Plotting a plot

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I sat down at my computer this morning with one goal, and one goal only. I was bound and determined to work out the plot for my next book.

I know you can’t see me, but if you could you might wonder why I’m waving my arms in the air as I shout for joy. Well, let me tell you…

Oh. You’ve already guessed. In that case, you can share in the joy I feel. I am so happy that I reached my goal!

I have a plot! A wonderful, twisting, sure-to-keep-you-reading plot!

Working out what was going to happen next in this new book was one of the most exhiliarating activities. There was a lot of jumping around as a change in one part forced a change in another part, which made a change in a third part absolutely necessary.

At one point this morning, I honestly wondered if I were writing the story, or if the story was dictating itself to me. Ideas were coming fast and furious, and even the names of characters popped into my head without any concious effort on my part.

By the time 3 hours had passed the 5 page outline I ended with had very little in common with that very rough 1 page outline I had typed up last week.

If you could see me you would probably wonder why I’m rubbing my hands together like a mad scientist in an old horror flick. Sorry about that, but honestly, I feel like a mad scientist. Creating this book is going to be so much fun!

Since I neglected to mention it earlier, this new book will feature my old friend Vanessa from Department of Temporal Adjustment. Only this time Vanessa will remember every detail of her travels through time!

Let the fun begin!

The heady taste of nostalgia

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I am so ashamed of myself. So Ashamed!

This past week I attended a 5th grade graduation for my niece. I loved it, mainly because it reminded me of other 5th grade graduations of the past. A time when one or more of my children were tiny little munchkins who I tossed on my hip and carried around everywhere I went.

It made me rather nostalgic. Maybe a little too nostalgic.

Because when my sister-in-law had the misfortune of having both of her daughters (ages 1 and 3) begin to cry at the same time, all I could do is laugh.

Oh, I had plenty of empathy for her. I had been in the exact same situation innumerable times before. I well knew the frustration and embarrassment she was feeling. All she wanted was a little help. All I gave was a little laugh.

I hope she can forgive me some day, maybe when both of her girls graduate high school.

Until then, I’ll just have to admit to myself the sad truth. My reaction was unhelpful.

But really, at that moment I wasn’t myself. My brain wasn’t functioning properly.

How could it function? I was drunk on nostalgia.

Knock knock

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“Who is it?” I yelled through my closed door. A few months ago I had vowed to ask the question before opening my door. Safer that way.

Unfortunately my dog, who didn’t understand my intent, rushed through her dog door and began to frantically bark. Which forced me to peek my head out to make sure she wasn’t going to chew off the leg of some innocent person.

I had learned to trust my instincts a long time ago, and my instincts were telling me that this man was no innocent. Sleaze oozed from his pores as his not overly clean clothes hung unpleasantly off of his slouch-shouldered body. He didn’t appear to be ill fed, only ill bred, if you know what I mean.

“I need to complete a program where I meet 5 more nice neighbors,” he began as soon as he spotted me looking around the door jamb.

I didn’t say anything, so he continued, probably mistakenly taking my silence as a positive sign.

“I live over on 83rd, and I am with a group of mostly military brats who are part of a program–”

“I don’t believe you, so you can just leave now,” I broke in. Yes, I realize I was rude, but the vibes I was getting from this guy were creepy, and I wanted him to go away quickly.

“What do you mean you don’t believe me?” he nearly yelled, showing me that my instincts were correct, even if my actions might not be wisest. “How can you talk to me that way when my father is a Gunnery Sargeant in the Army and is deployed overseas? I–”

“Just stop!” I said firmly. “I know about enough about the military to not believe your story. You should go now.”

“But I’m living with my grandparents! I don’t like you calling me a liar.”

“Just go, and don’t come back.” I said again.

With that he sulked down the driveway. In his back pocket I spotted a familiar subscription list for magazines. One of the oldest cons around. It sure is nice to have such quick validation that I was right!

Yeah instincts!

And yeah noisy little dog who does her job to scare away creepy people!

Making conversation

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I did a little shopping in Whole Foods yesterday. It was one of those days.

I saw a couple of food bars on a lower shelf that looked interesting, so I squatted down so I could be out of the way while I read the ingredients and made my choices.

Right about then, a woman with a shopping cart pulled up beside me, about 2 feet away. She stepped away from her cart, leaving her 3 year old son staring at me.

“What’re you doing?” the tike asked me.
“Just looking for food to buy,” I answered politely.
“Mom,” the little darling yelled in a very loud voice, “this lady is bothering me!”

Later, at the checkout:
“Boy, I cannot believe I still have to have my heater on in my house!” I said to the cashier, making conversation.
“Maybe you should move,” she replied firmly after noting that I was wearing a winter coat.
“Well,” I said hesitantly, “my house does have a tendency to be cold.”
“No,” the helpful cashier corrected me, “I meant you should leave the state.”

Like I said, it was one of those days.

A head full of…nothing!

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I woke up at 7:30 this morning eager to start writing again. I have done what I wanted to do, I took several weeks off from writing, a long enough break to clear my head of my last book.

So far this morning I’ve replied to an email, updated another blog I run, read an article, and checked on my online toy store.

What I haven’t done is write.

Because…well…I may have done too good of a job of spring cleaning my brain. Not only is the last book cleared out, but so is everything else! My head is empty. Void of all creative thought. All cleaned out.

