Listening

There is always a period of time, after I've finished writing one story and before I begin a new one, when I think I won't be able to write anything else. I think the muse will not return and the voices will remain silent. So far, I've been wrong about that -- though the time between can be variable -- the longer it is, the more worried I become. And, the more worried I become, the less likely I'll be to come up with something new. So, I try to take it a day at a time, try to listen for the one voice which will finally speak to me very clearly and then open the door so that the other characters may add their voices to the din.

In the beginning, as ideas rotate around my brain, I can't make heads or tails of anything. The story is disjointed, the characters don't have names, the setting is elusive. Sometimes, more than one story is going through my head at the same time. I've had ideas percolating for years which have never seen the light of day -- and I've had ideas come from out of the blue and have been told to "write this down now."  I don't really have any control over it. I suppose I could say, no, I will not write that but, so far, I've never refused any road the muse has led me down.

So, I wait and wonder what will come out of the chaos next.

I have a name. A place. The main female character even has a job that surprised me a little but then, I had an image of something which happens on down the road, and I realized, "oh, I get it."  I still don't know if this will be what will ultimately be written. I don't know when it will happen, how long it will be, whether it will be told through one character's eyes (as most of what I write has been) or through multiple viewpoints. I don't even know whether it has a good ending or a bad one. Most of my stories have had reasonably good endings -- there might be a few loose ends and everything might not be a bed of roses but, overall, goodness reigns. But something tells me, one of these days, that may not be the case. I've been known to throw a few curveballs.

So, a writer, in whatever stage they are in, first-time or many times, published or unpublished, has to, before they ever put a word down, master the art of listening. 

And seriously.

They really do talk to me.

I'm not making this up.

Really?

I recently read a book which left me wondering -- again -- how it is that some novels get published, while others do not. This particular book -- which shall remain nameless because I'm not in the critiquing business -- was not a horrid book. It was not badly written and had an interesting premise -- but it really went nowhere, had an unsatisfying ending and the numerous characters were each a stereotype -- as if the author had to get every sort of personality quirk she could think of between the pages. At the end of it -- I seldom put a book down once I've started, even if I'm not particularly enamored -- all I could say was ho-hum.

I've often read that publishers/editors know a good novel when they see one -- and, after reading only one or two chapters. Really? 

Really? 

I won't denigrate their talent at sniffing out great works -- but they sure must be missing out on a lot better stuff out there. There must be a pile of books somewhere called "great novels which will never see the light of day unless self-published".

Now, I know that not every book is going to appeal to everybody. I've read books that had glowing reviews which I could not get into at all. I've read others that were just the opposite -- not great reviews but quite enjoyable.

But, what made an editor read this above-mentioned nameless novel and say, "we've got a winner"?

Anyway, I know how it works -- a manuscript has to cross an editor's desk at the exact right moment --  no matter how good -- or bad -- the novel is -- to get noticed. And that is why many writers -- who can actually spin a good tale -- don't get published. And why some who really can't, do.

 

As a reader and a (unpublished) writer, it's very frustrating.

 

By the way, I take great pains to say that I'm an unpublished writer because some published writers seem to get their panties in a wad if someone refers to themselves as a writer/author, if they haven't been published (or been paid for it, maybe?). Maybe I just don't understand the criteria but I simply don't  get this -- if you write something, you are the author of what you have written, published or not -- is that not so? I can tell you, even unpublished, I'm neither judge nor jury on what anybody wants to call themselves.

I'd rather spend my time writing than worrying about that.

The clock has stopped...

I added the "countdown" button shortly after I found out my first grandchild was on the way. As of today, his due date, the clock has stopped -- but, so far, no baby. There are still a few more hours left  -- he could still arrive on December 3rd but I'm kind of doubting it, unless Shannon goes into labor right now and delivers fairly quickly. I wonder what the percentage is of babies who come on their actual due date.

We jump every time the phone rings.

I thought he might come early, in November, and that may have been partly because of hoping against another day -- December 6th. That was the day my daddy died, a Sunday, in 1981, and the day one of our dogs, Butler, died, on a Saturday, two years ago. And, yet, the idea that something joyful might happen on that day is maybe a good reason to hope it is that day, after all. I know one thing, after birthing three babies myself, they'll come when they come and they'll come how they come, despite the best-laid plans.

Today was another "birth" of sorts -- I finally finished writing/editing/posting my latest story. It's always a bittersweet day when that happens -- I've lived and breathed Cade and Delaine for, strangely enough, about nine months now and today was the day I could finally write "The End." I've been quite worried about letting go -- these characters have grabbed me more than any others else I've written and to have their voices go quiet unnerves me. I need the break but hope it won't be long before a new set of voices start whispering, then shouting in my ear.

