My young adult novel, “The Missing Twin,” went missing. I had been using my Swiss Cheese method of writing — punching a hole in the ‘durn thing for 10-minutes a day for several weeks. I’d written it in the flurry of NaNoWriMo last November and been editing in dribs and drabs since then.
I want to write another novel this November so I desperately want to put last year’s novel, “The Missing Twin” to bed. But the editing is hard. And my baby won’t go to bed, she’s not even sleepy.
NaNoWriMo was simply one of the best writing experiences I’ve ever had. It was communal. Tens of thousands of people are writing a 50,000-word novel for 30 days. You can chat with people on Twitter who are going for the same word count. But, alas, writing is more than word count. Sadly for me, because I can pile up words pretty quickly. I type superfast. Even faster than I can think. But editing takes time and thought.
I have to get back to telling you about missing my “Missing” novel. But it’s hard to write right now because the flight attendant is pleading on the loud speaker, “Is there a doctor? Nurse? Medical professional on board? We have a medical emergency.” Sheez, this is stressful, wondering what’s going on. Hoping it’s not serious. But the urgency in the flight attendant’s voice says it is.
Okay, stay focused. So, I thought I packed my novel in my bags when returning to NYC on Labor Day. I’d been traveling with the white binder back and forth up to the Adirondacks every weekend of August. I would do my 10 minutes a day, then put it away. I’d read and marked up about two-thirds of the blasted thing. But I couldn’t find it anywhere in the apartment.
Update on the medical emergency: the flight attendants are getting the big black CPR Kit box out from the luggage rack. I’m kicking myself for not ever training to become an EMT. There seemed to be no doctors or nurses on board just two young-ish, reluctant people, a 20-something Asian woman and a 20-something clean-cut White guy, came forward shyly. Medical students, I’m guessing.
So, the other day on the phone, I asked my husband, Chris, to look around the Big House for my novel. (He was directing the play, “Good Night Desdemona/Good Morning Juliet” at the Depot Theatre and stayed in the North Country.) I thought I left it on the floor near the couch in the bedroom (all important things lands on the floor near a couch!).
“No. Can’t find it,” he said.
Update: The flight attendant and the medical-type people appear to be giving oxygen to the young man in medical distress.
Just before the flight took off, I checked my messages. Chris left me a voicemail, “I found it. The white binder was on the floor in the closet.”
Chris found my “Missing” novel. (He’s good at finding lost things!) It’s got to come out of the closet! I kind of wished I’d lost it for good. Then I’d have a good reason to abandon it.
I do want to find out how it all ends. So I guess, I’ll return to reading, rewriting, editing the novel. Right when I get back from this business trip.
Final update: “He’s doing better,” says the young woman to the flight attendant who’s now carrying pillows back to the galley where the medical and flight team are huddled. Thank God. Turns out this teenager hasn’t eaten or drank anything for several days.
Advice for the traveler: Everyone, please hydrate before you fly.
And keep your novels close at hand.