I have a confession to make.
I -- Madelyn Alt, Author -- am not always in the mood to write.
I know. I know! I have been blessed with this crazy, wonderful, chaotic career. A career any working writer would be proud to call their own. It is the least I can do to give it my full attention. The depth and breadth of my energy. The last shreds of mojo I have in me.
And I do. Much of the time.
Sometimes, though, life throws these little temptations my way. You know what I'm talking about. Like a sunny summer day with the bluest of cloudless skies that not-so-subtly sends a sparkling, come-hither invitation through your open windows. Come outside and play, why don't you? You have to admit, it would be almost criminal not to give in to the urge to take the pooches out for a long walk on a day like that. Or how about those moments when I sit down to write and one of my Meezer girls instantly decides that's the perfect opportunity for some quality facetime. It's not an easy thing to resist the unrelenting headbutts of a Siamese cat, let me tell you. And then oftentimes the distractions stem from one of my boys who has something important he wants to share with me and cannot wait another moment to do just that. It's so easy to get lost watching the thought processes play across their young faces, the dance of laughter in their eyes. So easy to lock the computer down safely from mischievous Meezer paws and errant puppy noses and listen to my sons tell their tales with my heart in my throat, wondering how I got to be so lucky. So easy to just exist within the moment.
Life. I have to say, I kind of enjoy living it. Really living it. It keeps me from getting too serious; from taking myself too seriously. It is rather a matter of perspective. That is not to say I don't have worries, doubts, and fears working to drag me back down into the mire, just like everyone else. I do. But the less I let them have their way with me, and the more I pay attention to the good things around me, the more their hold on me seems to lessen, and the more energy and focus I have when I do put my fingers to keyboard. The writing, I have discovered, will be there for me when I need it to be, better than ever for the distractions and temptations that I allow to steal my attention from time to time. Paradoxically so.
What about you? What tempted you today, and did you give in to the moment?
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
On Writing: Characterization
In fiction, what makes for good characterization? There are as many answers to this question as there are readers. Let’s face it – we all have our personal preferences.
I write character-driven fiction. Meaning, the things that happen in the stories I write are determined in a large part by the characters themselves. Their quirks, their foibles, their dreams, their fears, their love, their loathing, their arrogance, their denials. I have to know the inner worlds of all of my characters in order to know how they will react to a given catalyst. The forks they choose determine the next stop along the road, which presents a new set of choices, then another, and another. Infinite possibilities.
Other authors will tell you they write plot-driven tales into which they drop a very carefully selected character. Neither method is better than the alternative. It all depends on what works for the author in question.
Whichever method you choose, it’s important to remember one thing about the characters you are creating: in another world—their world, however fictional—they are real. Or they should be. They have lives that revolve around them, lives filled with people they like, people they love, and people who rub them the wrong way for oh-so-many-reasons. They have hopes for their future, dreams they have forgotten, and regrets that run too deep to be forgotten so easily. Early in her adult years, a woman might be in a maiden stage of her life, where love and the mating game rules her thoughts. The men she chooses to tarry with reflect back upon her, how she feels about herself and the way she fits into the world. Or perhaps she moves quickly into the mother stage, where nurturing and taking responsibility for those around her takes all of her time and energy. Is she married, and if so, what kind of man did she choose as her lifemate? Is he strong and protective, willing to risk life and limb and personal dreams in order to support his family? Or is he still stuck in a rut {pun intended, heh}, playing reindeer games best left to those without ties? What paths do they choose, together and separately? How do they relate to those around them, and why? Or perhaps your female lead is moving into the crone years. Her nest is empty of any children she’s raised, and her life might now be stretching before her. Is it filled with possibilities, or do her regrets swell to unbearable levels? Has her marriage stood the test of time, or is she alone, and how does she feel about it? Is she watching the world pass her by and wondering why she can’t fall into step, too? Or is she making her own way, taking time for herself, dreaming again the dreams she might have set aside?
So many possibilities.
