The Space Between the Heartbeats 🎤
There’s a moment that lives between projects that can only be described as the space between the heartbeats. A lot happens in that moment, short as it is. Time to think, which, as any writer on deadline will tell you, is a luxury. Time to clean the office, archive notebooks and printouts, store the box, shelve books, pay invoices. Time to catch up on reading–or start reward books. Time to dream a bit, about what might happen with the project one has just finished, and about the one about to start.
Sometimes I linger in this time, giving myself an extra week or two. I happened to finish two projects at once this time, a novel and a bulky short story, so the chaos was real, and the break was well-earned. I even snuck in a quick shoulder scope to rid myself of some pesky bursitis that has been hampering my daily life. I settled in with my reward book–the latest Outlander installment from Diana Gabaldon–and watched the second season of Bridgerton.
And then, as always happens, the next project starts to beckon. It begins to nibble at my thoughts and I must push it away. I am not ready. I am not there yet. It’s not time.
Until, suddenly, it is.
When I’m in this nascent moment with a new book on the horizon, I have a ritual. I start a fresh notebook, specifically a Clairefontaine (A5, spiral-bound, ruled) that gets the top edges cut off, which is then placed reverently inside my vintage Coach day runner that has been repurposed as my daily book diary. I print out my synopsis, fold it in half, and attach it to the first page. I label the first page with the working title. And from this moment until the next pause, it is my boon companion. It goes everywhere with me. Research notes, ideas, musings, complaints–anything and everything that has to do with the book goes into the notebook.
When the book is finished, this notebook goes into the “box” with all the rest of the book’s details–manuscripts, articles, scraps of paper, anything and everything that has lived with me for the duration of the book’s lifecycle. (This is the Twyla Tharp method–every book gets a box. Though now the boxes are file folders, since we don’t have fifty drafts moving back and forth through production.)
The pause ended for me today, when I sat down with a notebook and research material to start my 29th novel. Is it fair to say I’m starting when in fact I’m gathering ideas? I think so. I’ve cheated a bit, as I’ve been thinking about this book for a long time, and the synopsis was written back in April, so I’m not starting completely from scratch, but it’s time for 40 Scenes. By having a synopsis I have several scenes already built in my head, and within that scaffolding today I’ve written two possible entry points and sketched 7 scenes today. I suppose that does count as being underway.
I have several research books for this one, including a book that I am using to get into the mind of one of my characters that will also provide what I think will be the structure for the manuscript. That is the one I started reading today, and from its seeds grew 7 scenes.
Every author approaches this moment differently, and I would so love to hear from some of you about how you approach the space between projects?