I'm beginning a new novel, which is not altogether new. I was writing it in parallel with the last novel I wrote but I had to abandon it when it became clear which book needed me more or was speaking to me more clearly. So I find myself with 90 pages of manuscript, which is a rather tidy amount. Enough for me to remember what my major character is like and why I created him in the first place. This time around, however, I am taking a novel (heh) approach. I'm outlining. I'm drawing diagrams and creating backstories and thinking it through before I write another page. Because I feel as though I've spent too much time in prior works letting the characters drive the story, unsure of the destination or changing the destination and then having to go back and rewrite all over the map. This is not to say that I think outlining will save me from rewrites. As bloody if. But I do think it might allow me to build a more solid framework and to be able to allude to future events in a way I've not been able to do in a first draft before. And honestly the whole kicking ideas around, thinking deeply about what I want for this story, is wonderful fun. I'm in no hurry to end it.
It reminds me of the poem, Ithaca, by Constantine P. Cavafy, which my first creative writing instructor Ann Boutelle, shared with me, and which took me many, many years to fully understand. I rather love it now.
Ithaca
When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.
Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.