As for me, the characters that whisper their tales in the night are why I am a writer. Their lives intrigue me enough to want to find out what happens next. Some characters are like best friends, others make me roll my eyes. The actions of a few make me cringe, while others make me want to shake my head and gnash my teeth. But always, their humanity is what I find most fascinating.
So, yeah. Paint mine in bright colors, please. Make them laugh. Make them cry. Make them rejoice. Make them regret. Make them happy, sad, reluctant, zealous, driven, alcoholic, workaholic, commitment-phobic, animal loving, meat-eating, nookie addicted, shopping frenzied, bill worried, what have you...
Just make ‘em real.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
I write character-driven fiction. Meaning, the things that happen in the stories I write are determined in a large part by the characters themselves. Their quirks, their foibles, their dreams, their fears, their love, their loathing, their arrogance, their denials. I have to know the inner worlds of all of my characters in order to know how they will react to a given catalyst. The forks they choose determine the next stop along the road, which presents a new set of choices, then another, and another. Infinite possibilities.
Other authors will tell you they write plot-driven tales into which they drop a very carefully selected character. Neither method is better than the alternative. It all depends on what works for the author in question.
Whichever method you choose, it’s important to remember one thing about the characters you are creating: in another world—their world, however fictional—they are real. Or they should be. They have lives that revolve around them, lives filled with people they like, people they love, and people who rub them the wrong way for oh-so-many-reasons. They have hopes for their future, dreams they have forgotten, and regrets that run too deep to be forgotten so easily. Early in her adult years, a woman might be in a maiden stage of her life, where love and the mating game rules her thoughts. The men she chooses to tarry with reflect back upon her, how she feels about herself and the way she fits into the world. Or perhaps she moves quickly into the mother stage, where nurturing and taking responsibility for those around her takes all of her time and energy. Is she married, and if so, what kind of man did she choose as her lifemate? Is he strong and protective, willing to risk life and limb and personal dreams in order to support his family? Or is he still stuck in a rut {pun intended, heh}, playing reindeer games best left to those without ties? What paths do they choose, together and separately? How do they relate to those around them, and why? Or perhaps your female lead is moving into the crone years. Her nest is empty of any children she’s raised, and her life might now be stretching before her. Is it filled with possibilities, or do her regrets swell to unbearable levels? Has her marriage stood the test of time, or is she alone, and how does she feel about it? Is she watching the world pass her by and wondering why she can’t fall into step, too? Or is she making her own way, taking time for herself, dreaming again the dreams she might have set aside?
So many possibilities.
As for me, the characters that whisper their tales in the night are why I am a writer. Their lives intrigue me enough to want to find out what happens next. Some characters are like best friends, others make me roll my eyes. The actions of a few make me cringe, while others make me want to shake my head and gnash my teeth. But always, their humanity is what I find most fascinating.
So, yeah. Paint mine in bright colors, please. Make them laugh. Make them cry. Make them rejoice. Make them regret. Make them happy, sad, reluctant, zealous, driven, alcoholic, workaholic, commitment-phobic, animal loving, meat-eating, nookie addicted, shopping frenzied, bill worried, what have you...
Just make ‘em real.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
Monday, September 10, 2007
Tools of the Trade
Over with the Witchy Chicks, we were talking about audio/visual aids and what helps each of us in the writing process. It got me to thinking. Is it somehow wrong that I haven't often delved too deeply into the hows and the whys of writing? I'm not wearing blinders, honest. It's just that sometimes it seems as though by dissecting the process in a mad {heh} attempt to understand it more fully, I might strip some of the magick away . . . and I like to keep that intact, thankyouverymuch.
I can tell you I don't use pictures of people to inspire a character. The character always comes to me first, and in writing this series at least, they have come to me fully blown. Some readers have been suggesting various actors, most quite suitable indeed, that they envision in certain roles, and if that deepens their reading experience, I'm all for it . . . but as for me, it's not something I do often.
