Novel-writing muscles

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The last novel I wrote took about four years. I don’t want a repeat of that so, to keep myself moving along at a good pace, I’ve set a goal of 500 words a day. It’s a very doable goal, and one that will have me completing the novel in about half a year.

In truth, I didn’t really think I needed a goal. I created the story, outlined it, and wrote the first 15,000 words a few years ago. I only put it aside so I could concentrate on completing my MFA.

Then I put it aside again when I realized I needed to solidify my screenwriting skills. Now that I’ve written five screenplays, I feel confident I can write novels again without forgetting how to write screenplays.

I’ve been chomping at the bit to throw myself back into this novel, but it’s proven harder than expected.

Silly me. I thought shifting back and forth between the two types of writing would be easy. I wasn’t taking into account that the type of writing needed for novels is almost a polar opposite from that of screenplays.

I guess the novel-writing brain muscles have become a little weak with disuse.

I need to pump them up. Get them working at optimum level again.

Lift that word!
Pull that paragraph!
Toss away that bad sentence!
Build that scene… I mean chapter! Build that chapter!

Much better.
I can feel those novel-writing muscles growing.

 

Different but the same

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I’m having a little bit of trouble transitioning back to novel writing. So this morning I played around and wrote in novel and screenplay format simultaneously. Both are just places to start and rough, very rough. But I’ll be brave if you will!

Screenplay version:

INT. VANESSA’S BEDROOM – DAY

Sunshine pours in through the open curtains of a medium sized bedroom. VANESSA, mid-thirties, blonde, sleeps peacefully on her back on one side of the bed. On the floor are a set of jacks. A doll and a stuffed koala bear are on the pillow beside her tucked into the covers. Several toy cars line the headboard making a zigzag pattern. A Barbie doll wears two toys cars as skates on the bedside table. A bright red ball sits in the middle of Vanessa’s chest.

PHONE RINGS. VANESSA groans. Without rolling over Vanessa reaches over and grabs a cell phone from the bedside table and brings it to her ear.

VANESSA
(rasps)
Hello?

INT. NURSE’S STATION – DAY

DR. BROWN, 50s, overworked, clean-cut, with a scowl, talks on a corded phone. The busy hospital has up-to-date equipment. Male and female doctors, nurses, and military personnel calmly help patients.

INTERCUT phone conversation.

DR. BROWN
Is this Mrs. Rossi?

Vanessa closes her eyes and sighs.

VANESSA
It is. Who’s this?

Novel version:

“Hello,” I rasped into my cell
phone, my voice still as asleep as my brain had been ten seconds before. It was
10 o’clock on a Monday morning, and for the first time in years my children had
decided to let me sleep late.
Not that I had been allowed to
sleep in solitude. As I glanced toward the door I realized that the room was
littered with evidence of a visit from my two youngest children. Zoe’s favorite
baby doll and Audrey’s stuffed koala were on the pillow beside me, tucked
neatly under the covers. Half a dozen toy cars were parked in a zigzag pattern
along the headboard, while a Barbie doll was on the bedside table wearing two
additional cars as skates.
And then there was the bright red
ball that one of my jokesters had decided to perch on my chest. How I had
managed to answer the phone without dislodging it I’d never know.
I must have been pretty exhausted
to sleep through the playtime represented by the plethora of toys. Too bad I
wasn’t tired enough to also sleep through the ring of the phone.
Especially since I wasn’t expecting
a phone call, so it was probably just a sales call.
I hated sales calls. They always
came at an inconvenient time and were usually irrelevant.
Got a rare chance to sleep late? Ring! Surprise! There’s someone on the
phone with a great deal on carpet cleaning. Too bad you only have hardwood
floors.
Got a spare moment to finally start
that book you’ve been dying to read? Ring!
Someone is there on the phone, letting your know that there’s a sale on new
windows in your area. Too bad you’re a renter!
It’s a conspiracy against parents,
I know it is.  As soon as my children cut
me some slack and let me sleep late, the rest of the world steps in and picks
up that slack. To keep me on my toes, I guess.
“Is this Mrs. Rossi?” a man’s voice
asked.
I sighed and cringed as I realized
that he had called me by my name, which meant this was worse than a sales call,
it was a request for a donation.
I really wasn’t awake enough to handle
a donation request. But I’d answered, and once I answer I have no choice but to
listen. At least for a few minutes.
“It is. Who’s this?”

 

A problem to have

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I have a problem.

In the big scheme of life, it’s frankly not a very bad problem. As a matter of fact, it might even be considered a good problem.

