Writing Night at the Movies

Novel Spaces is celebrating its 10th anniversary! To celebrate, we're sharing some of the most popular posts from our archives. This one was first published October 11, 2010. Enjoy!

By Charles Gramlich

I don’t often talk about movies. I’m not a big movie buff. I haven’t been to a theater to see a film since Lord of the Rings. I probably average ten or less movie rentals a year through PPV, although I do watch movies when they finally come out on TV, and I rewatch movies that I like when they show up on the little screen. However, we live in the age of video imagery and I haven’t escaped its influence. I’m amazed sometimes at how many movies I have seen. And my writing has definitely been affected. Here are some movies that I like very much, and a bit about how they’ve influenced my writing. (Thanks to Scott for the inspiration for this post.)

1. Once Upon a Time in the West: Sergio Leone’s greatest work, even if it didn’t feature Clint Eastwood. Henry Fonda, Jason Robards, and Charles Bronson were superb. The staging of this movie, the dramatic way in which the scenes were set and the stark landscapes, helped establish the way I visually stage story scenes in my mind. The dusters worn by “Cheyenne’s” men in this movie were a direct influence on the rawhide coats that the bird riders of Talera wear. Lines from the film such as: “You brought two too many,” “Just a man,” and “An ancient race” have influenced the way I structure dialogue. This is my favorite movie of all time.

2. The Thing: I’m referring here to the John Carpenter version, which is my favorite horror movie. (Even the novelization by Alan Dean Foster was thrilling.) This film certainly wasn’t the first to create a sense of claustrophobic horror, but it did it very well. And it also had a great ensemble cast of characters who responded to the horror in wonderfully realistic ways, from their physical actions to their dialogue. This film was certainly an influence on my desire to create ensemble casts for my horror fiction and get them to act like real people facing absolute terror. This was part of what I wanted to do in Cold in the Light, and in that book I often used the night and the woods to create the claustrophobia.

3. Alien: My second favorite horror movie, and it is definitely horror even if it is set in an SF universe. The “chest burster” scene is, to me, the most effective scene ever caught on film. The “alien” is still the coolest alien ever. This one also had the claustrophobic element and the ensemble cast. And it had a strong female lead character, which I’ve tried several times to achieve myself, without great success, I’m afraid. It also had the “ringer,” the one member of the ensemble who turns out not to be what he seems to be. This is a great device for a writer and one I’ve used several times, particularly in Witch of Talera.

4. The Thirteenth Warrior: My favorite fantasy movie of all time. I also thought the book upon which the movie was based was very good. That book was Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton. The gritty realistic feel to this movie contrasted strongly with the more “fantasy” feel of such movies as Conan the Barbarian. Instead of it reminding you of “an age undreamed of,” it made you feel as if every instant was absolutely real. I want to achieve that kind of realism in my fantasy. I want my readers to feel the dirt under their nails and the biting tang of blood in their nostrils. The dialogue here was also extremely good and created a sense of drama that I believe fantasy fiction needs.

5. Predator: A reader remarked a number of years back that the Warkind in Cold in the Light reminded him of the “Predator.” I know the “Predator” did influence the development of the Warkind, although there are also many other elements that went into those creatures. In part because I was curious about the nature of the “Predator,” I created an extensive background and social structure for the Warkind.

There are many other movies that have had some level of influence on my work, though certainly nowhere near the level that books themselves have influenced me. Some of these other films would be: The Outlaw Josey Wales, The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, Hearts and Armor, Conan the Barbarian, Jurassic Park, Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, and Star Wars.

How about you? Have movies influenced you? In your writing? In other aspects of your life? If so, which movies? What’s your favorite?

Too Old

Novel Spaces is in its 10th year! Over the coming months we'll be featuring some of the most popular posts from our archives. This one was first published February 7, 2012.

By Liane Spicer

Courtesy KXCD.com

There comes a time when you have to look reality in the eye and accept that you're just too old for some things. You're no longer a spring chicken. You don't have the resilience and stamina you once had. You're a writer of 'a certain age' - whether 30, 50 or 70 - and you have to focus on efficiency, on putting your valuable energy where it counts. You're too old...

     ...to take crap lying down. Writers have been groomed to be submissive and accepting, to grovel before all-powerful publishers, editors and literary agents. You're too old for that, and now you don't have to any more.

     ...to listen to the people who say you can't start a company at your age, take up spear-fishing, go back to school, or write and publish a book or ten. Don't allow pessimists, naysayers and scaredy-cats to keep you from realizing your potential.

     ...to keep on trying to save people who don't want to be saved.

     ...to be in love with people who don't value, respect and love you back.

     ...to keep abusing your body by feeding it garbage and starving it of exercise.

     ...to hoard your treasures. Wear the pretty outfit; break out the special lingerie; use your good stuff.

     ...to keep blaming your parents for your failings in life.

     ...to allow people to stomp on your spirit. Excuse yourself from that conversation.

     ...to say yes when you mean no, and no when you mean yes. Say what you mean, and mean what you say.
   
     ...to take people for granted. Show appreciation.

     ...to take life for granted. Count your blessings every day, be happy you woke up, and make good use of your time.

Take a long, hard look in the mirror with all the lights on and tell me: aren't you too old for all of the above? I've discovered that attaining 'a certain age' can sometimes be the most liberating experience of all.

Guest author Charles Gramlich: Gems

Novel Spaces is in its 10th year! Over the coming months we'll be featuring some of the most popular posts from our archives. This one was first published September 18, 2009 by one of our first guests who went on to become a longstanding member of our blog group. Enjoy!

Charles Gramlich grew up on a farm in Arkansas but moved to the New Orleans area in 1986 to teach psychology at a local University. He’s since sold four novels and numerous short stories, mostly in the genres of Horror and Fantasy. In 2009 Charles’s nonfiction book, Write With Fire, was published. It’s a collection of his articles and essays on the craft of writing. He also produces a regular column on writing for the onlinenewsletter, The Illuminata. All of his books are available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online sites. Charles lives with his wife in Abita Springs, Louisiana, and has an adult son named Joshua. He blogs at Razored Zen.

Thanks to Novel Spaces for inviting me today. I’ve been enjoying the posts, and getting to look at the variety of featured books. Many talented authors live and visit here. I feel at home.

So, let me tell you about GEMS, which stands for GOAL, EFFORT, MOTIVATION, SKILL. I’m a mild mannered professor by day, and usually by night. And I’m always looking to help my students think about their education. As a writer too, everything ends up adapted for my own struggles with story, as well. That’s how GEMS developed, and here’s how I apply it to writing.