Music is always very important to me... although rarely while writing. I most often use music in between writing sessions, though not always to keep me in the Stony Mill world. Oftentimes the music I choose is simply to relax me, or to cater to the latest whim for atmosphere that I crave.
Atmosphere. This is the biggie for me. Atmosphere speaks to me, and it can come in so many different forms. I will often select movies for my DVD collection by the atmosphere in the film. Even if the film wasn't the best, its atmosphere will speak to me in some way. Music can give me atmosphere, but again, I don't often use it while writing -- I find it too involving. Something about the way my brain is wired makes me focus on the music itself rather than the story in front of me. Atmosphere can be found in anything, in any circumstance, if one keeps one's eyes open to it. It's the skirl of dried leaves sweeping down an empty street; the gathering of a bevy of vultures in a single tall tree that overlooks an entire neighborhood; the way a road cutting through a pair of cornfields can seem claustrophobic toward the end of summer; the sound of the wind whispering through said cornfields just before harvest. And now we're approaching autumn, my favorite time of year . . . and so appropriate for my writing. So many lovely and evocative images that propel and inspire my mind on its wild travails.
Atmosphere. I couldn't write without it.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
I can tell you I don't use pictures of people to inspire a character. The character always comes to me first, and in writing this series at least, they have come to me fully blown. Some readers have been suggesting various actors, most quite suitable indeed, that they envision in certain roles, and if that deepens their reading experience, I'm all for it . . . but as for me, it's not something I do often.
Music is always very important to me... although rarely while writing. I most often use music in between writing sessions, though not always to keep me in the Stony Mill world. Oftentimes the music I choose is simply to relax me, or to cater to the latest whim for atmosphere that I crave.
Atmosphere. This is the biggie for me. Atmosphere speaks to me, and it can come in so many different forms. I will often select movies for my DVD collection by the atmosphere in the film. Even if the film wasn't the best, its atmosphere will speak to me in some way. Music can give me atmosphere, but again, I don't often use it while writing -- I find it too involving. Something about the way my brain is wired makes me focus on the music itself rather than the story in front of me. Atmosphere can be found in anything, in any circumstance, if one keeps one's eyes open to it. It's the skirl of dried leaves sweeping down an empty street; the gathering of a bevy of vultures in a single tall tree that overlooks an entire neighborhood; the way a road cutting through a pair of cornfields can seem claustrophobic toward the end of summer; the sound of the wind whispering through said cornfields just before harvest. And now we're approaching autumn, my favorite time of year . . . and so appropriate for my writing. So many lovely and evocative images that propel and inspire my mind on its wild travails.
Atmosphere. I couldn't write without it.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
Monday, June 04, 2007
How-to books
I'm often asked what writing books I look to for encouragement and inspiration.
I have to be honest with you. There aren't many, nowadays. It's not that I feel that I'm to the point in my writing where I have nothing further to learn. Far from it. I learn something new every day that I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, and IMHO that's the way that it should be. The day I decide that there is nothing more for me to learn in this challenging career-slash-obsession called writing is the day I close the book for good. {Lucky for me, that day is nowhere in sight! LOL.} But I am to the point where I have a good feel for my own writing process, for what works for me and what doesn't. I used to read every article and attend every writing class I could. It was fascinating to hear how others wrote, to gather what nuggets of wisdom I could, only to wonder later why their methods didn't work for me. No matter how logical they sounded, no matter whose brilliant method it was, none of them seemed to fit. Eventually I came to understand why some days I needed to be at the computer with seven different files open, sifting back and forth between them all, while others I needed to sit quietly with a notebook on my lap and a gel pen in hand, my process for that day as much about the smoothness of the flow of ink on the page as the flow of words. And sometimes my process isn't about the putting down of words at all. It's about watching a movie that possesses a sense of atmosphere that speaks to me, or listening to music that seemed to be saying something about a particular character. Or getting outdoors and walking for miles, or digging in my garden with its neverending supply of weeds to be cleared. For me, it's all part and parcel of my being a writer, which is why I wouldn't recommend my particular process at all. It isn't meant to be for anyone but me {though if it happens to speak to anyone else who might be reading this, GREAT! Feel free to emulate away...}.
