eeep.

(This is where the post would be, if I wasn't panicking about birthday parties and food.  xx mm)

Research

I'm all deep into 1920's Texas Panhandle right now -- interesting...scary a little, but interesting... -- and thus I am thinking and yammering about research.  I have a little town there, or I will once I wrestle this novel into place again.  So, let's talk about the research: how much to do, when you need to do it -- that sort of thing.

1. I really have no idea -- I just wing it.
2. See #1.

I can't say I have spoken with too many other budding writers about this, and absolutely zero published writers, so my thoughts here are just me rambling in the middle of an empty room, like always.  Don't mistake me for someone who knows what she's doing. LOL  But if you're like me and you prefer to set your stories prior to yesterday, then chances are you and I are going to need to look some stuff up soon.

The question is, when does the balance tip from "verisimilitude" to "non-fiction treatise?"

I've been doing fairly well researching just enough to set the mood, and to make sure I have a handle on the world my characters live in.  Sometimes, that's easy: I had a late antiquity/early Dark Ages focus at University, and so I have enough of a background in that time that I only had to do some supplemental research for Robin's recent adventures.  The 12th century isn't all that far removed from the 9th, but it is enough to warrant my confirming several things, and thank goodness I did: nearly wrote in the wrong kind of motte and bailey for the city of York.  I think details like that matter, because they can change the nature of the action.  It can make a huge difference if Robin is running through a stone structure or a wooden one.  But, I didn't research the entire history of York's fortification nor did I research the construction of motte and bailey structures.  None of my characters were ever going to need this information, so I figured I didn't either. 

Conversely, I have a character whose family founded a town.  So I will need to know the history of this entire area, because he will also know it and draw his worldview from it.  He's proud of his heritage, even if he hates what the town has become.  This means the history of the area will be more important to him than it would be to the guy next to him at the diner, who only cares about getting paid so he can go drinking Saturday night.  That guy couldn't care less who originally owned the land underneath his feet, but my characters does, so both of us need to know that kind of thing. 

So I'm thinking research is one of those things that the characters dictate for me -- or the mystery I'm setting up should I get brave enough to tackle on -- and as long as I follow their lead I'll manage.  Now, having said that, I'm sure further experience will prove me wrong or at least modify what I think.  I'm by no means clued in on what I'm doing.  See #1.  But, you know, thoughts for the day and all.  :)

Anyone else have any thoughts?

xx mm

Blizzard!

No, really. Technically, it's only a major storm here in Montgomery County, but it's an official blizzard in DC and points east -- I don't think they'll mind if this is one wealth they share with the rest of us. I'll post pictures later on, when it's light enough to take them. But think buried cars and fences and no visibility.

Brrrrrrr.

UPDATE! Looking out the front door at dawn, after 15 hours of snow.  And its supposed to snow until midnight tonight!



More pictures later, if they turn out worth using! LOL

xx mm

Ok, a couple more for you, and then I have to deal with the chores (blah!).  And yes, that's Mr MM out there in the snow in the front of the house. 



He's 6' tall, so this ought to give you some idea of how much snow we're talking about here!  Not too shabby for Maryland...

xx mm

Worldviews and such, but no insight yet.

So, I really am trying to do this daily, so that I get a daily exercise is writing my thoughts as tightly as possible. Only today I don't have too many thoughts.

Today I am trying to get my head back into my story, full-on into the story, and for me at least that means a certain level of immersion. I am gathering a assault of music and images, smells, ideas, personalities -- anything that can fully transport me into the era I need to be writing in. I find that imagination is not enough -- never mind Mr. Olivier's remark that it's called Acting. I'm glad he could just transport himself to create characters, but I find I need to be a bit more Method about it before I can think like my characters. In some ways -- though not all -- writing is acting on paper. I find research not only feeds the stories, sometimes its the only place I can find them.

So, that's today's goal at least, to get my head wrapped around my characters' basic worldview. I'm off to moon over dresses and check out architecture...and take some ibuprofen. Headache. *sigh*

So yeah. Today.

Today, in which I will try not to tie my posts up into tidy little packages and therefore make them sound like less than they really are.

Today, during which I will try to be more honest about myself, even if that means I get a little mess on your plate too (not literally, but you get it, I hope).

Mostly I am thinking about my tendency to attract people who threaten the be-geebus out of me. I don't mean physical threats. I mean I gravitate towards people who force me to confront things I don't want to know about. 'Member yesterday when I rambled about comparing my insides to other people's outsides? Yeah. I want to feel inside the way other people look outside, like everything's Okily-dokily, Neighbor! I don't feel like that.

I still have to work out what's going on with Mr Pierson's condition -- he's my compromised character I'm so darned in love with -- and I have no brain it seems. Or rather, it's caught up in juvenile hoohah, things that I should have been able to leave behind in the girls' locker room at my old high school. And this means I am nursing garbage -- I SAID GARBAGE! -- that is just not worth my time. It's certainly not worth Mr Pierson's time. Poor guy's hanging out for a diagnosis, and all I can think about is whether my toes got ignored.

But it's all I can think about!

The bottom line is that I am a needy writer. That's not bad or good, it just is. It's what I have to work with and I owe it to myself and everyone else involved to be aware of it and structure my reactions to it accordingly. I am learning powerful, useful, necessary lessons I don't want any fucking part of, about how to handle myself when reactions to my writing don't go the way I expected. A long time ago I learned the difference between my expectations and reality. They are two different things. I hate that, but they are. And so, I have to own it when things don't go the way I expected. It hurts, but that's life. It's not for me to visit my hurt on others.

