Two days of research equals a page this time.

Sorry, yet again, for the long absence, but the book has to take precedence over the blog at this point. It is one of those things you can taste; the joy of when you are actually ready to send your book out into the world, to survive on its own

Master’s Daughter is really busy right now, so I think she may have a plot to slow me down. She keeps finding neat things I need to do with the book.

As a sixth grade teacher, who is writing a teacher’s companion for my book, she has been a great source of inspiration. This time, it was all about the phases of the moon. I did not really think about children having a problem with this concept. Apparently, younger children seem to view the phases of the moon as if the moon could change its shape.

The world in my book is greatly influenced by nature. They do not live in little square wooden boxes, as we tend to do and so they must learn to live and survive in nature. This means they need to understand the natural world and so I have again spent two days researching a way to say something in one page. That amount of research generally results in one sentence. Good thing I love research.

So, now I shall pay Master’s Daughter back and shoot my new page off to her for more corrections. This is a discussion of the phases of the moon. I am afraid it might be too long or unclear, but she will let me know.

Wednesdays with "The Aspiring Writer's Journal"

Wednesday may become “The Aspiring Writer’s Journal” day.

Today’s assignment is, because all writing is good practice:

“What would you like to never end?”

And, no, you are not allowed to say life. That’s what the book says, anyway. Frankly, I think it's a fair answer.

I would like to look up and see a never ending aurora borealis, or even better all the nebula, etc in outer space. (We don't see aurora borealis in southern Indiana.)

I would like my nighttime hallucinations to go on forever. These were black and white movies I saw when I woke up during the night, while taking certain prescription drugs after surgery, and actually once since I was off of them. They were much nicer than my bloody Melatonin dreams; which I have only had two of, thank goodness.

I wish there was always a baby to cuddle and revel in the smell of it’s hair.

I wish a cool gentle breeze always blew across my body at night

I wish good books would never end: Harry Potter, The Autobiography of Henry VIII by Margaret George, all Janet Evanovich’s mysteries,

I wish fall leaves fell from the trees forever. Actually, this year they kind of did all summer.

I wish snowmen never melted and you could always have snowball fights.

And that spring flowers grew up through all of it, always.

I wish there was a never ending supply of watermelon in the fridge.

I wish the feeling of that Halloween, when I fell in love with Zorro (who was also trick or treating) would have lasted forever. That’s the first time I felt that “in love” feeling.

But, if these things never ended, would they be as special? I think so.

What makes a 'book' person

I am not usually a person to do what is “in” but anyone remember Rod McKuen? He was a popular poet some time ago, in my youth, I was in love with his poetry and had several of his books. I read and reread that book that was my favorite until the binding was broken and in sections. It was even one of the books that I 'defaced' by writing in it.

Many, many years ago, a new 'sort of'' boyfriend borrowed it. He wanted to share. Then, sometime later, he wanted to do something nice for me and he returned it.

Only, it was not my book he returned. It was a sterile, brand new book; in one piece without any dog ears, or spiffy little notes in my handwriting. He was most proud of giving me this pristine new book; thus improving my ife. He really thought he had done me a favor. Needless to say…

I never went out with him again.

He had no understanding of what a favorite book can mean to a person.

Is it good enough to make me cry?

Actually, the answer to my title is, "It doesn't take much." But, good paintings move people’s emotions. I have always been fascinated with Picasso’s Guernica and it’s agony of war. Good books have the same effect. They move me to experience their world.

I wish I did not cry so easily. It can get darn embarrassing actually. I cry over books and movies, parades and flags, babies and old people. I can see a little old stooped guy with saggy pants and my eyes fill with tears. Of course, it usually reminds me of my dad. I had to turn the Cancer telethon off last night because I was bawling too hard to watch it. Which was perhaps not the effect they hoped for? But then again, I have lost seven relatives and several friends to cancer, so there is that too.

And, that is the thing with a good book or a good movie or a good painting; they are all something to touch memories we have. They should open up our hearts, even if it is to some past pain. We need to identify with the protagonist and live the experience, feeling their emotions and let our own emotions out.

I have heard people who comment that they cannot feel what other people experience and I am sorry for them. The one person I know who has stated this a few times is an avid reader. I think he must miss an awful lot of the essence of a book when he cannot feel the emotion. I know he is a bear to watch a movie with as he likes to point out all the “things” that are not possible. I so want to say, “For crying out loud, this is fantasy. It’s a movie. It’s not life, just shut up and get lost in it, or just pretend.”

I may not be enjoying the made up words so much in Terry Pratchett’s “The Color of Magic”, but I sure do enjoy his world. It has its laws too but they do not intrude on the wonderful story. He takes you off on an adventure, where chests have legs and run away, cameras have little painters in them and giant turtles “with geological slowness” and "hydrogen frost on his ponderous limbs” and “sea-sized eyes…crusted with reum and asteroid dust” live. Yes, I am wearing those lines out but I love them.

These are the items that move my emotions and memories. They help me visualize his world with things I can see, and even though I cannot see sea-sized eyes, I can see what they would look like.

Looking at Guernica, I can see the agony of a people being bombed out. Just as I can see the Star studded night sky dancing in VanGogh’s Starry Night. And, cry my eyes out when Dumbledore dies or when Harry is so bravely walking to his death. And, cry over the Ghost and Mrs. Muir, even though I have seen this movie more times than I can count.

I think of this each day as I do my final edit and go over each sentence. Is it good enough to make someone visualize this world? Is it good enough to make someone laugh, or cry? If not, is it necessary? If yes, reword it. If no, cut it.

"What if ......"

I think I have lived in a fairy tale world, since I was born. I am often happier being “in” a book than in life and I love to lose myself in a movie. I hate when the lights come up in the theatre. Living in a fantasy world has made it so much easier to come up with ideas for novels. Of course, this is the same woman who once, took a marker and drew out all the pictures I saw in the wood on the bathroom floor. It was the subflooring mind you.

I do look down a lot at things and my mind see pictures that others do not. I often hear, when I point them out to others, “HUH? You see what?”

A story for me needs only a “What if …” My mystery started with “What if a gorilla was kidnapped.”

My YA novel began with “what if…” and an event in my life.

I’m not filling the “what if…” in right now, as it is central to my plot and, I think, so much fun for a fantasy that I want to save it. Hopefully, soon, I will put up the book flap copy that I propose, and it will be in there.

This YA novel, also started from my life and the three boys I am raising. It involves three brothers traveling from their “not so great” life in the human world to a realm that has lived alongside humans since the beginning of time but humans being who they are refuse to acknowledge them. I have used stories told in the history of most cultures. There are always tales, around the fire, of other life forms, from giants to fairies. I have also used a lot of Native American mythology.

So, if you are every sitting there wondering, “What do I write about?” just ask yourself “What if…?” OR, you could try drawing on the bathroom floor.