So, I am free...and waiting for someone else to break free and see the world for the very first time. It's probably a good thing we don't remember being born -- or what things look like when we first open our eyes. It would probably traumatize us for life.

So, here's to endings and beginnings...

The ending is always the beginning...

I've still been ignoring this blog shamefully -- not that there are legions out there reading it but I like to write here because it forces me to create something other than fiction -- but, when I'm deep into writing a fictional story, everything else suffers and that has included this blog. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel -- though reaching that light is equal parts ecstasy and agony. It's always that way when I let go of characters -- and their story -- which have consumed me for months. Like children leaving the nest, I want to push them out and I want to reel them back in.

But there has to be an end to one story so that a new one can begin. I have the main female character's name for the next piece already -- it was whispered to me -- but without any other instructions -- so I don't know who, what, when or where. But, eventually, the characters will start speaking loudly and I'll be compelled to write down what they say. And the insanity will begin again.

So, as I wind down the editing of this last creation, I'm envisioning some weeks of peace and quiet. At least inside my head. Outside my head, there is a new ending and a new beginning on its way. My eldest is in the last weeks (days?!) of her pregnancy (the ending) and soon, the baby (the beginning) will arrive, just in time for Christmas.

My intention, when I first found out that I was going to become a grandmother at such a young age (cough) was to keep a record of it, on this blog, but, unfortunately, these past months coincided with writing a novel so...I failed....but don't think it's not something that I haven't thought about every single day. This has all dovetailed perfectly actually -- not only with the story itself but with the finishing of it. And, soon, I'll be letting one love go to embrace another greater love.

I'm still worried. I'm still not a "baby person". I still don't get all squishy every time I see one. I'm still heading toward this new phase on a wing and a prayer. And, truthfully, I'm selfish about having my writing time interrupted or having to put my wants and needs on the back-burner. When you are a mother and have raised three children and they've all flown, you think, ah, now, it's my time. But, so far, it hasn't worked out that way. But that's okay, as C-3PO said, "I was made to suffer..."

Okay, I'm kidding. I'm not really suffering. But I do have to work really hard to stay upbeat. That old depression-monster is always out to get me, though I fight it tooth and nail. And, when I'm not writing, that's when it tries the hardest to invade -- and is more likely to be successful. If too much time goes by between the end of one story and the beginning of another, it is a cause for alarm. I will only take the smallest dose of antidepressant that I can so that the voices aren't silenced completely because, if they go, I spiral downward with them. If you think hearing voices is crazy, ask my ever-patient husband and he will tell you that not hearing them, for me, is much, much worse.

But, as I near the end of this particular writing and editing frenzy, I will have something other than more writing to look forward to...

So, come on out and play, baby Jackson...

I may not be ready...but I'm willing...

Neglect...

I am neglecting this blog terribly...so much to say, so little time...or maybe it's more like not much to say, plenty of time...it gets this way when I'm writing other things and living more through the characters than my own real self...my double life...so back to Cade and Delaine and the mess they've gotten themselves into...I'll do better here as soon as I can...

Birmingham 205

I'm not in Alabama -- nor have I been for years. But I set my latest story (Half) there so that's where my mind is. I'm roaming streets I do not know, wandering a college campus I've never been to, talking to people who've lived there all their lives but who do not exist except in my head.

I chose Birmingham (and neighboring Tuscaloosa) for this story for a couple of reasons -- one is that all of my stories (so far) are either set in the south or the main characters are southern (and are in a fish-out-of-water circumstance somewhere else) -- and, up until now, I had not used Alabama. It's a personal choice I've made again and again -- the old maxim "write what you know" rings true. And, honeychild, I do know the south. Born, bred, raised and all that jazz.

Another reason I chose Birmingham is because my muse hails from there. Anybody who's been kind enough to read some of my work, knows that I always have a "face" (for most characters) which serves as my jumping off place. That face drives me and fills in the blanks until the characters take on a life of their own and I no longer need that vision to keep me going. A habit of mine, though, is that I'll take a few bits and pieces from the muse's real life and spread it throughout the story. In this case, not only do the majority of scenes take place in Birmingham but there's also a good bit about The University of Alabama, which happens to be my muse's real-life Alma Mater.

I'm always careful, if I know something too personal about my muse, that I don't include it. What I will include, for example, was the flair for the Spanish language that I gave Nathan in my story, Blue. The reason -- because my muse for Nathan was British actor, Jason Isaacs -- and I knew he could speak Spanish. Not too personal but just a little tweak I could add to a character that I might have never thought about otherwise.

