After a much needed break, today I started what will be the last section of my serialized WIP, The Hawk. Not sure how long this part will end up, probably more than the 60-70K of previous entries. And as I began this morning’s work, I had to wonder, was I even going to manage a full chapter? Initiating another hunk of this project is never easy, but today felt especially laborious. After the first scene, I sat back, staring around where I write, and sew. I took two rows off the quilt wall, pinned them, then sat back down again. Then I got up, made some tea, returned to my chair, read over what I’d written, drank my tea, considered sewing those pinned rows, then gritted my teeth ever so slightly and banged out a paragraph.
Then I saved my work, closed the document, and had a snack. Recently I’ve been battling acid reflux, but if I eat every couple of hours, I feel okay. And while it was almost lunchtime, that paragraph had the essence of another strong scene, or at least one that would culminate in enough words to say I’d written an entire chapter today.
Sometimes writing is merely an act of patience; if you’re willing to wait out the blockages, sure enough something ends up on the page.
By the time I’d finished that scene, I needed more than a few nibbles. I also required a little downtime, for it has been a while since I last worked on this tale, and honestly, the thought of this being the last time I open the document in order to start up yet another part is…. Jeez, it’s more than a little terrifying, perhaps that’s why the words were so stubborn. There’s a lot of ground to cover in the conclusion, and while I don’t want to miss anything, this novel is already so big, I don’t wish to overstay my welcome, if you know what I mean. It’s not only readers I’m considering, but yours truly. Three years I’ve been plugging away at this behemoth, and I am *SO READY* to be done with it. But not in a hurry-up-and-fly sort of manner, pun intended. The proper pacing is essential, and after all this time, I want to get it right.
Ha ha ha! Maybe that’s as absurd as what this novel has become, but I can only do what I know is true. The quote above has been a guiding force since nearly the start of this book, that index card living on my desk amid post-it notes, Carmex, dental floss, seam rippers, and pin cushions. I don’t know if I’ll frame it when I’m done, but it needed to be showcased, not only for its depth. That I haven’t lost it over time is amazing, just as I’ve kept the flame lit underneath this story.
But a different theme now reigns within The Hawk, that of keeping the faith. Maybe it’s due to me trusting that eventually I was going to reach this stage, lol. Mostly it’s that this novel isn’t merely about life after conflict, hawks, or familial drama. It’s about trust, love, and brotherhood. As I glance at GK Chesterton’s words, I’m reminded of various moments within The Hawk’s creation scattered amid my father’s final months, the arrival of two grandchildren, as well as other milestones too numerous to mention. This book isn’t only three years in the making, but lifetimes in its humble creation. And it’s not over yet.
However, for the last time I’ve started a new section, one item to check off. And I’m willing to wager that not every writing day will be as rough as this one was, although they’re not going to be simple. But the thrill is that they will be; I shall finish this book. And when I do, hehehe, one helluva party is happening at my house! In the meantime, there’s words to write, plots to twist, characters to torture, I mean, explore. And a message to unveil, the likes of which I’m waiting to learn. Tomorrow I’ll peel away another layer to find what treasure awaits.