Trying to Jump Start the Next Project

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I have embarked on the latest long-form writing project, after doing research off and on since the COVID-19 pandemic confined us to our homes in 2020. Being housebound was the impetus, as well as discovering nearly all of the primary sources I needed to compile were now available online – something that was not the case when I first delved into this topic nearly 40 years ago.

As always, getting started is difficult. But it is necessary. I could continue to keep traveling down online rabbit holes, looking for more information. That is one way to put off the arduous work of actually organizing and writing what hopefully will be my next book.

I knew a fellow back in Nacogdoches who adopted the research-only approach. When I was researching A Hanging in Nacogdoches (published by the University of Texas Press and available directly from me by clicking on the title), I spent many hours in Steen Library at Stephen F. Austin State University, and in the East Texas Research Center, housed within it. I became casual acquaintances with a fellow who was almost always there when I was. We began striking up conversations. He became very helpful, generously sharing his research, which involved the same time period (late 19^th and early 20^th century) in East Texas.

To my knowledge, he never actually wrote a book or even a journal article about what he had researched, which was a shame. He uncovered fascinating material. It was as if he could not force himself to finally call it a day – as a historian once advised me – and actually begin writing. I am trying not to fall in the same trap, all the while fully understanding that the world will get along fine if nothing ever comes of all this research I have done – more than 150,000 words transcribed, neatly indexed with an Excel spreadsheet to help me find material.

Trouble is, I am stuck. I have managed to nearly finish two chapters, but it has been painful and not particularly inspired. I am not yet feeling the euphoria of tackling that elephant one bite at a time. The thick binders of research material and stacks of relevant books surround my work area, mutely accusing me of sloth. I need inspiration. There is little joy in progressing if this is just going to be a long slog.

I turned to my favorite fellow Red Sox fan who is not a relative or spouse – Stephen King. The acclaimed horror writer in 2000 published On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. I pulled if off the shelf in search of inspiration, or perhaps just a swift kick in the butt to get me off high center.

King became a favorite author not only because he is a fine storyteller. He once was kind to my middle daughter, Mere. In 1998, when she was 16, Mere sent King a fan letter. Some weeks later, a decent-sized box arrived at our house addressed to her. The return address was in Bangor, Maine. The box had been reused; a previous recipient’s name and address were scratched out. King sent Mere autographed books, including a limited-edition box set, inscribed with a personal note. The King of Horror vaulted to the top of our list of beloved writers, where he has remained.

I cracked open On Writing, seeking both wisdom and inspiration. King provided ample dollops of both:

• You must not come lightly to the blank page.
• If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all else; read a lot and write a lot.

And one of my favorites: The road to hell is paved with adverbs. King likened adverbs, words that modify a sentence’s predicate, to dandelions. One by itself might look pretty cute. But start sprinkling them about, and soon your page is cluttered with weeds. Sound advice.

Besides being Red Sox fans and liberal Democrats, King and I share another trait: taking a book everywhere we go. I do not have his discipline when it comes to writing, the ability to lock myself in a room for a set number of hours each day. I am working on that. But I read every chance, often forswearing television in order to read. A book or magazine always accompanies me to meals unless partaken with my Beautiful Mystery Companion. When eating by myself, I always read.

I am not quite through reading On Writing. Nor have I returned to my own writing project. I will do so soon, heeding the advice of another writer who has long inspired me – Anne Lamott: You simply keep putting down one damn word after the other, as you hear them, as they come to you. You can either set brick as a laborer or as an artist.

Perhaps the joy will return soon, as I stare at that blank screen and rifle through notes. The sooner, the better.

 The verdict is in: Kirkus Reviews says, “Get it!” about my latest collection of columns: The Loblolly Chronicles: A Memoir of Sorts. Kirkus Indie calls it “a delightful collection of columns on life, politics, and the people who make up 21st-century Texas… written in a down-to-earth, conversational style; paging through the book’s entries, readers will easily picture a grandfatherly Southern storyteller spinning yarns on his front porch while sipping sweet tea.”

I don’t drink sweet tea and am not sure about that grandfatherly remark. Still, if you haven’t gotten your copy yet, get it HERE! Signed copies available.

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