Adding soundtracks to our lives

I walked into work today with a fellow employee and, knowing he had two small children, asked after the family.  His children are small, 3 and 1.  He talked about the challenges of two small kids running around the house, throw in a dog, throw in a busy work schedule.  I smiled, remembering my own house at that point of my life and now that I'm empty nesting, I have a different view of that particular brand of mayhem.

My daughter has become a fan of country music.  As a result, during the summer months I saw many country music videos and one day, one of them caught my attention.  Trace Adkins, singing "You're Gonna Miss This."  It's one of those sentimental pieces that tugs at your heart and has become one of my favorites.  As I listened to JayZee talking about his family, this is what prompted my smile, and I told him so.  I asked if he was familiar with the song and he seemed to be aware of it, if not familiar with it.  And I told him (wise old woman that I am - HAH!) You're Gonna Miss This. 

Originally the song struck me in that my daughter is moving fast forward into her future.  She's a smart girl and has a lot of common sense.  Sometimes life shows you dreams of what might be and you leap toward them.  You have two options when this happens.  Take that leap and 1.  Find out you've found the frying pan or 2.  Find out you've found the fire.  For each of us, these are learning experiences - life experiences.  That's why the song touches me - it reminds you to enjoy today for what it is, because once you take that leap from today, its gone and you have to readjust to the heat you find you've leapt into.

Music has always added a soundtrack to my life, as with many people.  You can remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when you hear a song on the radio.  There's a song that puts me in my car, driving to work, 9 months pregnant every time I hear it.  There's a song that puts me in a "lay by" in England at 3:00 in the morning, trying not to fall asleep and yet soaking up the *perfection* of the moment.  There's a song that will forever be the reason I'm in the job I'm in now - and so many people have been able to apply it to so many different situations in their lives (the chorus is . . ."It Feels Like Chaos/But Somehow There's Peace").

So while I continue to adjust to my empty nest (and yes, I'm adjusting just fine), this Trace Adkins is the song that sticks with me now.  The chorus is more true now than ever.  I miss it.  I'm so proud of my kids and the adults that they have become/are becoming, but in my eyes, they'll always be adorable little cherubs, full of smiles.

One parting thought for balance (since this post is so sappy).  I have an English friend.  One Christmas, she asked me about the holiday Stateside and, being the Christmas crazy that I am, I gave her my sappy, sentimental view.  She laughed at me - not expecting to hear such "drivel."  Yes, folks, I try not to take myself too seriously, but authors?  they have to be dreamers to weave the spells that they do.  I've always said that artists of any sort have to be at least slightly eccentric.  I guess sentimentality is my eccentricity.

Wait - is that Brigadoon rising out of the mist?  Just WAIT until I post about Vortexes! (or is that vortices?)

How do you start a novel?

People often ask where I get the inspiration to write, and then, when I get the idea, where do I start.  For me, I start with my characters.  It starts with a name.  For one of my books, I had a hard time coming up with names, but I already knew I was going to write about a woman who walks through cemeteries (Epitaph).  As part of my research, I did a cemetery walk figuring I could read all the names on the tombstones to get ideas.  I took lots of notes that day, but ultimately, Amy Benson's name didn't come from a tombstone.  But I digress. . .

{ahem} It starts with a name.  Then I have to know everything about that character.  Their hair color, their eye color, their body type, their personality, their family history.  This is what makes your character who he is.  There are times I don't get to know my character very well until I'm into my third chapter in the story.  In fact, for the story I'm writing now, I'm half way through and I've realized the characterization has been a little uneven, but now I know my character much better so I can go back and edit out the inconsistencies.  One of my writing buddies "interviews" her characters at the start of a novel.  It's a similar process, but even with an interview, many times you don't really get to know this person until you've spent time with them (on paper/computer).  Once I have my main character developed, I work on the other characters based on his/her personality.  The type of friends they have, the type of person they attract, the type of person that would frighten them, the type of person that should frighten them but they fail to notice.

