Write at Home?
While in a rowing class at my gym, my instructor called me out. “Having your own class, are we, Gary?”
Yikes, I had been found out. I was out of sequence.
Don’t tell anyone, but I come to Indo Row partly for the exercise and most definitely to solve narrative problems in my fiction. While I’m rowing away, can I unravel the motivation behind Miriam’s trip to Antwerp? Why does Haskell refuse to cheat for his neighbor and write the book report? And I wonder if this music I’m hearing might make a good soundtrack, when Spielberg turns my debut novel into a film? Or when Netflix picks it up?
Row class is the best place to do this kind of thinking because I can’t have an accident or get lost along the highway.
I learned years ago NOT to daydream while driving. I ended up in Bakersfield once when I was heading toward Las Vegas and about twelve years ago while I barreled down the turnpike heading from Queens to Atlantic City, I took the wrong off ramp, ending up in the Lincoln Tunnel, stuck in New York City traffic for hours.
That taught me a lesson.
In a rowing class, this never happens. I’m guaranteed never to get off at the wrong ramp or hit traffic or get lost. And the loud music and the fast movement of legs and arms inspire creativity. I acually never go anywhere, except in my head I go everywhere, and I’m sure if my wonderful instructor understood this, she’d leave me alone. Or would she suggest I write at home and focus all my energy on burning calories?