The one book I would recommend if I had to choose at least one would be Stephen King's ON WRITING. .. mostly because he's not telling you how, he's just telling you to do. Write, write, write. Because that's the bottom line, really, isn't it. That's what it's all about.
And now... back to the Travel Channel. Samantha Brown is checking in at Edinburgh, Scotland, one of my favorite places in the whole world. Have I ever mentioned ::koff koff:: that Scotland and its many treasures of all varieties ::koff koff:: is a neverending source of inspiration for me?
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
Some links you may find useful:
Predators & Editors: www.anotherealm.com/prededitors/ Warning site for editors and agents, very helpful...
Mystery Writers of America: www.mysterywriters.org/
Sisters in Crime: www.sistersincrime.org/
Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America: www.sfwa.org/ including Writer Beware www.sfwa.org/beware/
Romance Writers of America: www.rwanational.org/
Duirwaigh Gallery: www.DuirwaighGallery.com {on the list simply because I believe there is magic in creativity, and this site is so beautiful and inspiring and soul-stirring... and it never fails to lift my spirits high}
I have to be honest with you. There aren't many, nowadays. It's not that I feel that I'm to the point in my writing where I have nothing further to learn. Far from it. I learn something new every day that I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, and IMHO that's the way that it should be. The day I decide that there is nothing more for me to learn in this challenging career-slash-obsession called writing is the day I close the book for good. {Lucky for me, that day is nowhere in sight! LOL.} But I am to the point where I have a good feel for my own writing process, for what works for me and what doesn't. I used to read every article and attend every writing class I could. It was fascinating to hear how others wrote, to gather what nuggets of wisdom I could, only to wonder later why their methods didn't work for me. No matter how logical they sounded, no matter whose brilliant method it was, none of them seemed to fit. Eventually I came to understand why some days I needed to be at the computer with seven different files open, sifting back and forth between them all, while others I needed to sit quietly with a notebook on my lap and a gel pen in hand, my process for that day as much about the smoothness of the flow of ink on the page as the flow of words. And sometimes my process isn't about the putting down of words at all. It's about watching a movie that possesses a sense of atmosphere that speaks to me, or listening to music that seemed to be saying something about a particular character. Or getting outdoors and walking for miles, or digging in my garden with its neverending supply of weeds to be cleared. For me, it's all part and parcel of my being a writer, which is why I wouldn't recommend my particular process at all. It isn't meant to be for anyone but me {though if it happens to speak to anyone else who might be reading this, GREAT! Feel free to emulate away...}.
The one book I would recommend if I had to choose at least one would be Stephen King's ON WRITING. .. mostly because he's not telling you how, he's just telling you to do. Write, write, write. Because that's the bottom line, really, isn't it. That's what it's all about.
And now... back to the Travel Channel. Samantha Brown is checking in at Edinburgh, Scotland, one of my favorite places in the whole world. Have I ever mentioned ::koff koff:: that Scotland and its many treasures of all varieties ::koff koff:: is a neverending source of inspiration for me?
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
Some links you may find useful:
Predators & Editors: www.anotherealm.com/prededitors/ Warning site for editors and agents, very helpful...
Mystery Writers of America: www.mysterywriters.org/
Sisters in Crime: www.sistersincrime.org/
Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America: www.sfwa.org/ including Writer Beware www.sfwa.org/beware/
Romance Writers of America: www.rwanational.org/
Duirwaigh Gallery: www.DuirwaighGallery.com {on the list simply because I believe there is magic in creativity, and this site is so beautiful and inspiring and soul-stirring... and it never fails to lift my spirits high}
Sunday, April 08, 2007
The Creation Process
Over on the Witchy Chicks we were discussing the creation process each of us uses. This was a post in which I was supposed to sound very author-ish, very cool and in control as I intelligently discussed Creation, that strange, otherworldly state that occurs when I sit down at the computer and begin to write. How I create what I do, tools and techniques, how do I keep everything straight in my head.
