Monthly Archives: November 2009

It’s Still There…

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I have been thankful how easy it is not to stress over what’s (not) happening with my novel.

I have reached the conclusion that I cannot do the next/final clean-up piecemeal.  For the sake of continuity (and other issues I have identified with the text) I’ve decided I absolutely have to have a serious “work week” where I work the novel from start to finish.

So naturally I have to wonder am I just sick of it and happy to move on, since I’m not even talking about it any more.  Then I got to talk it a bit today with someone (I don’t meet many people in real life who want to hear me talk stories, so I was pleased to get a chance to talk about something interesting).

I explained a purposeful contrast between men (and how I tried to illustrate their differing character) by how they took care of a toddler:

Kennett, the “hero,” and a good man, carries his adopted son on his shoulders and remembers to stoop as he goes through a doorway.  Ivan, who wants to think of himself as a good man, scoops up a child on his way out the door and just *nails* the boy’s head on the lintel.
These are on opposite ends of the story, so I don’t know if anyone will notice the direct contrast.

But even though that kind of conversation used to set me back onto my novel in the next hour, I actually forgot about the story until this evening when I set down to try and update the family blog a bit.  I turned on Pandora and picked my “noveling” station (since that is not something I’ll play with the children around).

And, wow.  I am conditioned. (Yes I know I’ve mentioned this before.)

I was nearly in my writing trance before I realized I was going under.  I let myself listen to a couple songs before I decided I didn’t want to inoculate myself and switched stations.

But now I’m stoked and actually have to make myself go to bed.  It is a genuine relief that (it appears) at the right time I will be able to return with a relatively small transition.

Liquid Mercury

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Perhaps that designation is redundant.

I still remember when I was 13 or so, and watching one of the boys in my class chasing a bead of mercury around his desk, and rolling it in his palm.  I remember looking at that tight drop of silver and trying to wrap my mind around the idea that *metal* was doing that.

And now I find myself in a life-stage that seems very like that bead.

I am solid, I am “held together,” but I’m also moving quicker than I expected in unplanned directions.  Things that have been givens forever are now in flux.

  • I am a reader. I read like crazy, and always have a story, anecdote or factual information about, well, anything that might come up.
    • But I haven’t finished a book in 2 months.
  • I’m a writer.
    • But I write very little these days
  • I am a musician.  I find both identity and peace in music
    • But I am not dedicated in practice, and have let opportunities pass with relief
  • For 30 years I didn’t think or care care much about what went in my mouth, now in 5 months I’ve completely overhauled my eating habits.
  • And my exercise-life.

And of course there’s more, but that stuff is actually personal.

The point is, you ask me– yesterday, today or tomorrow– what I’m like or who I am (or is this who I am) and I honestly believe it would be truth to say “yes.”

I am not who I was, but it is not yet clear who I will be.

This is like adolescence + maturity. Not a fearful thing, only a happening thing.  One I have been quietly reassured by ladies not-much-older-than-me is as normal in personal development as any other stage of Finding Oneself.

Only, here (at this age and life-stage) especially, I cannot forget that it is in Losing Self that I am found.

The delightful– and peace-offering– element in the midst of this is that I am far from unique in this flowing uncertainty:

Dear friends, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet been revealed. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him as He is.

1 John 3:2

This, most of all, is what I’m looking forward to.  My uncertainty is a terrifically small thing when Christ is what, whom, I’m rolling toward.

Hi. This isn’t facebook.

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This is my non-techie way of tying up the loose end of this blog template having a (purported) Facebook link, and me not booking my face.

Sorry if that’s disappointing.

I’m told FB will be non-optional once I’m published, but that’s not now. I prefer Twitter just because there seems like less to keep up with.  Maybe I feel less obligation to keep up with the every-doings of everyone I know. If I’m not on FB, I’m not expected to know everything.

Clearly I feel safer when I’m responsible for less.

Feel free to browse elsewhere on Untangling Tales if you want to figure me out. Trust me when I say all of me is already here. A couple of interesting searches you might not have tried yet:

Still like Bones

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From the beginning of my introduction to the TV show, one of my favorite elements was the respectful relationship between the male and female leads.

One of the first episodes had Booth (the FBI guy) lecturing Brennen (the bones lady) about the importance of respecting the rules.

“I can’t always respect the rules,” she insists. “But I can respect you.”

And with very few exceptions she does.

These last few episodes have had that played up more than ever.

~

Every story plays on some sort of fantasy.

Bones‘s is about a woman competent and confident (don’t we all want to be?), who in the rare moments her above-average abilities are overwhelmed by some greater strength has an utterly devoted man who would do anything for her.

On the guy side it’s about the nice guys winning.  Both the leading man and all the supporting actors are “nice guys.” Decent, generally healthy people who are all good in different ways– which, if you think about it, is both rare and hard (which is the short answer about why it’s rare).

~

Life (one of the shows I followed last year) was about the edge-rider and situational ethics.  Life was fascinating because of how well it followed rules (the writing, not the characters).

The main character was high enough (and rich enough, oblivious enough) to do basically whatever he wanted to do, but he was not so high that he was responsible for more than himself and (at times) a partner.  He was the perfect wingman.

In one episode he quietly accompanies his captain to confront the last people to see the leading lady and Captain was able to keep his killer eye-contact with his opponent because he trusted Cruise behind him to watch his back.  Which he did quite competently.

With the female partner, they had the overweight tough guy wannabe (with the heart of gold, of course) getting the girl.

I have to wonder now if the show ended up failing because it tried to feed to many fantasies and so didn’t feed any one of them enough…

~

Right now the Bones writers seem to be trying to walk a line between accuracy in healthy male/female relationships (deference, honor, protection) and avoiding what they (possibly) see as bland stereotype.

There’s still the extra-marital sex to keep it from being generally recommendable as a whole show, but as a character study, I enjoy it immensely.

I hope they keep trying; I love “getting to know” characters that I wouldn’t mind meeting in real life.

I like it when the nice guys win.

I’ve said before, I Love Beginnings

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I had a migraine today.

I don’t get them often, not more than two, maybe three times  a year.  But they really mess with me.

Sometimes they hurt, sometimes they make me physically sick, but mostly they just make me feel weird (one hand or half my face goes numb) or stupid.  I can’t make connections or speak as coherently. I sometimes have blind spots, and don’t trust myself to drive.

If I had the option, I don’t think I’d choose the pain instead, but my version of a migraine is still *really* lame for me.

Anyway, the silver lining is that Jay essentially gave me the afternoon “off.”  I didn’t make lunch for anyone but me, and sat at my computer for a long time. I played at starting NaNo and strung together 1,367 words for a first chapter and another 600 or so on the concept.

You wonder what a first chapter first-draft looks like? Here it is, with no editing beyond spell-check.

And, no, I really don’t know what comes next.  If I were to continue writing on this story tomorrow or this month (which I *doubt* — this next week is nuts) I wouldn’t do the next scene, I’d do the next scene I know, which I estimate to be about chapter 4.  After that I’m only sure about chapters ~18 and 20/21.

The upside is that this book (whenever I do get around to writing it) should be signifcantly shorter than the first– if complexity is an accurate measure.

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