David Thayer

Yeah, the gap. Not the store, not the house of fashion, but the gap, that dead space between the false start and the true beginning, the sage brush tumble down ghost town of discarded words no reader will ever see. Whenever I start a new novel, this is what I do. Fill it up with soon to be forgotten prose, get the characters talking, create some conflict. Everyone walks barefoot across shards of broken glass. The carpeting is shag, golden shag, the ceiling stained, the larder bare. He or she, not certain yet, may have a temper, one of those character issues that will help bridge the gap. There is no setting yet except the sky above and the dirt below, a chill wind off the prairie or a balky transmission in the urban core. Forget about setting, it’s too soon.

Timing? Back in time, current time, future, past, yeah, I know the timing but not sure how to fill it up, plant the flag, make it snap. First bridge is chapter break, a dangerous moment, because man, that’s a good place to fall into the crevice to await rescue. Shoot the gap to chapter two and maybe this project has a prayer. Okay, chapter two. New point of view, more dilemmas, backing and filling with the opening, some kind of foreshadowing. Let all the ideas in. Give it hair, teeth, bad breath, a job, an ex, an SO, kids, dogs, French lessons, exposure to a rare disease, bullying parents, dangerous friends, wants, needs, not enough caffeine, too much education, faulty wardrobe, male pattern baldness, a bad Young Republican experience.
Fill it up.

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