Getting back into my groove
Creativity is a funny thing. Somethink it’s some sort of spontaneous will o’ the wisp kind of thing, and I’minclined to agree, at least in part. I certainly don’t believe creativity isalways “turned on” at the same level in an individual. Take short stories forinstance—I cannot write one to save my life unless inspiration hits, Once whenasked to contribute a short story to an anthology about World War II, Idithered forever about what to write. And then, an idea came out of the blue—I clearlyheard an old woman’s voice lamenting her children lost to war. I wrote thefirst draft in about two hours and called it, “A widow’s lament.” The same issort of true for novels—an idea has to “hit” me. I’m sure what really happensis that an idea simmers in the back of my brain and then bursts forth in myconsciousness.
I thought for instance that Iwas through writing about my diva faux French chef, Irene Foxglove. But then anidea struck me—as I’ve been telling it, Irene tapped me on the shoulder andsaid, “Ahem, we’re not through with my story yet. I have to tell about thefamily I’ve left behind.” My fried Fred, who advises me, says if I ever amreally through with Irene, I’ll have to drive a spike through her heart.Meantime, she’s given me the idea for a new story. That doesn’t mean writing ithas gone smoothly. There’s that thing called writer’s block.
Writer’s block is an evenfunnier thing than creativity, though not in an amusing way. The dictionarytells us writer’s block is a state of being unable to think of what to write orhow to proceed with writing. It happens to me, predictably, somewhere between 20Kand 40K words. I write short—I know writers whose first draft of a mystery runsup to 90K to 100K but mine are often 55K at best. A good traditional or cozymystery should be about 70K.
When I get to that middlepoint, my sticking point, my instinctive thought is “There’s so much more togo! How will I ever fill those pages? I’m ready to wrap this up now.” HankPhillippi Ryan, an author much more talented and prolific than I am, calls thatpoint, “The muddle in the middle.” I have been known to shelve a manuscript at 20Kwords, go back months later, and think, “Hey, this isn’t so bad!” That hashappened with at least two books in the Irene series. And it happened with thecurrent one which I’m calling, Irene in a Ghost Kitchen.
We are told in writers’ groupsthat persistence is the basis for success as a writer. Classic advice: put yourbutt in the chair and keep it there. I guess that’s where I failed. I put thismanuscript aside at 32K words and focused on my cookbook. Then a friend, whoseliterary knowledge I respect, commented on what a good character Irene is, andI thought, “Hmmm. Maybe I should go back and re-read that.” I did, and suddenlymy head is teeming with ideas. Whereas before I had no idea how it would workout, now I can see the ending. I’m just impatient to get it all down on paper.
Last night, Sophie and I didn’tsleep well, partly because one or the other of us had to pee. But I also layawake for great bunches of time writing in my mind. I’m not one of those whogets up in the middle of the night to make notes, so I am trusting that some—most?—ofthat night-time activity is tucked away in my subconscious and will surfacewhen needed.
Excuse me. I’ve got to go now,because I left Irene in a precarious situation. But PS I am delighted thatpeople find Irene funny, interesting, complex, all those things. I call heroutrageous. But I hope the narrative voice, which belongs to a much youngerchef Henny James, is as riveting with her wry sense of humor and her clear understandingof Irene—well, almost.
Want to start the series? Try SavingIrene. Amazon.com:Saving Irene: A Culinary Mystery (An Irene in Chicago Culinary Mystery) eBook :Alter, Judy: Kindle Store