The truth is . . .
The truth is, tools and techniques and bibles sound just a little too hardcore for little ol' fly-into-the-mist me. They're the kinds of things I should be doing but can't bring myself to put much effort into. I don't know why. I'm funny that way, I guess. Maybe because so much of it hasn't been put into words yet, because it's all still stewing away in that mysterious cauldron of creation, waiting for its turn to boil . . . and trying to find words for it before it's ready would be kind of like tasting a recipe before all the ingredients are in there. It just doesn't do it justice.
I'm a seat of the pants writer. When I sit down to write a new project, I develop a very generalized plan for what's going to happen. I know which main characters are going to be involved. I know who the victim will be, and his or her relationships with the people in their lives. I know how my Maggie will come to be involved. I know a few of the scenes that will need to be there to carry on the series arc due to what happened in the last book. I choose a point in Maggie's life to open things, and I allow her and her friends and relatives to guide me, and--voila--creation happens. Beyond that, though, it's all very nebulous and hazy and requires a great deal of trust from me.
Trust. I'm very big on it.
I have faith that the characters will come through for me. I have faith that the magic will happen. And because I have faith, it always does. I close my eyes, I take that leap of faith. The bridge always appears beneath my feet. Sometimes it appears a step at a time, sometimes I see a dozen feet at a time, but I'm always given a briefest glimpse of the entire blessed thing as reassurance that I'll be able to walk the walk when the time comes.
This process has never failed me, and I don't expect that it ever will.
What I do keep in a file is a list of characters and the books they first appear in, the briefest of descriptions and major character issues; a list of establishments Maggie has frequented, and their general location in town; and a huge number of pictures that "speak" to me with their imagery. I'm big on imagery and atmosphere, because they appeal on a subconscious level and lend a bit of creative magic to the mystical dreamworld going on somewhere in my brain.
Creation really is an interesting process, isn't it? One would think that, since the end result is the same, the process itself must also be the same, but I've found that it's very different from author to author to author. Flying into the mist is not for the faint of heart, and it's not for anyone who must control every aspect of everything at all times, but it works for me, and that's all that matters.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!} ... and now that label probably makes sense, heh ;>
P.S. The Find function {Control-F} is my best friend :) :)
The truth is . . .
The truth is, tools and techniques and bibles sound just a little too hardcore for little ol' fly-into-the-mist me. They're the kinds of things I should be doing but can't bring myself to put much effort into. I don't know why. I'm funny that way, I guess. Maybe because so much of it hasn't been put into words yet, because it's all still stewing away in that mysterious cauldron of creation, waiting for its turn to boil . . . and trying to find words for it before it's ready would be kind of like tasting a recipe before all the ingredients are in there. It just doesn't do it justice.
I'm a seat of the pants writer. When I sit down to write a new project, I develop a very generalized plan for what's going to happen. I know which main characters are going to be involved. I know who the victim will be, and his or her relationships with the people in their lives. I know how my Maggie will come to be involved. I know a few of the scenes that will need to be there to carry on the series arc due to what happened in the last book. I choose a point in Maggie's life to open things, and I allow her and her friends and relatives to guide me, and--voila--creation happens. Beyond that, though, it's all very nebulous and hazy and requires a great deal of trust from me.
Trust. I'm very big on it.
I have faith that the characters will come through for me. I have faith that the magic will happen. And because I have faith, it always does. I close my eyes, I take that leap of faith. The bridge always appears beneath my feet. Sometimes it appears a step at a time, sometimes I see a dozen feet at a time, but I'm always given a briefest glimpse of the entire blessed thing as reassurance that I'll be able to walk the walk when the time comes.
This process has never failed me, and I don't expect that it ever will.
