Too Much of a Good Thing is a Terrible Thing to Waste

Sometimes, one ends up with too much of a good thing and has to trim the cupboards so things don’t get rank, forgotten, or go to waste.

As we speak (write and read), I have ten tubs of ice cream in the freezer. Woot! And this is after finishing off two. Darn those grocery people putting the good stuff on sale all winter! I’m buying it faster than I can eat it! And the problem is that some of it is getting a bit, well, ice crystally. And you CAN’T let ice cream go to waste! So, what to do? Eat!

This ice-cream cone has nothing on me!

On the career side of things, I have a similar problem. Currently, I have many first drafts kicking around waiting to be edited as well as stories half-written and abandoned. See, the problem is that while editing stories, I need a break. So what do I do? I treat myself to writing a new story. (Or I have this brilliant story idea and HAVE to write it RIGHT NOW!) But then life intercedes, or I go back to the edits and the story ends up sitting. So, over the past few years, I’ve ended up with many beloved stories that aren’t ‘quite there’ yet.

And instead of a freezer full of ice-creamy goodness, I have a hard drive full of storyline goodness. All very, very tempting. But you can’t be a story pig, because there is only so much time in the day. So what do you do?

That’s where I am right now. I’m ready to dive back into my stories… but which one!?

Do I work on the one that is ‘most ready’ and get it up to snuff? Do I continue working on the story that is in the literary agent showcase over in WEbook’s Page to Fame contest in case anyone wants to see it? Do I play with the kids’ story I was working on a few months ago?

Choices… choices.

Details, Details, Details

You know the expression, details, details, details. It’s often expressed with a slight eye roll and blase attitude. Well, I’ve been thinking about details lately and those slight nuances between people, countries, etc. Maybe it’s all the travel I’ve done this summer. Or maybe it’s related to my curiosity as a writer.

There was a time where I shrugged my shoulders at details believing they were unimportant. Besides, who cares? I could make those up. I was a writer after all. I could extrapolate and get away with it. I mean, you can’t experience everything and that research takes time! Time away from writing.

Now I think differently. The correct detail in the right place can bring a whole scene to a truth that can drive at the reader. It can make something really work. Or more importantly, not work. For example, mentioning baby wipes in your 1940s novel when they weren’t invented until the 1970s. Yeah, that’s just being lazy and will get your ass kicked.

That’s right. Time travel, baby! Yeah!

A week ago we went to Disney World. Having been to Disneyland, I figured I could extrapolate what Disney World would be like. And then I went. Ha! There is that false sense of ‘I can imagine anything’ popping up.

I couldn’t extrapolate the details of Disney World, Florida, or even several, specific travel details (even though I usually step foot in the US at least once a year). Even the way Disney theme parks have evolved in the past 20 years made my detail sensor step back and say, “Well, now. We’d better take an extra look at this.”

The small details like the way sweat beaded up on the insides of my wrists at 5:30 at night while dining outdoors (I didn’t even know my wrists could do that), the way rules for passenger conduct in buses and airplanes, etc, in the US are emphasized first and foremost that this is a law! What if I had written a story about a gal who flew to Florida in August and she didn’t even sweat after 3PM? What if she had checked her bags WITHOUT charge for her flight on United Airlines? Oh, how that would have made American readers howl at my naivety/stupidity/lack of knowledge. Kind of like that check-in agent come to think of it….

And most of all, I would not have realized just what a flirt Mickey and Minnie are! My goodness. No wonder everyone loves them, they are a complete hoot.

I’m thinking I might set my next novel in Italy and what I’ve learned from this latest trip is that I’d better go immerse myself in the details of Italy. What do you think?

Curious Writers

I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon as I get more and more into this whole ‘writer thing.’

What might that be, you ask?

Are you curious, I ask back. If you are, it’s quite fitting as what I have noticed is an increased curiosity. Yes, that’s right, I’m now more curious than the cat.

I find I go into situations seeking tidbits I can pull into my writing or tuck away for later. Like what someone’s house looks like and how it reflects their personality–or doesn’t. They way people say things. The way certain places smell. The colour of the sky in different parts of Canada. And the most funnerest (other than making up words that are totally improper grammar) part of this whole renewed curiosity thing would have to be satisfying that curiosity with doing new things. I mean, if you are handed the opportunity to try wakeboarding, you have to try it. If you have an axe and permission to lop down some pines, you gotta seize the day. And savour it. The smells. Which muscles ache the next day. The textures. The way the water feels as you hit it. The way the sap travels freaking everywhere.

It’s curiosity about life, my friend. If you don’t have that, what do you have?

Yes, my adventurous nature has been renewed, my inner child prompted to the surface, and all in the name of making me a better writer. Life’s gems are laid out before me like a smorgasbord. And I’m hungry.

Predictive Text: A Look Into My Psyche

Have you ever chuckled at–hang on. First of all: do you text? If no, then skip down to where we start having fun–or where I say, “First, a bit about…” If yes, then keep on truckin’.

Okay, have you ever chuckled at what the predictive text function on your cell phone brings up as a next word option when thumbing out a text?

I have. And as a little fun for today–it’s been raining for 40 days and 40 nights out here and it’s starting to smell like decomposing worms out there. Seriously. Except the 40 part.

Anyway, fun. Today. No worms involved. Just my cell phone. No, your special treat today is not a double double from Timmy’s. Yum…coffeeeeee. Suuuuugar. Creeeeaaaammmm. Where was I? Oh, yes. Um. Right. Predictive text word call up from the delves of my cell phone’s memory and what it might say about me. Scary thought, isn’t it?

First, a bit about predictive text. When I type a text my phone offers up certain words as an option to save me thumbing it out in case it is a word sequence I often use. For example ‘soccer’ causes my cell phone to offer up ‘cancellation’ as the next word choice. (See raining for 40 days and 40 nights.)

Now for the fun. I am going to start a few sentences with common words like ‘The’ and such and see what sentences my cell phone writes for me if I keep choosing it’s offered options. It might say something scary about me, or it might not. (See blog post title.) It might make sense, but I’m pretty sure it won’t. (Again, see blog post title.)

Here goes. (The first word of each sentence is typed in by me–the rest is the cell phone–you can call her HAL):

The library.

There is a small purple and white bag that goes with the bike.

Yesterday I do not want coffee in freezer.

Today I will think there might need to meet at what pink.

The cat is a small purple and white bag.

In the cat is a small purple and white bag.

Home wondering how I will think there might need to meet at what pink.

Raghetti for free.

You rock.

That is what he said.

No rain.

So there you have it. A look into my psyche. In my defense, I never did get the hang of Thursdays.

What is This Idea Anyway?

Is it a short story or is it a novel?

I was doing a little ‘pretend’ jog around the neighbourhood on my day off and I was struck by this idea (of a man having a heart attack while jogging–as you may have guessed, I am not that great of a jogger). I saw the opening of my story. It rolled out in front of me like a red carpet. Voice. Character. Every detail of the opening was visible to me. It was as though I was standing above this guy while he fought off the light. A novel lay stretched out before me.

Or was it a screenplay? I think it was a screenplay. With a middle-aged man like Kurt Russell from 15 years ago as the lead. Or that guy from The Big Labowski. He’s looking back on his life and his errors. Reliving it, really. Realizing he’s been a jerk. But the story is fresh. It doesn’t feel like it’s been done a dozen and a half times before–which it has.

I wrote out the beginning yesterday. It’s about 250 words. Maybe 500.

Last night as I tried to fall asleep, I thought about it some more.

I think it might be a poem.