I’ve Changed My Mind for Now about the Free Novel

The eagle’s eye might represent what focusing on one thing looks like. Total eagle-eyed intensity.

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Upper Waterton Lake
A photo of Upper Waterton Lake that I took yesterday.

I finished the second reread of my novel on December 23. Then I set it aside for three months to distance myself from it, so I could come back to it with fresh eyes. The first reread took me three months. I made lots of changes. The second took a month.

Today is March 23. That three-month hiatus is over. Now I begin my last two rereads, which, I hope, will make my novel ready for copyrighting, an ISBN number, and publishing as an e-book, assuming I can find a reputable publisher.

For the last three months, my world has been turned totally upside down, just like that photo of Waterton Lake. But as of today, my world is going to right itself.

Today, I’m back to writing for three hours first thing before I do anything else. No checking on Trump. No emails. No phone calls. No answering knocks at the door. From the moment I get up until I’m done writing, I just stay in the zone with my one-thing-only-eagle-eye-intensity, waiting there for that little boy with the notes.

Once I’ve done my three to four hours of writing as well as the treadmill (yesterday was weights), however, I’m going to try to link my website to Goodreads, Instagram, Tumblr, and Reddit. I already have accounts with Instagram and Tumblr. And I’ve already linked my website to Google+, Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.

All this social media stuff still makes me feel as if part of me is living in an alien land where I don’t even speak the language. I said in my “About” that as of January 23rd, I knew nothing about Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, or Google+. I don’t even have a smart phone, as you may remember?

But it feels so good to be back in that overlap zone where I want to be, and where I need to be, and where I feel so comfortable and so at home.

I really was becoming concerned about Frankl’s existential vacuum. The possibility of sliding down into that vacuum is almost as terrifying for me as it would be to slide down the sandy slopes of the Great Pit of Carkoon alongside Luke Skywalker into the tentacled mouth of the Sarlacc and to be slowly digested over the next thousand years.

But now no existential vacuum and no Sarlaac. I’m back to writing.

And I’m so excited about being back that I might just celebrate tomorrow morning by topping up my steel-cut oats with a few bran buds. Or not. I certainly don’t want to overdo it.

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Note

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(© 2017 Glenn Christianson. All rights reserved.)

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