Blog Trek

Everything in its Time, or the Muse that Won't

A synopsis is like a bowl of treacle.  Not something you would ever want to put your foot into, outwardly calm and innocent-looking, but wickedly difficult to shake off.

I churned out 6 pages of "Indelible's" synopsis last week.  The first page came fairly easily, but as the pages progressed, everything went downhill.  I found myself putting in detail after detail as I slogged my way through the chapter by chapter outline looking for necessary plotpoints.  I lost my focus and the essence of the story.

Last Sunday evening, I made it to the Fiction SIG for the first time since last April.  The other members greeted me like the prodigal I was, then we got down to the meat of my work.  Their comments were pretty much the same as my thoughts--back to the drawing board for everything past page 1. 

I had the same false starts with the blurb for "All That Glitters."  I tried to force it out and failed, then after I stopped fighting my muse and relaxed, it came in words and sentences. 

This past week, I started jotting down thoughts that came to me.  It'll all work out, as long as I let things progress in their own time.

The balky muse.  I had to have one.

The Roses

Many years ago, my aunt visited me when we were living in North Carolina.  My then-husband was in the USAF and was away on temporary duty, leaving me to entertain my aunt and take care of my two children.  Since the kids were small and my aunt wasn't very mobile, we ended up spending a lot of time cruising around a local antique shop and Sunday morning antiques mall, where my aunt bought several items.

At one stall in the mall, we came across a print in a pretty ugly frame.  It was of a round navy blue bowl filled with the most exquisite roses in every hue of pink.  We went around the mall twice and then returned to look at the print again.  The frame was expensive--out of my price range--and my aunt remarked that she couldn't take a chance that rolling up that print would result in it making the trip to England without ripping.

The vendor overheard us and proceeded to tell us we could have the print for $5, because he really was only interested in selling the frame.  My aunt paid and gave the rose print to me as a gift.  It ended up in a very cheap frame after she went home, because at that time, money was scarce around my household unless it went toward monthly living expenses.

Over the years, it went into a couple of frames that didn't do it justice.  A couple of them broke during our numerous moves, and a piece tore off at the bottom of the print.  My husband's solution was to take a pair of scissors and cut the bottom off, but I resisted, upset that he would even suggest defacing what had become my favorite print.  Finally, on a move from one apartment to another in Orange County, the glass broke again and my daughter took the print to her home, where she could cut a new piece of glass until I could afford to get the print custom framed. 

The saga of "The Roses" went on.  She became pregnant and the glass didn't get cut.  I got very busy and forgot she had the print whenever I visited.  I thought about it after I arrived home.  Finally, she told me she planned to move and needed to clean out her garage.  Sitting on a shelf, covered with a towel, sat my poor print.  The last disaster with broken glass had given it a couple of new cracks.  I carefully took it and placed it in the trunk of my SUV, and this evening it went to get a custom matte, glass that will protect it from fading and achival paper. 

After all the moves, all the changes that have happened in my life, it deserves more than ending up in a garage under a towel.  It was, after all, the inspiration for "Indelible."  As I wind my way toward the end of the second draft, it's fitting that The Roses are going to be coming home in better shape than ever before.  The work will take 10 days.  And my draft will be completed by the end of the month. 

What's In A (Sur)Name?

Naming the characters in a novel requires a lot of thought.  In "Indelible" I have to think even more carefully--set in Miami, it contains scenes that should include a number of ethnicities as well as regional candidates to consider.  Fewer generics & more flavorful names ratchet up the authenticity of the scenes.

But if I wrote some of the more colorful surnames into my novel, I would get held to task for cliches, which is indeed a case of life being more inventive than art.  I'm talking about people whose surnames match their professions, and I have mused after meeting them, whether they really had a desire to go into some particular career, or whether their names prompted them thinking more favorably about that particular path.

We once had a veterinarian named Dr. Barkman.  I've also met a gynecologist named Dr. Holeman (no, I am not joking or fabricating.) 

If I placed a jeweler named Diamond in my novel or a chef named Salmon, I would be told that never happens in real life.

Go figure.

The Weather, the Book and the Framework. Or is it The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe?

It's that time of year when I dream of being in a colder climate.  The temps are hitting the 100 degree mark and beyond in So Cal and it's like being in an oven.  Incredibly, people here are in denial, talking about how hot it is in other places, and I wonder if they have developed heat stroke.

