Embracing Strange

Recently, I found myself wide awake in the middle of the night. I needed to do some research for a current work in progress, so I went to Google. After some clicking here and there, I found myself on Youtube watching a documentary on the English language. I found it fascinating, but I couldn’t help but think that it did seem a little strange to be watching something like that at 4:00 in the morning. I almost jumped on Facebook and updated my status to “I am a nerd. That is all.” LOL

A few days ago I went to a concert. The group was the Foghorn String Band. Two guys and two gals from the Pacific Northwest who can “get down” when it comes to those strings. In my excitement, I kept spouting off these facts I had read about the members of the group. I remember thinking, “If I don’t shut up, my husband is going to think I stalk these folks online.” :)

If a child were to admit these things to one of their peers, they would be considered nerdy or weird. As an adult, I have learned to embrace strange. I love to learn and have always been this way. I knew a few facts about the band I went to see, because I wanted to learn their story. Who are they? What are they like? As for the documentary about English, where do certain words come from? What expressions do we still say that have roots in Medieval times? What phrases were popular in the American colonies in the 18th century? My family calls me nosy. I prefer the term “curious”. Either way, I want to know.

I want to know what makes a singer/song writer who can play multiple instruments change from rock to string band music. I want to know what expressions and phrases my 18th century characters would be saying, because an 18th century person wouldn’t say “cool” or “seriously” all the time as people do today. I want to know why the customer in Target was screaming at the employees. I want to know what would make a woman want to be a bull rider. And, BTW, there is a woman bull rider; I found her on the internet. LOL I want to know what would cause someone to leave everything they have ever known to go to a place far away. Why would someone go completely against everything they were taught as a child? I guess, I just want to know what makes people tick.

The interesting thing about the above paragraph is all of these things I want to know could be made into stories. I don’t know about you, but I would like to read about a person who plays and sings in multiple genres. Tell me why a person would pick up and move thousands of miles away from home and hearth. take the lady bull rider, for instance. Just what kind of man character could I write about that would be perfect for her? As for the screaming customer in Target, did they call the police to come arrest her? If so, why and what happened afterward?

I used to make excuses for my curiousness. Not anymore. Now, I just do my best not to be rude about it. Embracing who we are is important. Knowing our strengths and weaknesses, we can be confident in our abilities and accept our disabilities.

So, anyone want to take a shot at answering some of those things I want to know? Might make for some interesting reading. :)

Thanks for being with me today. Feel free to comment below. Have a fantastic week and be blessed.

Pondering A Story: Creativity

What feeds your creativity? Or, rather, what do you do to get into a creative frame of mind? Welcome to the blog and today’s post, where, once again I slip into avoiding talking about my manuscript. LOL

I have been talking these last few weeks about how to begin a story. If you have been with me this whole time, you’ll remember I said this planning it out is new to me. Thus, using Randy Ingermanson’s Ten steps of design found on his website www.advancedfictionwriting.com is taking me longer than I thought it would. Six weeks into it, and I’m still revising steps 4 and 5. Good news is I’m actually writing real scenes, now. But, I can no longer share on here, because I have deviated so much from Ingermanson’s Snowflake Method that I can no longer call it his. Let me explain.

Step 5 is when I’m supposed to write a character synopsis for each major character. This basically means, write the story from each main character’s point of view. He suggests one page for each main character and about a half a page for each minor one. Yeah, well, Mercy’s was 6 pages and Gabriel’s was 5. You can see they are quite gabby. I set down and over a couple of weeks, wrote these out. Then, I looked at them and realized they didn’t match up. Also, when I started to expand them into scenes, the characters had different things to say.

Step 6 says to take that one page synopsis and expand to a 4 page one. I’m thinking, “Yeah, I think I need help.”

Step 7 says to expand your info about your characters into full-fledged charts on them. Um, yeah, cause I’m not there yet.

Step 8 is make a list of scenes. Ingermanson suggests using a spread sheet. Step 9 is expanding the spread sheet. Step 10 is actually beginning to write the first draft. Again, I’m way behind. Or, am I?