Not that any of my muses would ever read anything that I've written but I have to admit that I'm always a little bit leery that, if they did, they might get offended by some of the personality traits I've given the characters which I've based on them. Trust me, those are completely made up. I don't want any reader to think, either, that I know something that nobody else does. I do not. The face may belong to somebody but the story is mine.

I've been writing, editing and posting stories for years now -- some people tell me I should be published -- and I certainly wouldn't mind -- but I don't know if it's in the cards. It's not something that worries me excessively -- I write because I love it -- and when I'm writing, the real world tends to get left behind while I inhabit the fictional one -- the sink stays full and, each day, I have to search for clean clothes because the laundry gets left in the dust (oh, yeah, that, too) when the voices are continuously saying, "Write this down. Now."

It always amazes me how things come together in a story. I fret over how I'm going to get from Point A to Point B -- and then suddenly, I'm there, and it's all worked out. I've learned, over the years, how to let it go -- because, almost always, the different threads will come together -- and actually make sense. Just recently, I had a scene which I wanted to be set in a certain location but every indication told me that it could not be set there and I'd made up my mind to accept that it would have to take place elsewhere. But one simple conversation between characters put the scene right where I always thought it should go. It's not me, though, it's them.

There are other things which make me struggle as I write -- like trying to figure out what city some of the other portions of the story should be set -- then finally, realizing, of course that's where -- another tribute to my muse. Sorry for being a little cryptic but I've only posted a few chapters and there's a lot which has to wait to be revealed.

There are things that are sometimes brought up by writing which I never expect. This particular story also concerns a mental health issue and, in thinking about it, I was swept back to my childhood and the "nervous breakdown" my father suffered when I was a small child. I had not thought about it in a long time -- the only thing I really remember is going to pick him up from the hospital. A hospital in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It's one of those "full circle" kind of things, as if those small memories, stored in my brain, were waiting to be used for some greater purpose. Even if this isn't directly about that experience -- which included giving a ride to a hitchhiking soldier and a mynah bird (no, we didn't give a ride to a bird...but, nevermind...) -- I can put those old feelings to good use. What makes me smile -- though maybe it shouldn't -- is that in our family, Tuscaloosa became a byword for the crazy place. That was before any of us knew about being politically correct.

So, the voices which were murmuring quietly for so long have been loud and clear -- and have forced me to write more than edit (I usually do both at the same time -- while writing one chapter, I'm editing another). I'm probably one of those strange people who actually enjoys the editing process more than the initial writing -- once the story is down in its often disjointed way, it's actually a pleasure to go back and add detail or throw out what doesn't need to be there. For me, that's where the meat of the story is.

But, if you ever run into me in the flesh, and it seems like I'm not quite listening to what's going on in the world, don't worry. I am listening -- but it's probably to the voices inside my head. Sometimes, I have to tell my characters, as I used to say to my eldest when she was little, "please, two minutes of silence!"

Hush, now hush. Let me get this straight before you go babbling about something else.

I'm in love with these people. When I'm inhabiting their world, they are my world. So, cut me a little slack for not being too present in the real world -- I'm just too dang busy in theirs.

Breaking through the block...

I've written four complete chapters of my new story -- I wrote one of those yesterday and will probably finish the fifth one sometime today. I'm elated. It's been awhile since the voices spoke to me. I've blamed it on a lot of things -- stress, burnout, writer's block, expectations -- and, of all things, antidepressants.

For whatever reason, when I'm on a higher dose of antidepressants, my creativity goes out the window -- and, after researching a little, I've found that this isn't all that unusual but, like many medication side effects, it greatly depends on the person. It's a vicious cycle because I need the meds to keep me from really going over the edge and, yet, I need to write, for sanity's sake. So, which one gets sacrificed? Well, I'm going for the best of both worlds -- lowering my dosage and seeing if that will let those two worlds collide peacefully.

The funny thing is that I'm still on the higher dose right now but the voices have broken through, chipping away at the wall between us. I have a sneaking suspicion that my decision to lower the dose somehow gave them permission to speak. I know I'm probably sounding completely off my rocker about now but ask anybody who writes (whether published or not) and they'll probably tell you something similar.

Yesterday I was telling a real person (with the same name as one of my characters) about the other one who isn't real (but who can speak). I told her that the characters name themselves and she repeated that back to me -- only with a question mark at the end. I guess I should watch what I say. But, she then told me that the name had come from her grandmother -- and, guess what, that's where my character got it, too.

Small world.

