Back From the Future

I just got back from the year 2065.  After many adrenaline-fueled months in the company of my old friend, David Stalin, I’ve reluctantly dragged myself back to the here-and-now.  The adventure is over, at least for me.  Angel City Blues is finished, and I find myself languishing in that strange limbo that overtakes me between book projects.

I’m not talking about having too much free time on my hands.  There’s still plenty of work to do before ACB will be ready for readers.  Polishing, editing, collaborating with my artist/designer to finalize the cover art, and a hundred details, both major and minor.  But as far as this particular book is concerned, the magic of discovery is now behind me.  Any surprises I encounter at this point will come in the form of incremental adjustments to the plot, or opportunities to sharpen the narrative and dialogue.

Like many authors, I tend to plan my books in advance.  Not a scrupulously detailed outline that captures every beat and nuance that will occur in the story.  (I’ve tried that before, and it robs me of all sense of creativity.)  More of a general arc of flow for characters and action, including major plot points and a strategy for resolving the main dramatic conflicts.  This leaves me plenty of elbow room for exploration along the way, and I need that room, because my characters (and my plotlines) like to go rogue when I’m not looking.

A main character insists on turning left when my plan calls for him/her to turn right.  An incidental fragment of description from Chapter 3 evolves to take on enormous significance by Chapter 27.  Two minor subplots conspire together to derail the main narrative.  Some throwaway character with three lines of dialogue suddenly takes it upon himself to hijack the entire book.  And every once in a while, the project itself takes a crazy detour.  Case in point: I’ve been playing around with a short story idea that should probably shake out to something like 2,500 words.  I left it alone for a couple of weeks, and now it’s trying to turn itself into a full-length novel.  I love the idea, and it would be hell of a lot of fun to write.  Unfortunately, I already have three books in the queue.  I don’t have time for another one, but I may not get a vote in the matter.  If the project decides that it needs to be written, I’ll have no choice, because I can’t concentrate on one story while another one is screaming for my attention.

When I’m reading someone else’s work, I get my dose of adventure by turning the pages to find out what happens next.  When I’m writing, the real adventure begins when the story swerves away from my plan, and starts to do things I never intended.

Sitting here at my writing desk in 2014, that seems like a silly thing to say.  After all, I invent the characters; I write the dialogue; and my fingers work the mouse and punch the damned keys to create the words that become the story.  How could I possibly lose control of people and worlds that exist only in my imagination?  All I can tell you is that it does happen, and that’s where the magic starts.  The mechanics of the writing process vanish, and I find myself stalking the streets of a dark future Los Angeles, or standing on the bridge of a cutting-edge warship at the center of a raging battle.

Does it work that way for all writers?  Probably not.  But it works that way for me, and it’s just about the biggest kick you can imagine.  It’s what keeps me coming back to this writing thing, day after day, and night after night.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the year 2065 is calling my name…