12.4.13

Bleary eyed after a long day. We have plotted, and revised, and cooked up all sorts of fabulous things. But my brain is broken now, and I can hardly think straight. I have visions of Nicholas Drummond dancing through my head - not that I'm complaining, Nicholas is really rather divine - and boy, how, does he get himself into it this time.

Must find a better way of keeping notes, I have scraps of paper and new pages in Scrivener and notes in the chapter documents and my spreadsheet/chessboard has grown into a behemoth. Tomorrow I may try for a simple notebook. The problem is I type faster than I write. I wish we could videotape a brainstorming session, it is fun as all get out.

Also went to the High Cholesterol Factory for lunch, and a little bit of retail therapy to wake us up. California has the cutest clothes, slightly different than Nashville's selection, so I always come home with a few new goodies. Bought an adorable dress at Anthropologie. I'm in love with that store. 

Hear tell there's a big big winter storm winging its way toward Nashville. Send a prayer to the weather gods that I get home Friday evening before it hits.  

Sweet dreams!

12.3.13

Safe and sound in sunny, albeit chilly, Northern California. We had a headwind on the flight out which added an extra hour to the flight, but that was a good thing. I'm telling you, no Internet = enhanced productivity. Hands down. I'm wondering if I should have Randy take my router to work with him in the morning. Yes, I wouldn't be able to research, but I'd also not be able to futz around.

Had an interesting idea for how to manage the plot of the new book. Spent a large portion of the flight pulling it together, and I was surprised by how well the method worked. Once I've given it some real thought, and if it still makes sense to me, I may be able to use it to teach in January at the Tennessee Mountain Writers' January Jumpstart. Last time I taught there, I ended up writing the opening and a huge chunk of the plot for THE COLD ROOM - oh yes, my pretties, if you're taking a class from me, you are expected to WRITE! 

Catherine made sure I was properly fed and watered (had a lovely Langhe Nebbiolo, a Piedmonte grape which is so luscious!) But I miss the kitties and my man, and we have a long work day tomorrow, so I'm headed to bed.

Sweet dreams to you!

12.2.13

There is nothing better than stumbling across a quote that resonates in your head, a moment of clarity, of truth, which gongs like a bell through your brain. I ran across this on the fabulous Quo Vadis Blog yesterday and had to share. 

“Many of us keep diaries or journals full of our individual thoughts, experiences, and feelings. The art of writing out ones thoughts has a therapeutic side to it (as in narrative therapy): in the process of writing the thoughts or emotions are somewhat ‘distanced’ from the “I” experiencing them. There arises a tiny ‘space’ between the ‘I’ and the experience so that we can explore, study, evaluate the experience and its effects more objectively.”

— Dr. Susan Smalley, Professor Emeritus in the Department of Psychiatry at UCLA.  

I've mentioned before that I am not a natural journaler. I try. I buy pretty notebooks, leather covers, special pens. I'll stick to it for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, then I'll skip a day, and boom, I'm off the path. There's something weird about putting all my thoughts, my personal stuff, down on paper. Maybe it makes it too real for me. I don't know.

But what I do like is what Dr. Smalley talks about above. Narrative therapy. Allowing myself a broad scope view of my work, my process, my artistic life.

And it hit me. THIS is why I blog. THIS is why I post these little evening updates. It's a mirror of my creative soul. This has become an important part of my process, these few moments at the end of the day, when I ruminate on my work. It allows me to be present, to gather my thoughts, to assess what's important, and what's working, or not.

Narrative therapy.

"A-ha!" said the writer with the shiny lightbulb above her head...

Sweet dreams!

12.1.13

I've been working most of the weekend, though I have precious little to show for it. Only an net additional 3K words, but the first 15 chapters are now solidly in place, make sense, flow, all that jazz. This morning, I realized I needed to delete all of yesterday's work, over 1000 words gone to the gutter. I hate doing it, but I went off the rails yesterday, and thank goodness I woke up this morning and realized it before I continued the thread any further. Happily, a new solution presented itself, so I grabbed that thread and wove it in, and voilá, we have liftoff.

I'm heading out to Cali this week to sit down with CC and talk about the book, where it is now, how all our planning and plotting has come together, and what happens next. Communication is absolutely vital to a collaboration, and while we've been talking constantly, a little face to face never hurt anything. Plus, there is a Christmas party to attend! A holiday treat for us both, for sure.

Speaking of face to faces, I had coffee with my über cool buddy Meg Gardiner yesterday. (Best grab her latest, THE SHADOW TRACER, ASAP)  Talk about a treat. There's nothing better than being able to sit down in person with your friends. So many of my buds I only get to see at conferences, so I was tickled we were able to hook up. And tomorrow there's a writer's brunch here in town, so it's more in person action with like-minded folk.

And you know what? It's a very good thing. Being isolated behind a computer screen all the time is terribly unhealthy. Facebook and Twitter will never be enough of a substitute for seeing the light gleam in another writer's eyes as they tell you a story.

Cheers, mates!

11.27.13

They call this writing thing controlled psychosis for a reason. Sometimes, if you're very lucky, the Muse grants you access to another plane, where the voices speak in your head with such ferocity the only thing you can do is open the manuscript and type, in a trance, the words you hear, from the invisible people. Truly, if we were on a street corner speaking aloud, we'd be considered mentally ill. Hell, we all probably are, anyway. I mean really, who but a delusional writer could possibly think the words we put down on the page might be enjoyed by a total stranger?

Happily, more than one of us suffer from these delusions, as my to be read pile (bookshelves) can attest.

So back to the disembodied voices - it happened to me today. A completely new voice, from an already established character. She stood up and waved, and when I ignored her, she started to speak. Insistently. So I wrote down her words, 1000 of them, the true beginning of her story, and I think it actually enhances the book. Weirdness. Lovely weirdness. Maybe it's kitty magic. They were draped around my neck purring whilst it happened. 

And I'm all excited - I'm getting an early Christmas present this weekend, too. Darling hubby is reconfiguring my laundry room, so I'l actually have room to maneuver, and we can turn part of it into a second pantry, for the oversized goods. This is a multi-step project, mostly because in order to make it just right, we need one of those gucci stackable front-loading washer and dryer units, and since my regular ones work just fine (15 years and counting) there's no need to spend the money on the über-cool ones. The room is weird, the dryer five feet back from the washer. So we're painting, and taking down the much too wide side shelving, which impedes my ability to get to the dryer, and removing the hideous wall of peg board that's ripping away from the drywall. Hurrah! Baby steps, but it will go a long way to making the room functional. Plus - a nice big box goes to Goodwill, of things we no longer need.  (Thanks, babe! It WILL rock my world!)

I'm hoping to get in at least an hour of writing tomorrow before the turkey festivus commences, since I feel like there's a roll starting. Wish me luck, eat lots of turkey, and may all blessings be upon you and yours as we celebrate our Thanksgiving. Ours, and the unseen who populate our brains....