|
Friday, April 21, 2006
Ninety-Six Dog-Foot Days
I spent longer than you might imagine (and far longer than I intended) trying to decide where to put the hyphens in the above title. I knew it had to have hyphens. But should it have more? Or less? And where? And should I spell out 'ninety-six' or make it a numeral? Decisions. Decisions. At least I think, by now, I've got it.
But lucky you, you didn't have to see me go through it. You just got to see the final product. Writing and days with ninety-six dog-feet in them are like that.
Let me explain.
We have dogs. Three now. Formerly four. There was a time we had four kids at home. They left, as children do when they reach A Certain Age. And gradually -- and purely accidentally -- we seem to have replaced them with dogs. Big dogs. Golden retrievers. And one flatcoat retriever. It is, I tell people, like having an extra set of furniture in your house that rearranges itself at will (it also sits on our furniture, but we won't go into that).
We also live in a climate where it rains, sleets, snows and does other things that involve moisture. And dirt. Moisture and dirt = mud. Mud and dogs are, er, well, a beatable combination. Also an inevitable one.
And every time the dogs go out in the mud (which is often) when they come back in, they bring four muddy paws with them apiece. And I wipe them off. Times three. That's currently twelve dog-feet per outdoor excursion. They go out often. If they go out eight times a day (which is not unheard of) I wipe ninety-six dog-feet everyday. And no one but me ever notices (well, the dogs do, but they don't care, and fortunately as a rule they cooperate).
Writing is like that -- minus the cooperation. Yesterday I had a ninety-six (and then some) dog-foot writing day. I wrote a part of a scene, then wiped it out. I wrote it again -- and wiped it out. I ate lunch. Rewrote. And wiped it out. Are you seeing a pattern here? I thought you would.
It went on all day. Went on, in fact, until two in the morning. The real dogs were fast asleep. But finally I got it. I think. It flows smoothly now. The rough bits are gone. There is flow, polish. The mud has been removed. Everything is bright and clean and clear. And in the finished book, that's all you'll ever see. Not the mud.
Fortunately not every scene is like that. Not every day is like that. Today looks decidedly better.
The characters are cooperating. The ground is dry. The sun is shining.
posted by Anne McAllister at 7:35 AM
|
Previous Posts
|
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home