LIKE A CAN OF CASHEWS

I am between writing assignments.

So I have options. I can do “non writing” tasks such as organize my financial records, paint walls, update my webpage, or spend time with people.

And then again, I could shop for new furniture or a rug for my office. Verrry verrry tempting…

I could read just for the sheer pleasure of it. Which, in a way, is what I'm doing. I’ve been buying resources related to my new historical work-in-progress. Now that is pure fun.

For real.

I love this time in a book’s life when I’m overwhelmed with a new story - when I don’t yet know my character but am coming to terms with the agonizing questions he faces. When plotpoints present themselves to me but I have no idea where they’ll fit in the storyline. When I’m discovering more resources than I can possibly access and when I can’t read the ones I have fast enough.

It’s like having a can of cashews and not knowing whether to stuff or savor.

As usual, I am stuffing! But I’m marking up pages as I go (just one good reason to buy the books!). Later, I’ll be back to really taste. And then back again. And again.

What I'm savoring is the subject itself. I love the pure secrecy of it - the knowledge that there is this hidden history that I have the privilege of telling. It feels sacred, really. Much too precious to talk about just yet. Not before I know my character. Not before I discover his deepest anguish and glimpse his greatest triumph.

For now, I'm hugging this story to myself.