It has been said, perhaps by my father, that one spends half one’s life collecting stuff, and the other half getting rid of the stuff collected. Thus, I find myself going through some stuff, filling bags and boxes with recycling, trash, and those odd border-creatures, who shift substance from things I might want to things I certainly don’t, and thus live between universes.
I came across this:
My son says the coffee stain lends it a real touch of authenticity. I don’t remember why I printed it out, must have wanted to show it to somebody. Good thing I did – the original is on a floppy somewhere, this is probably the only copy I’ll ever have.
16 years ago, I started a Sci Fi novel I called “The Strand”. Somewhere are some notes and outlines no doubt lost to me, but here are the first several chapters in an “authentically” tattered and coffee-stained state.
The cleaning and purging ground to a halt while I read this for the first time in many years.
And it’s pretty good. Needs a rewrite in places (duh), but, for what it is, I kind of like it.
Now what? John C. Wright cowed, dazzled, and inspired me a while back recounting some of the notes he made for his “Count to the Eschaton” series, as told here. So, the next step, one I had already started to take years ago but has now been lost in the intervening years, is to outline the rather complex political, religious, mythological, astronomical and geographical ideas that, half-formed, made me want to write this in the first place. Then, write the ending so I know where I’m going. That is, if I really intend to finish this. I love writing characters and dialogue, and dreaming up settings. Getting to the point – you know, actual plotting and stuff – comes less naturally. It’s like actual *work*! Imagine.
In August, 16 years ago, we had 4 children under 8. I don’t know how I ever got as far as I did. The big question: is this stuff to be saved, or stuff to be gotten rid of? We’ll see how well it sticks in my mind.