Tag Archives: story

What’s In A Name…

Early fall color along hiking trail in the Ice...

Early fall color along hiking trail in the Ice Lake Basin. Fuller Peak and Golden Horn can be seen in the far background. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The somewhat overused phrase…but with good reason.

Well, I finally did it. I found the name. Granted, it’s not on my current novel. But it is on one I will be discovering shortly thereafter. And it’s been plaguing me that I did not know the name. It poked and prodded and teased. Merciless. But I finally ‘bested the beast’.

The name is vital. Vital to the entirety of the book. It is involved in the title, involved in the essence of the protagonist, involved in the other characters’ perception of the protagonist. It felt so incomplete to only have part of the title. If I had not had any of it, it would have been better than some and not all.

This afternoon I found myself with the inclination to wander in its direction again. I started following the usual trails, trying to find the rabbit trail off the main path. I followed several through the dictionaries and origins and variations. Nothing. Some would come close in essence but not the correct sound or immediate reaction. But one came so close. I could feel the victory standing on the opposite cliff. All I had to do was find a way across that opening of nothingness between us. I followed the main path to a rabbit trail and then to a hunch that led to another hunch. I knew the correct name was buried just a little deeper, so I tweaked and twisted until ‘Voila!’ it was staring back at me.

Sigh. Happiness. It is finished. The title is complete, the essence is named. I can continue with my current work without the incessant interruptions of an incomplete task.

The ridiculous thing is: I have set my mind to the task periodically for more than a year now. But, no matter, it is complete at last. That story can rest peacefully (semi-peacefully, it still calls to me sometimes) until its turn comes.

Ciao

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What Do You See?

English: Drawing of a falling/floating man

English: Drawing of a falling/floating man (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She placed the picture in front of me, flat on the table between us. “What do you see?” she said. It sounded comparable to a challenge.

I touched a fingertip to the picture, pulling it a notch closer. “Someone falling.”

She placed another picture over the first. “What do you see?”

“They’re falling to the left this time. It’s the same person.”

“How do you know?”

I looked at her.

She gestured to the picture. “It’s a nondescript drawing. How do you know it’s the same person?”

“The features are proportional to one another and the hat is exactly the same. It’s a logical deduction.”

She nodded, and then placed another picture on the stack. “What do you see?”

“They’re falling backwards now. Looks like someone hit them.”

“And what about this one?”

“They fell. Again. Of course. I get it. They fall a lot.” I started to stand. “Can we—”

“How do you know it’s not the same time?”

My back smacked against the chair, but I was too exasperated to wince. Much. “They could not’ve landed that way from any of the previous falls. It’s obvious. Wh–” I leaned forward, palm flattening on the cold wood. “What do you see?”

“I see someone who keeps getting back up.” She paused, looking at me. “As you said, they had to be from separate falls. How can you fall again if you didn’t get back up?”

“The last one…they’re on the ground. How do you know they got back up?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, every time they fall must be a stronger reason to stay there.”

“No, no.” She emphasized with a slow but purposed shake of her head. “Every fall would be another reason to get back up. They can’t let it win now. They wouldn’t concede defeat when they’ve already come this far. That would be a slight to their previous attempts. No. ” She shook her head again. “They would not give up.”

I sat back, lips pursed.

She took a moment before speaking again, this time with a tone reminiscent of trying to cross a river barefoot on wet stones. “I…don’t think you should give up either.”

I sighed, rubbing my fingers over an eyebrow. “I knew you would try something like this.”

She smiled.

 

How many times one falls is not a sign of weakness — it is a testament to how many times one has risen.

What do you see?

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Story Pregnancy

BabyShowerSoap

A week after the last addition (on the 7th of September), what happens? Well, I’m pregnant again. 🙂 (Any relatives reading this, please don’t freak out!)

Story pregnancy. Nothing more. 🙂

Saturday morning I woke up and decided to lounge in bed for a couple minutes. But it was not to be. A voice started speaking to me. An interesting character with an interesting threat. I found myself listening for some time. But eventually I had to face reality.

A family breakfast awaited at Bob Evans, a farewell to a beloved visitor (she’s going to read this later, so I had to say that…. 😉 Not really). 🙂 I took my notebook and jotted notes as I waited for the rest of the family.

I am most intrigued by this character and this premise. An unexpected gift. I have mini-maps for three short stories from it, and, hopefully, you will be seeing one in the near future – for sale on Kindle, Nook, et cetera. 🙂 All whilst I continue the writing of my novel.

Here’s hoping.

Ciao

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What a Character

Photograph of a Polish boy

Photograph of a Polish boy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There’s the cutest little boy at the preschool. He has a serious face, puckered lips, and curly brown hair in a man-cut. He is circa two years old and not quite two feet tall. But a fierce-some little bundle he is.

Every time, I see him either telling someone something extremely important or reprimanding them. Always in his gibberish, which sounds something like “oo joo juh joo too…” said through a tiny O between his puckered lips. The entire time he speaks, he is shaking and pointing his finger at them in a serious, no-nonsense manner, brows lowered.

Well, yesterday, on his way out, he stopped in the office as his mother talked with a friend. I had a perfect view. He stood just inside the door, talking fierce, and shaking his finger at his former teacher’s back as she clocked out. She was talking, but he continued to speak, even fiercer than before.

Finally, she turned around – still talking – and she had a cell phone to her ear. He paused and stared for a half second. Then he slapped his hand to his forehead, and just leaned there, covering one eye. The troubles he must bear. He just tries and tries, and this is what he gets.