But it is a problem.

I’ve been contacted by a production company who wants to read one of my scripts. I’m excited! Elated! Thrilled! Chomping at the bit to send it right over!

Or I was, until they sent a release form that needs to accompany the script. The very long, very confusing release form that appears to give them the right to independently develop a script almost identical to mine while they have mine in hand.

Gulp! I don’t like the sound of that!

But maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe the clause in question (actually, there are several scary clauses) are the norm in release forms.

So I did what every good librarian would do and researched release forms. Most of forms I found do have a clause to protect the companies from being sued if they receive multiple scripts about the same idea, but none had it worded in quite the same way.

Add that to the fact that the release I was being asked to sign was four times longer than most and written in legal-speak, well….

I found a lawyer to look it over and was told that the release was ‘fishy’. But I’m not quite ready to give up yet, especially after I realized that he’s not an entertainment lawyer. I need someone who really knows the ins and outs of script release forms.

So my problem is that I need to find an entertainment lawyer.
Not as easy as you might think.
But in the overall scheme of things, not really a bad problem to have.

Just because

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I’ve decided to reward myself this morning. 
I’ve worked very hard lately, screenwriting until my fingers nearly bleed. Writing and revising, all while worrying about the 3 act structure, plot points, etc.
My brain is tired of jumping through hoops. It wants to write, without worrying about keeping things in the present tense or the proper format of a flashback.
I’ve been chomping at the bit to work on the next novel. This morning I’ll let myself.
(For a short while, at least. I still have a few things to do to finish up script number five.)
Here’s my first draft version of the beginning of the novel. I’ll share it, just because.
Just because this novel has patiently waited years for me to continue writing it. 
Just because I love the story and hope others will love it too.
And just because my mama always told me it’s good to share.

“Hello,” I rasped into the phone,
my voice still as asleep as my brain had been ten seconds before. It was 10
o’clock on a Monday morning, and for the first time in years my children had
decided to let me sleep late.
“Is this Mrs. Rossi?” a man’s voice
asked.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Rossi. Vanessa.
Who is this?”
“This is Dr. Brown at Madigan
Hospital. I was wondering why you weren’t here yet.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Rossi, didn’t anyone call and
tell you that your husband was in a car accident, that he was hit by a semi
truck this morning?”
“What!” I yelled, instantly fully
awake.

Gotta go.
Just because I can’t wait another minute to relax into this!

BTW – The phone call happened. To me.

Dog training

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About four months ago my husband and I sold our home and moved into an apartment.

The only problem was that our old house was the only home Pepper, our dog, had ever known. Which made me feel very, very guilty.

The biggest source of my guilt was that in our old home Pepper had her own door and could run outside and roll around in the grass whenever her furry little heart desired. And it desired it a lot. I’d often see her out there, digging in one spot, rolling in another, sniffing the air, and showing the squirrels silly enough to come into our yard who was boss.

In the apartment we rented we don’t have so much as a sliver of a  balcony. The only time Pepper gets to raise that little nose and take in all the smells of the great outdoors is when we take her out on her leash. Her chances to dig, roll, sniff, or chase have been drastically curtailed.

So it’s not surprising that when she points those puppy dog eyes at me I feel a bit like a monster. Especially when she gives me that, “What did I do to you to make you lock me in jail?” look.

I now realize that over the past four months she’s used those eyes wisely. To train me.

First she melts my heart with sad eyes (negative feedback) when she wants a walk. Then, after she’s taken for one, she rewards me with happy eyes (positive feedback).

Standard training procedure.

She’s a smart dog. Smart enough that she now gets a couple of long walks and at least four short ones.  So if you’re keeping count, that means she’s taken outside a minimum of six times each and every day.

 

Yes, my dog and her eyes have me trained well.

Very well indeed.

Into the darkness?

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I usually pooh-pooh the idea that stories control their own path.
I create my characters, and I decide what happens to them. That’s the way it is.

Usually.

But my latest screenplay actually does seem to have a mind of its own. I wrote it to be light-hearted and humorous, but light-hearted and humorous aren’t working. Not even a little.

I don’t know if it’s the gray skies, the approach of Halloween, or that the story is about ghosts, but this screenplay screams to be dark. Much darker than what I usually write.

And now that it’s time for rewrites I’ve got a decision to make.

Do get out the brightest flashlight I can find and force light-heartedness into a place it doesn’t want to be?

Or do I turn out all the lights and delve into the darkness?