Once I have the characters outlined, for my part, setting inspires me. (It's kind of like playing dolls {grin}).  You start them into the place that they fit, but I'm easily touched by a beautiful house or a particularly interesting landscape, or an unusual place.  Things that stand out of the ordinary. That's what starts my engines running (for example, a cemetery - again using Epitaph as my example here because most people don't throw their main characters into a graveyard).  Another example - I'm taking a trip to Sedona, Arizona to learn more about vortexes, a topic on my hit list for a story.  Click here to learn more

Okay, now you have your characters and you have your setting.  Unless you have a plot, your story isn't going to be very interesting.  There are many different approaches to plotting a novel.  One of the workshops I attended at a writer's conference showed a grid that shows the best way to maximize conflicts.  If you put your protagonists in direct competition or opposition, that's a good start.  Give them different goals in life, and have one stand in the way of the other.  I think the example the workshop leader used was to have the heroine predisposed to hating policeman based on a previous encounter and the hero is a cop.  There's no way the heroine would even want to talk to this guy based on her predisposition and even if she did, her immediate reaction would be negative.  Then, say, the cop's goal was to raise enough money to buy a house that he could turn into a safe haven for troubled youth, and the heroine wants that same house to turn into a nail salon because that's her dream job, and she has a lot more money to front.  Well, you get the idea.

Personally, I've gotten off to many false starts.  I get the characters set, I get the setting lined up.  I start the story and discover that it's BORING.  They're not going anywhere or doing anything, they're just walking along, having a nice time.  Nobody wants to read about walking along, having a nice time.  People need conflict to be interesting.  When I realize that during the writing process, I stop writing and go back to outlining.  These characters need goals in life and they need obstacles to overcome. 

Way back when I first started writing, I took a "Sol Stein" course.  At that point of "serious effort" in my writing career, I didn't understand all the ins and outs of the process, but looking back on that now, it was a good primer.  The things that I remember most from that were:  #1 Make your main character stand out.  Give them a strong identifying feature, whether it be a unique look or personality trait (In The Treasure of St. Paul, my hero had a nervous habit of ticking off his fingernails against his thumb, one by one).  #2 Put your characters into a stressful situation that throws them off their game.  Add some unbalance to their lives, and do it quickly to draw your readers in.

There are lots of tools out there these days to get you started and help you.  There are enneagram programs to help you develop your character's personality.  There are writing programs to give you ideas.  There are storyboard and outlining programs to keep you on track.  The most important part to writing a good novel, however, is strong writing skills.  Even with all these aids, the bottom line is that you have to have a firm grasp of the English language.  You have to to know/learn how to tell a story in an interesting fashion.  You have to understand the basics of showing and not telling.  Even after years of practicing, I still make *stupid* mistakes, but at least I think I've learned how to turn a sentence, and when someone tells me a sentence is boring, I know that they aren't just being mean.  Now I understand why. :-)

September 11

This is one of those questions, like where were you when Kennedy got shot.  I'm sure everyone remembers where they were when the twin towers went up in smoke.  Me?  I was on my drive to work.  They were talking about the first tower and while they were talking, the second one got hit.  That was the defining moment, when they realized this wasn't just an accident.  We've seen a lot of differences in our country since that time.  I don't think I can *not* blog about the event, and I'm sure I'm in good company.

Along these lines, I remember during one of my research sessions that I looked up Nostradamus.  There are those of you that would say he was lucky, there are those of you that might think he's a prophet.  Whatever he was, I find it interesting, but that's just me.  I like things that seem to reach beyond explanation.  The uncanny coincidences in some of his quatraines cannot be denied.  One of the more compelling things for me is that people try to interpret to suit their needs.  For instance, it's easy to look back on history and point out the references to "Hister" in place of Hitler and the World Wars.  What I don't understand is why, if they see Nostradamus as a predictor of war, they aren't making more of the 10 years' war that he predicted starting around the year 2000 that would involve the world power and an Arab state with a devil in a blue turban. (My facts may be a little off here, but that was the gist.)  For those people that try to promote Nostradamus, it seems to me that he hit another one on the head, and yet the documentaries I've watched seem to skip over that part.  And haven't we been at war for . . . do I have to do the math?  (Does this mean we have two more years of war?).

I'm not acknowledging or denying these "prophesies," I'm just noting that I find them interesting.  I'd thought to include them in one of my stories, once, but it seems one would have to be a dedicated scholar to sift through all Nostradamus's works.  The subject became to broad and the concepts too obtuse and far-reaching in some instances.  Not something that would lend itself easily to a passing reference, and too much to take on (in my opinion) for a work of fiction.