The teacher had just concluded her call as he turned to leave, head down and shaking back and forth, and speaking gibberish to himself about his trials of life. She realized he had been speaking to her and called after him. “Goodbye, Sam. I’m sorry.” But he just sighed and lead his mother out the front door, still shaking his head. She gave a little laugh as she waved to his back.

What a character. I wish I had written him. It is so much fun to watch him giving instructions or lecturing. He is always talking. What will he be when he grows up? Lawyer? Professor? I predict something involving talking, at the least. 🙂 Children are so funny.

Ciao

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Conception Addition

Gun Barrel Proof House, Banbury Street, Digbet...

Gun Barrel Proof House, Banbury Street, Digbeth (Photo credit: ell brown)

A new story was conceived on the 7th of September. I have the premise, setting, two characters, and the title. Sometimes it happens this way. Other times, all I have is a generic premise to grow from (and, usually, the character that embodies the premise). 😉

True to my current Work, I noted the date for my Conception List and jotted down the info I had gathered, and I am going to leave it that way until I can focus on it. The idea intrigues me, so my mind keeps wandering to it. I love a puzzle. Unraveling the pieces, apparent and subtle, of a story is the best to be had, and my mind itches to solve it.

But I am training my mind’s eye on my current puzzle, and the occasional short puzzle, until it is completed. (Though I do not turn from Creative’s genius when it decides to share with me. I write it down, store it away, for its time of development.)

There are many gathered and waiting in my Conception List. And their time will come. I must stay true to my current work. I must see it through to completion. Fidelity.

Ciao

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Lupo, My Sweet Interruption

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I love his white eyeliner.

I lounged across the bed, ready to begin writing on my novel. I reached down and picked up my notebook, but the page with the pen stuck in it was not from my current work. Not the same story at all. It was from a short story I had been working on a few weeks back (which, not 15 minutes before, I was sure I would not write until after my novel had been written in. I planned on writing on a short story, a different one, later). I had picked up the wrong notebook. They’re both black, just one is four times thicker than the other, which I somehow missed in picking it up. I read the last couple lines I had written and was pulled in. Redirected by coincidence, or something else?

It wasn’t long before my little munchkin came to interrupt me for a ‘love routine’. He sprawled across my notebook, and looked up at me expectantly. So cute. And irresistible. And…he knows it. 😉

After his ‘loving’, he hopped onto his desk (yes, he has a desk too) and had a snack of Friskies. Then he left me to my writing.

But only for about five minutes. The bed depressed lightly at my feet. He was back. He walked alongside my body, slinking lower with each move. His eyes had that Liquid Love look, which I so enjoy. He slunk passed my laptop and leaned into the curve of my torso, his head a couple inches under my chin. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my cheek on the top of his head. He was purring, his eyes closed. He was content to be in my arms. He did not even desire petting. He stayed that way for some time.

My munchkin. My Lupo Piccolo. My sweet interruption. 🙂

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(Update: He’s back again.) 😉

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Wrestling The Story

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I find I can be a stubborn person. I get an idea in my head, and I just do not want to let it go. (When it’s an idea I like.) :/

But no matter how many times I wrestle it, my story always wins, which ends up being a win for both of us. You’d think I would have learned this by now. But, no, not me. Wouldn’t want it to be simple. God forbid… I fight the change, even the most simple of changes.

A couple days ago I was at it again. I already had a scene partially written where two characters meet, and I was quite attached to it. In the back of my mind, there was a little nudge that said something was wrong with it, but I did not give the thought a chance to even reach the stage. I liked that scene, and it was going to stay. That was that.

So I’m writing my novel, getting ever closer to that scene’s insertion point, and it is consistently popping into my mind. And with it comes that ever-ignored nudge. Truly, I have gotten so adept at ignoring said nudges that I hardly know they exist until looking in retrospect.

The scenes leading to the meeting are unfolding in unexpected ways (as usual), and tossed in front of me is a hole that needs filling and an obvious answer: the other character, the one that was not to appear until that scene I had specially prepared. I pushed it away. No. They met in that scene, and that was that.

It continued to press me as I wrote further, getting closer and closer, and I continued to say No. I liked that scene. I would not delete it. Never. It belonged in the book. I knew it did. But it would not give me any peace. Any time my mind would wonder, I would incessantly find myself in the same ring and the same wrestling match.

I continued to write. It was getting stronger though. After yet another insistent shove, I smacked my pen to the notebook. Fine. I’ll listen. That doesn’t mean I’m going to change anything. But I’ll follow the breadcrumbs. Hypothetically, of course.

So I did. And as I traversed the misty trail, rounding curves to unexpected sights, I rounded one into a light. Revelation. What it had been trying to show me the entire time: I could have them both. I had been right. That scene did belong in the book…but so did this one. They did not step on each other’s toes. They meshed perfectly. (‘Least I think so.) 🙂 They belonged together.

You idiot. That nudge you were ignoring. Yeah, that one. It was telling you they had already met. It was obvious: the way they reacted to one another, what they were saying, what they weren’t saying. They had met before. (Cue: slap forehead, or just slap yourself in general.) I swear I do this a lot. (The ignoring, not the slapping…) I have the epitome of ‘thick skulls’. But, in the end, the story beats through to great success.

(Maybe I’m being a mite too open in this one… But, hey, I never said I was smart.) 😉

Writer exits, stage left, returns to idiosyncrasies and creation.

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