The Cliffs of Insanity

mood: stalwart
pandora/ipod: "ain't no rest for the wicked" by cage the elephant

 A friend posted this on my Facebook wall in response to my panic flail at starting a new novel.

It pretty accurately describes that feel I get when I start drafting something new. It's like staring up at the Cliffs of Insanity, wondering how in the hell I'm going to make it to the top.

 It's silly, of course. I've scaled those cliffs before, bare handed and without a safety net. But every time I'm at the bottom, it's as if I've completely forgotten how to climb! And that ever-present voice of doubt creeps into your head: "You can't do this. Are you nuts? These are the Cliffs of Insanity!!!!"

 I open a Word document. Times New Roman, 12. One inch margins. Double spaced.

 I type a title page.

3:59

a novel by Gretchen McNeil

Next, I add a quotation. (My books always start with quotations of some sort. I find them inspirational.)

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.

- from "The Lady of Shalott" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I add my header:

McNeil / 3:59 / 2

And make sure it doesn't show up on the title page. Then a chapter heading, three empty lines and an indentation.  Then...

I'm staring at the Cliffs of Insanity again, paralyzed.

Actually, not paralyzed.  The feeling is more like this:

Yeah, yeah. I'm all about the panic flail.

But eventually, you just have to swallow the fear and start climbing.  Er, writing.  Whatever, same thing.

Last night, I started 3:59 in earnest.  1200 words.  And so it begins again, the long climb to the top of the Cliffs of Insanity.

Wish me luck.