Whatever your take is on the matter, whether it was predicted or not, the events on this date 8 years ago did happen and they will leave their mark on our nation for many years to come.  The first time I traveled to England (before 9/11/01), they'd had their fair share of terrorists attacks with the Irish Republic Army and other assorted bogeys.  Heathrow Airport impressed me deeply because of the tight levels of security.  Leaving from Chicago-O'Hare, where my family came to the gate to see me off, I was unaccustomed to having to pass through three separate security checks at Heathrow where no one was allowed at the gates other than ticketed passengers.  It was a little unnerving at the time - something I hadn't encountered before living a sheltered life in the U.S.  Of course, that time has passed.  Our security is greatly enhanced since that experience.  Now, although most travelers find it inconvenient, you won't find anyone arguing about the necessity of such measures.

Where were you on 9/11?

Happy Labor Day

This holiday is a little different for me.  I'm glad to have the day off, but my house is just a little emptier than in prior years.  I'm now officially an empty nester.  My children are intelligent, responsible young adults.  I know they still have mistakes to make, but hopefully they'll learn from them.  And now it's time for me to recapture my own life!  Doesn't stop me from being just a little melancholy.  For this past week, every time I look at my son I see a blond little boy full of smiles and giggles always ready for a cuddle and a lullaby.  My mother says that's how it works.  She still sees a little girl with curls every time she misses me.  Those are the best times of our lives, lessons my children will learn one day.

And more nostalgia.  The road trip to deliver One Young Son to college pointed out all the songs I have yet to transfer from vinyl to digital.  Today's line-up?  Led Zeppelin and Loggins and Messina (along with Kenny Loggins solo).  I did tell you I had diverse musical tastes, didn't I?

Also spending time writing today now that some of the crush to prepare for college is over.  That's exciting! My latest story has been suffering from divided attention.  So back to work!

Keeping my fingers crossed!

First for the good news - I had another request for a partial of Epitaph! 

And now onto the day in the life.  On my morning commute this morning, I realized how much of a community train riders are.  For instance, there's the couple that just had a baby - I first noticed her when she wore brightly colored rubber snow boots.  Then, as I looked up to see who it was that was wearing these boots (and the man next to me was sniggering when he saw them), I noticed the baby bump.  Winter turned to spring and the couple disappeared, recently to rejoin the commuting crowd.  Then there is another couple - they're French.  The man makes me extremely uncomfortable.  He seems to have a temper, and he displayed it in the direction of his wife one day.  He speaks perfect English to some of the other riders, but to his wife, it's always French.  Recently, I noticed that she is pregnant.  Then there's the woman on the scooter, the gamblers that invite the conductor to join their pools, and a host of other miscellaneous personalities.  The thing about these people is that they follow routine.  We normally ride the same trains, in the same cars, usually the same seats.  We travel into the city and we travel home.  Same cars, same seats, same train times - for the most part.  Fodder for another story at a later date.  This is where writer's differ from the rest of the world.  We advance that step past people watching into imagining the lives we don't see.

For those of you asking, the door to the wild kingdom seems to be closed for now (finally!).  No more friends for the two furry beasts that I've invited to live with me.  Which reminds me - I watched a special last night on a man who had BEARS for pets.  Real live bears.  Black bears and Grizzly bears.  Interesting show, but really? 

Before my random thoughts continue to generate, I think I'll close out for today.  Otherwise I imagine people will have a hard time keeping up with my rapid fire topic changing this evening!

Anon

Nostalgia

I bought a new toy.  A USB turntable (and about time!)  I grew up with music and as I got old enough to buy my own, I did.  Probably more than I should have.  I have lots of vinyl, some of which has not been replaced on CD or iTunes.  As I begin to digitize my collection, I'm trying to start with some of the records you can't find anymore.  For some of them, this is a good thing (that you can't find them anymore).  For instance, I have Rick Springfield records from 1972.  That's pre-Jessie's Girl and General Hospital for anyone who even knows who Rick Springfield is.  Some of these songs are HORRIBLE.  I'm sure even he would agree, and yet some of them I still like.  It doesn't hurt that the man is very easy on the eyes :-)  His music has improved over the years, although I stopped buying his albums long ago.  I read in the paper the other day that he's 60 now (yes, that's older than I am). 

Other "ancient" music I'm doing today - Queen (A Night at the Opera, Jazz, A Day at the Races), and the New Seekers (yes, they did more than commercial jingles - Pinball Wizards).

All this while I slave away with my latest book.  Did I mention it has a lot of pop culture written into it?  Hence the connection with old songs and the drive to convert them to digital media.  The soundtrack to the story (no these albums don't apply to the story, they're just the ones I picked to go first).