Most writers start with one GOAL, to get published. I did. But after you’ve seen your name in print that first goal is superseded and new goals must be set. It wasn’t until recently, however, that I realized the need to interweave my goals to produce the greatest effect. Specifically, I needed to set both long-term and short-term goals, and had to understand the difference between primary and secondary goals.

A primary goal is the highest level and I believe a writer should have only one. Everything else will be secondary, although that doesn’t mean unimportant. These days, my primary goal is to “advance my writing career.” Any other goals I set should work toward that purpose. Some “secondary” goals will be short-term: setting up a signing, improving a website, or even reading a book on writing. Other secondary goals are long-term. Eventually, I want to write a more ambitious book than I have so far, one appealing to a wider audience.

GOALs cannot be met without EFFORT, and the key is “sustained” rather than “acute” effort. Almost everyone “rises to the occasion” when a deadline is due. Such “acute” effort is often necessary in a literary career, but it won’t get a novel written. Sustained effort means doing the work every day; it means making continual progress toward a goal. Many novelists have a set page number or word count they strive to reach every day. That’s sustained effort. At times, when school overwhelms me, I’ve been reduced to, “just one paragraph a day.” But paragraphs lead to pages, and pages to stories. Push forward, and you’ll get there.

An individual’s effort level is affected by what psychologists call “locus of control.” People with an “internal” locus of control believe their own actions control the events of their lives. People with an “external” locus believe chance or “others” control their fates. Writers with an internal locus hold themselves responsible for their success or lack thereof, while authors with an external locus might say they were merely lucky or unlucky. Certainly, both internal and external factors impact a writer’s career. Research shows, however, that people with an internal locus typically work harder toward their goals. They believe effort is directly related to success or failure. From an “effort” standpoint, writers should try to feel in control of their careers, even if that isn’t always the case.

MOTIVATION is the third facet of GEMS, and it comes from two sources, “intrinsic” and “extrinsic.” Intrinsic motivations come from within. I’m proud of myself when I write hard and make progress. I feel guilty when I don’t. No external force applies these judgments to me. The pride and guilt come from inside. Extrinsic motivations come from outside. Rewards like money and praise are examples.

Most writers have both intrinsic and extrinsic motivations. I enjoy money myself, and I beam when someone compliments my work. But I also write because it engages my emotions. Intrinsic motivations make careers for writers. Extrinsic motivations actually lose their value over time. Would you have been thrilled to earn a few thousand dollars on your first book? What about on your tenth? When behaviors are controlled solely by extrinsic motivations, the payoff has to grow over time or the behaviors stop.

Extrinsic motivations also diminish intrinsic ones. Many writers write their first novel for love. They write their second for love and money. They write their third for money and love. See where the trend is headed? Love decreases; money increases. When it becomes all about money, many writers quit. To maintain long careers as writers, authors need to keep the love, even if that means changing genres or reinventing themselves.

Finally, we come to SKILL. When I started I had a good vocabulary, good visualization abilities, and had read enough to acquire a sense of story. That was it. I was a dialogue virgin, had no idea what a “scene” was, and used atrocious grammar. I could handle periods, but other than some haphazardly placed commas, I had only a nodding acquaintance with other punctuation. I hadn’t the faintest idea of submission format. These were skills I lacked. Yet, I sold a few stories (in the small press), all of which had vivid descriptions, interesting vocabulary terms, and periods. There were only two lines of dialogue in the first four stories I sold. There wasn’t a dash or semicolon anywhere. Fortunately, I knew what skills I lacked and found books to help me develop them. Unfortunately, they’re all still under construction.

Many of my students, and many writers, constantly play to their strengths. As a result, their strengths become crutches. We shouldn’t ignore our strengths, but improving weaknesses often brings the biggest advances in careers.

One weakness I’ve ignored is developing a business sense. I see others doing the same. I hate the business side of writing. I couldn’t sell slop to a hog. I’m not a good people person. I don’t smooze well. But I need to work on these issues if I really hope to expand my audience.

Now, it’s off to check my goals, increase my effort, and find some love in the story I’m working on. I might even read a book on selling. Anybody know a good one?

Thanks for having me!

—Charles Gramlich

How It All Started: My First Writing Effort

by Maggie King

As a devotee of Nancy Drew, I wrote mysteries in grade school. In high school I poured my considerable adolescent angst into bad poetry. After that, the only writing I did for many years was journaling. During the last year I lived in Los Angeles, three of my co-workers took creative writing and screenwriting courses at UCLA Extension. I read their work and was impressed by their talent. I also thought “I could do this.” I was a member of a mystery book group (it was the model for the Murder on Tour group in Murder at the Book Group) and felt confident that I could turn out a mystery. When I moved to Virginia in 1996 the first thing I did was to register for a writing course at the University of Virginia. Two women, Margaret and Tristan, taught the course and were extremely encouraging and supportive of their students.

Despite the title of this post, “My First Writing Effort,” I don’t have my first writing efforts, the ones inspired by Nancy Drew in grade school. They seem to have vanished—probably a good thing. But in that class at UVA I started the story that would evolve countless times until its birth as Murder at the Book Group, my debut. 

I called it Death Comes Knocking and intended for it to be a prologue. On October 14, 1996 I submitted a shorter version and got a lot of helpful feedback from the teachers. I added to it and came up with the following a week later (I haven’t changed a word. Honest!):

Deanna unlocked the door of the motel room, flipping the light switch as she entered. She threw her purse down on the chair, sat on the edge of the lumpy bed, stood up, started pacing. Waiting. Clearly agitated. She no longer noticed the holes in the carpet, the cigarette burns on the formica nightstands as well as on the foam-filled vinyl chair cushions, or the steady drip of the shower.

She had been meeting her lover in the sleazy rooms of Marty’s Hideaway many times over the past year, but this time was different. This time they would talk about the future of their relationship, if indeed there was one.

The last time they met, Deanna had hit him with the news that she was pregnant. He didn’t have much to say, in fact he had lapsed into silence for an hour, a silence she wasn’t able to break. Then he said he needed time to think, that he would call her. He was distant.

He didn’t call for several days. Deanna was sure he was going to bolt, that this was the end for them. After a period of fretting, obsessing, and barely functioning, she started to accept his desertion. But then he did call, said he wanted to see her, he’d done a lot of reflecting, “agonizing” was how he put it, about their situation. He had seemed rather excited on the phone, not like his usual subdued self. They arranged a time to meet at “their” place.

So here she was, at Marty’s Hideaway, waiting for him, for his decision. She vaguely resented that he controlled the relationship, but didn’t feel up to addressing that issue now. She knew she couldn’t express her needs, like marriage, family, living happily ever after, etc. she paced some more, drank water from a plastic cup, felt almost desperate enough to peruse the inevitable Gideon bible, a blasphemous joke in this place where the clientele paid by the hour.

