The Driving Force

About every other day, I open up my novel manuscript, tinker away on my laptop and try to mold “draft one” into a much better “draft two.”

The rewrite has been slow. On the days I ignore it, I wonder if my refusal to open the file reflects my lack of faith in the story or my lack of faith in my writing.

Some days it’s the story, other days it’s my writing, on a bad day it’s both.

Recently, however, I sat down with my ego and explained in no uncertain terms that finishing the novel can be as rewarding as having it published. Amazing things happen when you let go of expectations. The story starts to flow again. I wrote over 1,400 words today, finished chapter three, and rekindled my love for the characters.

In between rewrites this week, I published a post that I consider an exercise in character development – the main character in my novel, not my personal character (unless you count that chat with my ego as “development”). I also found a great article on character-driven stories versus plot-driven stories, something I understood but needed to see again more clearly.

Elana Johnson breaks down plot versus character in an essay she posted on QueryTracker.net (you can read her post here). She says, “[t]he main focus in a plot-driven novel [is]: get out of danger. Stay alive. Accomplish something.” In a character-driven story, the protagonist – how she sees the world or how her perceptions change – is more important than the action:

“In a character-driven story, the author builds the plot around the character.”

Both character and plot interact, but one of them takes the lead. Elana Johnson ends with several questions to help determine which one the writer puts first. Question number one speaks directly to me:

“What is the force propelling your story from beginning to end? Is it the characters or what they’re going through?”

My answer to that question (the characters) sealed my understanding about the story I am writing. And, I learned that even if my fingers aren’t typing in draft changes, I am still developing the story: every article I read on the craft of writing adds meaning to my work in progress.

Live to Write, Write to Live

Inspiration is all around us.

Yesterday was one of those days when I thought, why write? Staring at the future, instead of staying in the moment, I pouted through the morning. I wrote anyway (it was Wednesday, I had to), and I felt better.

Today on The Writing Vein blog*, I watched this video about art, its mystery and its draw:

art manifesto

How the future unfolds doesn’t matter so much. I just love to write.

______________

* I don’t know where Dot finds such lovely music and videos, but I’m glad she posts them. I could watch this one again and again (and I have) Thanks, Dot!

Big Mouth Bass

Today’s Wednesday’s Word entry comes to you as a result of Jamie Grove’s suggestion in a recent post on what to do when you don’t feel like writing: put A to B. Get thy butt to thy chair, and write anyway.

***

The theme this week on Wordsmith.org is eponyms: words based on a person’s name. You have to be famous and/or do something really ingenious for your name to become part of the English language. For some odd reason, Wordsmith.org doesn’t acknowledge any eponym related to me. Clearly they don’t know the story of how I became a Lion’s Club member, even though I’m a woman. I only stayed in for a year, and it might be a figment of my imagination (or a nightmare), but still….

However, the name André Maginot comes into focus with today’s word of the day:

Maginot line. noun. An ineffective line of defense that is relied upon with undue confidence.

You can read about André Maginot here, and learn how his great line of defense fell short in actual protection.

Now, on to some flash fiction.

You may not know Millie. She is the main character in the novel I mention when I talk about how much I love rewrites. Millie lives alone, and she likes it that way, for the most part. She requires a large cushion of personal space, for sanitary reasons and because of her suspicion of most people. She prefers to observe life from a distance, behind a window or behind a desk or in the shadows. Over the phone, she is amicable; in person, quiet or curt.  Today, I imagine Millie and the Maginot line.

***

Millie’s best line of defense lay in tight formation along the top edge of her place mat. As she tore off bite-size pieces off her bran muffin and chewed, with purpose, she studied each pill: fish oil,vitamin E, vitamin D, and (the catch-all) Mega-Mix Iron Supplement – iron complemented with vitamins C and B12, a dash of Folic Acid and a pinch of Copper. The Mega-Mix, her mother insisted, would boost her energy and give a little color to her cheeks.

The Mega-Mix pill was the same color and length as her mother’s manicured nails, the one on her index finger to be exact. The image of her mother’s nail, in bright corral polish, pointing to and tapping the vitamin brochure, was fresh in Millie’s mind.

“You need all of these, Millie,” her mother said as she ran her finger down a list of vitamins for women over forty.

“I’m thirty-nine, mother.”

“You can never start too early. Besides, you’re pale as a ghost and you sleep too much. Get this one for sure,” she tapped over the picture of the Mega-Mix.

The vitamins came in the mail yesterday. Millie hadn’t opened them until this morning. Now, studying the Mega-Mix pill on the table, she saw it had the thickness of a marble. She was worried. She had a high gag reflex. The other three vitamins would be hard enough. She decided to take the Mega-Mix last.