What I do keep in a file is a list of characters and the books they first appear in, the briefest of descriptions and major character issues; a list of establishments Maggie has frequented, and their general location in town; and a huge number of pictures that "speak" to me with their imagery. I'm big on imagery and atmosphere, because they appeal on a subconscious level and lend a bit of creative magic to the mystical dreamworld going on somewhere in my brain.
Creation really is an interesting process, isn't it? One would think that, since the end result is the same, the process itself must also be the same, but I've found that it's very different from author to author to author. Flying into the mist is not for the faint of heart, and it's not for anyone who must control every aspect of everything at all times, but it works for me, and that's all that matters.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!} ... and now that label probably makes sense, heh ;>
P.S. The Find function {Control-F} is my best friend :) :)
Friday, March 16, 2007
Inexplicable Moments of Connection
I used to smile and nod politely when other authors spoke of their muses, before turning away so they wouldn't see my eyebrows stretching high in amused disbelief. One writer friend goes so far as to serve her muse up with gourmet coffee in a special cup each and every morning that she sits down to write. Another buys her muse pretty little things, a glass bead, a pretty feather. "How... odd," I would think to myself, totally not getting it. I didn't believe for a minute that they thought of their muses as real entities. I mean, we are living in the twenty-first century. Surely such eccentricities went out with all of the modern technological advances and scientific wisdom.
No?
Inspiration does have a way of striking at the strangest times. An unusual turn of phrase in the middle of a conversation remembered later might spark a whole new way of thinking. A snippet of lyric in a song you've heard a thousand times suddenly takes on new meaning. The way the sun parts an unusual cloud formation, casting a strange ad eerie light on the landscape below. An article highlighting the quirks and peculiarities of modern life. Someone you see out of the corner of your eye.
Then there are the dreams.
I have been known to have the rare precognitive dream {always on subjects trivial, though, darn it!}, but far more often I have dreams that are... different from the garden-variety ventures into Wonderland. Dreams where I am not me, where I am not in the here and now, but some faraway place. They are vivid and detailed glimpses into the lives of other people, their motivations, their heartbreak, their desires. Their stories. Sometimes I'm an invisible bystander witnessing the events, sometimes I look out through the eyes of someone there, experiencing it first hand. Sometimes I'm not even female. I've used some of these, while others I have stored for other projects, somewhere down the line. It feels right to do that. Somehow I feel I'm being allowed to see so "they" will have life once more.
So, might it be a being of creativity bestowing these lovely nuggets of inspiration upon me? Or am I connecting the dots on some vast unseen web of creative material? Jumping from one thought dimension to the next? As a wise man once said, "We are all connected."... but how?
You'll have to excuse me now. An old friend is waiting for a sweet cup of tea, served up fresh, with love, from me.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
No?
Inspiration does have a way of striking at the strangest times. An unusual turn of phrase in the middle of a conversation remembered later might spark a whole new way of thinking. A snippet of lyric in a song you've heard a thousand times suddenly takes on new meaning. The way the sun parts an unusual cloud formation, casting a strange ad eerie light on the landscape below. An article highlighting the quirks and peculiarities of modern life. Someone you see out of the corner of your eye.
Then there are the dreams.
I have been known to have the rare precognitive dream {always on subjects trivial, though, darn it!}, but far more often I have dreams that are... different from the garden-variety ventures into Wonderland. Dreams where I am not me, where I am not in the here and now, but some faraway place. They are vivid and detailed glimpses into the lives of other people, their motivations, their heartbreak, their desires. Their stories. Sometimes I'm an invisible bystander witnessing the events, sometimes I look out through the eyes of someone there, experiencing it first hand. Sometimes I'm not even female. I've used some of these, while others I have stored for other projects, somewhere down the line. It feels right to do that. Somehow I feel I'm being allowed to see so "they" will have life once more.
So, might it be a being of creativity bestowing these lovely nuggets of inspiration upon me? Or am I connecting the dots on some vast unseen web of creative material? Jumping from one thought dimension to the next? As a wise man once said, "We are all connected."... but how?
