It is fascinating. I’m amazed at how chattering about an idea while cleaning up supper becomes a full blown novel in a few months. She’s what they call a “pantser,” which means she doesn’t outline her novels, and just writes as she goes “by the seat of her pants.” She claims this is better for fiction, because you can create the world, and then the rest flows from that. It works for her, so I don’t argue it. I’m a bird. Why would I? My concerns are full food and water bowls, good toys, and plenty of power naps. Whether she’s writing or not, she’s attentive to all of these things. We birds come first. While she chatters about her writing, of course.
It will be nice when the rough draft is written and her neural pathways are clear again. As if that ever happens. Because there will be a break, followed by rewrites, proofreads, edits, reviews, edits, more rewrites, more revisions, more edits, proofreading, formatting, coordinate with the cover artists for design – we'll have a publishable novel in 2 years. She thinks she would write faster if she didn’t work outside the home full time, but I doubt it. She puts a lot of attention into the details and planning. It’s worth it in the end.
In the meantime, Bubbs and I will enjoy the creative process and hope we don’t drown in research about genetic engineering and AI. Who knew that the future was so complicated?
That’s all today. Take care, and have a great week.
Luv,
Zack