On Being Late, Showing Up, and Figuring out the Story

I'm late this week!

We took a road trip on Sunday. And then I thought I could make it up on Monday, but I found myself submerged in my day job (editing and transcription obligations).

Later on tonight, I'm taking a medication so that when I go to the dentist tomorrow, I will not be afraid. Then an hour before the procedure, I'll be taking another round of this drug. I have no idea how this medication is going to impact me. I just know that Mike has to drive me, and I've told him to make sure that when they do the procedure, there's a dog on my lap. (There are two dogs that work at my dentist's office.)

The world feels weird this week.

So let me just share one thing.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about a character who I knew had to be in the story, but I was having trouble figuring out where. I thought she was going to show up early in Book 2, but she asked to come in later. I thought we were talking about Book 2, but I later figured out she meant Book 3. I think that's right. For a while, in this first draft, I was writing two versions of chapters because I couldn't figure out whether she was meant to be here at this point or not.

I confided my process to Mike.

“No,” he said, “That can't be right.”

“I have to do it,” I told him, “until I can figure out the story.”

I have to say that I'm still glad that I spend my time brainstorming and outlining before I start writing my draft. Sometimes I have to laugh because when I start writing linearly, I always think I have it figured out, and then my characters rebel. But it still anchors me, even when I have to change it.

And then it became clear. How did I know what to do? I'm not quite sure. I think my other characters told me that they needed more room to sing. It's funny. When I originally envisioned this character, I imagined her connected to one of the characters, and then I changed it. In Book 3, she'll have her original affiliation. Thinking about it now, it makes complete sense. At least right now it does. I reserve the right to change my mind.

This process reminds me of something I went through with Book 1 of this series. In that draft, I struggled with the ending. I actually sent the draft off to my beta readers and then realized it wasn't right. I had ended it on a note that didn't was mid-stanza. I needed to finish the song. I fought it. I felt that it would slow down my schedule, as now my beta readers wouldn't be able to finish what I had written because I hadn't written it yet. That felt embarrassing to me. And it felt like I had to write a lot more, and I wanted to be done, and it wasn't coming out easily. So how could it be right? I had to rewrite it many times.

But in the end, I was really glad I had listened to myself, even though I hadn't wanted to. I think the ending is my favorite part of Book 1. I really don't like having favorites, but I do have a soft spot for those moments at the end.

And this is what I think writing does. It trains you to listen to yourself, to trust yourself. It allows you to make “mistakes.” It lets you know that you can circle around as many times as you need until it feels right all the way down to your bones.

When we took the road trip, I didn't know if I would be able to write the blog on Sunday. I probably should be more disciplined to make sure that that happens, but right now, I'm not there yet. But I do have to say that I did a double writing session on my draft on Saturday. I told Mike that I would so I wouldn't feel cranky on a day we went out of town.

“But aren't you always a bit cranky?” he asked.

He teased. A bit.

But I knew that I would be seriously off if I didn't get that work in. And this week, although I'm late, and I thought of just not writing a post because we took a road trip and I'm about to take drugs so that I don't freak out at the dentist, and I'm going through a procedure tomorrow, and there's always work to do. But in the end, I had to do it. It just doesn't feel right not to. So I thank you for reading, and I'll see you next week, hopefully on Sunday. That is my plan.

Cemeteries, Water, Cats, Black Squares, and Loneliness

I'm sorry to post late this week. Things happened.

On Saturday, we had a big event at the Sonora Odd Fellows Cemetery. I am an Odd Fellow. As an organization, Odd Fellows care about cemeteries. It's part of an Odd Fellow tradition—honoring the dead, wanting those who passed to have respectful burials. When Odd Fellows lodges were first founded, they often bought cemetery plots nearby. Our Sonora lodge, the tenth oldest in California, established this cemetery in 1865. Now, as members of this lodge, we have a responsibility to maintain it. We conduct research to find out the stories of the people who are buried there. Once a year, we hold tours where actors tell some of these stories to raise money for our cemetery. This year, I was one of the guides. One of the actors lent me me this great dress complete with petticoat, and I had a straw hat with flowers. As a shy person, it was a big deal to do. I was outside of my comfort zone, but it felt good to stretch.

But in the early morning hours after the event, I woke up to a very painful headache. It hurt so much I couldn't read. In my world, that ranks as an emergency. I felt in too much discomfort to sleep. Both the black-and-white cats cuddled up near me. The two times, I had to run to the bathroom to throw up, they accompanied me and stayed by my side.

During this experience, Mike woke up and questioned me on symptoms and began Googling things. We ended up deciding it was dehydration. We had been at the cemetery since two o'clock that afternoon. I had felt particularly parched when I got there and drank a bottle of water once others arrived with the refreshments. Then I got distracted and didn't drink anything else until I had some more water at dinner after the event. It apparently wasn't enough. Once that mystery was solved, I took two aspirin, borrowed an audio book from Libby, one that I had read before and enjoyed, Eleanor and Park, and eventually dozed off.

The next day, I felt better but not 100 percent. And I had messages from some of my women friends. Apparently there was a call for women to stay off social media today. We were supposed to post a black square as our profile picture and keep our voice off the Internet. I never did change my profile picture. To tell you the truth, I had mixed feelings about the entire venture. Weren't women's voices erased enough? But I ended up staying off social media, primarily out of love for my friends who messaged me. Is that a good enough reason? Maybe it is.

