Writing Leave Everything You Know Behind
Long before I begin to write a novel, well before I know what I’m writing, thoughts and questions arrive unbidden at all times of the day. If I’m paying attention, I’ll write them down.
Thus, my desk is littered with yellow stickies and pads with scribbled ideas, quotes, instructions, fragments of dreams, things overheard that have no common thread. I make notes on my iPhone if pen and paper aren’t handy. When a critical mass pushes me in the direction of a story, I compile all these unconnected musings in one document on my laptop. And then I wait.
Late in 2018, I woke with the phrase, “Leave everything you know behind.” Spoken out loud, it had the ring of a commandment. Was it a title, an instruction, or the gossamer tail of a fading dream? Should I sell my house and all my possessions and go live in a van in the Arizona desert? Or was this a decree to discard what I knew and venture into the unknowable?