Anyway, I'm writing and that's what's important. I have a very small "fan base" even without being published -- I don't do it for praise -- and not for money -- I just do it because I love it and if people want to read it, that's just icing on the cake. Writing centers me. It's a part of me. And it's totally normal, for me, to have these stories floating around in my head, just waiting for one of them to proclaim, "it's my turn". I've got stories that have been in there for years, still waiting. Why the upstarts get a chance first, I just don't know.

This week has been an unusual week. The unexpected death in the family -- because I can't think of it in any other way, though those ties are somewhat broken -- has been more difficult than I would have thought. It's a weird situation because I feel the loss but I can't really find the words to express how it has affected me -- so I've just sort of curled up inside myself. Sometimes, sadly, it takes someone's death to make you realize, too late, that you've missed them. But, I think all of these emotions may have somehow meshed in my brain and maybe that has given the necessary boost to this new story. Ah, well, whatever...the neurons are firing and that's enough for me.

It's not only a small world but a strange one.

Two Worlds (or more) in One Head

I've always got story ideas swirling around in my head -- I never know which one will end up becoming my next writing adventure -- I always say it's whatever voice screams the loudest -- although sometimes a whisper will get my attention, too. All I know is that I've had one story waiting for years to be told, another one constantly simmering but never quite coming together -- and a whole lot of upstarts which often end up being the one written.

Before I write anything, a little research is often involved. Usually not a lot -- I'm not writing historical novels or anything which requires massive amounts of studying up on a particular subject. But I do occasionally, have to tell my husband, in case he looks at my recent searches on the computer, not to be alarmed. Yesterday, it was "second degree murder" and "voluntary manslaughter". There have been others like "divorce in Georgia" or "buying real estate in the historic district of Charleston" which probably would have had him questioning me immediately although he knows it's just that "other life" of mine.

I don't function well if I'm not writing. It doesn't necessarily even have to be anything I'm going to share with anyone -- and, sometimes, just working on a blog post is enough to satisfy me. I waited many, many years to really get down to writing but, when I did, it opened a floodgate which I don't think will ever close. Whether I'm ever published, writing is a joy which I can't really describe, a freedom, a must.

So, now I piddle with a new idea -- and revisit some older ones -- until one sticks -- and that will be the one I tackle. Sometimes the words flow easily, sometimes it's a challenge but, no matter what, I will be inhabiting two (or more) worlds at the same time.

I really don't know how to exist any other way.

My Famous Muses

Finishing a story is always bittersweet -- I always feel as if I've accomplished something but, at the same time, it's hard to let go. Today, I celebrate the completion of Blue.

When I write, I tend to base the way a character looks on a particular actor (or sometimes a journalist or other well-known person). This works well for me -- it gives me something to go on until those characters morph into themselves.

Two of my faces for Blue were actors Jason Isaacs and Christopher Atkins. Now, as far as I know nobody I've based a character on has ever been aware that I've done so but I wonder how much of themselves they would see in a character if they read one of my stories but didn't know I'd used them to inspire me?

The thing is, although I don't base the characters on anyone's real life, sometimes I do throw in tidbits I know to be fact. Such as Nathan being able to speak fluent Spanish -- which Jason Isaacs does. Or Deke loving the ocean -- like Mr. Blue Lagoon himself.

I could give you a list of folks who've stood in for my characters -- Brian Kennedy, Bradley Cole, Richard Armitage, Stephen Dillane, Jason Flemying, Elias Koteas, Dougray Scott, Eddie Izzard (not so much the face in his case but the idea) -- and notably Gerard Butler who served not once but four times as my muse.

Right now, I've got Christopher Eccleston on my mind so who knows what's around the bend.

I don't want to leave the ladies out although there's seldom any one person who fits my lead female characters. She's always more of a combination of faces -- which I think is because all of my main women characters contain so much of myself (personality-wise, in bits and pieces) that it's hard for me to put someone else's face on them. I always say they're all me -- just younger, thinner, prettier...

So, I've come to the end of writing and editing another story. I have my readers -- who I'm thankful for -- they seem to keep coming back for more.

Now, if only a publisher would think the same way.

But, first, I suppose I have to actually give them a chance to reject me...

Life is too short to read...

books I don't like...so here are some of the reasons I skip over certain types of books:

Contemporary:

I'm sure I've missed out on some great books -- but I've figured out that what I really love are historical novels - and I'm not usually very pleased with anything else. I read a contemporary novel recently -- I actually won it on one of the book blogs -- not sure why in the world I even entered the contest, considering. Anyway, I read it -- and was not enamored. My own dislike of putting a book down once I've started was really the only thing that kept me going. Let's just say, I finished it, put it on Paperbackswap -- where there was a wish-list a mile long waiting for it -- and someone took it immediately -- I hope they were very happy with it. I'm not naming the book or author but if you look at my list of "Books read in 2009", you can figure it out.