I’m a mom who homeschools. As such, when my girls or I get sick, just about everything stops. If we are well, we’re schooling during the day. Last week, we all got sick. Needless to say, my energy lagged. I’m not so sure I’ve found it, even now. So what can I do to get my creativity up and moving again?

Prayer. Bible reading. Finding another way to express myself creatively. I listen and play music. Then, I read more Bible and pray some more. For the first time in a week, I was able to truly write this morning. And, that’s what it’s all about. When the Lord gives it to me, I’ll write. When He doesn’t, I won’t. So, while I’ll be going back to Ingermanson’s Snowflake Method, I won’t be religious about it, because some rules are meant to be put aside for the time being.

A friend once told me that she wanted her daughter to learn to play a musical instrument by ear before taking lessons. Once her daughter could play the instrument by ear, she learned to read the music. I think writing can be that way, as well. Have fun with it. Write to see what works and what doesn’t. Then, pull out the rules and work with them. Once it loses it’s fun, put it away for a while. And remember, above all, true inspiration can only come from the one who created you.

So, this post is my last in the “Pondering A Story” series. Feel free to try Randy Ingermanson’s method, and let me know how it works for you. I’ll continue working on steps 4 and 5 until I’m ready for the rest. In the meantime, I need to push my girls and myself to “get on the ball” as my mama used to say. Summer’s coming, and there’s a lot to be doing before school is out in June. :)

Thanks for being with me today. I look forward to hearing from you. Enjoy the pretty weather while you can, and remember the one who made you.

Be blessed.

Pondering a Story: Recess

In my neck of the woods, it’s spring break. Friends on FB are posting pictures of their vacation, the town is noisier because of the kids who are out of school, and little learning is taking place. As for me and mine, the youngest is beginning to recover from the flu, the man of the house might be coming down with it, the oldest daughter is resting after her first trip kayaking and the 4th step of Randy Ingermanson’s Snowflake Method have taken me longer to compile than I expected. So, welcome to the recess portion of this writing series.

In preparation for today’s blog post, I kept looking at last week’s post and asking myself, “What is it that bother’s me about this storyline?” Then, over the weekend, and even this morning, I began to iron it out. What I have now is different than what you saw last week, but the story works a lot better. No, I’m not going to share, but I wanted you to realize that it is ok if your summary paragraph and subsequent paragraphs change. In the past week alone, mine have changed 4 times. :) Now, when I look at it, I see a clear story with clear motivation, real goals, feasible conflicts and plausible character epiphanies. All I need do now is pray and wait for the scenes describing these things to come to me. Or, I can go to Ingermanson’s website and see what’s next. But, hang on a minute, I just got finished saying it’s spring break. I’ll write about writing next week. LOL

Since I’m not writing about writing this time, what should I talk about? Facebook wants us to tell our friends what’s on our minds. Trouble is, that story is on my mind. Might be difficult to find something else to talk about. I’ll give it a shot, though.

Springtime is one of my favorite seasons. After a winter of windows and doors closed to the chill outside, I finally get to feel the fresh air wafting through the house. I love to listen to the birds sing, neighbors mowing their lawns, train whistles echoing off the surrounding hills and all the other sounds of a town coming back to life. Makes me feel awake. I will admit, sometimes said neighbors feel too close, but the Lord is helping me with that. Crazy thing is, there were birds twittering away at 3:30 this morning. Heard them when my cough meds wore off and I couldn’t sleep. Was sitting near an open window reading my Bible. Great way to spend a sleepless night, BTW.

I heard back from my editor friend. She just finished reading over my manuscript I finished a couple of weeks ago. She said she only had a few questions/concerns. She numbered them. Guess how many her “few” was? 18. Yep, 18. LOL Let the editing begin. LOL Not in a hurry with it, which is a good thing. After these changes are discussed and made, I will print it out in braille to read to myself out loud. After that, I don’t know. Probably more editing. I think a writer’s motto should be, “Keep writing until it is perfect. Then, wait a few months and work on it some more. While doing that, write on something else until it is perfect, then write some more.”

Well, this recess turned into talking about writing, after all. Guess it’s in me blood. :) The man of the house is on his way home from work early. Says he isn’t feeling well. So, until next time, keep writing, keep reading and don’t forget to have fun.

Be blessed.

