I have just been working more on "Finder of Views" after composing a 1700 word piece on the Beatles' "Mr. Moonlight." Typical morning here while these people sit in their opulence with their thumbs up their asses doing nothing and being rewarded and hooking each other up.
There is so much that makes a story a work for the ages. That has to be there. None of those things can be missing.
One of those things is sheer emotional power. To punch right through a reader's chest. To harness a force that is almost too much. Too much to handle, though it does get handled because it has to be.
It is impossible to fake this power. You can point to any fiction right now and you will not find that power in it. In anything people are writing. There is no one who can provide an example of that power. It's not out there right now.
But it's here, and it's in everything. The form of it it that is in "Finder of Views" could punch a hole in the chest of God if God was wearing mystical breastplates to seal away the heart.
And it's throughout. It's the entire damn thing, which is now at 7600 words. That concentrated beam, the supernal laser of emotional power.
There's nothing like it, and it has to be there, or you don't have anything that really means anything at all.
I had mentioned a change, a birth, another one, around the time of "Best Present Ever" as I began working on it in the autumn. This is evidence of the birth in progress. It still goes. The latter is for--and begins--The Solution to the World's Problems: Surprising Tales of Relentless Joy and "Finder of Views" is for No Mercy When We Get There: Stories to Wreck You, books so different from each other, almost opposites, in a way, and yet these are works of the same birth period.
This story. I read back what is new, what was there, and I think, "Are you kidding me?" over and over again. And I wrote it. Am writing it.
Updated the On air section of the site. Going to do push-ups and run stairs now.
Back. Walked three miles, did 100 push-ups and three circuits in the Monument.