I haven’t posted on Substack as frequently as I wished. I’m not a Substacker who publishes their life, updates, and thoughts willy-nilly and nearly daily, but I’d still like to publish more frequently than every six months.
What happened?
Up until February of this year (2023, if memory serves), I was regularly posting a novel, Heart of November, when reality struck: first, I remembered writing the final chapter, the chapter that pulls it all together, the chapter titled: November 30. I remembered writing it because I did. I wrote it. In fact, as I read it now it’s very clever and witty, if the author says so himself.
However, between Chapter 18 and the final chapter was something we writers like to call A Blank Page. Nothing. Nada. Empty computer space. That’s not entirely true. There were chapter titles. One, the 27th chapter, even had a ten-word one-sentence outline. Twelve! blank pages. Twelve!
I needed to read what I had already written to get back in the flow, the rhythm, the plot, the thread of Heart of November.
By the way, I have changed the novel’s title back to its original title: Heart of September with the final chapter being September 30.
These – Heart of September and Substack posts – I am working on. Perhaps you’d like to see a short story? Let me know.