For the record, I have read a few contemporaries that I enjoyed -- The Time Traveler's Wife (now a major motion picture) and The Pajama Girls of Lambert Square, which was set in a fictional small-town in South Carolina but, in general, I avoid them.

Chick-lit:

This can go under contemporary but it's also a world unto itself. I can pretty much look at a cover of a book and know it will fall into this category. I don't even pick it up. Just not my thing and there's no point in wasting my time. Let me state that a waste of my time doesn't mean that the book isn't well-written and enjoyable -- it's just not what I want to read. In case you were wondering, I'm not big into chick-flicks either. I'd rather see explosions or be scared.

Romance:

I occasionally read a straight-up romance -- and in my younger years, I adored them. But, as I got older, those became less and less what I wanted to read. However, if it's set in my favorite time period and place (medieval, mostly England) and a few real people pop up, I might give it a go but, in general, what I really like are historical novels with some romance -- not the other way around.

Award-winning:

Okay, maybe if they win some best historical thing...but I pretty much don't even look twice at anything that's won a Pulitzer or some other big-deal award. Why? Because those books -- and I'm speaking only for myself -- are usually too self-important for me to give a damn. So, congratulations to the author (who I'm sure is very talented) but no thank you. Just chalk this up to me being shallow and unworldly.

Classics:

I love the idea of the classics. I think many of them are a gift to readers through the ages. I also think I might fall asleep from the sheer number of words and fall over from the weight of the book. I love Jane Austen -- especially Pride and Prejudice -- and I have read it -- but, honestly, I'm not sure if I read any of her other works. I think I did. Or I tried. Same for Charles Dickens. Charlotte Bronte -- love Jane Eyre. On film. Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights? Sexy as all get-out. On film. But reading them? Well, I had to read a lot of stuff in high school and college and I'm just no longer in the mood, though many of them grace my bookshelves. They look so pretty and make me feel good that they are there.

Novels set in the south:

Okay, I'm a southern girl -- born and reared -- so you'd think any book with a southern slant would grab me. But they don't -- and here's why -- many of them try so hard to be southern that it just comes off as too much -- and, quite often, not very realistic. Oh, yeah, there are some real characters here in the south but no more, I would wager, than in any other region -- so reading about someone's loopy aunt who puts clothes on chickens or crazy grandpa who summons a UFO with his ukelele, um, no. Sometimes these books actually make me cringe -- and, to be truthful, sometimes it's the southern writers who are the worst. Once I see that a novel is supposed to be some cutesy, contemporary southern thang, I usually just put it right back down. And what's with the names folks come up with for southern characters? I've noticed that a lot of writers give characters names which might have at one time been more prevalent in the south -- or they give them some weird made-up sounding, funky name. I'm sure you can find that here and there but it's just not usual. Not any more. But, apparently doing so is supposed to scream SOUTHERN. Well, they make a southern girl scream if that counts for anything.

Now, let's talk about writing because I can't say what I've just said without commenting on what I write.

I write contemporary novels either set in the south or featuring a main female character who is from the south. So what gives?

Well, I write contemporary novels pretty much because I don't have the fire under me to do much research -- so writing historicals is pretty much out for me unless one day something just won't let me be. I did write one novel which was partly historical -- but not really because it was a fantasy world which I could make any way I wanted it. And I did. Anyway, writing contemporary, yes. Reading, not very often.

And the southern thing -- well, they say, "write what you know" and I do know the south. It's very easy for me to make my females southern -- I feel their rhythm, can hear their accents, know the way they would word something -- you've heard of the southern insult, I'm sure, just add bless your heart to whatever you say and nobody will actually be offended. I often take my characters out of the south, though, and make them fish out of water somewhere else. But, whatever I do, I never make their southernness a separate character in the story -- it's there and it makes them who they are -- but they experience life just like anybody else does -- only with a southern drawl. I don't continuously point out they they are from the south or try to make the conversations "sound" overly southern -- I do throw in some "y'alls" and "fixin' tos".

I want to make clear that I'm not dissing any of these genres -- there are good -- and bad -- writers in all of them -- but that really has nothing to do with it. I just like what I like. So, don't show me the top-seller list because I really don't care. Or rattle off the awards a particular author has accumulated because it won't matter.

Just give me a novel that takes me somewhere, without ever leaving my house.

Slightly Off-Kilter

I've written before about how my stories and characters invent themselves. Before I ever commit to writing a story, I know the beginning and the end. I usually know most of the middle, though sometimes the journey has to be poked and prodded along the way. I'm sometimes surprised by the side roads that get added to the mix but I've never changed a plot, especially an ending, because I thought readers might prefer it that way. The story is what it is and that's how it's going to be. I've often wondered (in my fantasies of being published) about what I would do if I were told, "we really like your novel -- except for the ending." I don't know -- do you stick to your guns or fold? I guess it just depends on what's more important to the writer at the time -- or maybe just how different the desired ending would be from the original.

