The Process continues

So I finished my book. Well, a rough draft of it. It needs lots of help still. I've had a couple people read it, for editing and for content and flow. The remarks, responses, and comments have been extremely helpful and insightful.

One of the things I have struggled with is not so much the editing and suggestions but the feeling that if I use other people's thoughts to write my book, does it then not become their book as well? Aren't they in fact helping to write it? Do they become co-writers if they help? Where is the line that keeps the book mine and not partially theirs? I don't mind sharing but feel that credit should be given to those that have helped with ideas and rephrasing and such and I can't seem to get my mind around where help becomes part of the actual story and hence, they become a cowriter. I feel this is probably a strange place to be and an odd way to think and would be curious if other writers feel this when they get ideas and editing from others.

Aside from that, I think overall most are liking it. I'm trying to get feed back from several people to get as many different views as I can. I know what's in my head and want to know what is in a reader's head when they read the story. It's very exciting to share my book with others.

I still don't have a title that I have chosen 100%.

I need to go back and rewrite some parts. And reformat some parts. And take out the word "and" at the beginning of a ton of sentences. It seems that I think that way - in a long continuous sentence :) lol

I also found out that I say the word "hmm" a lot. I actually do in real life too, which I never knew about myself.

I'm excited to get back to work on it but haven't found the ultimate push to do it. I'm hoping it comes soon.

I've also got new ideas for new books that I am anxious to work on. I've started brainstorming and mapping out the ideas for a few of them and have them on the computer. This gives my brain more room so I don't have to remember them :)

Title title title. Hmm. lol

Creativity Portal Prompt Generator - May 28, 2009

A romantic night would be . . .

One where I felt like Cinderella.
It would start out with a few hours of getting ready - spa treatment, pedicure, manicure, have someone else do my hair and makeup - ahh.

Someone else would pick out my clothes - shoes too :)

After that, the limo would arrive to pick us up and take us driving around, with a nice chilled bottle of wine in the back and the sunroof open so we could pop out and check out the setting sun. We'd watch the final sunset from the comfort of one lounger as we laid together on a sandy beach listening to the slowing of the waves and the cries of seagulls warning of the fading light.

Then we would whisk away on a plane for dinner, where we would have steak at a small restaurant with dim lighting and a magnificent view of the city. On the return flight, hubby would have someone else fly as we snuggled and talked sweet nothings in the back of the Cessna.

On our way to a small intimate performance by a favorite comedian, he would surprise me with a trinket, piece of jewelry, to show his continued love. :)

As the laughs died down, we would head back to the beach and spend the night out under the stars.

The or rather My Writing Process

I have to say it's been interesting.
In the beginning, it all came so easy. I had a plan and followed it. I still have a plan. I still follow it. But the longer the story gets, the more I find myself rereading to refresh my memory of where the characters "are." Not necessarily physically, but how far they have evolved.
Sometimes I'll write like a crazed woman on a mission. Sometimes every word is painfully drawn out and I feel lucky to get a complete sentence.
My favorite times are right after I wrote a part that I feel really good about. During that time it comes so easily and I am so in tune with the characters.
Other times I struggle - what does she do? How do I get them from here to there in the story? What happens? Who does she turn to?
I found out the other day that I write even when I'm not writing. I went out to weed, a mindless, boring and tedious job of having a garden. That particular day, I was stumped on the story and "gave up." I plopped down on the gravel area around the pond that had assorted wildness peeking up through the rocks. I began plucking. And I began writing, without even realizing it. My mind wandered and came to a plan, a new idea, a different thought.
After weeding, I ran back in and wrote. Maybe I was weeding my mind??
One of my least favorite questions is "How long is it?" or "How long is it going to be?" My latest answer is "As long as it needs to be."
The other day, after explaining the plot/story line to my dad, he looked at me kinda funny and then said, "Oh. So it's like a true story." I had to smile, because no one but my dad would ever even think that.
I will admit, it has been more of a struggle than I thought it would be. Harder. Requiring more thought. I eventually had to write a cheat notes page/list for myself of the details of each character.
There have been times when I'll bounce ideas off hubby. He has helped tremendously on certain parts. But mostly it has been a journey of my mind.
One of the most interesting things is that sometimes I'll be working and typing so long, I'll look down at my fingers and get all confused about how to type. Or amazed that I am typing. That's a very strange feeling.
I skipped a bit on my story. I wrote part of the near end and then wrote part of the very end. I don't think I should have done that. Despite my plan, the story has curved along the way and with endings written, it now has to be a straight shot to get there.
There's a very technical part coming up. It's almost like I'm putting it off. I'm afraid to make a mistake, show my ignorance of a subject that is so integral to the plot. I've studied and done research and hopefully will make the best with what I know. I don't know why I'm scared - it's my very favorite part of the book. Maybe that's why I'm scared. Worried that it won't come out the way I want it to - the way I can so clearly see it in my head.

