Anny Cook's Blog, page 57

Halloween Surprise

Last year, we had a snowstorm for Halloween. This year, we may have a hurricane, just to liven things up. The general blasé attitude about it doesn't surprise me. We seem to have a "dance while the country is burning" lookout on life.

I don't recall another era when so many of my fellow citizens were as oblivious to what is happening around them. There's a willful determination to ignore anything that requires thought, planning, or decision making. Maybe we're simply worn out, but if so, then we're truly in a dangerous situation.

In any case, if you're in the projected path of this particular storm (Sandy), it would probably be a good idea to stock up on whatever you think you might need. You know--batteries, water, flashlight, meds, things you can eat without cooking in case the electricity goes out. If you're one of those with stuff out in the yard, patio, balcony, bring it in or secure it. And most importantly, don't wait until the last day to make a shopping run.

Figure out where you're going to go if you have to evacuate. Make sure your family knows your plans so they don't worry. Fill the gas tank on your vehicle.

And if it all blows by without slapping your area, be thankful, say a prayer for those who weren't so fortunate, and enjoy Halloween.

anny  

The Middle

For several years now I've know how Tracer's Melody (Mystic Valley 6) would end. In the last couple years I've settled on a beginning. But the middle? Well, that's a problem, isn't it? Moving from beginning to end is not always as simple as it should be. There are so many possible paths Tracer could choose to reach his happy ending. And he's so determined to be a martyr.

The other day I made a list of possibilities for him, testing each with my "Would Tracer really do this?" And you know? He's just impossible. A friend urged me to write his story next because "it's time" and when I whined about how hard it would be, she replied, "That's why it's time."

And so. I'm persevering, working on the middle, determining his path to happiness and fulfillment. He certainly deserves a joyous ending. I'm not sure yet how it will work out.

How do you figure out the middle?

anny

Knitting Socks: The Gusset

Ahhhh. Well, it's almost starting to look like something intentional. What the heck is a gusset, you say? Well, that's that triangley bit there in the middle below the cuff. And what's it good for? Adjustment and fit.

If you've ever worn a tube sock, then you'll recall how you always end up with a "bunch" of sock right across the top of your foot where the ankle is. Very uncomfortable. The gusset eliminates that problem.

My sock doesn't look too bad at the moment, but it wasn't all lilacs and roses. When I last reported I was working on turning the heel and feeling mighty smug about things. And then...ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum...I started the gusset. Little did I know what I faced.

Difficulties and irritation abounded. I almost gave up--until enlightenment struck. You see, I had bits and pieces of the sock on other needles waiting for me to get to them. When I picked all those threads back up, it was like a bag full of kittens wrestling.

Threads were taut. Stitches were so tight I could barely slide them on the needle. And I grimly forged on, determined to make it work.

About five rows later, I realized my problem. The stitches were twisted because I was knitting from the wrong direction. I contemplated the prospect of pulling out all those twisted stitches and then decided I could make them work for me, as is. When I started knitting--from the right direction--immediately, the problem went away and it was smooth knitting from then on.

Sometimes my writing is like that. I might have too many bits and pieces so I lose track of the threads. The story lines all get muddled up and for a while it looks like a mess until I get them straightened out.

Other times I'm just approaching the story from the wrong direction. My critique partner will call a halt. "What are you doing???" I'll go back and have another look at the pattern. Usually, at that point the difficulty is clear. Sometimes I can make it work with a few adjustments. Sometimes I have to rip out the work and reknit the story.

But that triangley thing, the gusset, is critical to making the story work. That's the shift from beginning to the middle, the place where all the action happens. Whether my story gusset is a thing of beauty or a mess depends on how much attention I'm willing to devote to it.

How about you? How's your gusset doing?

anny

Response

To an author, a lack of response from the reader is the same as a lover who lays on the bed, stiff and uncaring regardless of whatever her/his lover might dare. A book is a relationship between author and reader. When the reader turns away without reaction or response, the story dies.

anny

Knitting Socks: Turning the Heel

"the boring stuff (read it, anyway!)"
"the pattern (you better have read the boring stuff!"~~Easy Peasy Socks by Stacey Trock

When I last reported on my sock knitting, I did mention I haven't knitted for a while--about thirty years or so. After a couple false starts, I was off and knitting my sock. The cuff was pretty easy. And the heel flap was also not too bad.

Then I reached the heel turn--that curved part that cups your heel--and things ground to a halt. Because of course, I didn't really READ the boring part. I skimmed it. And it seemed easy enough so I dove in.

