Writing is Scary

I gave the first 55 pages of "Copper Penny" to Melody Groves yesterday. She's a local author and critiques manuscripts for money. If she says these are good, then I'll pay her to read all of it. But I'm holding my breath.

I've been in three critique groups and none of the three have told me the writing is bad/good/wonderful, the characters are bad/good/wonderful, the tension is bad/good/wonderful. If they have, they've made suggestions to make it better. But they all know me. Somehow I need someone who doesn't know me to give me a totally unbiased opinion.

When I gave her the pages, I realized just how insecure I am with my writing. I wonder if all writers feel the same way. Being so close to it, I honestly don't know if it is good or not. When I read another author who is REALLY good, then I shake my head in wonder at how someone can write like that.

I've read three books by Geraldine Brooks lately. She is phenomenal. People who can weave stories like she does make me want to close the lid on my keyboard and take up knitting (except that I have arthritis in my hands and it hurts to do that all the time.)

A lot of people read my first book--"The Demise of Bobby Mac." Many raved to me about it. Some I didn't hear from. In my book discussion group, some didn't bother to read it. I guess they thought it wouldn't be worth their time. (Insecurity rears it's ugly head!)

I told Melody I want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I'll let you know what she says.

By the way, I checked and my shirt is on the right way today.

I've Got A Dream

I found out today that Peter Ackroyd has written a bio about Edgar Allen Poe. The review by Larry Cox in NM Market Place has really gotten me interested in reading this book. Poe is one of those authors a person reads in high school and college. I always liked his stories because they were so different, so weird and troubling. The reviewer said that all of his life he had to scramble for money. He received $9 for "The Raven." Evidently many of the famous authors we read today and who are our icons, didn't "make it" while they were alive.

Hmmmm. Might I have a better chance after I die? I'm not counting on it, but I'll keep writing just because I love doing it. Probably Poe did, too.

Right now I'm doing the final edit on "Copper Penny," writing "Plugged Nickel" and am already getting excited about beginning "Turn on a Dime." And nothing is even out there trying to get published yet.

As Oscar Hammerstein said, "If you don't have a dream, how are you going to make a dream come true?" I've got a dream. Do you?

Writing Novels

I had a day alone yesterday and spent it writing. I got to a place in the plot that stopped me. What is happening in the middle that leads to the ending? The beginning and the ending of a novel is easier than all that big middle part that has to keep the reader reading so she/he will get to the end.

At five o'clock I climbed into the shower and as those things happen, it all began coming to me. I wanted to hold it in my mind long enough to get my hair dried, clothes on and get back to the computer and write down what is to come. I did and am anxious to get to it.

When I started writing "Plugged Nickel", I wasn't really in the emotional state to do it. I plodded along and was getting close to the end when I checked to see how many words I'd written. Only 21,000! Way too short for a novel.

My first novel, "The Demise of Bobby Mac" had 102,000 words which translated to 348 published pages. My second, "Copper Penny" (the first in the Joe Denali series) has 75,615 right now. I do plan to go back into it and do some rewriting. Hopefully it will go up to about 80,000 by the time I'm finished.

A novelette has less than 70,000 words usually. A full-fledged novel needs between 70,000 and 100,000--preferably about 85,000.

When I saw that I was only at 21,000, I had to think of a way to expand the story. Since it was pretty bland and only had Joe's point of view, I decided to add his partner, Sandy's, point of view and give her a story that had as much suspense as Joe's had. I ramped up Joe's story--gave it more suspense and him more crisis, got the FBI involved by bringing in a character from "Copper Penny" and I think I can get about 75,000 words when all is said and done.

In Bobby Mac, even when I thought I had finished, I had a couple of other characters who wanted to be heard again. In that book I had four different points of view working. Two of them raised up when I declared the book finished and said to me, "Wait, I have something else to say." And they did.

I love writing and really love it when my muse/my intuition/the Holy Spirit--call it what you will--get involved.

Today will be a little busier and I may not get to write much, but at least I now have an idea where I'm going. Come to think of it, isn't that what makes our lives worthwhile? Knowing we have somewhere to go and going there?

Blessing Breaking On My Head

Many years ago I painted. I painted with oils mostly. Then circumstances changed--physically circumstances which gave me no place to paint. I tried to pick up the paints again when physical circumstances allowed the room, but my artistic, creative muse had left me. So I wrote.

I've been writing for several years. Last year circumstances changed once more. Circumstances that have pushed my muse into a corner where she has fallen asleep. I hope her disappearance isn't permanent. I don't know how long muses live when they are ignored and aren't fed. But all that used to feed her has gone into keeping my physical and mental person functioning.

I make no resolutions, but I do have goals. One of my goals for 2009 is to awaken Muse. Thinking this as I awoke this morning, I remembered reading that Peace isn't a state of being. Peace is a Person. That Person lives in and with me. My 2009 goal is to allow this Person to carry those burdens and bring Muse back to life. With this in mind, I came to my computer and read what someone else had written.

God moves in a mysterious way,His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,He treasures up his bright designs,And works his sovereign will.
You fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds you so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
William Cowpernd

Thank you, God, for the clouds--and for the blessings breaking on my head.