In the meantime, DH has found the hole the critters made to gain entrance into my house.  YAY!  It's hard for human folk to get to, however.  BOO.  But he's my hero, doing his best to save me from the wild beasts.

Do you have "guilty pleasures" in music?  Those old songs that maybe aren't so good, but you still love them?

Animal Kingdom

And the critter adventures continue.  For those of you with dogs, I'd like to sing the praises of cats at this point in time.  Of course my older "grandpa" cat has always thought he was a dog (does that count as a dog?), so he assumes that role since the dog he grew up with died.  But on with my story.

Some of you have probably seen my post on "Squirrel Wars."  I'm going to do a prequel to that story.  When we first moved into this house, a chipmunk went running through the empty rooms.  We were able to corral it in a carpet roll and take it outside.  After we moved in, I pointed out to DH that we also had mice moving in (and again, DH never believes me when I notice these bothersome things).  I knew this by the things they left behind - if you know what I mean.  So he put out mouse bait and guess what?  He caught a mouse.  Now that the house was occupied, they didn't seem as interested in sharing space, so we haven't had a lot of trouble with the little varmints.  However, we did manage to find one more chipmunk that had invaded the basement - cat territory - and it didn't survive the experience.  All has been quiet since then until the Squirrel Wars began.

There was the squirrel in the attic (I think I blogged about that).  Then last week we had the squirrel in the basement.  You'll notice that the critters are getting progressively larger.  LAST NIGHT (and of couse DH swears he blocked the access point for these guys) I'm working on my web site (I even blogged last night!) and I turn around to find . . . are you ready for this? . . . an opossum staring at me from the top of the basement steps.  So I let out a little yelp of surprise, and my son (I'm so glad he was home with me last night!) says, "I wish you'd quit doing that."  And then I told him WHY I did that.  Well obviously, the possum was as surprised as I was and took off, so I finished what I was doing, having no idea where this thing took off to, and then went on a critter hunt.  Did it go back in the basement?  Good luck finding it down there.  Did it go behind the couch in the living room?  No . . . and the two cats?  Sleeping on the sofa in the living room.  No chase being given, no acknowledgement of intruders.  But wait, didn't I tell you I was going to sing their praises?

Old Grandpa cat gets up off the couch (he's still pretty spritely for an old man) and walks to the laundry room.  Yeah, yeah.  Like the possum is going to hide in the smallest room in the house.  Even still, I follow with a flashlight, to illuminate any dark corners, and there's nothing there.  I went to the basement, and no sign of life down there.  Did that "tip toe" thing creeping around my own house, peeking around corners, and checked all the rooms on the main floor.  Nothing.  But Grandpa cat insists I check the laundry room.  He paces back and forth, following me, then goes back to the laundry room like a hound dog - nearly pointing the way tracking dogs will.  Okay, okay.  I'll look again.  So armed with my flashlight, I check the dark corners again, only this time, I look behind the appliances.  Darn if that cat wasn't right!  Cowering in the corner, I see a tail.  Round up One Young Son, block off the access, open the back door.  Maybe it will just walk out, you think?  HAH.  After several of minutes of banging on the walls and throwing shoes to scare it out, One Young Son picks up a broom and goes on the attack.  Fortunately, he can sneak up behind it.  He brushes it toward the door, but the possum is too scared!  It doesn't want to go anywhere.  One Young Son keeps sweeping and eventually it gets the hint and scampers out the door.  YEAH!

It was raining last night.  Naturally.  I've already been walking around outside the house to open/close doors for this critter.  On my way back in, I check the access point and guess what?  There's a new tunnel where DH filled in the old ones, even through the barriers he built. {sigh} Do I feel bad that the critter had to run out in the rain?  Kinda.  But not enough to let it bunk inside with us.  Sorry.  The only critters in my house are those I invite in - the guardian type.

This morning, Grandpa cat complained about his living quarters early (they live in the basement when we're not home/are sleeping), so I gave him the roam of the house early.  Immediately he took up guard cat duties.  Instead of looking for a quick snuggle before I got ready for work, he posted himself to watch for dangerous varmints lurking in the shadows.  (He let me know he loved me last night after we flushed the possum out.)

When we moved into this house, there was a prairie and woods a block away.  Urban sprawl cleared that away in favor of more housing (I have a soapbox in the corner for these occassions).  So where are these critters supposed to live?  A couple of years ago we even had a deer find its way into our back yard, and we're miles from their remaining habitat.  I mean really.  If we take over all the woods and fields, there is no place else for these animals to go.  But please, not in my house.