginative fervor that writing it, but it is necessary, just like taking a walk instead of slamming one into McCovey Cove. Yet these read-through excursions aren’t simply one more time that I fiddle with prose or excise poor grammar. With a novel of this size, a writer needs to have a definite grasp on plot and character and to merely get back in touch with the basis from where all this sprang. Every time I started another Alvin’s Farm story, I re-read the previous manuscript, otherwise I’d be fumbling about, unsure of my way. The Hawk is longer, so it takes more time to become reacquainted, but the subtleties set down in early and middle chapters should remain throughout the novel. Not harped upon, of course, but taken into account, like remembering how a relief pitcher gave up a big homer then perhaps not letting that same pitcher meet up again with that batter later in the series.
However, the Giants prevailed, Strickland and Harper aside, for a baseball team isn’t one or two players; it’s a fielded team of nine, a playoff squad of twenty-five. And, thank goodness, the NLCS isn’t a five-game series, but seven outings, or at least four. I wouldn’t mind if the Giants swept the Cardinals, however I’m sure the broadcasting network and most other baseball fans, especially those in St. Louis, would appreciate a more evenly balanced showdown. While I’d love to dive head-first into writing more of my WIP, I have to face the baseball-like process that emerges much like the Giants’ winning run, when a wild pitch skips past the catcher, allowing a rookie to sprint to home plate. You just never know how the game is going to end.
Or, hehehe, when; it seems like the Giants and Nats did play five games, although SF took the series 3-1. Game 2 was much like my novel, but after six long hours, Brandon Belt managed to break the tie, our pitching staff holding Washington in check, and there you go. Not sure which equivalent inning I’m currently wading through in The Hawk, but like a baseball game, the end will occur.
I just have to be patient, and wait for the zone. Once I find the zone, ahhh… No telling how far I’ll hit that baby outta the park!