She jumped when she heard the knock. As she ran to open the door, she put on a big smile, and tried to pretend that she wasn’t nervous. She was greeted by an enormous bouquet of red roses, so enormous that it totally obscured the face of its presenter. What a nice surprise!—he wasn’t given to relationship niceties like flowers, and this arrangement must have cost him a fortune. So maybe he had decided to take the plunge, and make a commitment to her after all—maybe things were looking up.

Then the bouquet fell to the floor, the beautiful floral arrangement strewn over the ugly, threadbare carpet. Deanna bent down to pick them up, but stopped, startled, uncomprehending at what she saw before her. And she would never be able to reveal what she did see in that moment just before her world went black.

I wish I still had the critique comments from the teachers and the students. It’s not great writing but I don’t think it’s horrible, especially for my first effort. And that’s coming from someone who’s highly self-critical. What do you think? It won’t bother me if you think it’s unpublishable—I’ve typed too many words since this first effort. But I’m toying with the idea of doing something with it, perhaps a short story.

The important lesson for me and one I can pass on to other aspiring writers: look at the first paragraph of this post where I told myself “I could do this.” Well, I am doing this.

This is my last post on Novelspaces for a while, as we’re taking a hiatus for a year. But we’ll periodically select the best posts from the past nine years.

Olive, my muse since 2012

Maggie King is the author of the Hazel Rose Book Group mysteries, including Murder at the Book Group and Murder at the Moonshine Inn. She has contributed stories to the Virginia is for Mysteries anthologies and to the 50 Shades of Cabernet anthology.

Maggie is a member of Sisters in Crime, James River Writers, and the American Association of University Women. She has worked as a software developer, retail sales manager, and customer service supervisor. Maggie graduated from Elizabeth Seton College and earned a B.S. degree in Business Administration from Rochester Institute of Technology. She has called New Jersey, Massachusetts, and California home. These days she lives in Richmond, Virginia with her husband, Glen, and cats, Morris and Olive. She enjoys reading, walking, movies, traveling, theatre, and museums.

Website: http://www.maggieking.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MaggieKingAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaggieKingAuthr

Instagram: authormaggieking

Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/2Bj4uIL

Lessons from a coconut palm

A coconut palm, an almond tree and a flamboyant tree stood in the gentle breeze of a Caribbean island. Suddenly the winds sprang up and a hurricane blew through. The coconut tree was tossed to and fro, the almond tree and the flamboyant tree stood firm. At the end of the storm, the almond tree with its strong trunk broke in two, the flamboyant that stood strong and proud was uprooted. The only tall tree remained untouched was the coconut tree. A small grape bush looked up at the coconut tree and asked, “Mr. Coco, the almond tree had a mighty trunk, three times as strong as you, the flamboyant tree had roots that spread for yards around, how is it that they broke in the wind and you with your flimsy trunk and narrow roots withstood the storm?”

The coconut tree smiled and said to the grape, “You see, I’m thin and flexible and my roots run deep. When the wind blows from the north, I dance to the south, when it comes from the west, I dance to the east. I bend and bow in the direction of the wind. But the almond tree tried to stop the wind with his trunk and resisted mightily, and the flamboyant, despite its widespread roots is not deeply grounded.  In short, I’m firm but flexible. That is the secret of my strength.”

That is the way our schedules should be— firm and flexible like a coconut tree. Last September after working part time and writing for some time I got a fulltime position with a forty minute commute. It was a nightmare in the beginning because it upset my routine.  I struggled to get organized, juggling three kids, their schools, their afterschool activities, homework, my writing and my newfound stress.  By the end of the semester I had it down. I was like a pro juggling my schedule, the kids and home commitments. I even built an exercise routine in all that chaos.

Then just when I thought I had it all down, spring semester began and my schedule changed. Bummer! Not only my schedule changed, but my kids took up different sports, and after school activities. Now I had to reorganize once again.  So what did I do? I learned from the coconut palm: be firm but flexible.
Here are a few ways I try to be firm but flexible in my organization.

1. Try not to over schedule
I know. This is easier said than done. There is so much to do and so little time to do it. We schedule every minute of our time and when things change as they always do there’s no wriggle room to rearrange our schedules. Overscheduling is the way we try to control the situation around us. The coconut palm doesn’t try to control or brace itself against the winds around it. It just goes with the flow.

2. Don’t hang your hat where your hand can’t reach
That is to say, don’t set your expectations too high. I have historically been (and still am) very disorganized. When I first tried to organize, I made a to do list. The to do list had so many things that I wanted to accomplish in one day it was impossible to fulfill. I found myself constantly feeling disappointment for not accomplishing my goals. Now, I set just a few realistic things that I want to accomplish.

3. Prioritize
There is only 24 hours in a day. So I choose some “must do”, some “desire to do” and some “will do when I get to it.” I give priority to the must do before anything else. The others can wait if the time isn’t there. If I get all the essentials out of the way, I can add things that from the previous day that I did not accomplish.

4. Use the 14th and 15th letters of the alphabet more often
Yes, sometimes you simply should say no to new tasks that are not a priority in your life. Many times we look at accepting new tasks as a new opportunity, but if your schedule is too packed, you just have to decline new commitments.

5. Put time for you in our schedule
This is so much needed especially for women. We take care of the needs of everybody around us and we leave ourselves for last. As we are pulled here and there, we need to set aside time to relax and reflect and do the things we love otherwise we lose ourselves and our sanity. If we make time for ourselves we'll ground ourselves, laying down deep roots like the coconut tree.

 6. Cut your losses
To be flexible, we must be able to move with the flow, like the coconut tree. Sometimes that means we have to recognize when what we’re doing is futile and walk away.

7. Don’t resist change, embrace it
The coconut tree epitomizes this philosophy. Change will come. If we resist it and hold on to our dinosaur ways, we will get left behind. Ask all those authors who refused to make their books available in ebook format in the early digital days. Make your schedule flexible enough to allow unscheduled changes.

These are the lessons I've learned from the coconut palm. If you're deeply grounded and firm but flexible you will survive the winds of change, the winds of life.

Thankful for Being Robbed?

My husband and I enjoyed all our major visits—Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado,

Antelope Canyon,

Horseshoe Bend of the Colorado River,

and friends in Arizona, and Big Bend National Park in Texas.

 

All the RV parks we found for camping in our fifth wheel had supply stores, full hook-ups for water, electricity, sewer lines, and television stations we could access for news, sports, and movies.

