My Muse, who is beloved, so, so very beloved, is gracing me with her presence. Were she not so...umm...fickle, though, I might tell her that the 70s called; they want their music back. All evening long, it's been a steady diet of "Music Box Dancer" chased with some Captain and Tennille.
If that's what it takes, then I'm all in.
May 20, 2009
Scribbling Furiously...
May 14, 2009
A Map to Lead Me From the Forest
Show me a roomful of writers, and I'll show you a roomful of ways to organize and plan a novel. Before I wrote my first book (and even after--who am I kidding?), I studied the process of many writers looking for "the way." I even tried some of them on for size. Jenny Crusie constructs elaborate collages for a character...Diana Gabaldon works strictly in "chunks", each saved as a separate document to be combined late in the writing process...some construct detailed outlines...some must write straight through the story...others write in a stream-of-consciousness flow...
What ended up working for me was an amalgamation. I slogged my way through the story in my head and made a list of scenes I knew needed to be included to move the story along. From there, I was free to write in whatever order worked best for me. Inspiration often struck in random spots through the story. For this second book, I had already made extensive notes for a sketch of the story, even going so far as to write out bits of a few scenes.
Now, though, the plan is set. I've completed my List of Scenes to Include. What a weight to have that done. It'll not only be a guide, but it has already helped me flesh out areas of the story I knew were lacking in development. Happy, happy, joy, joy!!!!!!
April 30, 2009
A Get Fuzzy Giggle
My favorite comic strip is Get Fuzzy by Darby Conley. It's about an ad-man named Rob Wilco, his Siamese cat (with Attitude) named Bucky, and his dog Satchel (who, bless his heart, is sweet but a little slow sometimes). I've had it delivered to my e-mail daily for some time now. You've got to go check them out. Go on. Just come back here when you're done.
Sometimes it makes me giggle, sometimes it makes me roll my eyes, and sometimes, on those days when Bucky is in rare form and Satchel just doesn't get it, or on the more rare occasions when Satchel has reached his limit, I laugh until my gut hurts and my face is awash with tears. Today's strip didn't make me cry, but I absolutely loved the comparison in the punchline and had to share: "...would be about as popular as the Lance Armstrong float in a Bastille Day parade."
April 29, 2009
Tee Hee Hee...Oh, Ewww
I found this joke just now and thought it was too funny. Now, as a child, I was (for that matter, I still am) more fond of the cute and furry--NOT the slithery and scaly. It's still funny, though. Go check it out. While you're there, have a look around. Worth your time...trust me.
April 27, 2009
100
I thought perhaps that my 100th post should have some momentous content. What, though? Questions of craft? A new short story? Another section of my first book? Deep philosophical thoughts?
Shortly before my brain burst into flames from all the possibilities, I remembered a quote I read earlier today. Really, it wasn't anything new; an author compared trying to be a cook by looking at pictures of food with someone trying to write without reading. I have to love the formula: do something I love, love, LOVE to do so I can get better at something else I love to do.
Now, I've always been a voracious reader. It was really the only reason I wanted to go to school. My little child's mind had it all figured out: go to school, learn to read, leave school and read about everything else I needed to know. Alas, it didn't work out that way (a whole other post that I'm not getting in to here), but my love for reading has continued unabated.
So, what am I reading? Thanks for asking. I visited a little book re-sale shop this weekend (too close to closing time, so I'll return soon) and found a couple of non-fiction titles. First, I saw Born on the Fourth of July. I saw the movie years ago, but reading Kovic's own words was quite powerful (Hmm, book was better than the film; go figure!). It was a quick read, and I've moved on to another book I picked up: Elegy for Iris by John Bayley.
I also saw this movie when it came out in 2001. I haven't gotten far enough in this book to make a judgment about which version is better, even though I think I already know my answer, but I am touched by Bayley's descriptions of his wife and his style.
Finally, I picked up Citizen Soldiers by Stephen E. Ambrose. I haven't started reading this yet, but I chose it because I've not read very much about World War II. That needs to change. I read World War One by S.L.A. Marshall some years ago, which I would recommend to anyone looking to research The Great War, but I'm embarassed to say that I've not read much in detail about World War II. Watching Band of Brothers was interesting and entertaining, but I need more. It's no substitute.
Looking at this list, I realize I'm boning up on my non-fiction reading, not fiction, like what I'm writing. I almost felt guilty, thinking I wasn't even taking my own advice. I thought about it, though, and realized that it's all good. I can still learn craft in the non-fiction. I'll be adding in a spot of fiction, though, for good measure.
So, what are you reading?
April 22, 2009
Brain Hard at Work
The past two days, I've managed to do something that's usually difficult for me: come up with workable ideas for short stories. My mind tends to work more along the long, drawn out path of novels. Not the fast-paced racetrack of short stories.
I've discovered that, for the most part, the ideas come more quickly if I follow the "What would happen if..." formula. Having such a question virtually guarantees a solvable conflict and gives specific purpose to the story. None of them are so complex, either, as to require an entire novel to work out. I now have nine solid ideas, and I'm stoked! I'm not ditching the novel, mind you, just branching out.
Digging through my archives, I discovered a bit of serendipity. If I had but waited until Tuesday of next week to develop one of my ideas, it would be exactly a year from the first time Odelle had come up on my radar. Her story is much more fleshed out now. She's shared some of her back story with me, let me know just how her main conflict came to be, and made me chuckle at the...folksiness with which she speaks. I'll be listening carefully to capture her just right.
April 21, 2009
My First Book--Scene Twenty-One
Instead of giving a long list of links for you to read the previous scenes in my book, might I point you to the "Categories" at the left? Mosey on down to "my first book--scenes", click there and scroll down to wherever you have to start. It's been a while since the last installment, so it might be helpful.