Have To's and Want To's

I've lived a lot of years by myself but for the last 5 years and 5 months I haven't spent a single night alone in my house. When I first learned I'd have 4 days with no one around, I thought I'd do some things I couldn't seem to get done before--like beginning a book that's been in my mind for some time and organizing my writing files. But now that I have the time, I'm still going to have to do what needs to be done first.

What is it about life that we always have something that HAS TO be done before we can do what we WANT to do? When I was in school and had homework, I always worked on the hardest assignment first. Even as an adult, I'd get the most difficult project out of the way before doing any of the others. And I never let anything go even if it didn't have to be done immediately. I wanted to stay ahead so I would have time to do what I wanted to do. I think I was always getting things done and still didn't have much time for "want to's."

I've changed in the last few years of my life. I do what's easiest and/or what I HAVE to do and let everything else wait. My new saying is a Scarlett O'Haraian "I'll think about it tomorrow." "To be filed" papers stack up on my filing cabinet and dust bunnies grow on my furniture until we have company. Seems I'm always playing "catch-up" now.

As for my immediate plans--I have to read and critique several pieces of writing; two of them I have to have done by Thursday. The others aren't as immediate and will probably wait. I have a critique meeting to attend this afternoon and will happily do that. It's easy and I enjoy the participants. Texas and Oklahoma are playing football today and I want to watch both games. Tomorrow is church and small group at night and the Cowboys in the afternoon. I'll be busy all day with those things. I may not get to do any writing this weekend either.

Oh, well. . .I'll just think about it tomorrow.

Don't Miss Life

The first book in a series I'm writing is pretty much edited and finished. I've sent a couple of queries out and received one rejection. Haven't heard from the other one yet. I began the second book and couldn't figure out why it wasn't flowing. Last night, at a writer's meeting, I got my answer, which means I have to totally re-plot and re-character (if that's a word.)This morning I read an article from one of the blogs I follow (look to your right on this page), about Character External Goals. Turns out this article will help me when I re-character and re-plot.

I like to think of myself as a writer, but I don't think at this time in my life I really have what I need to try to get to the "top" of that profession. I'd like to have this series published, when and if I ever get to book number five. I have another book that needs serious revising before it will be ready. I put in a lot of time researching background for it, and feel I need (want?) to write it. When we were in Virginia City last year, I took pictures of some tombstones. There's a story there for sure. We have two real-life events in our family that could be written. Lots of research needed for both of them. I have a memoir floating around in my head, too. And I like writing short stories. But writing any of this takes discipline, and "life" always gets in the way.

I probably will never be on the Best Seller List, but that doesn't matter. I enjoy writing when I do it, love going to critique meetings and reading other writer's work, hearing ideas of how to improve the craft, and most of all, I love reading almost any genre.

I think that's what life should be about--doing what you love but not allowing it to interfere with Life. Otherwise, it becomes a Job. Jobs are all right if they're just jobs and not life. I was married to a man who thought Job came first. That is, until he was dying of lung cancer. In the end he did recognize how out of balance his thinking had been and apologized for it...and made up for it the best he could.

I loved working when I did it. I loved my job, but it never got in the way of Life for me. My job today is to enjoy the years I have left. I don't want to spend them chasing after something that has no real lasting value. Lasting value things are family, loving other people, enjoying God and His world and playing with grandkids and great-grands.

Trace Adkins sings a song, "You're Gonna Miss This." Listen to the words. They're right on. When my girls were growing up, I spent a lot ot time--too much--worrying about keeping the house neat and a myriad of other small things. If I could go back, which I can't of course, I'd look at everything through different eyes. That is if I could go back with all I've learned over the years--which I can't, of course. The reason I bring this up is because I don't want to miss anything now. If I don't get to the computer to write 300 words every day, well, so be it. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow--if Life doesn't happen first.

Stretching the Limits

I'm a fiction writer and reader--mostly. I belong to a book discussion group and have read books of genres that I probably wouldn't have picked up on my own. Because of dipping my toes into other streams, I've read two excellent non-fiction books in the past few months.

One is "Blood and Thunder" by Hampton Sites. (I'd underline the title or put it italics but when I try, it comes out really strange.) It is the true history of the Southwest wrapped around the life of Kit Carson. After our friends read it, we made a trip to Taos where we visited places mentioned in the book. We saw Kit's house and his grave, along with the graves of his wives and children. We'd been to Taos Pueblo before but seeing it through the eyes of what we'd read made it more meaningful.

The other book I read is "109 East Palace" by Jennet Conant. This one is the true story of Robert Oppenheimer, head of the secret Manhattan Project in Los Alamos. The scientists and their families lived in secret (and appalling living conditions) all the war years as the atomic bomb was being "created." We plan to make another "field" trip to Santa Fe and Los Alamos some day.

In reading these books I was stretching out of my comfort zone. Sometimes it isn't easy for us to get out of that zone, is it? When we went to El Morro a couple of weeks ago and climbed to the top and walked around on those horrible rocks, I was definitely uncomfortable. It's done and I'm glad I did it. Maybe that's why people climb mountains and jump out of airplanes. I won't do those things (or ride roller coasters, bucking horses, or race at NASCAR) but I can still stretch my limits.

I've always loved learning. Since I no longer go to school or am in a profession where I learn something new every day, I need to keep my mind alert. Reading does that for me. Writing, too.

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I beg to differ. This old dog is into new tricks!