Nothing fell off the RV, no tires shredded, and the refrigerator hung onto its cooling system on this trip. We were on a roll (literally) compared to previous trips. But we still had a few stops left. What are the sayings? It ain’t over till it’s over. It’s not over till the fat lady sings. Don’t count your chickens…

In San Antonio we left our movable vacation home at a delightful RV Resort in the south part of the city,

told the two cats to take care of it while we were gone, detached the Ford F-350 diesel pick-up, and drove to downtown. Our first time in San Antonio, we had to visit the Alamo and the River Walk.

After a leisurely afternoon of tourist pursuits, we arrived back at our parking lot around six o’clock that evening. Dinner fixings and a little relaxation awaited us in our RV.

Have you ever arrived at your vehicle and discovered it has been broken into? It’s a creepy feeling. The contents of our center console and glove compartment were either missing or scattered over the floor and seats. We searched to find out just what had been taken. As if by instinct, I cast glances around the dusky parking lot in case someone would poke out from behind a car or around a brick wall.

My husband gave me a look when I told him our camera, a phone charger, and a bag of snacks from the back seat had been taken. “We’ve got bigger problems,” he said.

I eyed him with skepticism. What could be worse than losing our best vacation photos? I’d once had one of my photos chosen for the cover of a Kansas City Star vacation photo supplement, for heaven’s sake.

He stuck his key into the ignition. The truck didn’t start.

“Oh no, they tried to steal the truck.” I have this tendency to state the obvious, but such nefarious designs against my property didn’t easily cross my mind. And I write mysteries!

“You call the police, and I’ll call the insurance company.” My husband got busy while I fumbled with how to call the police for a case like this. Was it an emergency? Yes, I decided, and dialed 911. Have you ever tried giving a 911 operator the address of a parking lot in a strange city? It took a walk to street signs and a detailed description of our parking spot and truck.

After that, I spent many minutes on the phone with a locksmith trying to determine if someone could repair our ignition that very evening. A police officer came, and I gave him all the details for his report while Hubby continued his phone conversations with insurance claims people and a tow company receptionist.

Officer Morales stayed and gave me moral support while we waited to find out how we’d deal with a truck that wouldn’t start on a Saturday evening in a gritty parking lot after dark, miles from where we needed to be. He told me stories about robberies in the area and how crooks targeted Ford F-250’s and F-350’s pick-ups because they were good for smuggling and usually contained guns.

“Guns!?”

“In San Antonio, everyone who drives a pick-up has a gun in it,” the officer said.

“We don’t have a gun. We have an RV,” I said with a crooked smile on my face, thinking those idiot crooks should have picked a truck with Texas plates.

“Always park near the street, not back by a wall, in a tourist area,” he said. Too late for that advice.

In the end, the locksmith started the truck and had us drive to his shop in the far northern part of San Antonio where he installed a new ignition. Hungry, tired, and three hundred dollars poorer, we returned to the RV by ten o’clock that night. It could have been worse. Thank goodness, because of the security key fobs we carry on our key chains, the crooks were unable to start the truck. Thank goodness for the friendly, skillful, twenty-four-hour mobile locksmith who welcomed us to his shop as if we were cousins.

This was an experience we’ll always remember, and I’m using part of it as the basis for my next Psycho Cat and the Landlady Mystery. You’ll meet the good Officer Morales in that book and the locksmith of Middle Eastern descent. Can a person be thankful for being robbed while on vacation?

Now, as for the truck breaking down on the highway near a small town in Oklahoma on the way home… I’m only thankful that the town had a tow service open on Sunday and a Ford dealership that could fix the truck in only two days.

Taking the Plunge

I haven’t been without some sort of regular paid job since I was 16 years old. In the thirty odd years since then, I’ve worked as a groundskeeper at a swim and tennis club until after the summer I graduated high school. After that, I was in the service for eleven years and racked up quite an eclectic collection of job titles and work experience, and then I spent the next eighteen years in the private sector, working for a handful of different companies as a software developer.

I didn’t get serious about writing with an eye toward publication until my late twenties, and even after I sold my first short stories and started writing novels on a consistent basis, it was still something I did “on the side.” Writing was always “the other job,” which I fit around my normal work schedule, and it bent even more once my wife and I had our two kids. There were lots of late nights and early mornings, or weekends squirreled away at the library or some other place of refuge as I worked to meet this or that deadline. If I slept more than four or five hours a night, it was a cause for celebration. Still, I was making it work. I’d reached a point where I was almost always working on a novel and maybe a few other things like short stories or magazine articles, and the money earned from these projects was going toward my kids’ school tuition and college funds, or our retirement nest egg.

Then, earlier this year, I got word that I probably would be laid off from my “real” job.

Naturally, I was at first gripped by uncertainty. I’d been dancing in the layoff minefield for the better part of a decade at this point, surviving IT outsourcing, mergers and workforce reductions of one sort or another across three different companies. I’d known for years that my number, sooner or later, would come up, and that was the major reason that my “day job” had ceased being a career and had instead become just a job. I’d been in IT for almost thirty years, and I was good at what I did, but I didn’t really love it anymore. That wasn’t always the case, of course. As a developer, I relished the challenge of figuring out how to create software to meet a client’s needs, or just to see if something harebrained could be done.

With the ever-present fear of layoffs, that enthusiasm had started to wane, replaced by the need to just hang on by any means necessary. I no longer had any real passion for the work, and it certainly wasn’t creatively fulfilling. Writing had already long since moved in to fill that void, and for years I’d been wondering and dreaming about the idea of writing full time. However, it was hard to walk away from steady employment that paid extremely well, and once our kids came along the idea of abandoning that to chase a dream seemed ludicrous. I was supposed to be an adult with responsibilities, right? The time for running off on some crazy quest had passed, perhaps not to return until after my children were in college, and maybe not even then.

It’s amazing how the prospect of being laid off changes your perspective.

With the decision now at least partially made for me, pondering my options became a lot easier. As I began perusing want ads and job listings and updating my resume, all while less than enthused by the idea of “starting over” at another company with all my seniority a thing of the past, I knew that I was doing it because I “had to” and not because I wanted to. Thankfully, my wife—who is much smarter than I am—saw in my face that if left to my own devices, I would eventually find some other IT job that might pay our bills, and I’d do it because I thought it was what I had to do, and continue on as I’d been doing the last several years. It was she who said to me, “You should just write full time.”

Wait. What?

“You’re happier doing that, anyway. You’ll be able to turn your full energy to it and write more, and faster. You’ll get more sleep, you’ll have more time for me and the kids, and you won’t be so grumpy all the time. Let me emphasize that I’m very much on board with the whole being less grumpy thing.”