She took a deep breath. Her right hand scooped up the fish oil and, like a catapult, shot it into her open mouth. Her left hand swung from the side and grasped her water glass. She flooded her mouth, so that the pill floated for a brief second. Then, she tossed her head back as if she were in a fit of laughter and swallowed, forcing the pill down her esophagus in one strong gulp. She repeated the process two more times then paused at the Mega-Mix.

Passing It On: Prolific Times Three

There’s no better way to finish off the weekend and start a new week than with an award.

Mary Campbell shared her Happiness 101 award with me a few days ago. Today, Linda Cassidy Lewis honors me with the title of Prolific Blogger (you can read about the award itself, here).

More than a testament of my writing, both these awards are evidence of the strong connections we find with other writers, whether online or in person. Mary’s award gave me an introspective opportunity to ask myself what it means to be really happy. Linda’s award offers me a chance to ponder the word Prolific.

I’m a big fan of the thesaurus. Some writers refuse to use it, but I love it. I’m a visual person. When I see one word in isolation, it sometimes appears flat to me. But, when I read through the word’s synonyms, the word takes shape in a more meaningful way for me.

Prolific: fruitful, generative, innovative, plenteous.

The maker of the award ask that recipients pass it on to seven other bloggers. Seven is a big number. Three is more magical for me. I hope Advance Booking will keep me on the list of winners even as I side-step that rule. At any rate, here are three bloggers I love who deserve the title of Prolific:

1. My friend Sarah, Ms. Celiac in the City, is a wealth of information about gluten-free living. I can manage gluten, but I have to consider a nut-free, egg-free diet for one of my kids. Sarah and I talk food quandaries as often as we can, and she provides resources to other sites with food allergies at the forefront.
2. Dot Hearn, whom I mentioned in my last post, is a writer out west. Though we’ve never met in person, I love having her as a friend and writing colleague. She keeps her website rolling with writing prompts and news about literary and arts events all around town. I wish I lived in Oregon or – at the least – had a large disposable income within reach, so I could fly out there whenever I darn well pleased.
3. E. Victoria Flynn is a fellow SheWrites author and a Mother Writer. She recently began a weekly post on What to Read This Weekend where she highlights an interesting or inspiring blog. And, she created a great logo for every Mother Writer out there.

Like I plan to do, you can buy a t-shirt, a messenger bag, maybe even a magnet. My dream would be to buy a book of temporary tattoos, so I could slap the logo onto my bicep for some added sass.

***

Thank you, Linda, for acknowledging my blog. It’s an honor to display the badge. I only wish I had the kind of writing space in the picture…minus the dog. I’m terribly allergic. I doubt I’d get much writing done with a furry friend stirring up dander just below my feet.

Still…the coffee, the printer overflowing with finished works, and the light bulb going on daily with amazing and creative ideas…dreamy.

Happy.

Happy. Content. Peaceful.

In recent days, the question of what makes me happy has come up in two different places.

On Thursday, Mary Campbell, at Writer’s Butt Does Not Apply to Me, passed on the Happy 101 blog award to me, because (and I am not making this up) “[Christi] always has something sweet to say.” I like Mary (and her blog), and I wonder if Mary might write a letter of confidence for me and mail it to my husband the next time my sweet turns to sour.

But, seriously, I believe in Karma, and the Golden Rule. My mother always told me what goes around comes around. And, as I approach the start date for a novel workshop, and imagine the thought of eleven other writers cutting loose with feedback, I hope all that good Karma and those sugar-sweet words will carry me through critiques.

On Friday, my friend Dot Hearn, at The Writing Vein, posted her second Razor’s Edge writing prompt, which centered around Happiness. Dot addresses the theme in three different ways: a written prompt, a photo, and a song by Joanna Newsom. I was entranced by the song and video. The music even stopped my three-year old dead in her tracks.

“What’s that lady singing?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy listening and floating and falling in love with the harp.

[You'll have to click over to Dot's post to watch it. It's lovely. Really.]

Both Mary and Dot posed the same question: what makes me happy?

As Dot points out, happiness runs deeper than that giddy, maniacal feeling I get when I stay up way past my bed time and suddenly everything is funny.

Although I admit, that kind of guttural laughter from me – and especially from my kids – will cancel out a bad day in a second, my concept of true happiness is defined by contentment and an understanding that if I am comfortable in my own skin, I am happy.

I treasure those moments when happiness runs deep, grips me just below my chest, and imparts a sensation that no matter what surrounds me, good or bad, I am here. In this moment. Alive. And, I am not alone.

That kind of happiness materializes in connections I make with those around me: my family, my friends, sometimes even strangers. In the absence of words, a glance, a smile and a nod, or a hand in mine touches my core and fills me up.

***

Eye to eye, we connect.
Our backgrounds are a blur.
Our mouths are quiet,
But our minds convey:
I see you.
I know you.
I understand.

***

happy. content. peaceful.