Have I mentioned my boat? I lived on a boat. A boat means “Maintenance.” The sea is unforgiving. And boat maintenance isn’t writing, is it?
Boat Life means making repairs in exotic locations. For example, rebuilding the cooling system while parked in a river in Virginia. Or replacing the running lights while bobbing on a mooring ball in Key Biscayne.
It also means Not Writing.
The sailing part of not writing is a wonder-filled joy. It’s time to reflect. Talk with guests (if we have any.) Eat and drink and look at the world floating past.
The maintenance and repair part of not writing lacks the joy and camaraderie. Elbow-deep in the details of the insulation on the exhaust stack for the diesel engine is — well — it’s complicated.
Of course, it’s got to be done: it’s a consequence of owning a boat.
But, there’s also stuff that needs to get written. Book II is at 78,000 words, and there’s a lot going on.
On the other hand…
Slowing down creates time to reflect on some backstory and some details of character’s history. This is stuff that’s not directly present in the unfolding story. The rethinking alters some of the scenes that have already unfolded: there are nuances that need to be expanded.
The Red Knight’s family has been a challenge. But parts of it slipped into place.
Not Writing has been helpful.