After a long conversation one night after dinner, we weighed the pros and cons of this bold idea. Could I do it? Sure. More time to write is more to time to write, right? What about the money? That part would be a little tricky, but the upside to having written professionally for fifteen years is that I’ve had those fifteen years to build something of a reputation and a network of contacts. Reaching out to a few of those contacts was enough to tell me that the opportunities were there. I just had to seize them.

So, with my wife’s backing and support, I’ve cast aside caution, dared to spit into the wind, and taken the plunge into writing full-time. After taking a week off to recharge following my last day of “regular employment,” I hit the ground running and completed a couple of contracted writing assignments while laying out plans for future work. As November approached, I elected to double down and take on National Novel Writing Month, with an eye toward completing at least half of my next contracted novel during these insane thirty days. I've been contracted to write three novels after that, along with a handful of other projects, and things farther down the road are starting to come into focus, too.

It’s early yet, and in many ways I’m still undergoing the transition, but there already have been tangible benefits. Remember what I said about sleeping more (and better), having more free time for the family, and generally being less grumpy? It’s all true. Am I nervous about the future? Absolutely. Then again, I was nervous about the future at the other job, too. At least now I’m doing something I truly love doing, and I feel reenergized and ready to take on all comers.

I guess we’ll see what we’ll see.

Guest author Lesley A. Diehl: Writing Closer to Home

Lesley A. Diehl

Lesley retired from her life as a professor of psychology and reclaimed her country roots by moving to a small cottage in the Butternut River Valley in upstate New York. In the winter she migrates to old Florida—cowboys, scrub palmetto, and open fields of grazing cattle, a place where spurs still jingle in the post office, and gators make golf a contact sport. Back north, the shy ghost inhabiting the cottage serves as her literary muse. When not writing, she gardens, cooks and renovates the 1874 cottage with the help of her husband, two cats, and Fred the ghost who gives artistic direction to their work. She is author of numerous short stories and several mystery series including the microbrewing series (A Deadly Draught; Poisoned Pairings), two rural Florida mystery series (Dumpster Dying; Grilled, Chilled and Killed), and the Eve Appel mystery series—A Secondhand Murder; Dead in the Water.  Other mysteries include Angel Sleuth,and Murder is Academic.



I’ve been writing and publishing for about ten years.  Lately I’ve found that my writing has changed in ways that I don’t think readers would be aware of, but I am.  I’ve said that I’m “mining my family” for my ideas and my characters, but it’s more than that.  My work is coming from a place closer to my center.

The first advice I ever received when I began writing fiction was to write what I know.  Since I was a retired psychologist, it seemed clear that meant I should use my career as the basis for my work.  The first manuscript I wrote featured a professor of psychology as an amateur sleuth.  She was, as you would imagine, me in a younger, feistier, more in-your-face persona.  Not a bad character, but the manuscript was originally well over one hundred thousand words.  You guessed it.  I didn’t know how to write fiction.  The work got  no interest from agents and editors.  They were wise not to want to bore their readers.

So what else did I know?  Early in my career I ran a part-time private practice, so I had some clinical experience and an interest in multiple personality or dissociative identity disorder.  I constructed a story about a multiple, the dominant personality written in first person, the alternates in third person.  That’s not an uncommon approach now, but at that time, although some agents thought it was an enticing idea, I was a newbie with no fiction writing credentials.  And I made the story humorous which horrified some agents.  And that one went nowhere also.

I decided I had run out of what I knew, so I carefully researched a protagonist for the first book a small publishing house bought.  The research was fun because my protagonist was a microbrewer.  Now I knew nothing about craft brewing, but I learned fast by touring small breweries in New York and Florida and picked brewers’ minds and sampled their products.

I seemed to find my humorous voice in a series set in rural Florida, a story about a retired preschool teacher turned bartender who was a winter visitor to Florida.  Emily Rhodes found the fields of cattle, the lakes, swamps and the honest nature of the people to her liking, and she adopted rural Florida as her home much as I had.  I loved it so much that I set another series there with a protagonist who owned a consignment shop and who loved secondhand merchandise.  So do I.  Where did that come from?  My paternal grandmother liked to reuse things even her daughter’s clothes which were sizes too big for her, but she adjusted them with scotch tape, safety pins, staples and some basting thread.  She taught me at a young age about repurposing, reusing, reclaiming and rehabbing everything from clothes to furniture.  Suddenly, writing my Eve Appel consignment shop owner protagonist seemed like I was coming home.  At the same time I wrote several Thanksgiving short stories about a red-haired aunt of Amazonian proportions and a couple of quirky grandmothers as the major characters.  They really were my family, albeit a bit exaggerated.  Recently I learned that the fourth story featuring my “Aunt Nozzie” will be published in yet another Thanksgiving anthology.

The writing process felt different because it seemed to come from deep inside me where all my childhood memories of family resided.  These bits and pieces of my life seemed to be aching to become a story.

Not all childhood remembrances are happy ones.  In my case the joyful times find their way into funny stories.  Others are percolating around in my psyche waiting for a darker vehicle for expression.  Perhaps I’m finding yet another writing voice, one of dark humor and noir atmosphere.  Regardless, as a writer I think I’m writing nearer to what is important to me—family.  It’s always found its way into my work, but now it feels more genuinely mine.

I wonder how your writing has evolved.  Is my journey similar to yours?

Special guest Melodie Campbell: Books and the Art of Theft

Melodie got her start writing comedy. In 1999, she opened the Canadian Humour Conference. She has over 200 publications including 100 comedy credits, 40 short stories, and has won 9 awards for short fiction. Her fifth novel, a mob caper, is entitled The Goddaughter's Revenge (Orca Books). Melodie was a finalist for the 2012 Derringer, and both the 2012 and 2013 Arthur Ellis Awards. She is the Executive Director of Crime Writers of Canada. Catch Melodie's humour column for The Sage, Canada's magazine of satire and opinion.



Puzzled by the title?  It’s simple.

In high school, I had to read Lord of the Flies, The Chrysalids, On the Beach, To Kill a Mockingbird, and a whack of Shakespeare.

Yuck.  Way to kill the love of reading.  All sorts of preaching and moral crap in the first four.  (Which, as you will see by the end of this post, doesn’t suit me well.)

Torture, it was, having to read those dreary books, at a time when I was craving excitement.  Already, I had a slight rep for recklessness. (It was the admittedly questionable incident of burying the French class attendance sheet in the woods on Grouse Mountain, but I digress…)

And then we got to pick a ‘classic’ to read.  Groan.  Some savvy librarian took pity on me, and put a book in my hand.

