One Week Annyversary: Writer's Thoughts

One week into my chronicling (and researching for) my new novel, I keep on wanting to proclaim at the bottom of my lungs, "The creative dam has burst." And, damn, has it burst. I even almost want to put an exclamation point at the end of that statement, except for the bad form exclamation point rule.

I am at this moment frenetic, feverish with Write, and I feel the urge to take stock of all that's happened:

1) The scope of the novel has been telescoping all this past week, unfolding new layers of possibilities. I set out to write an honest to goodness novel, and now what I've got on my hands is a video-game tie in, a revolution in Kindle publishing, the rebirth of hypertext theory--hell, I've even started writing bookjacket blurbs for myself ("1337 is a literary novel masquerading as MMORPG action adventure..." "1337 is both a novel about videogames and a videogame about life...")

2) I'll be honest. Last week, I had no idea how to write a novel. I mean, I've read plenty, but to write one? to write one like an artist prepares a canvas? I once heard a story about how Thomas Mann prepared his stories using color coding and index cards. Now either it's my personality to do as Mann did, or I'm just terribly frightened about having no idea how to write a novel that I'm feeling desperate to grasp onto some semblance of manufactured structure. In either case, I'm learning to understand the novel form. Of course, with this understanding goes the knowledge in being able to break that form (we are in a postmodern century, after all, no?). Now, since it's only been a week, I'll freely admit that I still have absolutely no idea how to write a novel, but I'll explain what I have been learning:

• Reading David Mamet's The Village. Not the best model for the archetypal novel, but I do have an ear for cool Mamet-style dialogue and better yet, was reminded of a sense of character-based set up. In The Village, there's this girl, Maris, who all the boys gawk at. This, in fact, is an archetype for the novel--taken very freely of course.
• This morning I woke on the floor of my room (I've taken to sleeping on the floor) realizing how my novel had to start. It's funny how that happens. But for me, it's not about forcing the novel to do a certain thing or be a certain way. Now, I just know how this novel must start. Every time I write this is what happens: the story writes me.
• Have been remembering what good old Horselover Fat used to say about the construction of his sci-fi novels (I have the notes, somewhere). About how "protag" is introduced in chapter 1, how to name, etc., etc. & am thinking about picking up whatever handy Fat-authored book I've got on my floor tonight.

The ideas are flowing, and I must remind myself to quiet the creeping voice of criticism that struck last night in the midst of a million brilliant ideas. Wish me luck.