The Tree of Story

By

Some writers are aghast at the notion of going back for revisions before a work is finished. Fine for them, but I don’t write in a straight line. I can’t. Writing, for me, is three-dimensional, fractal.

There is a lot more to a tree than foliage. Growth takes place everywhere. Roots dig deeper and deeper for nutrients. The trunk grows wider, heals the wounds of fallen branches. Light and weather influence its shape.

My novel has roots, a trunk, branches and leaves, sap that flows two ways. There are times when the sap retreats to the roots. Growth stops, dead leaves fall, and weak branches break off. Then the sap rises again. The story lives and flourishes because it has strong roots. Its growth is a series of cycles, not jerky spurts.

I am the sap, moving all through the tree. I am also a squirrel running up and down the trunk.

Similar Posts

  • |

    F1L3Z

    ByMatera the Mad

    I am a file hoarder.I have files that were created or downloaded nearly twenty years ago, when I had little drive space and my only option for backup storage was floppies. Over the years a few have been lost, and some have been permanently deleted because they outlived their usefulness and had no sentimental value….

  • |

    Well I’ll be dipped

    By

    I have Windows Live Writer sitting around doing nothing. So finally I decide to see if it’s good for anything. Turns out maybe it is. Anyhoo, that’s insomnia for ya. Oh – drat – of course the bloody thing wants to check my spelling. Worse than that – the only browser it knows is Idiot…

  • |

    Farting Out The Lights

    ByMatera the Mad

    http://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Apophenia “Apophenia is the experience of seeing meaningful patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. The term was coined by neurologist Klaus Conrad and defined as the ‘unmotivated seeing of connections.’” One evening, a good many years ago, I was exercising — just a sort of free-form dance — in the living room, with…

  • | |

    More nostalgia

    By

    Today I unearthed a memo that is over twenty years old — a note from my employer, left for me to find when I opened the shop. Old, but unforgettable. It was a pet shop, operating on a frayed shoestring. I was in charge for most of the day on weekdays. While the boss worked…