Ivanhoe.

Magic

A writer was born that day.

This is what books could be like!  Swashbuckling adventure with swords and horses, and imminent danger to yourself and virtue, from which – sometimes – you could not escape (poor Rebecca.)

I was hooked, man.  And this book was written how long ago?  1820?

Occasionally, people will ask if a teacher had a special influence on me as a writer.  I say, sadly, no to that.

But a librarian did.  To this day, I won’t forget her, and that book, and what it caused me to do.

1. Write the swashbuckling medieval time travel Land’s End series, starting with the Top 100 bestseller Rowena Through the Wall.  
2. Steal a book.  Yes, this humble reader, unable to part with that beloved Ivanhoe, claimed to lose the book, and paid the fine.  Damn the guilt.  The book was mine.
3. Write the Goddaughter series, which has nothing to do with swashbuckling medieval adventure, and everything to do with theft.  Which, of course, I had personally experienced due to a book called Ivanhoe.

The lust for something you just have to have.  The willingness to take all sorts of risks way out of proportion, to possess that one thing.

A book like my own Rowena and the Dark Lord made me a thief at the age of sixteen.  And the experience of being a thief enticed me to write The Goddaughter’s Revenge, over thirty years later.

My entire writing career (200 publications, 9 awards) is because of Sir Walter Scott and one sympathetic librarian.  Thanks to you both, wherever you are.

 

 

Melodie Campbell writes funny books. You can buy them at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other retailers.  She lurks at www.melodiecampbell.com.

The one that started it all: Rowena Through the Wall  

Rowena and the Dark Lord  

The Goddaughter's Revenge  

The Goddaughter 

A Purse To Die For  

Follow Melodie’s comic blog at  www.melodiecampbell.com 

Guest author Nerissa Golden: Honouring My Words

The beauty of being an author is that within the pages of your book you can become whoever you choose to be. In one book, you get to be the hero, the villain, the victim and the victor. It’s a place where you have permission to tell a lie for the purpose of creating tension and developing your story around how the characters deal with it.

In real life however, I’m a believer that truth always trumps lies.

Time is moving rapidly. Back in December when I agreed to do this guest post, I selected the end of March as it seemed far enough away. Surely by then I would have my act together and my writing mojo would be going at Mach 5.

Life happened and is happening. I’ve spent more time wishing I had the energy to write than writing. I’d somehow lost track of the simple promise to myself to have a book published by April. Still possible in the world of rushed eBooks but that is not what I’m after.

I thought having friends hold me accountable would help to keep me on track but it’s amazing the fabulous excuses you can find to explain away why your book draft hasn’t been looked at since late January. Yes, I have some great ones and all legit but none of them bring me any closer to completing a book. What it has also done is pushed me further from my friends, not because they are staying away but because of my own shame that I’ve been unable to keep my word.

My word. How do I write if I can’t honour my own word?

My not taking the time to write and share the ideas that have been on my heart for quite some time was keeping me away from my friends. I can see it and feel it.

Just as my own spirit craves the release of words on a page for me to feel free, alive and purposed, so I need to write to maintain my own integrity and to keep the promise I made to friends that I would deliver a new book. After all, I’ve filled their heads with ideas for characters, plots for a romantic story and thoughts for a self-help book but without movement on my part those discussions amount to time shooting the breeze. I don’t want it to be so.

This is my struggle. To keep promises to myself and to my friends that I will write. To not be filled with shame that I pull myself away from the relationships that matter. To write because when I do, I can feel a heavy burden lift regardless of what I’m writing about.

How do your relationships support your need to write?

P.S. I’ll be happy to send a free copy (e-version where applicable) of one of my books to the first person to request one in the comments below.

As the CEO of goldenmedia, Nerissa develops cutting edge communications strategies for her clients in the public, private and non-profit sectors. She was an Associate Producer for The Skin by HAMAFilms, managing its international publicity campaign, garnering it access to film festivals around the Caribbean and North America. She also works with emerging artists to develop a brand strategy which positions them to make an impact across multiple platforms simultaneously.

Nerissa has authored three books: Truly Caribbean Woman’s Guide to Good Love, The Making of a Caribbeanpreneur: Strategies for Overcoming Fear and Building Wealth, and Island Days: A Poetic Collection of Memories of Growing up on Montserrat and Around the Caribbean.

Visit Nerissa at http://nerissagolden.com/ OR http://trulycaribbean.net

 

 

Finding the Spark.

I’ve said before that I don’t really believe in “writer’s block.” What I mean by that is that I generally don’t like to use it as an excuse for not writing. What I do firmly believe in is, “I so totally don’t want to be sitting here writing right now. I’d rather be doing almost anything, including tasks or chores I normally wouldn’t do with a gun to my head.”

Usually, this feeling grabs me whenever I’ve failed to do my upfront homework while preparing to write a new story. Maybe I didn’t take the time to properly explore an idea that sounded neat at the outset, and instead started writing just to see where the notion took me. Sometimes that works, and it can be hugely fun and satisfying when everything falls into place. However, there also are those occasions where I end up like Wile E. Coyote, slamming face-first into the proverbial canyon wall.

Yep, we all know there are going to be days when the words just don’t want to spill forth, no matter how long you sit in front of your computer, or how hard you stare at your screen. You can feel them; they’re a jumble up in your head, but they’re fighting amongst themselves and really have no need for you to be bugging them right now. You can usually coax them out sooner or later, and every writer has their trick for doing just that. For me? My usual method is to just walk away from the whole thing.

Sort of.

Over the years, I’ve found that focusing on some completely unrelated activity is one of the best ways for me to work the knots out of a story that’s giving me fits. I go for the mundane sorts of tasks, like working in the yard, washing the car, folding laundry, cooking dinner, or just taking a shower. My mind is free to wander during these times, and as often as not I’ll have to stop whatever I’m doing so I can run back to my desk and jot down a bunch of notes.

The other night, I was shaving when—at long last—something sparked in my little monkey brain as I let it bounce around the room a bit. The kinks in the story I’ve been plotting for the past week or so just straightened themselves out as I was staring at myself in the mirror. It all happened in the space of less than thirty seconds. Hell, I nearly cut my own throat in my excitement, because I could feel right then that this was the answer! Thankfully, I survived the incident and was able to transcribe my nonsensical ramblings to the page, small globs of shaving cream dangling from my ears and everything.

Oh, and it offered me the idea for this month’s post. So, you know…a two-fer!

(Meanwhile, my wife just shakes her head as she watches all of this unfold.)

How about you? What do you do when the words don’t want to play? How do you go about finding that spark?

Inspired By Your Surroundings.