You'll have to excuse me now. An old friend is waiting for a sweet cup of tea, served up fresh, with love, from me.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
Saturday, December 23, 2006
The Birth of the Bewitching Mysteries...
Where do I get my ideas? When it comes to Maggie, the truth is, I'm not quite sure.
Maggie, you see, came to me herself.
I've always thought of muses as beings of light and air, wispy, feminine, fluttering in and out of a person's subconscious as they please to bestow their gifts of inspiration.
The day Maggie was born, my muse came at me with a sledgehammer.
I had been working all morning, alone in my busy office. Doing a million things other than writing: answering the phone, placing purchase orders, solving problems. Suddenly I was slammed with a cavalcade of words, compelling me, no, demanding that I let them out. I opened a Word document, set my fingers on the keyboard, and started typing.
Fast.
Within just a few minutes I had three pages of something that completely mystified me.
Three pages of first person dialogue set in modern times. Three pages filled with paranormal references. Three pages that obviously did not belong in any kind of romance novel that I knew of. And at the time, I had always written straight historical romance, told in a third person point of view.
Huh, I thought as I stared at what I had written. I have no idea where THAT came from.
I had no idea what I could do with it, so I did what I always do with story ideas that come to me at odd times while I'm working on something else: I saved it under my Ideas folder, giving it the terribly descriptive name of 'Mystery, Maybe.' And then I went back to work and promptly forgot about the whole thing.
But Maggie wasn't ready or willing to be forgotten. Those three pages had ended with the words: "My name is Margaret Mary-Catherine O'Neill, and this is my story." And Maggie, it seems, was pretty determined that her story would be told.
Several months later, I was driving on the highway toward town for lunch, and wouldn't you know, it happened again? All of a sudden, images flew at me from left and right, so strong and adamant that I actually pulled my minivan off the road onto the shoulder in order to grab a moment to capture them. {Honestly, this is a rare thing for me! ::weak grin:: } The only paper I could find was in a pile my son had "cleaned out" from his bookbag and left in the middle seat, and the only thing I could find to write with was the unsharpened end of a broken green crayon. I had no choice, and at the time I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was jotting down the images that had come to me.
What I saw that day were people, places, attitudes, and simmering amongst them, conflict. I knew immediately that they belonged with the strange visitation I'd had months before, an idea I had until just that moment forgotten. In one brief moment of providence and serendipity {well, two, technically-speaking}, I was given the basis for the Bewitching series, a broad enough glimpse that I could see the direction things would be unfolding.
I've always believed there was more than a bit of magic in the creative process. =)
Happy Holidays, all...
Mad {madly!}
Friday, September 01, 2006
It's raining men . . . Hallelujah, it's raining men!
Not that it's all that shocking, and most of my readers have probably guessed as much by now, but I hereby admit freely to the world at large:
I like men.
A lot.
Some more than others, of course, and it has nothing to do with how a guy looks, but rather his attitude, his sense of humor and intelligence {they go hand in hand, doncha know}, his sense of ethics and honor. And yes, I'm fairly certain this affinity for the male half of the population spills over into my writing. Kind of in the same way a really good kiss has the ability to stay with you throughout the day.
Some authors enjoy writing ambiguous heroes. Others like their boys baaaaad. Still more want their men non-wimpy, who, despite that inclination, still let the heroine be in charge.
As for me? I like the unexpected.
We live in a world where things are not always what they seem. It's a theme that fascinates me, which I suppose is why it shows up in every aspect of the Bewitching series. Including the men -- but why should they be any different? Whether it's a businessman who dresses like a million bucks but wears his socks until they develop holes at the toe and heel, or a hard-nosed biker who demands that a lady be treated with all due respect. Or how about a male witch who loves old churches, an Amish furniture-maker who dowses for spirits, or a pig farmer with a degree in psychology who likes talking to his animals more than he does other people . . . They're all as diverse and quirky and real to me as the people I know in real life.
Not all of them are heroes, of course . . .