Four rows later, I was three stitches short. I ripped out the work back to the start of that section and began again, knitting and checking, knitting and checking. And...again, I was three stitches short.

At this point, I decided to read the boring part.

The hunk could tell you I'm mule stubborn, but even I have my limit. It seems there was more to ssk (slip, slip, knit) than was evident at first glance. I found a Youtube clip that showed me exactly what I needed to know. Then it was back to the sock. After I ripped out my work back to that section, I began again--and wonder of wonders--it worked.

Sometimes our writing is like that. We reach a point where the story doesn't work so we delete back to that turning point and begin again. Still doesn't work. Hmmm.

Maybe what we need in another viewpoint--another eye on our work. That's where critique partners or beta readers or heck, even a husband or friend, can help. That other viewpoint can often see and identify where we ran off the road.

Then we can get back on track. It's a matter of asking. And being willing to admit we didn't do the boring stuff.

Well, the heel is turned. Now, I'm off to work on something called a gusset. Who knew socks were so complicated?

anny

Genre Divide

Had a heated "discussion" with the hunk yesterday. He's reading one of my books and decided to tell me exactly what he thinks. ☺

Well. Let's just say I was really put out for a while. And then enlightenment nearly struck me blind. Every thing he didn't like about the book--every thing--had to do with genre.

He didn't care for the paranormal elements. The sex was "okay" but why'd they have to be so mushy? Why wasn't there more fighting and exciting stuff? In short, why wasn't it more like a John Sandford or Robert B. Parker?

Ummm. Because it's a fantasy/paranormal/romance?

It's actually kind of interesting, once I waded past my mad, because it illustrates one of the problems authors face daily. The great genre divide.

If I had a penny for every individual who said to me, "I don't read romance... mysteries... paranormal... contemporaries... historical... fiction... non-fiction", I could buy a Mercedes. Maybe even two. I wonder if we wouldn't be better off if there were no genres. Yes, there would no doubt be some people would wouldn't read across genres anyway, but I suspect more would find new stories and new authors.

If Dickens, Twain, Huxley, and Steinbeck were up and coming authors now, how would we classify their work? Where would we shelve Tess of the D'Urbervilles? Or A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court? What about 1984?

As more and more authors enter the self-publishing field, genres are blurring and most cross-genre stories are available. Are we narrowing the fields with our genre specific labels? I don't know. But it's interesting to consider the "what ifs".

anny

Knitting Socks

Some of my readers know I occasionally jog off the beaten path while researching odds and ends for my books. One of the things I like to do is give my heroes/heroines offbeat hobbies or interests. When I do, I make sure I know something about that facet.

And I start the "research" waaaaay before starting the book. For instance in the current wip~Copper Cauldron~the heroine will teach another one of the characters how to harvest and process acorns for food. If you're interested in my research adventures regarding acorns, check out the Acorn Adventures page on the blog column to the right or click HERE.

My current adventure involves knitting socks. I've knitted in the far past (more than thirty years ago) but never socks, and never have I knitted "in the round" or used double-pointed needles. Casting on was quite an experience. Actually, it made me feel like I had twelve thumbs. But as you can see from the picture, I'm well on my way to knitting a pair of warm ankle socks. I figure I can use them for slippers this winter.

I once had a reader ask why I get involved in my little reader projects. Why not just read about the stuff on the Internet?

I could. But there are always things you don't know unless you try it yourself. For instance, if I based my knowledge of shotguns on the movies, I would never know about the kick you get when you shoot--especially if you're a woman. The first time I shot one, I was fourteen and weighed about eighty pounds. That sucker put me on my butt in the mud about six feet from where I started. Bam! I had a bruise on my shoulder for a week.

If I never shot a handgun, I wouldn't know how heavy it is. Or how difficult it is for the newbie to hit what you're aiming for. And ammunition...a picture in a book doesn't tell you how it feels to hold it in your hand.

Riding a horse for the uninitiated can be terrifying. If you have height issues like I do, it feels like you're sitting on top of a house. And speaking of houses, how many writers have ever stood on their roof and looked out over the neighborhood? It's one thing to write about a burglar watching a neighborhood in the night. It's entirely different to crouch on your roof and check out the night yourself.

Watching an ultralight plane sail through the air isn't the same as being up there with the wind whipping at your face. Rolling down the runway, willing your motorized kite to lift, lift, lift off the ground or praying you won't crash when you land gives you a different perspective.

