17th Trial: Finding the focus within a story

Weekly hours spent writing or in the pursuit of plot:  2.5 Hours

Weekly Choice of Tea: Turmeric and Ginger

Biggest Success:  Small events will exemplify a story’s moral(s) more than the overarching storyline.

This past week passed as most do–a breath of relief followed by anticipation for another Monday. I accomplished a small portion of chapter four, and I cannot help but compare this small progress to a cat playing with a dangling toy fish. The time I dedicate to the novel seems to dangle before me, and sometimes I do catch it. Sometimes I hold on so tight to it I then release it, to see it go beyond my grasp again. I play this game until I am fed up, and the story lays forgotten for days. It’s more exhausting playing with my prey than to actually hold it captive. I find it fascinating that dreams and aspirations take the abuse of neglect quite easily. I do not blame work, as we will always work and personally I love what I do for a career. However my focus sways, and cannot stay long enough for me to spend quality time on my novel.

Undeterred, I love my project even with the shame it brings me from not working on it. I am currently watching To Kill a Mockingbird, and it is times like this that my passion dangles before me and I grow mesmirized. I am so happy to have started this journey, as if so many stories such as Harper Lee’s speak to something deep within. One scene from To Kill a Mockingbird showed me something new and interesting. It was the scene with a dog coming down the street, jumping and growling and obviously infected with Rabies. It was shot down by Atticus in the middle of the street and in the eyes of Gem and Scout. This dog has nothing to do with the overlying story, with the trial, or the play, or of tormenting Boo Radley. And yet do we not sense Atticus as the protector? Do we not see an innocent creature shot down, mirroring so much of what is to happen? There are so many additions to a story that may not seem (as when I read To Kill a Mockingbird) noteworthy in the course of a novel, but in reflection are the only things that truly put the reader in the mind-frame to accept such an ending.

I have only now to build upon that thought. How exciting, to think of small adventures that could bring light in the corners of a story, and to distract us as well as instruct us.

When I think of To Kill a Mockingbird, the first image to come to mind is a front porch swing. And naturally I see the scenery of Grove Avenue, from the porch of my aunt’s home, and I hear the creaks that come with the swing’s sway as I sit to observe it all. A front porch should do the trick for any writer’s block—if only!