Duality

One of my favorite singers of all time is Maddy Prior. What I love most is her range; she can sing a sweet tune, but she often chooses grim and terrifying tales of death and destruction.

As a writer I often contemplate my own duality. In 'real life' I like to think of myself as a cheerful person. People describe me as happy. However, almost of my work has dark elements. Perhaps composing scary prose helps me live a joyful life. Or keeps me from whacking people over the head. :-) In truth, we are all creatures of light and of dark. The writer's lifestyle too is yin and yang; publish and rejection, creation and blockage, loneliness and exhilaration.

Listen to Maddy Prior singing a lovely old carol, and then the song that first drew me to her, The Fabled Hare. The New Year is upon us, cold and dark. But spring is just around the corner.

Just In Time Writing

I’ve worked many different jobs, some good, some bad. Most a little of both. One of the more interesting professions was working in a warehouse. I was one of the few women back then driving large pieces of equipment. The environment was challenging on a number of fronts, but I learned a lot about myself, men, and how I would never be cut out to be a fork lift driver.

Anyway, something that was implemented while I was there was the Warehouse Management System, or WMS. We called it We’re Missing Something because the system didn’t work so well at first; it was intended to supply materials at the very last minute to save space and spoilage. No longer would there be moldering rubber stoppers on the top shelf. Supposedly. In practice often a shortage would cause an order not being filled on time.

But the system got better. It did save storage and money. And interestingly enough, it also caused us to get a lot faster, because we were all competing to get those orders filled.

I thought about that with regard to my writing. I used to pick anthologies that had far away submission dates. I’d write my story, polish, send, and wait. And wait and wait and wait, just like I do with my novels.

Recently I’ve decided that was not using these venues to their best advantage. Writers rarely get dates by which they will know if their work was accepted, so why not write for ones dated sooner rather than later?

So I did. And like the WMS system, I’ve become a whole lot faster. I’ve been amazed how quickly I can write a short story when a two week deadline is looming. And I don’t have to wait long for a reply, which is nice.

I really wasn’t a very good fork truck driver. But hopefully this new approach will sharpen my writing skills and I will have even more stories published.

Slogging Along

I’m in the middle of my new book, Bittersweet. Actually, I'm past the middle, but it feels like the middle. My character is on her way to completing her quest. I know what the ending is. But Something Else Needs To Happen. I don’t know what this Something is. This happens with every book. But it will work out. It always does.

Yet...

What if this book is the one I can’t figure out? What if this time there is no Something Else? Or what if I’ve lost it and will NEVER be able to figure out what any book needs????

Sigh.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite poems, Half Way Down The Stairs by A. A. Milne. I love this poem because it seems to celebrate outwardly doing nothing yet thinking quite a bit.

Kinda where I am right now.

Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where I sit.
there isn't any
other stair
quite like
it.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere
It's somewhere else
Instead.

Into The Fantasy

After more than a few fast paced mysteries and YA books, it feels good to settle into a traditional fantasy. Not that there isn’t action, but the tale is unraveling itself slowly. There’s more time for description. Exploration of the world. Long journeys and destinations. The environment becomes very real, which is especially important when the story is not set in the modern world. Or on earth.

It’s fun. I enjoy every part of writing a book (except the editing and marketing), but developing the way my world appears, sounds, feels, and tastes is my favorite part. I have to watch myself, though. It’s easy for me to get lost in too many flouncy paragraphs.

So…even though third person is most often used for traditional fantasy, I’m writing in first. First person keeps me grounded. And, it’s first person through the eyes of a young girl. A child would never go and on and on and on about the forest.

And so, hopefully, neither will I. :-)

Cats and Breaks

Do all writers have cats? It’s the stereotype, isn’t it? I always imagined myself at my desk, a purring kitty either on my lap or perched beside me, giving me sage physic advice. And I have had those sorts of cats. In fact, the cat we lost two years ago was that sort; never bit, was always good natured, a furry meatloaf in his later years.

When my husband and I were thinking of a new cat I allowed him to make the decision. I knew I would love any feline because cats are my favorite animal. Gary, on the other hand, does love cats, but he also enjoys dogs, ferrets, fish, and who knows what else. As we live in a small condo we really only have room for one small beastie, not including his huge fish tank.

So Gary did a lot of research. He wanted something different. Something energetic. A play cat, he said. He chose an Osicat because the personality matched his requirements and because of the spots. And so we went to visit an Osicat cattery. Let me add here that folks who raise cats are, um, quirky. I won’t say the owner was a crazy cat lady, but you get the idea. Within two minutes of meeting her I heard way more information about Osicats and her personal life than I ever wanted to. But she did make it into a story. ;-) More on that next post.

Osicats don’t have any wild cat blood, although one could argue that point after meeting them; we were bombarded by about thirty kitties when we entered their space, all messing with each other and biting any butt they could sink their pointy teeth into. I was overwhelmed…all I could see was spots. But finally one little miscreant jumped on my shoulder and starting chewing my hair. She then leaped to Gary and nibbled his ear. Awe, so cute.

This is the one we picked. Gary named her Spriggan, after a hooligan Irish fairy. And it fits her; she can be the sweetest kitty ever, but she also bites, squawks like a banshee, licks you in the middle of the night, and is very demanding.

For example, one day last week I was writing and she brought me her stick. (She fetches). I ignored her. I was having trouble with a particular passage and I wanted to stay with it. She growled. I still kept writing. Then she bit me. I sighed. THIS is my writer’s kitty? But I got up and played before she could feast on any more ankle meat.

After that she curled up on a chair behind me (she is not a lap cat), and I settled back into my seat. And guess what? The chapter now flowed freely. Well what do you know, I needed to get up. Which sometimes I don’t do. I can stay glued to my seat for hours on end, never knowing what time it is until my husband startles me, home from work, with a cheery “have you been here all day?”

I think for me this is a combination of being in the corporate world of produce or die, my own driven personality, or perhaps the fear that my ideas will disappear if I don’t get them down. I’m better about taking breaks now. But the tendency will always be there.

So perhaps the cat I got is the cat I need; Spriggan reminds me that play, activity, and a connection to something other than my books are all very important. Besides, if I never leave the house, where would I meet all those fascinating people to base my characters on like that very interesting cat lady?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need another band aid.