I’m not even sure how to spell that, but hey.
Just arrived back on the West Coast in my little hometown of Napa, California, and sat down to try and write some more of Wanderer before I went to bed. You know, a little night writing.
It’s a little bizarre. I haven’t been home in a very long time, and between the time that I left for college and I came back I have finished two other books, completely unrelated to the Traveller/Wanderer saga. It’s weird to go back to not only the place I used to live but also the books I wrote while I was here. I have changed a lot since then, and I’m interested to see how this affects not only how I’m writing but also what I’m writing. Even while I was writing Traveller it changed so drastically that, when I looked back on the original draft after having finished it, I could barely recognise it. I guess I’m kind of the same way: looking back on who I was at the beginning of this school year, even, it’s been a big change. A whole coast of changes, in fact.
On a note more related to this book, I’m on page 43 and draft number 6 already. Crap. I seem to be having difficulties (a) focusing and (b) getting motivated. This book is hard. It’s hard going back to characters I haven’t written in while. It’s like seeing old friends that you used to go rob banks with after twenty years in prison. You just sort of sit there and they sort of glare resentfully at you the author because you were the only one that wasn’t caught, for whatever reason (probably because you wrote the cops).
To write this book I have to go in and pay bail for these guys, knowing full well I put them there in the first place, and they know it. They’re pretty resentful. They don’t want to cooperate. I know that as soon as I find another bank to rob they’ll grudgingly get back into the game but for now…for now it’s just them and me in a little cement room staring it out and waiting for the handcuffs to be unlocked.
Welcome back, guys. Welcome back.