Beam Me Up, Scotty!
I grew up watching Star Trek…the real one with Captain Kirk, Dr. Bones McCoy and Mr. Spock. Although the series was woefully short-lived, it wasn’t until the reruns made it the epic American institution in now is that I became a real fan. And at that exact time, during its revival, I was also a budding writer, finding my way through the pains of adolescence by writing poems, short stories and whatever else seemed to spill from my pen. Little did I know that these two worlds would collide some forty years later as I navigated my way through writing and publishing my first novel.
It started, this parallel with Star Trek, as the story’s plot seemingly took over my life. I mean, really, it not only invaded my brain, but became an active part of my world. I knew there might be a problem the first time I literally left my purse in the shopping basket in the parking lot of the grocery store, not realizing it until I was home (and didn’t realize I was home until I pulled into the garage and tuned back into the world around me). By the third time this happened, I quit carrying a purse and worked a little harder to actually pay attention while behind the wheel.
Where was I, when I didn’t seem to be “here?” Clearly, I had been beamed out of my daily life and into the alternate universe of my novel. That may sound ludicrous to you unless you’ve experienced this phenomena…this beaming thing. Watch an old episode of Star Trek and observe how Kirk and his crew literally leave one world and enter then next in a matter of seconds. Yep, that’s what it’s like, minus the sound effects and the visible breaking down of your body into particles as you leave one place and reassemble in another. And I never once said, “Beam me up, Scotty.” Although I have said, repeatedly, “How the hell did I get here?” or “Has anyone seen my purse (replace last word with keys, toothbrush….brain… depending on the day)?” The bad news was, it appeared to those around me that I was losing my mind. The good news was, as a Star Trek fan, it was all perfectly explainable and, more importantly, the plot advanced.
I had never written a novel before, so I had no idea how you have to become the characters to make them come alive and believable. And they do come alive…but then, in order to properly represent them, you must get into their mind. As I sat at my computer one day trying to really, really, articulate what Johnnie Carter must be thinking and feeling, I found myself virtually doing a Vulcan mind meld on her, ala Mr. Spock. I’m not kidding you, I realized my hand was in the air, claw-like, as if I were actually placing my fingers in those magic spots on her face to complete the connection – you know, the mind-meld circuit. You may be a little creeped out right now (I am too, to be honest), but based on the feedback I’m getting on the novel – I think it worked! Folks are telling me they feel like they really know the characters. Is the method my madness? Perhaps, but I must give credit where credit is due. Star Trek: the consummate writer’s friend.
Even if you are not a Trekkie (which I, by the way, am not; there’s a clear line between being a fan and a Trekkie…I love the show and characters–I do not, however, have 20 Federation uniforms in my closet, know every script by heart, or have the exact episode names and numbers cataloged in my head…), you may very well be familiar with arguably the most famous episode, the Trouble with Tribbles. This is where very adorable little furry critters (tribbles) mass re-produce throughout the ship until they are virtually EVERYWHERE, and I mean everywhere, in gobs, stacks and piles. This, my friends, is what happens in your life when you are in creative mode. You open the closet, and there is your story. You whip back your shower curtain, and the tub is filled with your story, not unwelcome (kind of like the tribbles…they were cute, after all), but certainly uninvited. Even in the midst of conversation with real people, your characters horn in, pile up and, generally, make themselves a nuisance. The trouble with tribbles is they were invasive and plentiful…as is the trouble with a growing world in the mind of a writer.
Once the novel was completed, I thought I could put Star Trek away, back into the re-run schedule (or the DVD cases, as my husband is still hooked, and has every single episode at an arms-length reach) where it belonged. Wrong again! The first time, in the post-writing process, it reared its head was when an agent asked me for my “marketing plan.” Marketing plan? And there it was, in my head, the voice of Dr. Bones McCoy, saying, “Dammit Jim! I’m a writer, not a marketer!” And he pretty much moved in after that. Once I decided to go the independent route rather than traditional with an agent/publisher, etc, I reluctantly discovered the many roles I’d be forced to play. As evidenced in my last blog, the social media demands of self-marketing were well out of my comfort zone…and knowledge zone. Bones’ McCoy spat it out for me, in rapid succession…
“Dammit, Jim! I’m a writer, not a _______ (choose your term: I.T. Expert, Book Promoter, Twitter-er, Web-Page Designer…and yes, Blogger…)!” Tell it like it is, Bones! But like him, I assumed the necessary roles just like the good doctor ultimately wore every hat the brilliant leader, Captain Kirk, thrust at him to meet the challenge of the day.
I started my next novel, Billet Doux from a Dead Prisoner, this week. I assumed my old friends from Star Trek would join me in the journey and as I typed, I almost waited for one of their voices or mannerisms to invade my world. But they didn’t. I had barely begun when the story began to change before my very eyes when it happened. Instead of Captain Kirk or Bones McCoy, I was shocked to hear Tom Hanks – or more specifically, Forrest Gump, whisper into my ear, “Writing is like a box of chocolates…” Well, you know the rest…