Hmm. I do love to stretch my writing muscles, keep them from getting stiff. A good swim should do it.

But I’m nervous as I prepare to dive into the inky blackness of the Sea of Scary. Will I make it safely across? Or will some ancient monster from its black depths spot me and drag me under?

How to be a fantastic parent in 10 not-so-easy steps

Although numbered, these steps are in no particular order.

1. Stay up all night and worry. It’s an important part of the job.

2. Don’t try to be friends with your child, you’re job is to be a parent. Trying to be a friend will not make you look cool, but silly and ridiculous. Is that what you really want?

3. Teach your child to show respect for authority. Smart aleck kids might be cute on television but in real life they’re a pain-in-the-neck. Think of the last pain-in-the-neck you worked with. Did you want to help them succeed or kick them in the pants?

4. Start out strict and give more leniency as the child matures. It’ll make both of your lives more pleasant.

5. Children test boundaries, it’s part of human nature. So be sure to give them boundaries. They’re building muscles they’ll use for the rest of their lives.

6. Read to your child a lot and often. Read until people tell you it’s ridiculous, that your child is too old to be read to. Search out new novels (age appropriate), read classics,  expand your horizons as you expand you child’s. It’s a great adventure that will bring you closer together.

7. Never laugh at your child’s naughty behavior. Children repeat things they think are cute.

8. Never ignore inappropriate behavior. Children view parental inaction as approval.

9. Teach your child empathy rather than entitlement and you’ll be doing the world a favor. Brats become bullies, and we already have enough bullies to go around. We don’t need any more.

10. Enjoy time with your child. Children can be the funniest, sweetest, most entertaining creatures on earth. Better than video games, better than television, and even better than a good book. Which is saying a lot, coming as it is from a writer who spent years as a librarian.

Office space

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In our old house I had a 12 X 14 office all to myself. I adored having so much room!
But we moved, and there is very little ‘extra’ space for a dedicated office in our 820 sq. ft. apartment.
So I did what I’m sure many other writers have done in the past. I carved a little niche for myself in the bedroom. ‘Little’ being the operative word, because what you see is all I’ve got!
It works though, because it includes what I consider the two most important assets of an office space. A door I can close and a window I can open.
Of course, I still use the same alarm clock as before. The one that patiently reminds me when it’s time to give my brain a rest and take a walk.
Happy writing!

 

Interrupted by indecision

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This morning’s writing has been interrupted by indecision.

I’m usually a pretty decisive person, rarely unable to quickly make up my mind. At least about important things.

But this morning I found myself snatching and discarding possibilities faster than a five-year-old in a candy store with only a dollar to spend.  All because I need to define a new character in a script I’m writing.

I’ll admit that for a moment I was tempted to blame my inability on my old friends, the Jupiterians. Those rambunctious, mischievous little critters adore playing pranks, and I am their favorite target. But then I came to my senses and realized that the only way they could manage this particular prank would be to get inside my head.

They’re wily, but not that wily.

I might as well accept it, the fault is all my own. Maybe I should-

What was that? Did I just hear giggles?

I wonder if I should worry.

Scam phone call

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What a nice way to start the weekend. NOT!

The phone rang at 8 am, and it’s Saturday. I answered and had the following conversation.

“Can I speak to (husband’s name here)?”
“Who’s calling?”
“(Husband’s name here), I’m calling about your computer.”
“What computer? I don’t have a computer.” (Note: This is a scam call I’ve gotten many times over the last few years. The caller claims to be from Microsoft, and says that my computer needs fixing. The only way I’ve ever gotten them not to call every day is to say I don’t have a computer.)
“You’re a liar. You have a computer.”
“Wow. Did you really just call me a liar?”
“I did, because you are a liar. A big, fat liar.”
“Whether I have a computer or not really doesn’t matter. What matters is I don’t want you to ever call here again. I’m on the Do Not Call list-”
“I’m going to call you forever and forever. And you’d better do what I want, I’m a Pakistani.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes, I’m threatening you. I’m going to !@#$% you up. So you’d better watch out.”
“Well, I’ll be reporting this call to the authorities.”
“You’d better watch out! I’m going to !@#$% you up-”

Click


What a sad life that guy must have! So much time and energy spent trying to scam people out of their money. And his language!

Should I have asked him if he kisses his mother with that mouth?

My daughter gave an excellent suggestion for the next time the scammer calls. It involves a whistle and a lung full of air.

So scammer, I’m giving you fair warning. The next time you call you’d better wear ear plugs!
Or better yet, don’t call at all.