writing

Diving In

I took a dive into a new project yesterday, so I’ll be in first draft mode for the next month or so. That means I will have little brain for anything else. I’d actually already written the opening scene. I got an idea for how it should go a couple of months ago and wrote it to get it out of my head. Today I revisited it and revised it to fit the outline I eventually came up with, then moved on and wrote more of the scene.

That worked pretty well. Usually, starting a book is kind of scary. It feels like standing on the high dive, knowing you’re going to have to jump and plunge in. But when I wrote out that opening scene months ago, it didn’t feel like I was starting a book because I didn’t even really have a plot yet. I was just playing around. But then when I started working on it today, that didn’t feel like I was starting a book, either, because I was editing something I’d already written. It took all the scary out of it. It was more like easing in via the pool steps after sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water than like jumping off the high dive.

There’s still a lot of unknown ahead of me, even though I have a detailed outline and synopsis. My synopsis is more than 4,000 words, which would be about 20 pages in manuscript format. I was worried I had too much story for a book. But then when I started breaking it out into scenes to outline the scenes, I worried that I didn’t have enough scenes. It’s likely that some of these scenes will be broken down into multiple scenes, and I may come up with ideas along the way that will be inserted. My outline isn’t so rigid that it doesn’t have room to adjust as I write. It’s more of a framework to make sure I have everything I need to cover the story and character arcs.

I’m not going to try to do a full writing schedule for the rest of this week with the kind of word count I usually expect. I’m still testing the waters and getting a feel for the characters. I also need to do some prep work around the house so I have less to worry about once I get into the book. I need to do some cooking to have meals ready to go and I want to do a good house cleaning so it’ll be easier to maintain while I’m focused on writing. Starting this week without considering it official writing time should give me some momentum to get on a good pace next week.

movies

Off to Oz

I guess I was in an Oz mood lately, since I watched Wicked: For Good a few weeks ago, then found Oz the Great and Powerful last weekend. Now I want to go back to the original books.

I’m in the generation that grew up with the 1939 movie being on TV around Easter every year. We didn’t get a color TV until I was seven, so you can imagine the shock the first time I watched it on a color TV when Dorothy arrived in Oz and everything turned Technicolor. I hadn’t realized that the whole movie wasn’t black-and-white until then. My main memory of watching the movie as a very small child was being afraid of the tornado. I don’t recall being afraid of the witch, but I’d hide during the tornado scene, probably because I’d experienced real tornadoes (though, fortunately, not enough to have been close to more damage than our backyard fence getting clipped while the house remained unharmed).

I started reading the books in elementary school and was surprised and delighted to find that in the books it wasn’t just a dream. Oz was a real place, Dorothy really went there, and she went back, then eventually moved there with her family permanently. This was my first real experience with portal fantasy — though it’s vague as to whether Oz exists in some other realm or if it’s a place on our world that’s hidden and that has its own rules. It does seem to require some magic to get in and out, though it’s also possible to get blown there by winds.

After reading the books, I was less enchanted by the movie, in part because they changed the timeline (the movie made it contemporary while the books were contemporary for the time they were written, in the early 1900s) and largely because of the “it was just a dream” ending, which turned the story into Fake Fantasy, which I hate.

Oddly, I didn’t like Wicked the first time I saw the musical on stage. I tend to dislike stories that make the villain into the real victim and the good guys into the real bad guys. In the Oz stories, the witch really did bad things that hurt people. I read the book and disliked it enough that I sold my copy to a used bookstore. When the musical came back through town, I almost didn’t go (I had season tickets to the musical touring shows series) but went and ended up loving it. I’m not sure what changed my perspective, though it’s possible the cast helped. I recall that Glinda pretty much stopped the show a few times from being so hilarious. I don’t still have that Playbill to see who it was, but I’ve looked up who was in the touring cast at that time, and there’s a good chance that Megan Hilty was playing Glinda then, which would explain it. I ended up buying the cast recording. I treat the musical as being in its own universe and disconnect it from the other versions of the story and then it becomes more about how those who are different get treated like villains and less of a “the villain is the real victim” story. I enjoyed both movies and plan to get them on Blu-Ray if I can find a place that still sells physical media.