I basically just wrote this post to remind myself of where I am now. To chronicle the journey. I wish I would have done a post like this sooner. I will do them with more frequency now.

Creativity Portal 365 Days Photo Response - May 21, 2009

May 21, 2009
No-one lives here any more. Only the crows and the big sky keep company with the ghost of the old horse who spent his life here. What are his memories and why does he still remain tied to this spot?

Easy -
Once upon a time there was a fair haired girl who loved him with all her heart. She snuck him sugar cubes after a hard day of plowing. She was the only kindness the old work horse had ever known. When she spoke, it soothed him as it reminded him of nuzzling his mother for milk. Her gentle hands would smooth his rough hair, thick from the wintery frigid cold. During the spring, her small hands, with the coolness of a mountain stream, rubbed his aching chest and leg muscles. Sometimes, when he was lucky, he would feel her frosty breath tickle his nostrils in the early morning of a fall day as she kissed nose.

And then one day, his small bit of joy no longer visited. He would see her from a distance, near the house, with another that reminded him of his master. And then he no longer saw her at all.

He still remembers the kindness, and his heart yearns for it. We all want to remain where we feel special and loved.

Creativity Portal 365 Days Photo Response - May 12, 2009

May 12, 2009
I didn't know what to expect beyond the garden gate, I breathed in deeply the morning fresh air and took in the beauty and stillness of the garden...

As I entered, the gate creaked and I worried it would fall off its hinges. I had to give it a bit of a shove because the ivy was intertwined amidst the paint-chipped wooden slats. I hadn't ventured in here since, well, THAT day.

I had prepared myself for many things during the past month. Weeds, bugs, painful memories, happy rememberances. A bit worried, I bit my lip and stepped past the gate with a purposeful stride and a great bit of anxiety.

It was still there. The glass ball, shining and reflecting like a rainbow. Perfect. I caught my breath, waiting as still as the concrete statue in the corner that guarded the ten inch orb.

Should I walk closer? I debated for a long time. Long enough to watch a bird fly past with a bit of twig in its big. Long enough to hear the frog sing a croak of love. Turning my head slightly, I saw the rose bush in full bloom and daintly picked my way through the ivy-covered stones to drink in the scent.

Closer to the sunlit ball, a hybrid lilac was in full bloom and my senses pulled me to it, the aroma as tantalizing as a stolen kiss.

A big fat bumblebee lazily wandered on the flowers closest to the crystal sphere. I went in for a closer look, to watch her work.

At some point, I realized my small senses journey was nothing but a straight and true path to the perfectly smooth round glass. I looked down and it was a mere foot away.

Just like that, I was gone again.

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Creativity Portal 365 Days Photo Response - May 7, 2009

May 7, 2009
A quiet country road at the end of a hot summer's day. What would you find if you just kept moving along into the sunset?

Enough hours in a day might be found. To do all you dream of doing, all you need to do, and then still have time to relax and enjoy the stillness and that feeling of peace.

Eternal life. An eternal day. The scenery changes as you move, but the light stays the same, constant.

Exceptional insight to your day's problems and issues in the past.

Extra brain power you didn't know you had.

Everything you thought you lost.

Exquisite sights and views.

Energy exploding.

Endurance.


I wonder why I chose to make it an E word answer?

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Creativity Portal 365 Days Photo Response - May 4, 2009

May 4, 2009 -We are all connected by a never ending thread. When you feel someone tugging do you respond?

We are all connected. It's something bigger than science knows. It's deeper than proven gravitational pull of one human body on another. This is why it hurts when one of us doesn't seem quite human because of their horrific acts.

When someone tugs? You can feel who you are supposed to be closer to. We've all experienced it. That best friend from the moment you met. That immediate attraction to someone that defies any sense of normalcy.

Some call out loud, but some whisper in our minds. Those whispers can linger for years. Maybe it was a small kind word when you needed it the most. You want to go back and thank them. And you know that it was all part of the bigger plan. There were sent at that moment because they felt YOU tugging.

People are different. Some feel a lot of tugs and feel the need to answer them all, no matter how small. Some feel them but choose to ignore most, seeming insignificant. Some only feel a few, but those tugs are more like strong chains that can't be resisted.

Find the other end of your chain if you can. That dark iron heavy burden will have something beautiful at the other end.

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