There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative fairy-dust …He lives in the ground. He’s a basement guy. You have to descend to his level… You have to do all the grunt labor… while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you….[But] he’s got the inspiration…[He’s got] the bag of magic. There’s stuff in there that can change your life. Believe me. I know. ( Stephen King, On Writing, Scribner, 2000, p. 144,145)
Before I go to sleep, at night, I don’t talk to a cigar smoking guy in the basement. He’s not mine. He belongs to Stephen King.
I talk to the ladies. Wearing sexy, black lace lingerie held together with red ribbons they listen to me. There are at least three of them and more in the background, and they look like they came out of a saloon on Gunsmoke. They have long, dark curly hair pulled up into loose buns, with tendrils falling down, and wise eyes. Why are they ladies? Why do they look like that? Who knows. I tell them what I have to figure out for my story, and they surprise me in the morning.
The power of the subconscious fascinates me. I’m trying to not analyze it. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if I understand the creative process as long as it works.
Time slips through my fingers like water. I struggle to hold onto it, but I can’t.
Word Count: I’m coming up to the half way point, rounding the corner, looking up at the twisted path to the Dark Moment and trembling in my slippers. Pushing the first draft through is like dragging a jagged rock up a hill side, mottled with sneaky pits of quicksand. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But I struggle with the process and uncertainty of it all.
Social Media: Is the seduction of SM hurting, or helping my writing? Time will tell.
Research: This week, I learned, “stiletto” is an Italian word for a small metal dagger. (Who knew?)
Gripe: Using”text” as a verb sucks. It’s necessary for plot but hits the ear like shards of shattered glass. As in: He texted, “I love you.” (Uggh.) or… His text read: “I love you.” (Better, but I don’t like to hang out in the past tense.) I swear, “text” is a noun that the gods, of all that is right in writing, never meant to be mangled into a verb. Couldn’t we change it to something easier on the ear like cybered?
Chester: My muse is a hundred pound, drooling Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Chester. My husband could time the steaks on the barby by the length of his drool which hung down both sides of his mouth. Three inches was about right for a medium rare, Costco tenderloin. He was at peace with his drool. I’m sure he knew it wasn’t his most appealing feature, but he shared it anyways. His favourite spot for rubbing it was on my skirts. He had a thing about dresses.There were many mornings he chased me around the house while I screamed, “Nooo Chester, Nooo…” Chessie drool smells foul. Believe me, once you’re marked by a Chesapeake, the world knows you have a big hound dog in your life. That or a sewer.
So why is Chester my muse? I could tell Chester anything. He was a devoted listener. He made me believe that anything I said was a pearl of wisdom dropping from heaven. His soulful eyes looked at me with a depth of love that touched my soul. I would tell him the secrets of my heart and read him my writing. He listened to it all. It was like he understood me. And no matter what I said or did, he loved me. He saw the family through many of life’s speed bumps, and was like an anchor in our stormy world. What more could I want from a muse?
Chester passed on to doggy heaven last spring, but he will be forever the best dog I ever had – and my muse.
“Where most beginning writers screw up (you should pardon the expression) is in thinking that sex scenes are about sex. A good sex scene is about the exchange of emotions, not bodily fluids.” (Diana Gabaldon, Chatelaine Magazine, Feb. 2012, p. 160)
When it comes to writing great sex scenes, Diana Gabaldon is considered a master. Her article in Chatelaine makes the writing of ‘the steamy stuff’ seem do-able. Armed with my mighty, yellow highlighting pen I reviewed every detail and came up with what I call Diana’s Big Sexy 7:
“A good sex scene is about the exchange of emotions, not bodily fluids.”
It, “… can encompass any emotion.”
Lust gets boring. It’s not an emotion.
Show the emotion through dialogue, expression or action.
Dialogue is, “the most flexible and powerful tool…What people say reveals the essence of their character.”
“Anchor” the scene with physical details. Choose sensual not overtly sexual ones.
Use metaphor and lyricism, if possible.
“In essence, a good sex scene is usually dialogue with physical details.”
Gabaldon has sold over 19 million books worldwide and is well known for her Outlander series. She makes writing sex sound easy, but it’s not.
Deconstructing a moment in time that is so intensely personal, and powerful is difficult. I want it to change my characters’ lives, but that’s easier said than done. For me, it’s about making love.
Yes, this week I was slapped silly by SoMe (Social Media). I’d been toying with the idea of creating a writing platform for some time, but last Sunday, after hearing multi-published author Mimi Barbour talk about Twitter, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The dam holding my digital inhibitions shattered into a million pieces.
I’m kind of a shy gal, so I thought I’d take it slow. I set up a free blog with WordPress, reactivated my Twitter account and dipped my toe into Goodreads. OMG. Two days later I was up and running and getting great support. For example, my tweet announcing my baby blog was retreated to over 600 fellow twits. Imagine! The power of SoMe hit me. HARD.
On another note, my manuscript is meandering along. I’m working on the first draft of the second book in my contemporary, category, Romantic- Suspense Series. I’m calling this one, Hidden (at the moment). I hope that it’s ending doesn’t remain that way for too much longer:)
One of the wonderful things about being a beginning writer is that I can see my writing improve by leaps and bounds, basically because it’s got so far to go … and I keep meeting up with great workshops, talented writers, books, critique partners and life. It’s exciting and fun. I feel like a kid who’s discovered a new playground.
I hope the words I wrestle with in my pajamas will someday make sense. That’s my reflection on my week of writing.
I’m ending the week with a video clip of Steve Jobs talking about what it takes to succeed:
Yesterday, I finished an eye-opening, course on Scene and Sequel, given by multi-published author, Bonnie Edwards, through Savvy Authors. The SCENE is the part in the story where all the action takes place, and the SEQUEL is the emotional fall-out from that action. The characters emotions lead her to make a plan of action. That plan leads to the next scene, and so the plot unfolds; scene -sequel to scene- sequel… and so on.
I’d never thought about plot development in this way, but it makes sense. Both the scene and the sequel have essential components that make them work. Well written they improve not only the clarity of the story, but the pacing as well. It was an excellent course, and I highly recommend it.
You guessed it: I tend to leave out a few of those essential ingredients. My writing, at times, is like scrambled eggs without salt. My challenge now is to digest the theory that I’ve learned and let it flow into my work. But you may have noticed that I’m writing a post and not my manuscript at the moment:)
Sooo…is he sexy in the scene or the sequel? I would say he needs to be extremely sexy in the scene, but I want his memory to be equally sexy in the sequel.