Category: Writing

Do You Believe?

My buddy HelenKay Dimon doesn’t believe in the concept of a muse. Poor thing. What, nowhere to lay the blame for a lack of productivity? No one to thank for a fantastic day of writing?

I can not fathom it.

I believe in the muse. My muse. Elle Muse. But I’m in charge, she isn’t. Sometimes it feels like she’s in charge, but that’s a cop-out. I’m in charge. She can kick me in the keister, but honestly she only does that when I’m not taking proper control like I should. When I’m not putting her to work. Because she’s lazy, you see, and she won’t work unless I order her to.

I don’t believe in the muse in the way that I can’t write unless “she” visits me. Like some magical outside force. I believe in the muse the way I believe in my creative subconscious. My muse IS my creative subconscious. And my creative subconscious will laze about if I allow it to.

Years ago, I had a tape from some RWA conference workshop or another that instructed one how to do relaxation exercises, how to visualize an aspect of your creativity so you could learn to channel it, to make it do your bidding. I used to listen to this tape every day before sitting down to write. Then it became second nature. Now, if I’m having trouble with a scene, I do the nighttime exercise. I lie in bed and visualize my muse. Or, more accurately, I visualize a certain body part—her hand. I visualize handing her a piece of paper. On this piece of paper, I’ve written my story problem. I tell to fix it. I tell her, “When I wake up tomorrow morning, this story issue WILL be solved, or, in the immoral words of Donald Trump, ‘You’re Fired.'” (Well, I don’t actually say the last part; I might scare her off). Then I visualize my muse (the hand of my muse…kind of like something from the Addam’s Family, but with a great manicure), feeding a blank piece of paper into an old IBM Selectric typewriter. No computers allowed. Don’t ask me why. Okay, go ahead. Why a typewriter? Because my muse is really myself, during my first pregnancy. She’s about three months pregnant, and she’s wearing a blue-and-white pinstriped skirt with a white knit top. I remember this outfit very clearly, because I worked in a correctional facility, and I needed to have my photo taken for a badge and pledge homage to the Queen (in much the same way my muse pays homage to me). And I happened to type on an IBM Selectric typewriter at this time.

Why is my muse me during my first pregnancy? Because I happen to believe that creating a life and creating a story are both worthwhile creative endeavors. Weird, maybe, but there you have it.

Now, I know all these details about my muse, but I don’t visualize anything other than her hand. Feeding the blank sheet of paper into the typewriter. Then she begins typing, and I fall asleep.

Oddly enough, I’d say about 7 times out of 10 I wake up the next morning with the story problem solved. I might not remember that I gave my muse instructions. I might just sit down at my desk to write. And then suddenly a great idea will pop into my head, and I remember—I put Elle Muse to work. And she delivered.

Good girl. Have a piece of chocolate. Oh, you can’t eat it, because you’re  a figment of my imagination? No problem. I’ll eat it for you.

I might make it sound easy. Give her a problem, she solves it. It’s not easy at all. Often I walk around for two or three days in a snit about my story problem before remembering to visualize giving it to her to work on. Once I consciously put her to work, though, that’s when great things begin to happen.

I wish I could remember the name of that tape, or the name of the presenter, so I could give them due credit. Alas, it was so long ago that I listened to the tape or workshop, that I don’t have a clue. But it works for me.

What works for you? Do you believe in the muse? Do you have one? Go ahead, share. But be warned. My muse can beat up your muse any day of the month. Excerpt every third Thursday. That’s her day off.

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Categorized as Writing

Write or Die

I’m a writing fiend this week. Or, rather, Penny is. Her new (and in fact first) ER “short” is motoring along. I’ve found it a little challenging focusing on the, ahem, subject matter with my adult/teenage kids and their S.O.’s in the house, but I’ve managed. I can now see the ending in sight. Yippee!

Now, I’m not the type to impose word limits (by that I mean expectations) on myself, because I usually wind up disappointed, because of the affliction that causes me to revise and edit as I write. Whenever I join a goals group or some such, I get bogged down in the requirement to produce new writing. To me, if you’re revising it, that makes it new. However, usually in goal groups, “revising” didna = “new.”

For those who like the crack of the whip, check out Write or Die. Let me know if it works for you.

Les Fleurs

I’m finding it really hard to get used to My Liege taking nearly every Monday off work. It shortens my week!

I’m brainstorming a new story for Penny. Pretty much have a title, maybe a setting, and maybe some character names. Oh, and a theme. Or plot. Whatever you choose to call it. Let’s just say it has something to do with the number 3.

Seeing as my mind is otherwise occupied, I thought I’d take this opportunity to share some of my flower pics. These are from my mother’s garden, taken 3 (there’s that number again) or so weeks ago. Enjoy!