One of the downsides of being a full-time work-at-home employee for my day job is that by the time the weekend rolls around, I’m really rather tired of being stuck inside my house. My home office, which used to be my writing refuge, has by and large become an oversized cubicle, and by Saturday I’m tired of looking at it.

So, when I’m ready to sit down and write for a short while, and particularly after I’ve been working on the current novel project for a bit, I’m increasingly turning to alternative venues. The local branch of the public library is almost always my first choice. It’s close and quiet, and there’s just something about sitting among all those rows of bookshelves that almost always succeeds in kick-starting my writing motor.

And then, there are those places you visit which end up inspiring your writing. Parks, museums, art galleries, historical sites, ball parks and famous or unusual buildings have all fed the muse at one time or another. For me, such a place is Union Station here in Kansas City. Celebrating its 100th birthday later this year, the station had largely been closed for many years due to deterioration and dwindling train passenger traffic. After a massive restoration and renovation effort, it reopened in 1999 as both a train station and an entertainment destination, with restaurants, shops, a movie theater, a youth-focused science museum, and spaces for traveling museum exhibits.

I fell in the love with the station the first time I set foot inside it. Along with our Liberty Memorial and World War I Museum which sits just across the street, it’s long been my favorite city location to visit, and I always encourage friends visiting for the first time to check out both landmarks. You’re welcome for the plug, Kansas City Convention and Visitors Association. As for the station itself, it has many areas where visitors can sit and watch the world go by, including a great open café right in the middle of its vast “Grand Hall.” I’ve availed myself of that cozy little eatery on numerous occasions, enjoying my lunch while writing or editing a manuscript.

Once, just to see if I could do it because I had decided to write a story for submission to a local magazine, I sat myself at a table with the “task” of writing from scratch a story set there at the station. A few hours, one lunch and several glasses of tea later, I had a near-complete first draft of what ended up becoming "Absent Friends," which I eventually sold to that magazine. Since then, the station has continued to serve as a place where I can go and immerse myself in my writing.

So, when you’re looking to escape from home so that you can write for a bit in relative peace, or because you're hunting for inspiration, where do you go?

Voices Lost

Within the space of a month, three authors who've been inspirations to uncounted readers and writers were taken from us. On August 20th, we lost the incomparable Elmore Leonard due to complications from a stroke he'd suffered a month earlier. On September 2nd, I mourned the passing of Frederik Pohl, who had been a staple of science fiction writing for more than seventy-five years. And on September 6th, mere days after posting to Facebook what she suspected would be her final update to friends and fans, science fiction author and writer advocate Ann C. Crispin finally lost her battle with cancer at the age of 63.

For very different reasons, each of these three writers had an impact on me at an early age, long before I ever entertained any notions of writing at all, much less for publication. I first was drawn to Mr. Leonard due to his stories set in my home state of Florida, but before writing mystery novels he also was known for his western tales. He's long been acknowledged as someone with a gift for crafting wonderful dialogue and razor sharp, authentic descriptions to set a scene. When I started writing, I read his famous "Ten Rules of Writing" essay, then went back and reread a few of his novels to see if he practiced what he preached. Practice it, he did. My favorite of his rules are the ones you may have heard before, even if you didn't know who may have said them:

Rule #10: "Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip."

And, his one rule that he uses to summarize the first ten: "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it."

I'm not going to attempt to give my explanation of Mr. Leonard's "secrets for writing success." You're better off clicking on the link and reading them in the man's own words.

Frederik Pohl is someone I began reading almost by accident, after picking up a copy of his science fiction novel Man Plus when I was a teenager in the early late 1970s. I'd recently read Ray Bradbury's The Martian Chronicles and was looking for more Mars-based fiction, only to find that Mr. Pohl's novel was an altogether different animal from Mr. Bradbury's work. It didn't hurt that the main character in Man Plus becomes a cyborg in order to travel to Mars, which was something akin to Steve Austin, aka The Six Million Dollar Man, which I was enjoying at the time. Along with Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Richard Matheson, Joe Haldeman and Robert Heinlein, Frederik Pohl was part of my "golden age of science fiction reading," or the books I was enjoying at the age of 12 or 13. He's also the man behind the very wise Pohl's Law, which every writer, artist or other creator should always keep in mind: "Nothing is so good that somebody somewhere will not hate it."

Then there's Ann Crispin, to whom I was introduced thanks to a Star Trek novel she wrote in the early 1980s, Yesterday's Son. To this day, that novel remains popular with fans of such books, owing to her seemingly easy mastery of the characters and setting from what at the time was the only Star Trek television series. Her adaptation of the 1984 miniseries V still is one of my very favorite media tie-in works. I also read her original fiction, of course, but Ann ended up being one of my inspirations when I began writing tie-in novels of my own, because she never saw a need to distinguish between such novels and her own original fiction. To her, each was deserving of the best effort a writer could bring to bear. When asked about the difference between writing in someone else's "universe" and one of her own creation, her simple answer is one which also has served me rather well when confronted with such questions: "Personally, I believe a good story is a good story, no matter what universe it's written in."

Amen to that.

In addition to her fiction, Ann along with fellow author Victoria Strauss founded Writer Beware, a watchdog group with a mission to foster awareness regarding fraud, scams, and other illegitimate and illegal activities in and around the publishing industry. She and Victoria, along with everyone else working alongside them at Writer Beware, are among the best friends a new writer ever could have.

Elmore Leonard, Frederik Pohl and Ann Crispin: Thank you for decades of wonderful storytelling, and for not being afraid to mentor those smart enough to learn from your wisdom and hard-won experience.

It's All This Guy's Fault

Fifteen years ago this summer, the first story I ever sold to a professional paying market was published. It was for a writing contest, the first ever of its type sponsored by Pocket Books, called Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. The contest was soliciting Star Trek short stories from unpublished writers, which in this case meant those who had sold fewer than three stories to markets offering "professional" per-word rates. I never before had written anything for submission to such a market, and it was at the urging of my friend Deb Simpson that I wrote a story and sent it in for consideration.

To the continued disbelief of countless people, friends and family included, my story was one of eighteen selected for that first anthology. Following that first sale, the contest editor, Dean Wesley Smith, bought two more stories of mine, each for the next editions of Strange New Worlds. He launched several writing careers in similar fashion, including another of your regular Novel Spaces contributors.

While I was submitting entries to those contests, I also was writing and submitting other stories, most of them science fiction. All during this period, Dean spent a lot of time on America Online where he talked about the contest, offering up a continuous stream of writing advice for anyone smart enough to read his postings. We’ve corresponded sporadically over the years, and I’m a frequent follower of his blog as well as the one maintained by his wife, writer Kristine Kathryn Rusch. They both regularly dispense frank, invaluable advice about the craft and business of writing, all of it offered from the perspective of years of hard-won experience. You could do worse than to bookmark both their sites.