Pondering A Story Part 4

Happy Tuesday, and welcome to my blog. For the last few weeks, I have been attempting to begin a story using Randy Ingermanson’s Ten Steps of Design found on his website www.advancedfictionwriting.com.

This is week 4. Thus, I have put together step 4, which is taking the summary paragraph that I wrote last week and writing a paragraph for each of its sentences. Honestly, it took me all week to do this just for my heroine. It might take another week for my hero. :) But, I am only sharing Mercy’s story with you. Can’t give away all my secrets. If you have been with me for the entire process, you will note that I have made some changes. That, dear reader is because the Lord woke me up in the middle of the night over the weekend with clear Scripture on what I was to do to my hero. I have also had time to edit some things on my heroine. So, let’s jump in. Shall we?

Summary paragraph:

Embittered widow, Mercy Wakefield purchases an indentured servant to help her run her farm. Unlike her late husband, he works hard and keeps his word. To her chagrin, she begins to fall for him. Then, he breaks a promise. Hurt and angry and horrified he might be hanged, she realizes she can’t do it on her own anymore. She calls on the God Gabriel has been telling her about and surrenders her life to Christ. After Gabriel receives a miracle, she steps out in faith and embraces love and life God has for her.

Now, let’s take that apart and write a paragraph for each sentence. Actually, my paragraphs turned into scenes, but I have been working on this for 4 weeks, now. Don’t feel that yours must be as mine.

Sentence: Embittered widow, Mercy Wakefield purchases an indentured servant to help her run her farm.

Paragraph/scene:

She had vowed she was done with men, and she was. But, someone had to help work the fields, or she would lose everything she had worked for. And, it had been she who had done the work. Her neighbor had said an indentured man would be her best choice. She prayed he was right; she had to be careful with what coin she had. There would be no more until after the harvest. And, to bring in a harvest, she needed a man.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a tall, blond man at the ship’s railing. Michael? With a Hand to her throat, she concentrated on taking one breath at a time. Morrison had said the Gloriana had gone down, all souls lost. Could he be wrong?

Fury, hot and swift swam over her, and Mercy made a low sound in her chest. How dare he! Before she knew what she was about, she had marched over to where he stood. If looks could kill, he’d be dead in seconds.

The crack of her hand was loud, yet she was impervious to its sting as she raised her other hand and slapped his other cheek. “How dare you think you could lie to me and get away with it! For two years I fell prey to that silver tongue of yours, but no more. Do you hear me?”

“I’ll thank you, Lass to stop damaging my property.”

 She blinked. “Your property?”

“Aye, Lass. Did you not see his chains?”

Chains? Gasping, she stepped back and studied the man who was indeed chained to the rail of the ship, manacles fastened about his ankles and wrists. Now that she took the time to study him, she realized he was not Michael. Although the resemblance was remarkable, there were subtle differences. The bridge of his nose had a bump along it where Michael’s had been straight, his growth of beard was tinged with copper where Michael’s had been all blond, and he was pale with a sick look about his eyes. Deep set as Michael’s had been, they were that same clear blue, but where Michael’s had twinkled with mischief, this man’s burned with suppressed anger. His hair was long and matted and streamed out behind him when the breeze picked up and blew into his face. Just like Michael’s it was dark blond.

Heat flooding her cheeks she lowered her gaze. “I beg your pardon, Captain. The man reminded me of someone, is all.”

“Someone you’re angry with, no doubt.”

“If there is any way I can make it up to you, Captain.”

“If you can take him off my hands, Lass, I’d consider the matter dropped.”

Mercy knew he was bating her; the mockery in those beady black eyes of his glittered with undisguised mirth.

“Well and good, Captain. What will you take for him?”

“Same as all the convicts, Lass, a hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco.”

Mercy  had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “Do I look like a wealthy tobacco planter to you, Captain?”

“Mayhap, your man is in need of someone to help work the fields?”

Mercy straightened, no longer in the mood for this foul man’s jesting. 

Turning back to the blond man she took her time studying him. His shirt and breeches were in tatters and hung loose on his thin frame. Reaching out, she fingered the once fine cloth and wondered how a lowly servant had come by such fine clothes. He wore no shoes, and the irons about his ankles clinked together, as he shifted away from her touch.

