Try as I might I say nothing even as caffeine’s aftereffects quivers through my bloodstream. I’m editing The Flying Toe Stomp, rewriting its style and grammar, and having difficulty finding the story. The original tale was a mishmash of my experiences, and the result was not what I expected. I tried to sort through the rubble over the last couple of days to find anything worth saving.

I tried to move the story away from the fight. When I did that, I realized that not much remained. I have a couple of character sketches and a poorly developed backdrop. Without the fight, I might as well chuck it into the kennel and let the dogs sort it out. If I leave the fight in, then I need to add something. There’s a conflict but no real conflict. Roger needs to be better developed, and he needs to create the conflict. This could be the standard David and Goliath contest, the quick-tongued kid (Charlie) against the bully (Roger). Yes, I know, boring. But I have to start somewhere. And that somewhere involves more thought and less writing about writing. I need to scribble and gaze through the rips I tear in the paper.

I’ve been disappointed by my output lately. I know I don’t need to write every day, that quality is more important than quality (okay, I never said that). What I did say was that if I missed a day of writing, I missed a day and the world would go on spinning. I expected this acceptance to alleviate the pressure to write, and it did. What I discovered, however, was that while the burden wasn’t there, I still wrote every day out of habit, which was my plan from the beginning. (I spoke about the Talmud, which taught that waking up early every day for three months created a habit of waking up early, which was difficult to break.) The day now doesn’t feel complete until I finish packing clay on words.

Tonight is no different. After playing video games with Doolies, and hunting for late-night bugs (I found none), I knew I’d lie down, cuddle with my laptop, and write. I don’t have much to show for the evening, but at the least, this time had me thinking about my story again, which is what I need to do before continuing to edit it. I need an order of original thought and a side of hours to myself. I’ll get the hours this weekend when I accompany Doolies to Palm Springs for her residency retreat. Now all I have to do is locate that original thought. I know I put it around here somewhere.