Even when it comes to schedules, I can't seem to get a handle on time. For the next few months, I know every minute is accounted for: between reading, writing, working and home maintenance, I cannot afford to miss anything. However, I seem to be getting more done than I did when my schedule was wide open. It seems that my time is like a magical bag and the more I stuff in, the more I can stuff in. Of course, I know the magic doesn't last forever, and I have to watch for the tell-tale signs of burn-out and diminishing returns, but I'll ride it as long as it lasts. Not that I have the choice at this point.
I find it works that way in novels and short stories, too. As writers, we can bend and shape time to suit the tale. Heck, we don't even have to go in chronological order. This can be a little problematic, though. For instance, I was talking to a writer about the amount of time that passes in a novel she'd written. At first, she tried the "It's set in this time and covers this many months" answer. Her novel, filled with internal dialogue and flashbacks, wouldn't fit in a nice little time frame and she finally threw her hands in the air, stating "I don't know! It just IS... ."
It's tough being in charge of the universe, I guess.
Want the latest news on +TwoSentence Horrors, +N. M. Scuri, and +byron rempel? Sign up for your weekly newsletter here or subscribe to N. M. Scuri's weekly newsletter for all things writing and editing, including upcoming live workshops and editing consultations here.N. M. Scuri