I'm looking forward to a long weekend.  The fax has been reasonably quiet this week, and I'm hoping to get a 3-day weekend.  Traffic has been down for the last 2 weeks, probably because the gasoline prices here are through the roof and this is a short work-week.  I'll take it, whatever the cause.  I've gotten home a lot faster, and I haven't had to deal with as many bad drivers.  I swear, since I started driving around all day for a living, I have discovered that 90% of driving infractions go unnoticed.  And they are the most incredibly blatant things, too.  I will say that today, I only saw one woman with a cell phone up to her ear, and of course, it was in Highland Park.  Folk there just do whatever they want, because the cops are mostly interested in who is running the 4 way stop halfway down the big hill that runs past Occidental College.  Other than that, I have rarely seen anyone pulled over, unless they are dead behind the wheel.

Tonight I pulled critiques for "Indelible."  Looks like I have more revisions to do on the pages I have been working on over the last few days.  Once I fix the easy stuff, I have to think about the deeper plot points, questions and layering.  I don't want to make this a completely different book.  The framework has been established, the emotional aspects have been blocked in, but now I have to make a choice--will my characters remain true to my vision, or should I change some aspects of their reactions to certain plot points and/or twists? 

I guess I could go on forever, revising ad nauseum, but ultimately the buck stops at my keyboard, so I will have to make those life choices for Kaylen and Brian.  Then they will have to live with them for at least 2 more books.

Basking in the Glory versus Getting Down to Business

The euphoria is still there.  Kudos are coming in.  People are actually buying the book.  Now I've covered all my friends, relatives, fellow writers, and aquaintances I will have to go outside the box to promote.

Paula Johnson blogged about designing my book cover to make it stand out from the pack. 

I worked on everything but my current work-in-progress.  That's not good.  But tomorrow I plan to do some research, so maybe I will redeem myself--somewhat.  The words on the page still have to be rewritten, shuffled, reworded.  There's no other way to get manuscript completed.  Like taking a hoe to a patch of weeds and uncovering the actual crop hidden beneath. 

What did and didn't get done yet this year

Tomorrow is the last day of November, and I'm falling behind on some last goals for this year, including completing the second draft of "Rose Tattoo" and inputting and revising "Hook, Line and Sinker" for Awe-Struck's new contest.

Christmas is only just around the corner, and although I have done a lot of my Christmas shopping already, there's still more to be done.  Some of it can be completed online, but I will still have to traipse to a couple of stores. 

Fortunately, I got the green light to put on a shoe after I ran my poor operated toe into the footstool 2 weeks before.  It was a painful 2 weeks, and I spent time in recriminations (Why didn't I wear my cast shoe, even though I was on the way to the shower and just stopped off at the coffee table?  Why didn't I look where I was going, for goodness sake?) until I got a grip and told myself I would just have to consider the fact that my podiatrist thought I might still be in that cast shoe until Christmas.

But, I healed.  Not the osteotomy, but that will continue its healing process, and that isn't painful, either.  All in all, I had an easier time with this foot than the other one.  And one of these years, I will go back to get my bunion fixed on the left side.  Just not within the next year or so.  Spending several months in cast shoes during this past year has left me with a hankering to get back to the Land of Normal and get back into shape.  It's difficult for me to do so when I can't walk well.  I'm like my dog--I have to get out and walk lots, which is why I love hiking so much, I guess.

I got my new book cover framed this week.  I had to pay for a custom matte, but it was worth the price--the outcome is quite outstanding.  Paula Johnson( http://www.paulaljohnson.com/ ) did a really fine job, and I have to thank her more publically.  I'll get the cover posted on Blog Trek as soon as I have more than a link to Awe-Struck's website.  Paula posted it on the Alameda Writers Group website ( http://alamedawritersgroup.org/members/bymembers.html?a=3889&ref ) as a coming attraction on the members' books page, where it looks just splendid.

Rewrites

Work has slowed down again this week.  The weather is turning cooler, and I'm feeling my stress level lower in tune with the outdoor thermometer.

I've actually managed to get some writing done:  played around with the blurb for "All That Glitters," emailed it back and forth with Vikk for some constructive criticism, and then placed it on that proverbial back burner once again.  Then I worked on another chapter of "Rose Tattoo," and made a lot of headway with a very dialogue-heavy scene that the critique group had really come down on.  After not looking at this chapter for several months, I've been able to see where they wanted more clarification and yet, I've managed to remain true to the relationship between the 2 characters and keep it real.  Friends do say the things I've had them discussing, and even at crisis points in their lives.  But I played around with and changed the tone a little to make them more likeable while they're doing it.

I returned to "Glitter's" blurb earlier this evening, and with some chopping and rewording, I got it down to a shorter, more concise state.  The tagline came to me yesterday as I was rushing out the door to work.  I came back inside the house a jotted it onto a manilla pad on my very cluttered desk.  So, that's done, too.  Now I still have to write an even shorter version.  Sometimes, it's easier to completely rewrite the blurb than chop down the longer version.  I'll see what happens.

My day job isn't so busy.  The weather's nice.  I know I'll be able to do what needs to be done.