“A strapping lad, for sure,” the captain was saying, “but unless you got a man who can keep him in line, you’re wasting your time with this one.”

“Oh?”

“Aye, Lass. If he wasn’t chucking up his daily portion, he was running that mouth of his. Twice he tried to jump ship. That’s why I got him in chains. Likely to run off, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Sentence: Unlike her late husband, he works hard and keeps his word.

Paragraph/scene:

“Church?” Mercy asked.

“Yes, Mistress. I was in the habit of attending services of a Sunday back home.”

“Well, I’m not in the habit of attending services. The day is yours to do as you please, though, as long as you don’t leave the farm.”

Turning away, Mercy shook her head. Church. Of all the places he wanted to go. She had thought he’d be glad for a day of rest. Those dark circles under his eyes, the blisters on his hands and the fields and even the barn and house showed clearly the hard hours he had put in this last week. The new chair at the table to replace the one Michael had broken, the barn door that now opened and shut without difficulty, the weed free garden,, and she could go on for all day, she supposed. Still, a pin prick of conscience niggled at her. Just because she was angry with God, didn’t mean she had to keep him from worshipping.

“Here,” she said, taking the old Bible down from its place on the mantle. “This was my husband’s. You’re welcome to read it, if you wish.”

Sentence: To her chagrin, she begins to fall for him.

Paragraph/scene:

“Mistress Mercy?”

“Yes, Gabriel,” she sighed, “what do you want now?”

“Just to give you this.”

Mercy looked up from the wool and needles in her hand to where he stood in the doorway, his silhouette a darker outline against the night blackened sky. “Well, what is it?”

Instead of answering aloud, he took a step forward and reached out a hand. In his grip was a…

“A new plate!” Stuffing her knitting into the basket at her side, she rose and went to him, hand outstretched. “Oh, Gabriel, you made a new plate.”

“The least I could do, seeing as how I was the one who dropped the other one in the river.”

“Yes, but… Mercy didn’t know how to explain. Michael had seen no need for more plates, and the two that he had made weren’t level, so that if the food on them was thin, it ran off the sides. Yet, this man, who took her bad temper without complaint had made her a new one without being asked.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” she said, finally. “That was very thoughtful of you. And, what is this on the underside?”

“It’s an M and a W. For your name.”

Bowing her head to hide the sudden tears, Mercy took the plate and set it on the shelf atop the other one. “Best be loading the wood box for morning. I think it will snow during the night.”

Sentence: Then, he breaks a promise.

Paragraph/scene:

Hanging. That was the punishment when an indentured servant escaped. What she wanted to know, was why? What had been so important as to risk his life?

“Mr. Murray, may I visit with the prisoner?”

“Ain’t regular Mrs. Wakefield, but since he’s dying in the morning, I’ll let you and him have some privacy.”

When the door was barred behind her, Mercy leaned against it and stared at the man before her. “Honestly, Gabriel. You’ve caused me more trouble than ten Michael Wakefields. I don’t even know why I’m still here.”

It was no more than she deserved, she supposed. What else had she expected, trying to buy a man’s help?

“Here, I brought you something to eat and a warm blanket. Surprised Murray allowed it, but here you are.”

Sentence: Hurt and angry and horrified he might be hanged, she realizes she can’t do it on her own anymore. She calls on the God Gabriel has been telling her about and surrenders her life to Christ.

Paragraph/scene:

Alone in the room at the Johnsons’, Mercy prays and surrenders to God, asking Jesus into her heart.

Sentence: After Gabriel receives a miracle, she steps out in faith and embraces love and life God has for her.

Paragraph/scene:

“Well,” the burly man said, lifting the rope from around Gabriel’s neck, “I always thought there wasn’t much difference between a hanging and a wedding, but in this case, Mr. Wakefield, I’d say you’re getting the better of the two.”

And, that’s it. Piece of cake…if only we had the rest of it. Right? LOL I have begun step 4 for Gabriel, but this is all you need for an example. Just remember, changes are expected. Nothing is set in stone. You can’t mess it up, yet. Give it a try using your own story idea, and let me know what you think of mine.

Thank you for spending time with me this week. God bless.