Sunday, April 26, 1992

I've started the novel. It's not much. Just around three pages. But just that little bit has set into my mind a sense of purpose. Or at least a since of beginning.

Those three pages are based on a single moment. Or a day. The one year anniversary of Tanya's death. There is a moment in which someone is reflecting. Myself, perhaps, but in a fictionalized way. There are scars upon the writers arms. There are aching bones and winces at certain moves. And there is regret.

I think it would make a nice start. Now I just have to decide what to do next.

I think the most logical thing would be to say to hell with the writing program I wanted. It will be a long time before I can afford that, but there is certainly no reason why I couldn't write in the meantime. At least then, when I finally got my hands on the program, I would have something of substance to work with; something in progress.

So ... where should I start the story? Or, perhaps, I'm really wondering how to format the story.

I want to include the sense of being online. After all, it is a story about people getting entwined on their computers. I also want to illustrate the desolation and emptiness of the “realtime” life as opposed to the “online” life.

I think the most logical place to start would be the beginning. Simply put. I could use dates to keep things in order and bounce between online conversations and realtime. I'd have to include some letters, too. Both e-mail and postal.

But where to begin? With an online conversation? Mine and Faith's first meeting?

Or should I underscore the realtime life first? It was pretty fucking dank. I still remember being at Mike Peeler's one night and feeling like my heart would break, without ever knowing why. There was some great need in my heart and I never fulfilled it. Maybe that's how I wound up in Florida. Maybe I was searching, and hoping blindly that she might be the ticket.

Should I pick up from the short prologue and ease into remembering, or should I just leap into the story, with no regard whatsoever to coherency.

Its interesting to note that an online conversation looks very much like the script of a play. I've never thought of that before, but its true. That might make some things easier. All I would have to do is presage each “online” chapter with something like;

APRIL 26, 1992 - ONLINE CONVERSATION

Or maybe something concerning a capture log, mimicking the Telix software.

I don't know. I do think it would be best to jump back and forth between, and I think it makes more sense to start with the original online meeting, thereby getting the reader into the “online experience” right away. That will be crucial later on, I think.

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