Dying Tulips

“Dying Tulips”

Don’t you love the feathery edges? (They were feathery before the tulips began their descent into oblivion).

Tiger, Tiger

“Tiger, Tiger”

That bud thing looks like it’s pushing the tiger.  If I were the tiger, I’d snap its head off. This is why I’m not a flower. Too violent.

Bee-Have

“Bee-Have!”

I believe this is called an Onion Flower. All I care is that it’s purple and spiky, and that my monster zoom lens allowed me to capture the bee.

Done Like Dirt!

Is dirt ever really done? You can always till it, plant something in it, jam it full of water so you can pack it into mud balls and chuck it at someone.

It’s the same way with writing. Are we ever really done?

I’m finished my WIP! Finished like spinach! Done like dirt! Over like clover! Kaput like…whatever.

Okay, I lie…a little. I’m still working on the last line. I like my last lines to somehow relate to an overall theme in the story or a thread of conversation, etc. I’m currently toiling to come up with a clever last line for SEX, PIs & PACKING TAPE that will accomplish the latter. However, so far  it’s eluding me. So I’m fuggettingaboutit and declaring myself done. The manu is going bye-bye for two weeks, so I can clear my mind and return to it with fresh eyes. So I can see the forest and not just the proverbial trees. Or the entangled branches, as per this offering from one of my Sunday Walks:

tree1

What will I do during those two weeks? A lot and lot of filing. Some long overdue shopping. Updating photo albums (I’m only behind 3.5 years, which is actually fantastic in the Updating Photo Albums world), maybe clean a bit of the house (note: a bit), THINK about painting the deck trim, which sorely, sorely needs it, but, honestly, the thinking could take me 10 months. I’m also going to start brainstorming a new project for Penny. She’s going to try writing her first short story. So the next time you hear me whining, it’ll probably be about that.

In the meantime, Elle Muse is taking over with PACKING TAPE. She can mull the whole thing over, so when I come back to it in two weeks, it’ll read like an amazing, saleable, totally marketable story I should submit right away. However, I’m already thinking I might need one more scene that includes the villain. Maybe, maybe not. I don’t want to consciously think about it now. We’ll see in two weeks.

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Categorized as Writing

The Last Scene

I am writing/revising the last scene of my WIP. Yippee-yahoo! That’s all that needs to be said. There were times I never thought I’d get here. But I’m here. I’m really here! And I like me. I really like me! Er, um, it. I really like it. The book, that is. Until I’m done writing and revising the scene, it’s “not my baby” (as Allie McBeagle would say). So the jury’s still out on whether I actually like the scene or not. Rest assured, I will love it when it’s done.

Phew. What’s going on in your world?

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Categorized as Writing

Whipping the WIP

Or is it whipping me?

Lesson Learned: Never announce on a public forum that you WILL have your work in progress finished by such-and-such date. Because unless you’re working to an editor-set deadline and have no choice but to deliver the project by said date, odds are something will happen to trip you up. Trip me up, anyway.

I’m still writing and revising the last few scenes of my mystery romance. No excuses, really, other than Elle Muse kept wanting me to change the villain at the last moment. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to change the villain, but because she kept hankering about it, of course I had to spend tons of subconscious thought time subconscious-thinking about it. Not to mention the additional conscious thinking time. I don’t know about you, but all that subconscious- and conscious-thinking time impacts on my writing progress. In the end, I went with my original villain. Thanks a lot, Elle Muse!

Then, as a result of the crappy economy, My Liege has begun working four-day weeks, using his amassed holidays to enjoy wonderful long weekends every weekend. Which is great! But when everyone else in the family is having a long weekend, it’s much harder to treat Mondays like work days.

Eldest Son returned home from university two or three weeks ago. He started his summer job on Tuesday, and Youngest Son began his college summer session last week. So, as of this week, with both kids absent from the house during the days, and with the little exception of having M.L. around Monday mornings (he usually golfs in the late mornings, so I can get some work done then), I’m finally back to making decent headway on this book. If I weren’t wise enough to follow my own advice, I might even declare that I WILL finish writing/revising this book by the end of next week. But I’m not that foolish, no. You’ll just have to keep checking in and see.

So, about the American Idol finale last night. Kris Allen won, as my buddy Shelinda predicted. I expected him to win, just like last year I expected David Archuleta to win. But I was still hoping Adam Lambert would win, just like last year I hoped David Cook would win (and he did!). I wished Kris had shown a bit more excitement about winning. Instead, he appeared to be in shock and did that Aw-shucks-it-should-have-been-Adam thing. You won, buddy! Soak it up!