The story I'm writing now (Blue) nearly threw me for a loop. I actually thought it was going to end a certain way -- though I wasn't crazy about that particular ending -- is that weird -- to not be crazy about your own ending in your own story? Anyway, I had reached a point where the voices had stopped chattering -- and I asked them, in a somewhat disappointed tone, "th-thh-that's all, folks?"

Their lack of response led me to believe it was the end -- or either they were just messing with my mind, as characters have been known to do. Eventually, they started speaking again and gave me the actual ending -- you see, these characters speak to me from hindsight. They already know everything -- and they tell me a lot of things which don't get written. I know their life stories long before my story begins, to long after the written part is finished. So, if you've read any of my work, just know, a story never really ends -- though sometimes, I know how a character dies (though it might not be a part of the original story and be far into the future). And sometimes that upsets me to no end. But, hey, it happens.

No wonder I'm slightly off-kilter.

Writing Goofs

I posted a chapter of my latest work-in-progress today. About twenty minutes after I did, I thought, "oops, that was not right..."

You see, there was a sentence in that chapter which probably shouldn't have been there. This has happened before -- it's usually something simple like using the wrong name, a misspelling or something not quite matching something which was already written -- most of the time, these mistake are easy to fix. All writers, I assume, have editing goofs (and sometimes there are goofs even after the book is published and on the shelves).

Anyway, I've spent the last few minutes fretting over whether I need to go in and change that sentence -- not too many folks have read it yet so it wouldn't be a big deal.

Or would it?

Because now that I think about it, it was probably one of those Freudian slip things. Something which will serve a purpose which I didn't think about and which will actually do more good than harm...

Maybe.

We'll see.

But I've decided not to change it.

I write because I...have to...

It's always interesting to me to read about how authors write. Do they need complete silence? Do they write in the morning? In the evening? Anytime? Do they set aside a time where no one is allowed to bother them? And, do they write quickly? Or do they agonize over every word? The thing is most authors, on their blogs and websites, don't really go into that much -- maybe they think nobody would be interested but they're wrong.

I always like to point out that I'm not published -- I don't know if I have the fire under me to attempt it -- I've made a few stabs at it -- but I do write. For me, writing is fun and, quite honestly, if I thought I had to write in order to pay the bills, I'm afraid the muse would go running off, screaming like a banshee. But I'm sure there are some writers who work well under pressure. I would not be one of them.

Anyway, I thought I'd discuss my writing habits...

First of all, I always have story ideas swirling around in my head -- it just all depends on which one gels as to what I end up writing at any given time. Why one thing is ready while something else isn't, I don't know -- sometimes it's the less clear story which demands to be written, while the more thought-out one has to languish awhile longer. Sometimes something inspires me -- sometimes it's a favorite actor who I can imagine in the "role" of the main character. Sometimes it's another book I've read which sparks or re-ignites a plot in my own head. Sometimes it's just something which pops up unbidden. Either way, once those voices start talking, I have to listen. It's as if they are in my ear, saying, "Hey, Lynn, write this down!"

I've always claimed that my characters name themselves and the novel creates its own title. I can't explain that but it happens all the time. Once, a character took the name of another character in another story -- and I had to ask Character #1 to rename himself when it came his turn to be written. He obliged very nicely -- and it wasn't until later than I realized he'd chosen a name which could be shortened to the nickname which Character #2 had stolen. So, Nick was happy and so was Dominic. I was thrilled that they all could share my head and get along.

There are other strange things that happen. I've written sentences or paragraphs which really didn't seem necessary but then, chapters later, something happened which referred directly back to that. I've also written scenes where I stare at the computer and ask a character, "What are you doing? What do you want?" because I've just written something that I have no idea where it's going. I've also written things where I sit back and shake my head and say, "I didn't know that."

As far as when I write -- anytime I feel like it and when I can. Where -- could do it anywhere I have computer access. Don't need quiet but can write in silence. Can also write when there's a lot of noise. If the muse is speaking, she doesn't care what's going on around her.

I'm also a "bang out the chapters" type. My first draft is always quick and easy -- it's bare bones but gets all the major plot points and specific lines down. It's when I go back later to edit, that the details come out -- as does the throwing out and adding in. It can be a hard process but, for me, it's actually when I feel the most creative.