So it threw me off my blogging schedule. I thought that, as a tribute for my cats, who seemed to really be attuned to when I felt sick, I would post this article about Oscar, a cat who is more reliable than the doctors on who is going to die.

Also, right before I went to write, I saw this piece on loneliness that hit my heart. At the core of many of character's problems is this feeling of isolation from the world. I have felt it often in my life, too, particularly when I was young, and I didn't understand how I ticked. (The recipe for my current workings: I need a lot of time to myself. I need a lot of time for my work. I love to work and to walk. In other moments, I like to hang out with Mike and my cats. I love my friends dearly, especially when I can have one-on-one conversations where we really talk. Groups can give me the willies. If I'm in a group, I often need time-outs. You might wonder why I'm constantly going to the bathroom. It's a place I can go where I can escape from a crowd and just be for a moment in my own locked stall. That probably sounds weird, but it is enormously comforting to me.)

Anyway, that's the update on my world. If you would like to tell me about yours, please comment below.

Thoughts on Impasses

This week, I want to write about a character who showed up who I thought of writing out. (For the sake of the story and for this character, who is quite shy, I'm not going to tell you anything about her or her name. I can see how that would be annoying. I hope you can forgive me. I think this post has some interesting ideas about how story is created. Please read on!)

Here's what happened. I tussled with my draft this week. Let me say that I'm not of the “write a first draft without thinking” school. I figure out a lot of things in my first draft. I don't feel comfortable moving ahead until it feels right to me. That doesn't mean that's it's perfection. It has to make basic sense to me. I want my characters to learn things in interesting ways. I want twists and turns. This may should like a “pantser,” a writer who makes things up as she goes. I'm not. I have a solid sense of the basic components of the story before I start out. But characters do surprise me.

Last week, I came to an impasse. I knew where the story had to go. I knew what needed to happen, but none of my characters wanted to do it. I couldn't imagine the scene. I kept trying different settings, different angles. None of it clicked. The first thought I had was of character sacrifice. Maybe the problem was this particular side story. Maybe I had bitten off too much. Maybe I had asked a character to do too much. Maybe other characters were mad because it was taking up some of their story time. So I wrote an outline where that character didn't exist. (Note: This is one of my favorite writing tools. When I wrote the first draft of my first book, I would often write out a numbered list of the story scenes before I began each writing time. It kept me on track. It comforted me. I felt if I knew the story, and I could write it off the top of my head, in “Well, this happened, then this happened” way, there was a good chance that the story made sense. I still do it now, but not usually every session, when I have moments like this when I feel like I may have walked in the woods rather than staying on the trail.)

Anyway, when I started this outline without this character, I first felt exhilarated. It was working! Of course! Then I felt sad. The story felt so short, rather impoverished without this character. She had to be in it. I went back to what I was doing. I tried to place myself in it. I tried to imagine what the other characters would be doing, how they would be feeling, but I couldn't find a way that made me happy. I resolved if I felt this way tomorrow, I would just write a crappy scene that took me to scenes where I felt more comfortable and know that it would just be a placeholder so that I could continue.

But then I woke up this morning, and I had the answer. At least I think I do. I haven't yet worked on my draft today. The character comes in later. It seems so obvious now. That's why I felt that initial happiness working on that draft. I had just forced the entrance of this character. Since she's shy, she's happy to come in later, and it makes sense for the story.

The lesson here for me and perhaps for you? Have faith that the answers will come. Try to look at the impasse as an interesting puzzle. Those pieces don't fit, no matter how hard you try. You have to surrender. If characters don't want to do something, listen to them. Otherwise expect super boring material or no shows. See where they want to connect.

I hope this is helpful to you. If you would like to share your creative process story, please feel free to do so in the comments below.

Twinkle Lights

The other day, while I was innocently watching Atypical and eating my lunch in the bedroom, Mike set up twinkle lights around the threshold of my office. When it was time for me to work again, I was greeted by these sparkling wonders. It was the best gift ever, and it got me to thinking about my writing environment and the decisions I've made to make my writing practice fun.

I want my creative surroundings to feel magical, whimsical, and special. Twinkle lights fit right into this vibe. So do pens with flowers taped on to them so that you can imagine your writing blooming. And all around me, there's blank books with covers of my favorite color or with images on them that mean things to me, waiting to be filled. How can I say no?

When I write, there's always music. For me, I write to jazz standards. These songs have gotten into my bloodstream., and I can listen to them forever. During my practice, I listen to these songs through headphones. This is a private experience. They're telling me things directly. I also have a writing tree, Isabella, who looks out for me outside my window. I have images of cats, horses, owls, and the ocean on my walls surrounding me. (And I write in bed. I feel that's a given to me for so long that I now forget to mention it. I have this great big, blue support pillow that I call “Cookie” after Cookie Monster that hugs me while I work. It's comfortable and luxurious, and it makes me want to be here.)

Finally, there's our cats. I write about cats. I live with cats. They're part of our family. Our eldest cat, Scooter, has lately let me know that he wants to be around me when I work. So I make sure that happens. He's the eldest member of our family. He's a cat. He has earned my reverence.

So that's how I've made writing fun for me. What do you do? What works for you?

The Loudest Meow on Kindle

My latest book, The Loudest Meow, is now up on Kindle. It’s free through Thursday, September 13th. i’m very proud of this book. It’s the first in a series, the Cats of the Afterlife. I hope you will give it a try, and if you have a spare moment, write an honest review of what you thought. it would really help get this book out into the world. Thank you.