Currently my Maggie is finding herself attracted to two very different men for very different reasons. Tom is a straight-arrow cop, someone who sees the world we live in as being black and white. No shades of gray for this guy -- you play by the rules, always, and you'll come out ahead. It's the people who don't fit into those neatly labeled niches who give Tom fits. Like Felicity Dow, Maggie's boss, who by all outward appearances seems to be nothing more than a beautiful woman who is aging with elegance and dignity, but whose religious practices fall far outside Tom's comfort zone. Or, perhaps more importantly, like Marcus Quinn, Tom's antithesis and secret rival for Maggie's affection. A male witch with a penchant for black leather and snug denim, Marcus is edgy, a little dangerous, a lot mysterious, and he and Tom are like oil and water -- never the 'twain shall meet. The two hard-headed males are just fine with that, thankyouverymuch, to Maggie's constant bemusement. In fact, Marcus could not be more unlike Tom in Maggie's eyes. At least on the surface. Deep down, both hold dear the importance of justice, and both have great respect for Truth with a capital T. It's just that Tom's notion of truth tends to follow a worldly path, while Marcus is drawn to truth on a more cosmic level.
Which one will Maggie choose? Tom? Marcus? Or neither?
Ah, but my dears, that I cannot say. For me, part of the delight in the storytelling is the element of surprise and discovery.
Trust me . . . when Maggie makes up her mind, you'll be the first to know.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
I like men.
A lot.
Some more than others, of course, and it has nothing to do with how a guy looks, but rather his attitude, his sense of humor and intelligence {they go hand in hand, doncha know}, his sense of ethics and honor. And yes, I'm fairly certain this affinity for the male half of the population spills over into my writing. Kind of in the same way a really good kiss has the ability to stay with you throughout the day.
Some authors enjoy writing ambiguous heroes. Others like their boys baaaaad. Still more want their men non-wimpy, who, despite that inclination, still let the heroine be in charge.
As for me? I like the unexpected.
We live in a world where things are not always what they seem. It's a theme that fascinates me, which I suppose is why it shows up in every aspect of the Bewitching series. Including the men -- but why should they be any different? Whether it's a businessman who dresses like a million bucks but wears his socks until they develop holes at the toe and heel, or a hard-nosed biker who demands that a lady be treated with all due respect. Or how about a male witch who loves old churches, an Amish furniture-maker who dowses for spirits, or a pig farmer with a degree in psychology who likes talking to his animals more than he does other people . . . They're all as diverse and quirky and real to me as the people I know in real life.
Not all of them are heroes, of course . . .
Currently my Maggie is finding herself attracted to two very different men for very different reasons. Tom is a straight-arrow cop, someone who sees the world we live in as being black and white. No shades of gray for this guy -- you play by the rules, always, and you'll come out ahead. It's the people who don't fit into those neatly labeled niches who give Tom fits. Like Felicity Dow, Maggie's boss, who by all outward appearances seems to be nothing more than a beautiful woman who is aging with elegance and dignity, but whose religious practices fall far outside Tom's comfort zone. Or, perhaps more importantly, like Marcus Quinn, Tom's antithesis and secret rival for Maggie's affection. A male witch with a penchant for black leather and snug denim, Marcus is edgy, a little dangerous, a lot mysterious, and he and Tom are like oil and water -- never the 'twain shall meet. The two hard-headed males are just fine with that, thankyouverymuch, to Maggie's constant bemusement. In fact, Marcus could not be more unlike Tom in Maggie's eyes. At least on the surface. Deep down, both hold dear the importance of justice, and both have great respect for Truth with a capital T. It's just that Tom's notion of truth tends to follow a worldly path, while Marcus is drawn to truth on a more cosmic level.
Which one will Maggie choose? Tom? Marcus? Or neither?
Ah, but my dears, that I cannot say. For me, part of the delight in the storytelling is the element of surprise and discovery.
Trust me . . . when Maggie makes up her mind, you'll be the first to know.
Love to all,
Mad {madly!}
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