Nov 29, 2011 |
My writing partner and I got together today. It’s always a hoot when we do. Thankfully, today was a day filled with more real-writing and less let’s-talk-about-everything-but-writing.
I love it when we get together. We have the same ideas for our characters and the plots. She finds inspiration in pictures and drawings; I find mine in nature and poetry. We get together, talk out the themes and ideas and what if’s…
And after three hours together today, what has been planned as a three-book epic story has now grown into (at least) five. (Just to give you an idea of how colossal that growth is, we started this project a year ago as one novel. Within the first week we knew it would be a trilogy. Now we’re planning to retire on this series.)
We’ve pretty much signed an oath in blood to not reveal any details; but I can tell you that writing with Megan has been the highlight of my life. We balance each other out wonderfully. She brings great dialogue to the table, and let’s me hammer out the descriptive details.
There’s been some wonderful moments, some stories behind the stories that are hilarious to only the two of us. But I can honestly say, no one gets my humor like she does (and no one holds onto these jokes longer, either!). Our first edits resulted in some bad writing, but great moments. [“Wait! Why do *I* get to be *her*?”] [And my personal favorite to date: “She had an affinity for his masculinity.” “We are not trying to be Gilbert & Sullivan, here!”]
In all my other writing endeavors, I’ve flown solo. This is my first attempt at collaborating. And I really love it. I love how Megan and I had the same story idea before we even got together. I love how our sub-themes and characters and visions for the details are the same. They relate to each other, feed off each other, grow with each other.
It’s true when they say characters are like your children. We have given birth to some amazing characters: good, dark, helpful, mischievous. Prince and Pauper. Significant and insignificant. And as we grow them, they have a life of their own. So often have we sat around our laptops or Denny’s and said, “He would never say that!” or “She would so-o-o act that way, it’s perfect!” So many little inside jokes that will never make it into the books, but we’ll hold on to forever.
I wish I could share the story with you so far. I really do. Because it’s an amazing story. There’s action and romance and fantasy and suspense and good and evil and Darkness and Light and so much more.
We’ve got the first five books written out. Well, planned out, at least. We’ve got the sketches and napkin notes to prove it. But now it’s time to really sit down and type it out in detail. Not skipping a beat or missing a breath. Now it’s time to Write.
Good thing I have The Best Writing Partner Ever … and bonus for me, she’s a Barista at the Starbuck’s just two miles away. How awesome is she? That’s what I’m sayin’…
Now it you’ll excuse me, I have some dragons to slay.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 28, 2011 |
[For the original article, click here.]
This was inspired by Writer’s Digest Community, although I originally forgot to make note of the actual prompt.
I wanted to tell the story of a woman so beleaguered by the events of the world around her that she felt out of control, discarded. How does a person cope when everything is in chaos? She makes more chaos. And this one night, she suddenly had an epiphany, a clarity: she must start over. But how?
When your heart is broken, when everything you experience is shattered, and then you say good-bye, what’s left but to start over? We stay in the heat of the moment longer than we should; until finally the chaos is gone and there is nothing left but for us to leap to a new beginning.
This story is not, as it appears, of a woman’s suicide. It’s the story of her reclaiming her direction, her own will power, her own strength; and escaping from all that would damage her; and instead, jumping into the world that beckoned her. A world where she was being called to leave the past behind and start over. Completely.
Note: for some reason, this didn’t post accurately as scheduled. I’m reposting, hopefully without errors.
Nov 27, 2011 |
Like some of you, I’m still recovering from Thanksgiving. I’ve still got leftovers in the fridge and a few decorations needing to be put away.
I’m usually quite on top of these things by now. I usually have my Christmas tree up, the stockings hung, the decor set. Usually.
For that last five years or more, it’s been tradition that on Thursday we eat at Mom’s house; and on Friday she comes to our house to help decorate. Then we relax with some cheese and sausage and whatever new Christmas DVD I’ve purchased. On Saturday, we get in some much needed R&R, and by Sunday our routine is fairly back to normal.
While I try not to be a control freak, I am admittedly an admirer of stability and scheduling. So when one of my brothers decided to surprise us by driving down from his new home for Thanksgiving weekend, he and the rest of the family who knew in advance were slightly concerned with my reaction.
Well, I am here to say, first and foremost, that I’m here. So there’s that! I must admit, it was really fun for me to say, “Schedule scmedule” and just hang out with the family. We ate, played cards, ate, watched some football, ate, chatted a lot, ate, went out on Black Friday… oh, and I think we ate a little.
I kept up with the important things: daily blogging, writing, cleaning the house, things like that.
But I really enjoyed noticing that I was okay with the impromptu activities. Actually, to be honest, I was more than okay. It was fun. Completely spontaneous, and even more so. Because once we were out and about, we just kept going. It was just really fun.
Even after my brother left this morning, I embraced the whole spontaneity thing and we did something never done before: we watched this year’s Christmas DVD before putting the Tree up. How wild am I?
We still haven’t put the Tree up; we’ll prob’ly do that tomorrow. But if we don’t, I’m okay with it. Really okay with it. Because that’s not what matters. Keeping a schedule isn’t always what matters.
It’s the memories of all the surprises of this weekend. It’s the togetherness we don’t often have. The making plans for next year (which, by the way, is not the same as making a schedule… who knew?!).
If my Tree doesn’t go up for another week, I’m okay with it. Because I know what happened in its place.
And whether my brother coming home for Thanksgiving becomes a new tradition or not, at least for this year, he did.
That’s worth more than my Schedule Shmedule. Don’t you think?