As a matter of fact, as I thought the last sentence above, I could hear an echo in that vast empty space that is my brain. All cleaned out…all cleaned out…cleaned out…cleaned out…out…out.

Scary!

I think I need a jump start. Something or someone who will stimulate my imagination. Get those old creative juices flowing again.

I need my old friends, the Jupiterians. They may be irritating, but they sure do make me think!

Oh Jupiterians…Jupiterians…where have you gone?

Plagiarism post

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Now I’ve seen everything!

I was looking through the job listings on Craigslist today, and came across a listing that makes me shake my head. In disgust.

The person wrote that a 4 page, double-spaced synthesis paper was needed for his UW class. He would pay $15, but only after the paper was completed and passed successfully through a plagiarism checker.

Really? Was he worried that someone would try to sell him a paper that someone else had written?

Which in my mind would be just what he deserved!

It makes me wonder, does he really know the meaning of plagiarism? Or ethics?

What did I see?

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I can find no logical explanation. None at all!

You see, last night around midnight I drove to the UW campus to pick up my daughter, who had to stay late to prepare for her finals.

As I pulled into a little side road so I could call her to let her know I had arrived, my headlights illuminated a person sitting with arms resting across folded knees. For a split second I thought it might be my daughter, until I realized that the figure looked more like a male than a female.

Even though the figure was about 100 feet away, I could plainly see a face (which was turned in my direction), two long arms, and two long legs bent at the knees.

I gazed at the figure as I called my daughter, and only looked away when her voice on the phone said she could see my car. It took approximately 2 seconds of scanning to spot my daughter walking toward me from a nearby building.

I glanced back at the figure under the tree and received a shock. The person was no longer there, but in his place there was a raccoon. It scampered to a different tree and began to climb as I watched.

Let me make this perfectly clear. I saw the figure of a person under the tree–clearly saw. The nearest building was at least 20 feet away from the tree. The area was well lit (for midnight). There were no other people around, except for my daughter, who was approaching from a different direction. I only looked away from the tree for a few seconds, and even then the tree was my peripheral vision.

Most strange of all, when I saw the raccoon it was in the exact place where a person had been sitting just seconds earlier.

Like I said earlier, I can find no logical explanation. None at all!

A glimpse of a glimmer

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A few posts ago I wrote that I wanted to tackle a mystery. It is one of my favorite genres, and I adore the plot twists necessary to keep the story moving along properly.

But what a task! I wasn’t sure if I had the right kind of brain. Could I do it? Should I even try?

So I’ve done no writing for the past couple of weeks. My brain has been on vacation, and as it basked in imaginary sun (we’ve had very little real sun around here), a glimmer of an idea began to form.

It is still keeping itself just out of reach. I can catch a glimpse of it, but I can’t get a really good look at it yet. It eludes my grasp so that I can’t grab hold and run with it.

No matter. It is there. I have the beginning of an idea of a mystery plot. All I need to do now is to sit in a quiet place and focus. As I focus, that glimpse of a glimmer will get brighter, bigger, and closer, until the entire plot is illuminated.

I know this because every book I’ve written so far has begun with just such a glimpse of a glimmer. It is up to me to nurture this glimmer until it reaches its full potential. With my help, it will become a spotlight…a beacon…a bright, shining sun!

I am sooooo ready for this challenge!

This is going to be fun!

Memorial Day Thoughts

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Yesterday was Memorial Day, and I was thrilled to see the local news spend a lot of time reminding people what Memorial Day is all about.  So many Americans have forgotten that it is not just a day off to barbecue, camp, and picnic.

Here in Seattle that forgetfullness is especially rampant. Which isn’t surprising, given that every other car in this town sports an anti-war bumper sticker and parents are told that military recruiters are predators just waiting to snatch their precious children away.

I have lived in Seattle for 20 years now, so I have had the opportunity to see firsthand the attitudes that abound here. The military is viewed with horror. Brainwashing of children begins at a very young age, and they are brought up to believe that the military is a haven for the crazy, the uneducated, and the want-to-be murderers.

Most children in this ultra liberal city are taught that service in the military is to be avoided at all costs. After all, why should they risk their precious skins needlessly? The military is an unnecessary expense. Those things that make us Americans, the freedoms and perks that we all enjoy, are birthrights. No one would ever be able to take them away.

I guess none of the brainwashers has ever had a reason read a history book.

So back to what I began with. The news media did a fantastic job reminding us all that Memorial Day was created to honor those in our military who have fallen.

Honor. The military.

I hope the message got through.

A mystery

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I have about 15 storylines just waiting to be written. Fifteen plot ideas, 12 are sitting in a file on my computer, 3 are in a notebook on my bookshelf, all are waiting until I have the time to write them into a full fledged story.
And since I just finished Gray Zone, it is almost time to choose the lucky winner. To pick out one of those plots and bring it to life.

Only, not one of them is the story I want to write next.

You see, I have this desire to write in several different genres. I have written a children’s fantasy trilogy, a science fiction, and a young adult contemporary fiction. What I want to write next, what I really, really want to try my hand at, is a mystery.

Only none of the plots I’ve worked out are mysteries. They are all either sci fi or fantasy.

Taking on the task of writing a mystery intimidates me somewhat. But then again, before I put aside my fears and did it, writing Braumaru scared me to death.

It will be a challenge, but I like challenges.

Which does not in the least solve my current problem.

The mystery of the mystery. What should it be, what should it be?