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BETWEEN THE LINES

By the light of a padiddle

After a summer of interruptions, I’m back to my novel-in-progress, trying to satisfy my characters that I’ve returned for real, that I didn’t abandon them. They’re not entirely convinced.

To be honest, I’m not convinced either. I don’t yet know where this novel is going. But I believe in the truth of E.L. Doctorow’s statement, "Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

Unfortunately at the moment my writer-car has a single headlight – a padiddle – and that one is dim.
So a few days ago, I did what I often do in these circumstances. I took a walk. This rarely fails as a way to enter my “writerhead.” It’s got to be outdoors though – this method doesn’t work on the treadmill (maybe because it’s too hard to resist watching reruns of Covert Affairs or Rizzoli & Isles?) The morning was beautiful, sunny and crisp, and during the 3-mile triangle near my house, I walked right back into my story.

I still don’t know where it’s going, but I can see the next few yards on that dark gravel road, and I can keep going. Even with the dim light of a padiddle.

Does anyone know how to spell padiddle?
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