Round and Round the Bradbury Bush

Great saying, eh? I first read it in the Ray Bradbury essays that Nic sent me for Christmas, Zen in the Art of Writing, and I like it so much that I’m putting it on my office board when I get back to work next week.

Back to reality, I mean.

I can’t say I’ve been drunk, but I’ve certainly been tiddly on writing during the past few weeks. I finished the Calista story in November but took this long to nail a title that doesn’t out and out suggest a cheeseball bodice-ripper—my original title of “The Devil’s Duchess” never sat comfortably, and when I ran it past my office-tea-fairy-slash-beta-reader, she did her best not to wrinkle her nose until I wrinkled mine, then she let herself release an unbridled sneer. I’m truly grateful that she didn’t barf, because I wanted to. Eventually, I settled on “The Devil She Knows” and filed Calista under “finished”.

Then, with more help from Ray Bradbury, I got the novel rolling again. Bradbury—whose fictional work I have never read—recommends following a character along whatever path he/she is walking (or running, in the case of sci-fi/suspense) or, better yet, jumping onto a landmine in the morning and picking up the pieces during the course of the day. I took his advice and punched through the barrier that’s hung me up for months on Reijo’s romance. It was more a matter of getting me out of the way and letting the characters run the sequence of events—I had a pre-conceived notion of said sequence and they were ignoring it. My continual efforts to redirect them proved so frustrating that we all gave up on the project. Now that I’m listening again, it’s proceeding much more smoothly, though the debris around the broken barrier will need some big time cleanup in the edit.

And, as of this morning, I am thisssss close to finishing “Black in Back”. I had written my protagonist into such a pickle that she couldn’t figure a way out, so I left her stranded with the villain for a few weeks while I concentrated on Christmas and Calista and a few other non-writing distractions. Again, I threw a Bradbury-style punch and she plunged through the hole, taking me with her rather than the other way around. Now I have an ending in sight and hope to have ’er done by Sunday night.

The biggest Bradbury fan I have known was our lone male in the 21^st Century Poets. His work was very much a nod to his idol’s genre, but Johnny, like the rest of the Poets, had his own magical style. He was also generous with his support for the rest of the gang in our communal flexing of the creative muscle. I will always hold him dear to my heart, but when Nic sent me the Bradbury book, she also sent me a flood of good-time memories, and a little nostalgia for the days of nonstop poetry and prose that I shared with a unique band of creative spirits.

Zen in the Art of Writing is the first collection of literary essays that I am using as a textbook, marking it up with a highlighter and scribbly notes in the margins. Normally I like my books to look like they’ve been read but remain relatively pristine. It seems appropriate that Bradbury, who recommends a punch to kickstart a project, authored the first book to be so punched. I expect to gain more nuggets from the pages, but every time I pick it up, my first thought will be a fond one for the Poets’ JP Jensen.

Wherever you are, write on, Johnny.

Insanity

crazy in four volumes

Einstein defined insanity as repeating the same action over and over while expecting a different result.

I am thissssss close to reviving a story I started when the Twin Towers were still standing. My manuscript shelf holds three and a half binders full of it. Two of the main characters appeared in a recent short story, and the mortal history of one—Darius Wolfe—is right now being unearthed via the voice of his eighteenth century bride.

Why are these characters reemerging now? I’ve written a ton of new characters over the years. Fixed Fire bumped this series off the map and cruised into 6.5 volumes before stalling on Reijo’s romance (aaaaarrrrggghhhh). I wrote three FF novellas. I have played with angels, centaurs, and hit men. I even have a couple of other FF novels in mind. Lots to write, little time to write it. Right?

Here’s the thing. Every time I reread the urban vampire series, I think, yep, it needs work, but it’s good. Damn good. Pretty damn good, in fact. This might even be the one that cracks the market.

Okay, maybe not the last. I write, after all, for myself and not the market. I had finished with Julian in the nineteenth century and wondered if I could write something less Anne Rice-ish and more Laurell Hamilton-ish. I loved Hamilton’s Anita Blake series to the end of Obsidian Butterfly; after that, regrettably, it got too pornographic even for me. It was my first urban fantasy read and it inspired me to write one of my own.

It doesn’t even have a title. I just call it “the Cassandra series”, like it’s an android model from the classic Star Trek episode I, Mudd. Cassandra is the voice, the main character, and more like me than anyone else I’ve written. It’s her story, told in her words, and as I’ve said, even I think it’s a goodie.

But it needs work. Big work.

While writing Calista’s story—and the similarity of female names has not escaped me—I’ve been pondering how/where to begin reworking Cassandra’s story. The sheer volume of work involved is daunting and I doubt it will be much fun. I look at the first chapter and can’t see how to write the scene differently, but the scene must definitely be rewritten.

Then a little voice said to me, “Blow it up and start again.”

What?

“Blow it up and start again. You know the characters intimately. You know the plot by heart. 

The rest is scenery. Blow it up and start again.”

Holy $***. I can do that. It’s true. I do know the characters intimately. I know their relationships and how they work (or don’t work). I know the premise, the plot, the outcome. I’ve been fretting about reworking the whole thing, but the guts are fine. All the things that I like about it have not changed in fifteen years. It’s the same story; I am simply free to tell it a new way. A better way. It will be better because I’m a better writer. My style is more mature, more refined, than it was all those years ago. I can give these characters life with a capital “L”.

And isn’t it funny that the Faulkner quote has so recently come to my attention?

It’s the people, the human heart in all its conflicted glory, that make a story. Not the setting, not the timing, not the exterior finish. Those things, I can change. The rest must be left as is.

So, with that in mind … BOOM!

Last of the Summer Whine

Back to work tomorrow. I’m not ready. The pace, the paperwork, the people – I like my job and I like the people I work with, but during the past fortnight my life has settled into its own rhythm and it has been heavenly.

Though I’m trying to be reasonable about it, my inner two-year-old is stiff as a board and screaming. I took her on a long beach flânerie this morning, keeping as close to the water as possible to avoid the “pound pound pound, huff huff huff” of the ubiquitous joggers. Good that the tide was out; regrettable that the beach is rocky and tipped at an angle that makes walking more difficult. Every step required presence of mind, which I guess was a positive given that it kept me focused on the moment rather than dwelling on my resistance to the inevitable. When I got home, Ter reflected my feelings with her own, then suggested we enjoy our day rather than waste it fretting about tomorrow.

And tomorrow and tomorrow.

The Calista/Darius story got serious traction during the past couple of days. I’m at the two-thirds point where I finally foresee an ending though I’m yet unsure how it will look for Calista when I get there. I also took another look at the urban vampire series I’d started BL (before Lucius); the character sketch of Rob Browning was taken from it and now I’m contemplating how to rework the whole story because it won’t farkin’ let me go. Rob and Cassie are the star-crossed lovers and Darius is the bad guy. The universal plot portent, I know. I recently watched an interview with George RR Martin wherein he quoted Faulkner’s reminder that the human heart in all its conflict is what makes a story. Whether it is set in the wild west, outer space, 17^th century France or the Amazon jungle, the characters make it real … even if one is a vampire.