Writing Without A Net

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I’ve never been a big planner when it comes to writing. There is some vague idea floating around just beyond my peripheral vision. Pure channeling. I don’t outline. I don’t story board. I don’t even know the characters beyond the first and second ones I start with. The rest show up as the story requires.

Sometimes they make an Irish exit.

Although I will toss my friends into a mental hopper so I can give the arriving characters names and features. See them clearly as my mind plays the movie. Stock players from Central Casting.

I never rewrite a storyline. Never change an ending. Full stop.

I’m inconsistent at best with my punctuation, grammar and capitalization. I like to reward some common nouns by making them proper.

I will correct typos, misspellings and homophones if I catch them. Sometimes I don’t catch them.

My inner circle of readers catch most of them for me. Thank you inner circle of readers. I am lost without you.

I write like I speak. Start sentences without a subject. Sometimes I forget to end a . . . .

This makes me the Slip Mahoney of writers. It’s an acquired taste for sure.

My omniscient narrator is everyman. No distinct features that will cause you to raise your guard when I enter a room. Nothing about me that makes you think, watch out, here’s trouble. I have very disarming blue eyes that allow you to easily get comfortable around me. Makes it easier to just listen to my voice.

Indeed, when the smoke clears, you couldn’t pick me out of a line up.

And I do tell a great story. I’m the stranger you meet on the NYC subway, who engages you in a spontaneous conversation that makes you miss your subway stop. Apologies.

Same approach I use in my writing.

Indeed, my writing makes you feel like I’m sitting across a table from you, maybe having drinks on a Friday night. There’s a shared buzz. We’re both there to escape life. We are not even looking at each other, just shifting our gazes to the different people milling around the crowded room as our conversation continues, almost like white noise. Just talking about any old bullshit, and the next thing you know, a story surfaces among the amusing anecdotes, you are hooked and we’re off on an adventure. You never see the detours coming. You find yourself wondering, “what just happened?” and then “what’s happening next?”

And I do love a cliff-hanger. A suggestion there is more to the tale. Because there always is.

You are jarred back to reality by my, “shit, gotta go! Let’s pick this up next time. See ya.”

That’s what writing without a net is like. Extemporaneous. Organic.

Damn it, the sun’s coming up. Gotta go.

Kitties to cuddle and feed. Rounds to make.

Catch you fine, five readers later. Time for another Tuesday.

We all have livings to make, so let’s make them.

And no matter what is placed before us, let us make today a great one.