‘m told that Hemingway (at least, I think it was Hemingway) said you should only stop writing when you’re in the middle of a scene or conversation, so that you will be able to easily pick up from where you left off when you come back to it.
It’s not a practice I follow but, recently, I’ve found myself grabbing little minutes here and there to write while Other Things that should be happening are paused for a moment. Sometimes I get twenty minutes, sometimes I get five minutes. There are a lot of scenes and conversations and lines in the novel I’m writing that have been interrupted by the aforementioned Other Things.
Today at lunch I decided to steal a little time to check in on the Teakids and write for a bit. I cooked up my leftovers and sat down, ready to write. Halfway down the page was the line The inside of Edgar’s car smelled like . . . and then, nothing but blank paper.
I wrote that line a few days ago.
I have no idea anymore what Edgar’s car smells like, although I must have know when I wrote it.
Spoiled milk?
Old blood?
Antiseptic?
Circus peanuts?
The inside of Edgar’s car smelled like
Argh.