Sounds Like… (Day #2)

Posted in: PARALLEL, Writing

Today was productive.  The way a day ought to be. 

I got up early.  I drank coffee.  I sat in the corner of our sectional couch, laptop on my lap, and wrote, while Lil Mil watched me from her swing.  Click click click.  The sound of her mechanized rocking was my white noise.  Click click click.  For a three hour stretch — broken only for quick diaper changes and brief snuggle breaks — I sat and I wrote.  And then I closed my laptop and carried on with my day.

I thought that was all I’d get.  In fact, I was surprised to get even that.  The first thing I learned upon arriving in Babyland last Sunday is that the hours pass faster here.  They whiz and zip and zoom by, while I am busy kissing and cuddling and feeding a very kissable and cuddleable and hungry little girl.

Yet somehow, at 4:00 p.m., there it was:  a sliver of time.  And so I opened up my laptop and wrote for another glorious hour. 

It was exhiliarating, this day of unexpected productivity.  A day in which opportunity and inspiration coalesced. 

And yet.

When I went back to read what I had a written – the product of today’s oh-so-productive labor – I saw myself on the page.  Or, more precisely, I heard myself.  My voice.  This voice.  A voice that should be reserved for blog posts and cocktail party banter had worked its way into the pages of my novel – into the voices of my characters.  Characters who already have voices – voices that fit them.  That define them. 

In the end, my four productive hours were less so.  Tomorrow I will have to go back, comb through my pages, and weed out the strains and bits of me that don’t belong.   I will have to read – to listen – to make sure I can hear my characters’ voices clearly again.

And when I’m done, I will open up a new document, give it a clever title, and write tomorrow’s post.  In my voice.  This voice.  A voice I’m still discovering and uncovering and making my own.  A voice that doesn’t belong in the pages of my novel, but that does belong somewhere:



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