Green Books, Naming Novels, and Stairs That Lead Into Water

Thought I’d take a little break from Behind Glass now that the first scene, as such, is over.  I’ll put more sections up once I’ve written more.  There is more already written, but I think I’d like to get a little further ahead before sharing so I can keep that horrible gap between where I’m up to in posting and how much I’ve actually written as large as possible.

And just to let you know, Behind Glass now has its own coloured book!  It is the proud owner of a lovely little spring green book with deep teal edging the pages.  Fittingly, it was purchased from Loft, the original home of the thermometer I’m named for.  It now gets carried everywhere with me along with my pink book and another paler pink book with brown trimmings and my name (in romaji, of course) proclaimed across the bottom of the cover in little puffy sticker letters featuring cakes and sweets – a gift from some past students.  This third book is home to my project lined up after my current novel – now that I’m getting used to always having a book to fill, I can’t be caught unprepared if the need to take notes on a different story overwhelms.

I’ve decided it’s confusing, calling all my projects naninani novel.  From now on, I’ll try to refer to them by the name of one of the main characters.  That will make first novel Kien, current novel Tom, the novella I’m posting progressively Pan (it does have a title you already know, but I didn’t want it to feel left out) and next novel Kai.

Tom’s been coming along quite well:  finished the first drafts of chapters six and seven over yesterday evening and today at work when I wasn’t given any work to do, as if often the case with my job.  It may sound wonderful, but that is an illusion of the inexperienced.  There’s nothing quite like coming from overseas to live and work in a foreign land, making all those tough decisions and adjustments, only to find for all goods and purposes you’re not wanted.  Only around six weeks left of it though, huzzah.  But it’s not all terrible – I did, after all, finish chapter seven at work today.  My greatest writing roll, in fact, took place predominantly at a Japanese junior high school.

Not long after I finally finished the original version of Kien (the novel I’m currently trying to get publishers interested in) back in October 2010, I was on a serious writing high, and over that Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I think I had maybe three scheduled classes, and was given nothing remotely work-related to do in all that free time I was left with.  What I wound up doing, using those three days and the weekend, was writing seven chapters in five days.  And they’re not total rubbish either – I read over them now and I still like them.  The novel I wrote them for (let’s call it Joan to match all its fellows) is currently in my future projects folder, but as with all my work I fully intend to swap it to current projects at some point in the near future.

And now, a new segment:  things that make you stop, stare, and get the creativity waterwheel churning.

I don’t know what will become of this segment.  Perhaps this first will be the sole example, perhaps it’ll become something I turn to when in need of a quick post.  Maybe it’ll become one of the most common things I write on this blog.  The beauty of the unknown overwhelms.  As do…

Stairs that lead into water.

I find it hard to walk past when I come across them.  I find them captivating, and have little care that sometimes there may be practical purposes behind their construction.  The very idea of stairs leading into water, something so mundane as stairs doing something so innately improbable and unnatural to me, is like a ladder you can climb all the way into space, or a hole you can follow to ancient China.  Then, what is first slight unease at the unnaturalness of it all blossoms into wonder and curiosity as all sorts of possibilities stem.  Do they always lead into water, or did something happen to make it so?  Could you keep walking down them, unaffected by trivial little matters such as buoyancy?  Where do they lead, beneath the water?  Another world?  It’s possible.  Stairs that lead into water fill me with the same awe and give me the same thrill I imagine Lucy experienced on finding another world through that nifty wardrobe.  Or as close as I can get to that without actually discovering my own Narnia.  At the very least, those stairs help me get in the mood to create my own.


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