Just Blogging Along

I've been splitting my time between my day job and my passion for work, which of course is writing. 

When I can't find the time to work on "Rose Tattoo" I feel positively deprived, or perhaps depraved.  Yesterday, I finally got through the Must Do's and hit Chapter 16 with both feet.  I had already reworked it, but I knew I wasn't finished.  After reading it again, I knew my feelings were correct, and I found myself tweaking a lot of the dialogue, punching up the tension and adding some more details that I'd had trouble weaving in on the last revision.

Am I done?  No.  When I came to the last 2 pages, I was running on empty and it was 11:30PM.  I could have forced myself through to the end, but what was the point?  Tonight I would be reworking everything I saw on those pages, so I made myself leave the office and go to bed.

I hear other writers talking about pushing on through, even though they are exhausted.  If their brains then disgorge good stuff, well, then it was worth the effort.  For me, though, it would be like going to a turkey shoot with a cap gun.  My brain disgorges nothing at that point, or it gives me garbage that should have been left down around my Medulla until I go to be wherever I end up when I die.

When I write Romances, I can push a little harder and a little further.  Perhaps because when I'm tired, I get more emotional and then I can reach that deeper level of connection.  But when I'm writing mystery or suspense, I start slipping up and reading things in that aren't really there, or thinking things are totally clear when they're actually about as clear as mud on the bottom of a murky pond.

Speaking of which, this blog looks more like mud than clarity in itself.  Time to make coffee, wash dishes, complete today's paperwork and mull over those 2 final pages of Chapter 16.  Maybe I can even get them finished before I go to bed this evening.  After all, 2 pages will get me into Chapter 17.  That's a pretty workable goal for a busy Wednesday evening.

Some Things Get Finished and Others Get Started

I'm back.  The "squeaky clean" copy of "All That Glitters" has been emailed to Awe-Struck.  I have maintained my breakneck pace with the manuscript as well as a full load of patients.  Actually, I had a record 10 cancellations last week, so I was able to really push the hours and get "Glitter" sent back out ahead of schedule.

My last stint involved spending most of the afternoon and the entire evening on Tuesday in my office.  Finally, I Winzipped the file and went to bed at 12:30AM on Wednesday morning.  I got through the day in pretty good shape, except I had a terrific desire for coffee about 3PM.  But oh, when I came home that evening.  I recognized the fact that I was not as young as I used to be, and that this older me just doesn't have the stamina after the event that the younger me did.  I used to party until 5:00AM, lay on my bed and get up at 7:30AM when I lived in Paris.  Of course, I was barely 19 years old at that time, but who's counting?  And certainly I'm not going to give myself an excuse for the fact that I couldn't even function after about 8PM Wednesday evening.  I sat trying to force myself to complete the last note for my patient, and I just couldn't do it.  Accepting defeat, I went to bed.

This morning I felt a lot better.  I had another full day.  Completed it.  Ate dinner.  Took the dog to the park, although neither of us had enough enthusiasm to go around it twice. 

On my return home, I heard water running.  The defunct connection for an icemaker that no longer exists had broken open and was spewing water all over the kitchen.  My first instinct was to panic and run around like a chicken with my head cut off.  Then I decided it might be better to turn off the water.  There's no shut-off valve in this old kitchen, so off I went, back down the stairs, across the yard and to the main shut-off valve in the front. 

The handle came off in my hand.  The water was still running--I could hear it.  Back up the stairs I went (all 18 of them,) into the kitchen, where I now had the water jetting into a bucket.  I had to take all my pots and pans off the baker's rack, the TV and the coffee canisters.  Then I dragged the rack forward, grabbed the offending hose, kinked it and tied it off with a rubber band.

Then I called my landlord's son and now he's working on getting everything repaired either tomorrow or Saturday.  I even got things arranged so my son can come in and sit with the repairman/plumber.  I washed all the pans and rearranged the kitchen, did a load of washing because I used all my old bathtowels to mop up the 2 or 3 inches of water on the kitchen floor.  I dragged all the mats outside to drip dry. 

Now I'm behind on my paperwork again, and I never scheduled a patient I am supposed to see by Saturday.

There's only so much one person can do in a day.

Where's My Break?

The seminar on renewing boring blogs addressed other topics, but the concept of using a blog as a marketing tool is one many bloggers try to apply to their own sites.  Using a blog as just a diary may be cathartic, but it doesn't advance the career of the writer much, unless said writer is either monumentally talented, extremely prolific and lucky, into the bargain. 

I heard stories about bloggers who transcended the Blog Realm by securing multi-book contracts and riding off into the Sunset of Success.  What about me?  I could do that.  I wouldn't even mind a donkey, or an ass, or even Shrek's friend, the Stunted Donkey with the giant teeth.