I've seen myself get better at writing over the years. At this point, I've written ten novels or novellas. I can see the improvements I've made over time -- all the things I've learned to do and, more importantly, not to do. I've tried very hard to break bad habits -- I still make those mistakes but I've learned to catch them -- often in the the editing process. I'm not saying I'm a great or even good writer -- but I think I have improved.

I love all my characters but some more than others. I've had peripheral characters which have become favorites. And main characters which have changed their personality on me. I've had characters say, "I'm not saying that, get her to say it..." I've had characters I thought were bad turn out to be good. And I've had more than one announce that they are, in fact, gay.

Well, okay, whatevah.

It's an odd world to inhabit and if you could get inside of my head, it would probably scare you. Scares me because, half the time, I like it in there much better than out here.

All About Writing

A few blogs/websites about writing:

• Absolute Write
• Nathan Bransford
• The Rejecter
• Writer Beware

Am I Blue?

Well, no, not any more than usual, but it is the name of my new story which I'm posting on my forum in the Current Fiction section. I'm always torn when I start something new because I think: is this something I might want to try to get published -- or is this just a free-for-all? The truth is, sometimes I don't really know until I've finished the thing. So, for now, Blue is open for reading, as are a few other things which are not in my hope-to-be-published queue.

I admit I've done very little toward getting published. I've sent off a few query letters and my complete manuscript (Mr. Parrish -- a vampire novel) was requested by one publisher but nothing came of it (I'll write about that one day -- it's a much longer story than these few words would indicate). Sometimes I think being published isn't in the cards for me -- and I'm not sure I have the fire inside me to really work toward that elusive goal.

I've been writing non-stop for about five years now -- have cranked out various novels in various genres and have enjoyed myself tremendously in doing so (and I hope they've been enjoyed by those who've read them). But, last year, after my daughter's wedding (and trying to finish a story -- which I finally had to give up on until after the wedding), dealing with some depression issues and suffering the loss of a beloved dog, I knew I needed a good, long break. Which I have now taken. It took me awhile to figure out which story I wanted to tell and, for whatever reason, Blue is it.

I've learned so much in my writing endeavors -- especially the (bad) habits I've needed to break. Some I have broken -- and, when I go back and read my earlier work, I can really see the difference. I'm not saying I'm a great writer -- just that I'm a better writer than I use to be. And maybe that's all I can ask.

There are so many people out there who want to write and I think that's the key. You have to want to do it and enjoy it. Lord, I can't even imagine having to be published for a living. I believe my muse would walk right out the door and never look back if I had to look at writing that way. I'm fortunate that I don't have to and can just write on a whim, though I'm well aware that if a manuscript is accepted, you do have to answer to someone, somewhere. But right now, I'm only answerable to me. And I'm a pretty easy boss.

Dream a little dream...

From Imagination Prompt:

Do you have reoccurring dreams? What are they about?


I have two -- one still happens, the other has pretty much stopped -- because, I believe I figured out what it meant.

The first recurring dream is what I call my "stress" dream. It's always about water. Lots and lots of water. Sometimes I'm on a boat, in a storm. Sometimes I'm on the shore but the waves are huge and crashing down over me. Sometimes I'm trying to drive a car through a flooded area. Sometimes I'm in the water but a long way from shore. If I'm really stressed out there's usually something in the water with me. Not very nice things. With teeth.

Why water equates with stress, I don't know. I'm not afraid of water. I can swim. But there it is -- maybe it's just my brain's way of letting all the stresses out. So, why couldn't I have dreams about a peaceful, flowing river instead?

I dunno -- maybe it keeps me from beating the living daylights out of someone.

The other dream -- which I haven't had in a long time -- is about restrooms.

In the dream, I'm somewhere unfamiliar -- it could be campus, a large building, a shopping center or even a whole city. And the problem is there is only one restroom -- and wherever I happen to be is a long way from it. I have to get directions, then overcome all sorts of obstacles to get there (locked doors, fences which I have to climb, walking uphill all the way).

Did I mention I really have to go?

So, I finally get there but...the place is absolutely filthy. I mean so filthy you wouldn't let your dog go in (well, not my dogs!) So, filthy, you wouldn't dare lettuce turnip and pea.

And, remember, this the only restroom. For miles and miles.

Fortunately, about this time, I always wake up.

So, what does this mean? Well, I figured out that I tend to have high expectations but the reality usually doesn't end up being nearly as good as the fantasy. It's a rush to get there, only to find that there isn't all it's cracked up to be.

If I had a good crack joke, I'd insert it here.

Maybe it's because I'm always spinning stories in my head and I tend to create scenarios which never happen -- and I end up with a reality which leaves me slightly disappointed because I was hoping for more -- and also leaves me with that bothersome question -- is that all there is?

