“Grand Exits” is progressing. It is a mess — which is a good sign. Having a big mess is just a phase before things start taking shape. Knowing this is one of the happy results of being 60 and (whew) no longer 20. But… it doesn’t mean that big messes solve themselves.
I have a dozen installments so far in this literary collage (today’s euphemism), which jumps around between 2003, 1870, 1996, 1970, 1977 and so on. I’ve been thinking a lot about the S-Curves of Life as a guiding principle.
Grand exits occur when you think you’re trotting along in your comfort zone, then, like Wily Coyote chasing Roadrunner, you realize you’re treading in mid-air. You think to yourself, Damn. That’s where my image of the dangling woman comes in.
Progress: 6500 words dumped into a draft, out of a target of 50,000. Like any collage, it will take a lot of collecting, ripping and rubber cement before it amounts to anything.