Only I just did that, and I'm ashamed of myself.

I owe someone an apology, and I strongly suspect I owe someone else the benefit of my slinking away and never bothering them again. I've made a mess I need to clean up, and so I feel ugly and stupid and I don't know about you, but I don't do well in this state of mind. I think I've gone through too many hankies as it is.

And I sure as hell can't concentrate on teasing out poor Mr Pierson's issues. The novel, the poor novel I've been struggling with since 2006, is struggling yet again. I'm struggling not to run and hide in other stories, or in the laundry -- you know it's a sad day when you feel the need to drown your sorrows in laundry. That's beyond pathetic. Better I should twiddle around with Robin Hood stories again; they're such a security blanket anyway. I'm not really clear on why Robin Hood, of all people, is one of my favorite characters and so easy for me to write, but he is. He's an old friend, who manages to take me as I am when even I won't do that. I suppose I could tease that out too, but I don't want to. Sherwood shelters me, and that's good enough.

And that's today's honest snapshot of me.

xx mm

Random Thought Time #2

I'm having one of those days when I wish I was anyone but me. It's not depression or anger. It's that the emotional grass looks so much greener over there. In the jargon, it's called comparing my insides to other people's outsides. I do that.

See, the last time I had random thoughts they were about competence. Today, they're about standing for what I think is right now matter what. No, don't get excited, it's nothing legal or gigantic or anything. What I mean is, being myself in the face of other people's disapproval. Or dislike. Or maybe when they are annoyed by me, or offended by me, or threatened.

I'm unwell enough to take that last one as a compliment. I'm assuming there's hope for me, though.

But really, sometimes all of us have to stand up and be who we are even when those around us don't like it. I hate that. It's uncomfortable, it's awkward, it makes me feel like I'm the crazy one. I think I'm like the 8 million of my closest pals who would rather been seen as a 'good' person than as my own person.

Except, written out like that, it takes on it's own meaning.

My. Own. Person.

Not owned by anyone else's opinion, not held hostage by anyone else's good graces. Me, answerable only to me -- unless its legal, and then the courts too.

And that changes things. Who am I to assign someone else the responsibility of my actions? Who are they to demand it? Why do I care how I'm 'seen' at all? That last one is the crux of the issue. If my feelings are internal things -- and especially if my self-esteem is an internal thing -- why am I always checking its progress outside myself?

My. Own. Person.

It sounds so obvious, I should work up some embarrassment about this. I really should. Someday.


You know, this entry originally started out as a little drabble on how words are often more than the sum of their parts -- mostly because I didn't know where to take it from there. I can give you directions to the store but I can't really explain what I mean by that. I think, though, I may have just experienced it.

Did I mention that today is Japan's Bean Throwing Festival? Go on. Enjoy yourselves.

xx mm

Happy Groundhog Day! And a bit of grousing...

And of course, Blessed Imbolc and Candlemas, and Happy Sled Dog Day and African American Coaches Day!

And a belated Happy Working Naked Day -- that was yesterday. Hope at least some of you celebrated that one.

Ok, now that's out of the way, I'll grouse: let's talk about how pesky reality can be. You see, I have this character who I know has a specific condition. This isn't negotiable about this man. That's what the situation is. But...how? How did it happen? What does it mean now? Is it treatable? Reversible? I know it's not contagious -- at least I have that much nailed down! But, what I thought the situation was has changed. I did a little research.

And now all story-hell has broken loose.

I know what he suffers from and I know how he suffers and I know what it means for him both internally and externally. This thing defines him. It's not negotiable. But from all the reading I did yesterday -- my heart sinking every word of the way -- what I originally thought caused his issue just can't be the cause. It's not medically possible. So now I am left with having to dig very deep into his business right away to figure out what happened to him, to leave him in this position.

Ugh.

This means, in larger terms, that the weirdo first draft of this story I wrote way back in 2006 has to be almost completely thrown out. Now, I wrote that initially to follow the ideas I had about this man and the town he lives in. Initially, I did not intend or expect a viable story to come out it. But I grew deeply attached to him and I can't just abandon him now. I have to figure his stuff out, and I feel a duty to tell his story. He's a decent guy. He needs this.

But it leaves me in a difficult spot as the author: how he presents himself isn't medically possible. Not to mention the colossal re-write I'm looking at! I suppose this can mean there's a psychological component I need to investigate. But he's both really solid internally and really compromised physically. So, what gives? I need to figure out what gives.

Normally, I love this part of writing, even when it makes me feel like I'm not doing anything. It's true that I'm not putting too many words on the page when I have to think things through. But I still consider it writing, because this very process is what eventually produces the words on the page. So it's fun, to me, and I love the investigation and the discovering the angle I need to use, to see the story right.

But this time I did it backwards and it's really coming back to haunt me. What I thought was, isn't at all. It can't be. So now I'm frustrated, at both physical science and my own impatience.

I guess the moral of the story is, as usual, measure twice and cut once. LOL I've had other stories where I did most of the thinking ahead of time and it worked out a bit better. So, thinking cap on I suppose.

Tomorrow is Create a Vacuum Day. You take that anyway you need to, 'k?

xx mm