Go on. We'll wait for you.
Back? Okay. Without further ado, I give you Scene Twenty-One.
*******
“I know you’ll want to take Lela with you. She can drive you up to Dallas, right?” he asked as we walked towards the door. Despite the fact that both he and Mabel had both tried to teach me to drive, I still would not willingly take the wheel.
“Something can be arranged,” I said, not bothering to tell him that Lela had also been working on me to accept the money. He didn’t need to know everything, right? She would be on my doorstep at nine.
“Oh, by the way,” he said as he reached for his hat, “Waylon and I are having supper at the café. He told me you ladies were planning a day in Dallas, and neither of us can cook. We poor men have to eat, don’t we?”
With admonitions to mind their Aunt Emily and not break anything, Lela and I sent Ruth and Waylon Carl into the vastness of Dallas’s Neiman Marcus department store. The trio disappeared toward the children’s department, and I gawked at rack after rack of the latest fashions hung ready for anxious buyers.
I tentatively began searching the racks for just the right dress when a sales lady approached us.
“May I help you, madam?” she asked us politely.
“I’m looking for a dress to wear for a special occasion,” I said. I’d never been to such a large store and was more than a little unsure just where to begin.
“Cotillion or cocktail party?” the sales lady asked.
Cotillion? What on earth was a cotillion? I certainly knew my little Baptist wedding would not be a cocktail party, but was it a cotillion. Somehow, I thought probably not. What should I say?
“A small wedding,” Lela said, rescuing me.
“Ah, yes. Madam might like to look at these dresses, then.” She led us to a stand of dresses several feet away. We dutifully followed.
“Thank you. I believe I shall find something quite nice,” I said. I appreciated the assistance but felt uncomfortable with the woman.
“Very well.” The sales lady blended into the surroundings and once again disappeared.
Lela and I pawed rack after rack, searching for a dress. “You know,” she said, holding up a striped dress. I shook my head, and she continued, “after we’re done with this, we should go over to the lingerie department and find someth—”
“Shhh! Do you want someone to hear you?” I hissed, moving closer to her. “What about this one?” I asked, hoping to distract her. What was she thinking?
“Maybe,” she said. “Or this?” She held up another dress.
I took both dresses, and we headed toward the dressing rooms. Picking up the conversation once I made sure no one else occupied any of the dressing rooms, I said, “I might could understand paying for a nice dress, but it just seems a shame to spend a lot of money on something that’s not meant to be worn for very long.”
Lela snickered. “Chloe, honey, that’s the whole point. Besides, he gave you the money and told you to spend it on something special for the wedding. I think that qualifies.”
I stepped out of the dressing room to model the first dress. “What do you think?”
Lela eyed me speculatively. “It’s nice, but it doesn’t seem right, now I see it on. Try the other one.”
I nodded, completely in agreement after catching a view of myself in the mirror, and shut the dressing room door to try on the other dress. “Somehow, I think I could wear a potato sack to bed, and he’d still be interested,” I said, pulling the dress off over my head.
“No, sweetie, that’s for after the honeymoon,” Lela said, laughing.
“Stunning!” she said as I opened the door. “That dress is absolutely gorgeous on you! You just have to buy it.”
I twirled around. “Really?”
“That’s it, Chloe. That’s the one.” She was adamant.
I looked down, appreciating the small flowers on the fabric and delicate lace work around the collar. This shade of lavender was a particular favorite of mine. Still not a fan of the fashion trend toward drop waists in dresses, I had to admit this one looked nicer than most I had seen.
“It’s so pretty, but where else would I wear it?”
“Who knows? As a doctor’s wife, you might have all sorts of places to go where you could wear it,” Lela said.
I retreated into the dressing room a final time. “Okay, I’ll get it,” I said. I changed back into my own clothes and went to pay for the new dress.
Once we reached the lingerie department, I tended towards long, conservative gowns. Lela worked hard to convince me to buy something much racier, preferably with more lace than fabric yet not much of anything at all.
“You know,” she said as she held up a red silk teddy, “I wonder if Waylon’d go wild if I was to wear this to bed?”
I looked at it, and my eyes bugged. “Are you kidding? He’d likely never leave you alone!” She smiled, one corner of her mouth quirking up, and hung it back on the rack.
“What about this?” I held up a gown.
Lela frowned and shook her head. She leaned close and whispered, “His grandmother might wear that to bed, but if you actually want sex, I wouldn’t count on it. Not with that.”
“Potato sack, Lela. Potato sack. I could wear one of those, remember?” I said.
Lela had to laugh at that. “You know, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I’d have to agree. Still, you should drive him wild with anticipation. That’s why you wear one of these,” she said, holding up another garment. This one was, I had to admit, a reasonable compromise between her earlier offer of the red teddy and my granny gown.
She sighed, and half under her breath she said, “I wish Waylon still looked at me like that.”
I looked up at Lela, seeing a sadness quickly flash in her eyes before it disappeared again. “What’s going on?” I asked, taking a step towards her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
She shook her head and tried to turn away. “You wouldn’t have said that if everything was okay. You two still having problems?”
Lela had occasionally confided in me about the difficulties she and Waylon had experienced after the devastating stillbirth of their daughter almost two years ago. I leaned my head against hers and said, “Oh, honey, still?”
She looked around and pulled away. “Not here,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You’re getting married. It’s a happy time! Let’s get you something for that honeymoon.”
I gave her a pat on the arm and moved away. After more than an hour, I finally settled on three different items I liked and Lela approved. The sales lady wrapped my purchases in tissue and handed me the bag. Dan’s stack of bills significantly reduced, we set off in search of our children. I thought we could all do with a picture show before heading home.
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