I'm getting stressed out now.

I think I need some water.

Choosing Wisely

From CanTeach:

What would happen if there were no television? Why would this be good? bad?


Bad, very bad. I mean, if there was no TV, how would I get my Adam Lambert fix?!! How would I have even known about my Lamchop?

Seriously -- though I'm not in the mood to be serious -- I often hear folks bemoaning TV (or the Internet or modern music...). The thing is, like a lot of things, it all depends on what you use it for -- if it's for illegal or immoral purposes, then it's bad but what if you're watching TV for educational purposes -- or for entertainment? I've watched a lot of excellent shows on the History channel or PBS. I love my CSIs (I'm on pins and needles right now, waiting for the return of the dastardly but, oh, so lovely Rick Stetler -- David Lee Smith -- on Miami). I love Ghosthunters -- not sure what I'm learning there, other than Tango is hilarious when he goes Jersey on a ghostie. And I'm a news junkie from way back.

Yeah, there's something to be said for the "old ways" -- back when a person had to make their own entertainment. Ol' Henry VIII did that and look what happened but, seriously (I'm trying!) times change and we either change with them or we stagnate. I can't imagine life these days without the internet -- or without TV. Or a microwave or a dishwasher, for that matter. The thing is we live in the world that is, not the one that was. That doesn't mean old-fashioned values don't have a place -- it just means that they can live side by side with the new-fangled stuff.

If you gave me the choice between spending the day, out on the lake, fishing -- or a day surfing the net or watching TV, well, Red Lobster is about as close as I'm going to get to reeling in my own dinner.

What can I say? I love technology. And I'll take it good, bad or ugly. I just pray for the ability to choose wisely.

Aw, nuts!

From Imagination Prompt

Are you ready to change that one thing about yourself that drives you nuts? How?

One thing?! Seriously?!

I actually have worked on changing some things about myself that I don't like, namely my ability to get overwrought about things which really don't matter. Not that I don't still do it on occasion but I've really begun (finally) to learn what's worth it and what isn't. Most things will work themselves out, one way or the other. You do your best, then you have to step back and let it run its course. There's nothing like planning a wedding, which we did last year, to teach you not to sweat the small stuff.

I've definitely learned to not be a people-pleaser, so that's been a good change, though I'm not so sure I've ever really been one. I really don't care what someone else thinks about me. However, this is not a free pass to say whatever pops into my head, do absolutely anything I have a mind to do or to be rude and unsympathetic (the only thing that I'm totally unsympathetic about is people who smoke, then complain about respiratory illnesses or who have no money to burn except, somehow, on cigs). Other than behaving in a decent and courteous manner, I'm not looking to please anyone.

I have a tendency to be judgmental. I'm much, much better about this though I think it's one of the hardest habits to break. We tend to judge other people on what they wear, how they rear their children, their opinions (political or otherwise), their religion (a big one), etc. -- we think we know better than they do, that we have all the answers -- and we may have answers -- but only for ourselves. Before any of us take someone to task, we'd better take a long, hard look in the mirror. It's human nature to be judgmental so I know I'm not alone in this -- though "everyone else is doing it" is never a good excuse (just ask any parent!).

But my number one nut-producing activity is how I deal with a certain person in my life. I tend to grit my teeth and internalize -- and then feel guilty about it. More than anything, I wish I could just let this kind of thing roll off my back but, as of yet, I haven't found the off switch. Because of this, I think I actually get physically ill -- not to be mention very tired, emotionally and mentally. I would change this in a heartbeat if I could. I know it's my attitude which has to change because the other person's attitude certainly isn't going to any time soon.

Anyway, I suppose, if you ask my husband what, about me, drives him nuts, he could probably come up with a list a mile long. And, really, he's the one who has to live with me. I'm just on the inside, looking out.

Greenery

From The One-Minute Writer:

What makes you green with envy?

Honestly, nothing. Sure, I see something someone else has and I might want it -- but I never think of it in terms of "I wish I had that and she didn't". To me, that's what real envy is -- and I don't think it's a very healthy emotion. I could never imagine wishing someone didn't have something so that I could. My mind just doesn't work that way. If someone has something -- by sheer luck or by working hard for it -- more power to them. Why should I be jealous of someone else's good fortune?

In other news. Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'm wearing a green sweater and...well, that's about it but Erin Go Bragh anyway.

Dear Me

From Sunday Scribblings:

Dear Past Me, Dear Future Me...


Dear Past me:

It's in the past. Forgive and forget. Learn from your mistakes. And from your triumphs.

Dear Future me:

Pretty much the same thing. The future will eventually be the past.

With love,

Me