Real voice...

My days seem to be getting longer and longer, while my weeks and months are passing by like a runaway train. Hmmm… now, let’s see, where were we? Ah, yes, the bones…

I am still marveling over the bones of this new story. In the past, I would have sailed on toward the finish of the rough draft as if some sort of bomb threat were imminent. Driven might be a better word for it. Where does that come from? I am now convinced that it is one of the many intruding voices that authors are deluged with. It is not THE voice. The real voice never drives. It is more quiet, gentle, and easy to get in touch with. And it always invites us to "regard and consider" rather than "do this!" or "do that!" It has more respect for our talents, perspectives, and experiences: those things that make us truly unique individuals. It knows we have the capacity to create a story no one else can write. One that might possibly encompass the world if we are wise enough to "regard and consider" it.

The true voice for a writer is the one that inspires a partnership in great things. The one that says, "Let’s think on this a little longer. Look closer – there’s a treasure hidden for you in there." It is a good voice. To listen to it never makes you tired. It never fills you with regret. Most of all, it doesn’t desert you on some dead-end path to feel your own way out through the darkness, encountering any number of horrors along the way.

So, I am thinking about the bones. Of structure. Yes, and (as I said last time) the individuality of them, and the way all the joints fit together to benefit the whole, and the beautiful harmony of all the parts – the very craftsmanship of a working skeleton is beyond me. My eyes have gone over the whole thing countless times, and surely it must be time to go on.

Yet the voice keeps telling me to "Look closer, there’s a treasure for you there!" So, I agree. And continue to wonder what could be more fascinating about bones other than the way they – if fit together properly – are capable of moving so beautifully. Ah, but wait… perhaps there is some secret hidden in the bones themselves. And it isn’t until I take the time to actually look inside that the "secret" is finally revealed to me.

The secret of the bones… the secret of the bones… good heavens! The secret of the bones is that they are WHERE THE BLOOD IS MADE.

And where there is blood there is life.

What’s happening on the farm today: Beautiful day – a harbinger of summer. The horses have been allowed out onto a small piece of the prairie, where they are gorging themselves on grasses that have grown naturally and without the aid of chemicals or machines. Whenever I go out to check on them they glance up with concern. "You’re not going to make us go back home, yet, are you?" their eyes say. "Because we are not ready!"

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