I have been struggling with my next novel “THE WAYNACK’S WORD.”
I know the story, the concepts, the contemporary spiritual, scientific, philosophical and sociological themes and underpinnings of “THE WAYNACK’S WORD” and the characters, locations (I have seen them in my head, they are extraordinary… like nothing ever done), I have been struggling with the narrative voice, really struggling. Deep inside, I was not going to begin until I knew I had the narrative voice because it is the key to the whole novel.
So yesterday, while walking home from the post office (where I mailed my baseball screenplay “SIXTY-THREE” back East to my in-laws), I looked at the trees. I let my mind, my consciousness, my imagination feel them, receive them, their individuality, their presence, their consciousness. A Palm Tree, inside he felt lean, towering, strong, but isolated and overseeing. A Bottlebrush Tree that I slowly walked toward felt woolly, full and heavy, weighted but burly with a protection of the gentle red flowers, lightness “lighted” upon its dangling arms. I felt their presences inside me, as if I were these trees.
Then, while being with the Bottlebrush, THE WAYNACK’S WORD narrator jumped into my head, or it was always there, I just couldn’t see it. So simple, so clear, so brilliant. The narrator’s voice will be the very first word on the page, and close with the very last word on the last page.
So my journey with THE WAYNACK WORD begins! The magic of surrender, of the letting go of the ego, of being afraid to meld with the existences that surround us from tiniest of flowers to the stars.
I am grateful. I am blessed. Onward.
John
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