Since that first sale of mine oh so long ago, Dean’s continued to be an inspiration. I’ve always considered him—along with Kris—one of the “best friends” any up and coming writer ever could want. One of the first bits of advice he offered to me way back when has stuck with me all these years: “Get out of your own way, and just write. Stop pondering every word and sentence. Stop reworking that same paragraph you wrote an hour ago. Stop editing yourself. Write. Get it all out of your head, warts, rough edges and all, and keep moving forward. Write now. Edit later.”

Dean wasn’t just talking a good game, either. He’s a veritable writing machine, possessing what I jokingly refer to as “Fingers of Fury.” Working under his own name and a truckload of aliases, he’s written more than one hundred novels and more than two hundred short stories. In the time it’s taken you to read this far, he’s probably written another novel. Maybe two.

In the fifteen years since my first story’s publication, I’d never met Dean face to face, but I got to cross that item off my Bucket List last week. I was in Las Vegas with my writing partner, Kevin Dilmore, for a convention appearance, and we learned that the scheduling and travel gods had seen fit to deposit Dean and Kris, along with a small group of other friends and fellow writers, in Sin City for a totally unrelated function. A couple of texts and e-Mails later and we all were able to convene at a local bar, where I finally got to shake the hand of the man who gave me my start in the word-slinging biz.

Achievement. Unlocked.

So here we are, fifteen years later, and it’s a simple matter for me to draw a line connecting nearly every story or novel I’ve published over this time back to that first sale. If not for Dean Wesley Smith—and Deb Simpson, who convinced me to submit to that first writing contest back in 1997—my writing career, assuming I had one at all, likely would have taken a much different path.

Yeah. It’s all his fault.

Here’s to you, Dean. I can’t ever thank you enough for the opportunity you gave me. Instead, I’ll just have to keep working in the hopes of showing everyone else that you made a good call.

Visiting My Ultimate Idea Factory.

On a glorious Friday last month, I along with my wife and several of my fellow Star Trek writer friends and colleagues were treated to a special tour of NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. For a space enthusiast, visiting this place is like going to Disney World, and it certainly was at the top of my bucket list. After all, I’m a child of the space age. The Apollo astronauts, along with those who’ve flown the Space Shuttles or who’ve lived on the International Space Station, along with everyone who built the machines and other equipment they use and who support them during their missions, are my heroes. As they have since my childhood, they continue to fuel my dreams and fire my imagination, and on numerous occasions they’ve also inspired my writing. So, when the opportunity came along to enter the realm in which they carry out their work (the earthbound part of it, anyway), I knew it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience that was not to be missed.

The ten-hour plus tour—months in the planning thanks to the tireless efforts of one of our fellow writers and her husband, himself a NASA employee—included visits to the Mission Control Center and the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility where we walked through full-scale simulated versions of the International Space Station and the next generation of lunar mission craft. We talked to scientists and astronauts about future missions to the Moon, Mars and beyond. They’re actually exploring the possibility of something akin to “warp drive” in the hopes of drastically reducing the time needed to cross interplanetary and interstellar distances. Why? Because as we learned that day, the biggest obstacle to long-duration spaceflight won’t be technology, but the effects of prolonged exposure to zero-gravity on the human body. Such things are still being researched and considered, and solutions remain elusive, but that’s not stopping the good folks at NASA.

What else did we see? We were shown the newest advances in space suit design, robotics and prosthetics, and we got to visit where meteorites are stored and studied, along with the lion’s share of lunar rocks and other soil samples collected during the Apollo missions. In the midst of it all, there also was a Q&A session where the audience—NASA employees who spend a lot of their time figuring out how to put people and things into space—asked us all sorts of questions about writing as well as the interesting and even symbiotic relationship Star Trek seems to have with real-world space exploration efforts. A common refrain heard throughout the day was that Star Trek had influenced this or that person to pursue their chosen career, and how the show continued to inspire them.

"Hey," as I kept thinking to myself all during the day, "that's supposed to be my line."

And inspired I was. Whenever a free moment presented itself, I jotted down note after furious note about something I’d seen or heard. Ideas were forming in my little monkey brain as fast as my fingers could tap them into my phone’s notepad app. While there were the big takeaways, such as how the next missions to the Moon and other planets will be undertaken, I also was fascinated by less obvious efforts. The prosthetics labs, for example, where engineers are working on exoskeleton-like hardware which will assist astronauts in different gravity environments, also carry with them the potential to be of enormous assistance right here on Earth. While speaking with one of the engineers, I was conjuring all sorts of possibilities for the technology. Space suits and armor for future explorers and soldiers, sure, but also how it might aid paralysis patients, amputees, or those suffering from afflictions like Parkinson’s disease and other degenerative disorders. As I joked at the time, “I think my brain just snapped off its roller.”

Of course, the day wasn't complete without visiting the Saturn V rocket which is on permanent display at the center. I've always been awestruck by this machine, and seeing one that was close enough to touch sent tingles down my spine. Yes, it prompted a story idea or two, as well.

It was an amazing day, providing me not only with a renewed respect for NASA but also a wealth of ideas and inspiration that I hope to channel into future stories. Some of it is already working its way into projects I’m currently writing, and I have plans for others just as soon as I can weave them into my always lengthy “To Do List.”

And, yes, my inner 10-year-old is back to day dreaming about being an astronaut, too.

Is there some place that inspires you this way? Somewhere you’ve never been, but hope one day to visit?

Stories to be told

Photo by Theo Ferguson,
Hummingbird rescue at Yerette

When I read Liane's post on Henry Miller's commandments I was a bit distressed to find that his number one commandment is my greatest struggle: Work on one thing at a time until finished.

Perhaps I have this problem because I write children's books and many young children live in a magical world of wonder. So many things are new to them, so many of their daily activities are 'firsts', they make new discoveries at a rapid pace. 

Perhaps I have this problem because I haven't really grown up myself? Who knows, but I am constantly discovering new ideas, urgent ideas and I find it difficult to work on one thing to the exclusion of all of the others. I have been trying, though; making notes as new ideas come to me and hoping that I will have the opportunity to do justice to everything at some point.

For someone with my particular problem, a trip to Trinidad is like a candy addict's visit to a Hershey's factory. There is so much to see, flora, fauna, natural phenomenon, and many creative man-made features. I saw Trinidad through my children's eyes--it was their first visit--and the view was colorful, lively, and magical.