Neither snow, nor hail, nor dark of night, or (in my case) disease shall stay the writer on her appointed keyboard. Yes. It's me again, and I'm sort of writing once more. Mostly, I'm reading, and from my perspective, that may very well be the best way to spur inspiration. My friend Gini Koch's new book Touched by an Alien comes out on April 6th, and by the time I get through all the Patricia Cornwell I'm reading, I'll be up-and-at'em for Gini's effort.
My effort, the big book that turned into two books might even turn into three if Gini gets her way. I'm not sure, but hey, I could do worse I suppose. My main character lives to be 104 years old in my story, soooo it could work. I'm still leaning toward two spans: younger woman then older woman. I'm not sure I won't to talk about the middle-aged woman. I'm having enough trouble with that myself.
Every time I say "middle-aged" I think of Spencer Tracey. The Hollywood folk threw him an enormous bash when he turned fifty. Tracey was throwing back a few drinks with his friends when one raised a glass and said, "Welcome to middle-age." Another so-called friend smiled, downed his Scotch, and responded, "Middle-age, hell! Who lives to be a hundred." Tracey took it to heart and stalked sullenly away. I'm not quite as sensitive as Tracey, but I don't really expect to live to be a hundred.
As for the book...I've come to terms with one of my many flaws: the tendency to rush the story. I think I rush partly because I can see the finish line, and I want to make it there, at least with this one. It's well over 125000 words all together. :) Hey, there was a time when I only wrote poetry (some of which can be viewed in the on-line magazine Raphael's Village which contains a lot of good reading. I recommend it.) and poets don't usually write 125,000 words. Know what I mean?
Anyway, back to the reading, the writing, and the hoping that this time I can slow down and let my characters catch a breath between scenes. There is something to be said for a quiet walk by the creek.