Touching a llama is not the same as looking at a picture. Starting a fire with flint is completely different than reading about it. Roofing or siding a house requires skills I'd never thought about until I did it myself. Fixing the toilet is simpler than I imagined. And climbing a mountain and looking over the land...well, trust me, there's a different feel to that.

Research aside, I'm insatiably curious. I want to know for myself. Feelings, touch, smell, taste all matter. Authenticity matters. How can you know how your back aches when you're doing backstrap weaving unless you've done it? How can you know the delicacy required or the hours necessary to create a calligraphy piece unless you've tried?

I'm always wondering. What about this? What about that? So at sixty-two, I'm knitting socks. I figure I'll have them finished by next month so I can wear them for my birthday. Sixty-three, here I come.

anny

Killer Smile

So. I had a dental appointment today to replace a crown with a cavity buried beneath it. And I've concluded the reason they call it a Killer Smile is because you damn near die from the pain incurred while getting it.

After MANY years, I've found a dentist who actually takes the time and care required to make sure I'm numb before he dives into the work. The fact that both he and his assistant are yummy looking guys is just a little lagniappe. BUT...then I have to go home. And the numby stuff wears off.

Pain.

Fortunately, I possess a variety of pain killers. And a comfy pillow on which to rest my head. By tomorrow the swelling will go down and the pain will fade. And I'll almost forget by the time I go back to the dentist.

Am I wuss? No doubt. But we all have flaws...and mine is the quest for the Killer Smile.

anny

Keepers

I've been savoring some of my favorite books over the last few weeks in between various authorly chores and household obligations. And I've been thinking about what exactly makes one book a keeper and another not.

I have a few favored authors. Some have written hundreds of books. So why are fifteen or twenty books cherished favorites while other aren't? Oh, they're excellent stories, but not the favored story I choose to curl up with on a rainy day...or a sunny day...or just about any day I have free.

Not too long ago a friend wrote to me, indicated she'd read a certain book of mine and very apologetically explained she just couldn't finish it--and she knew almost immediately it would never be one of her favorites. I appreciated her honesty even while I pondered why this book did not speak to her.

The house hunk read one of my books in the last few days and we had a lot of discussion about the book. He wanted to know why...why...why? Basically, he was not pulled in to any part of the story. I think in the final analysis, it was the genre. Those of us that write in the paranormal/fantasy/sci-fi genres know there will be readers that will never be attracted, never enjoy our books simply because they aren't contempories.

For myself, a contemporary is my least favorite genre--probably because I want a story that challenges my imagination. I believe I write stories that challenge me and that's why I enjoy the writing process. When I'm no longer challenged, then the story just stops--which is probably why there are certain stories that are languishing on my computer half finished.

What is your standard for a keeper? Is it because you enjoy the characters? The story? Why?

anny

One Minute!

That's me. Some people require total quiet for their reading. Not me. Once engaged, I can read through riots, loud TV, kids fighting, annoying women discussing their medical issues in the doctor's waiting room, the house hunk yelling for me to check the oatmeal, and any number of other distractions.

I went to college full-time while working full-time and rearing four teenagers. My course work had a lot of required reading. I read at lunch, on my breaks, in the car, in restaurants, waiting in line, in the park, in fact everywhere I had sixty seconds of uninterrupted time.

Over the years a lot of people have questioned how I could tune out my surroundings like that. I think it's just a matter of internal focus. We used to do the same while listening to the radio. Since television came along, all our focus has shifted to the visual. And that may be why a large share of the population has difficulty with focused reading. Different media.

Oddly enough, I find myself bored with most movies and television simply because they do all the work. They tell the story, provide the visuals, and control the pace of the work. I find it irritating. I want to decide what the hero/heroine looks like. I want to determine what the surroundings are like. And of course, I can read as fast--or slow--as I wish, unhindered by someone else's timing.

If you ever believe the visual is not important when watching television or a movie, try listening to one from the other room. The visual shortcuts are two-thirds of the story. Without them, the production often makes no sense at all. That's okay. I enjoy a good visual. I'll always remember those first magical moments when the Harry Potter world came to life. But. After that, I found I quickly grew bored with the rest. After all, I'd already read the stories. That was where the magic was for me.

I read every evening. Usually, I read a book I've already read in the past. Every evening the hunk will urge me to go to bed a little earlier and get some sleep. Yet I still find myself immersed in the current story, lured on by the author's words, until I suddenly surface only to discover it's after midnight.

That's the magical world of books. I just want to finish this chapter!

anny