Make a detailed outline of your story.
Invent a system Zolaesque…but buy a file. On the first page of the file put down an outline of a novel of your times enormous in scale (don’t worry, it will contract by itself) and work on the plan for two months. Take the central point of the file as your big climax and follow your plan backward and forward from that for another three months. Then draw up something as complicated as a continuity from what you have and set yourself a schedule.
11
“When are we leaving, Mom? Mom? Mom? Are you still mad at Rupert for breaking the angel? He didn’t mean it,” says Vinnie watching his mom make the bed.
Vinnie’s mom straightens up, turns around, and sits on the edge of the bed. She looks at Vinnie holding Rupert standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Dexter is sitting on floor behind Vinnie. She says, “Vinnie come here.”
Vinnie doesn’t move, “Are you mad at Rupert, Mom?”
“No, I’m not mad. I only want to hug you,” says Vinnie’s mom holding her arms outstretched.
Vinnie runs over and crashes into his mom almost knocking her back on the bed. Vinnie’s mom wraps her arms around Vinnie, then tussles his short dark hair with her hand. She moves Vinnie to arm’s length away keeping on hand on both his shoulders. She says, “You know how much the angel meant to me?”
“Yes, Mom. It was your favorite Christmas ornament.”
“I want you to tell me the truth, did Rupert break the angel?”
“Mom? Are you talking to Rupert or to me?” asks Vinnie.
“You, Vinnie. I’m talking to you.”
“Awe, Mom. Rupert told me he’d take the blame for me so you wouldn’t be mad at me. It was an accident, honest. When the sausages started exploding I was opening the macaroni and cheese box I was making you for breakfast and I jumped and threw the box and the box hit the angel and the angel started to tumble and I tried to catch it and I just missed it as it rolled off the table. That’s how it happened, Mom. Honest.”
Vinnie’s mom smiles, “Was that so bad to tell me the truth?”
“Are you mad at me, Mom?”
“No. It was an accident.”
“Why did I get sent to my room?”
“I needed time to get over my disappointment.”
“Are you over it, Mom?”
“The angel is only a thing. You’re more precious than a thousand Christmas angels.”
“I think Santa is going to be really good to you this year, Mom. I love you,” says Vinnie breaking loose from his mom’s grip and giving her a hug.
“When are we leaving for the mall, Mom. There’s going to be a big line for Santa.”
“I promise you’ll see Santa today. We may have to stand in line for a while, but we won’t leave until you see him.”
“Can Rupert come with me? Rupert loves Santa. Maybe Santa will bring Rupert a present this year. Santa forgot to bring him a present last year. I don’t want Santa to forget Dexter, either.”
Dexter hears his name and saunters into the bedroom expecting a treat for answering to his name. When he realizes there is no treat, he saunters back out and heads toward the kitchen, the source of happiness for him.
I was dead, then alive.
Weeping, then laughing.
The power of love came into me,
and I became fierce like a lion,
then tender like the evening star.
He said, ‘You’re not mad enough.
You don’t belong in this house.’
I went wild and had to be tied up.
He said, ‘Still not wild enough
to stay with us!’
I broke through another layer
into joyfulness.
He said, ‘Its not enough.’
I died.
He said, ‘You are a clever little man,
full of fantasy and doubting.’
I plucked out my feathers and became a fool.
He said, ‘Now you are the candle
for this assembly.’
But I’m no candle. Look!
I’m scattered smoke
He said, ‘You are the Sheikh, the guide.’
But I’m not a teacher. I have no power.
He said, ‘You already have wings.
I cannot give you wings.’
But I wanted his wings.
I felt like some flightless chicken.
Then new events said to me,
‘Don’t move. A sublime generosity is
coming towards you.’
And old love said, ‘Stay with me.’
I said, ‘I will.’
You are the fountain of the sun’s light.
I am a willow shadow on the ground.
You make my raggedness silky.
The soul at dawn is like darkened water
that slowly begins to say Thank you, thank you.
Then at sunset, again, Venus gradually
Changes into the moon and then the whole nightsky.
This comes of smiling back
at your smile.
The chess master says nothing,
other than moving the silent chess piece.
That I am part of the ploys
of this game makes me
amazingly happy.
I knew a man by sight,
A blameless wight,
Who, for a year or more,
Had daily passed my door,
Yet converse none had had with him.
I met him in a lane,
Him and his cane,
About three miles from home,
Where I had chanced to roam,
And volumes stared at him, and he at me.
In a more distant place
I glimpsed his face,
And bowed instinctively;
Starting he bowed to me,
Bowed simultaneously, and passed along.
Next, in a foreign land
I grasped his hand,
And had a social chat,
About this thing and that,
As I had known him well a thousand years.
Late in a wilderness
I shared his mess,
For he had hardships seen,
And I a wanderer been;
He was my bosom friend, and I was his.
And as, methinks, shall all,
Both great and small,
That ever lived on earth,
Early or late their birth,
Stranger and foe, one day each other know.
By: Henry David Thoreau
You must begin by making notes. You may have to make notes for years…. When you think of something, when you recall something, put it where it belongs. Put it down when you think of it. You may never recapture it quite as vividly the second time.
Source: Open Culture
