Stalking the Spirit

Earlier this year I was in the position of juggling not one, not two, but three works in progress, all under contract, each needing different parts of my brain to give it attention.

Then a new story idea turned up, appearing like a mirage from the pages of a nonfiction book I was reading at the time, calling to me from far down the road like a ghost.

This was a bit like having three rowdy children tugging at my sleeve while I was in a dream state.

Also, just because you want to be in Word- and Storyland 24/7, the real world doesn’t stop turning. You have to do things like shop for groceries and clean the house and decide whether or not to investigate the odd noise the refrigerator has started making.

So I did what I know how to do—I made a list. I included the tasks that each project needed from me. Then I looked at deadlines and how much time I had for each. This made it all seem doable—I put the deadlines on my calendar. This ritual seemed to bring them under my control, which is an illusion, of course, but so what?

Every day I’d assign myself three tasks from one of those lists. No more. It turns out that most tasks associated with work that was already under contract were nice and defined, capable of being checked off daily. Occasionally they’d spill over and turn into weeklong slogs but then they’d be done and I could move on. And eventually each of those projects would get handed off to an editor for the next round, whether was that illustration or copyedits or more editorial questions.

Importantly, I’d reward myself a couple of times every week by taking just a few more steps down the ghostly road of the new idea. I didn't write, but I read around the subject of it, made notes, asked myself, What is the big tomato here? What do I find so intriguing? What is the story I’m chasing? Why do I have to write it?

At this time, the three books under contract are off my desk and in various stages of editing and production. A large draft needing revision has taken center stage in my mind. I’m still holding the new idea close, and now I have a few notes as well, written around its edges. I’m reminded of Annie Dillard’s muskrat essay in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, and this wonderful line:

“You have to stalk the spirit, too.”

It turns out that this spirit-chasing is a relaxing activity, completely self-indulgent and not yet holding me to any standards other than those I choose to assign to it. It fills my need for being in that dream-state, frees me up to attend to tasks on a list.

Coincidentally, the refrigerator has quieted once more and isn’t demanding attention. At least for now.