Cathy and I got back last night from the annual conference of the Associated Writing Programs, which explains the lateness of this post.

Today, I’m back to work on this novel I’m trying to write. When I look at the last thing I wrote before leaving for the conference, I read this: He told us. . . . I purposely stopped that sentence where I did because I knew after five days away from the writing, I’d need a prompt to get me back into the world of the novel. All I have to do now is think about what “he” would be ready to tell. From there, I should be off and running.

It’s a strategy that works for me. If I end a writing session in the middle of a sentence, I start the next day’s writing with an invitation to finish that sentence. Usually, after I’ve done that, the following sentences come easily.

So much of writing a novel for me is following the cues I give myself. It’s too overwhelming to think about the broad stretch of the novel—all those pages!—so instead I try to concentrate on the small things like finishing a sentence and then writing another one. Before I know it, I’m constructing a new scene, or a passage of description, or one of interiority. Little by little, I find my way to the end.

Pardon me for the brevity of this post, but now, if you’ll excuse me. . . .