As for Oz the Great and Powerful, this is a prequel/origin story that’s entirely different from Wicked’s take, and I’m not sure it entirely works. This one centers the wizard, showing how a carnival conman ended up becoming the Wizard of Oz and also how the Wicked Witch of the West became what she was. The witch part was less successful than the rest of the story, since it boils down to jealousy over a man (ugh).

The other thing that doesn’t really work is the way it doesn’t appear to take place in the 1939 movie universe — which would be difficult because Oz was a dream there, and it would be weird to give a backstory for events that were a dream, plus there’s no indication that the wizard’s adventures are a dream in this movie — and incorporates some elements from the books, but it also contains a lot of nods to the 1939 movie. It does the Kansas in sepia, Oz in color thing, and it has the same actors playing roles in both Kansas and Oz.

That’s the part that broke my brain. The dual roles in the 1939 movie were because of the “it was just a dream” narrative — the “you were there, and you and you.” The idea was that Dorothy put the people from her life into the dream. But if it’s not a dream, there’s no reason for the same people to be in different guises in both Kansas and Oz. The Oz characters represent Kansas characters the wizard let down, and he essentially gets a do-over once he gets to Oz, but they’re different people played by the same actors. With two of them, it’s just the voices with CGI characters, but then there’s the woman who loves him whom he rejects because he doesn’t want to be tied down (there’s a hint that she’ll end up being Dorothy’s mother) who is also Glinda, and he even comments on the resemblance, asking if she’s ever been to Kansas. It’s one of those things that’s a way of winking at the 1939 movie without doing anything that would get into a copyright/trademark issue with that movie (the concept of Oz is fair game because the books are public domain, but anything created specifically for the 1939 is still protected, so no ruby slippers because they were silver in the book and changed for the movie to take advantage of color film). It was something purely for viewers that doesn’t track within the story.

For a totally different take on the Oz story, there was a one-season TV series (now available on Peacock) called Emerald City, which is a modern, rather freaky, somewhat steampunky take on the story. Dorothy is a nurse in modern Kansas (played by Adria Arjona from Andor), Toto is a German shepherd police dog who gets sent to Oz with her because a cop is with her with the tornado hits, the scarecrow is a badly injured amnesiac soldier, and the wizard is trying to control all magic in the realm. It incorporates a lot of book elements, including some from later books, and it can be a bit on the disturbing side of things, but if you’re an Oz completist and like weird fiction, it’s worth a look.

Life

Dancing Queen

I did something wild and crazy Friday night and went dancing. Not to a nightclub or anything like that, but to a contra dance in the church hall. This is kind of like square dancing, but in two long lines instead of squares. Think the Virginia Reel from PE class. This was, oddly, something I’d dreamed of doing for a while. A number of years ago, I read a book set in Scotland in which there was a community dance in a church hall with a local band, and they did reels and pattern dances. I thought that sounded like so much fun, but when I looked to see if there was anything like that in my area, the closest I could find was in another city in the metro area that would be about a 45-minute drive on the freeway.

I’d forgotten about that until someone in the choir announced that there would be a dance in the church hall on Friday night. A band that used to play in the area would be doing a one-night-only reunion for this. I also saw a notice in the town Facebook page, with someone trying to get together a group to go. So I said I’d go and forced myself out of the house on a Friday night. I figured at the very least I’d get to hear some good music. It was an Irish-style band, and I love Irish music. And it was in the hall of my church, which is perfect for this sort of thing (it looks kind of like the hall in a medieval castle), plus is a 5-minute drive.

It turned out to be a lot of fun. A big variety of people of all ages were there, and there were even men who came on their own. The dances are designed so that you dance with everyone along the way, but people even mixed up in choosing initial partners instead of sticking with people they came with. I’d done the English country style of dancing, like in Regency books, which is more sedate. The Appalachian style is a bit more energetic, and I realized how out of shape I was.

I do love to dance. Dancing seems to show up in a lot of my books. I took a tiny tots dance class as a very small child and did dance routines to my records in my room. I tried taking a real ballet class in elementary school but found it boring since it was just exercises, no dancing (my adult ballet teacher said that was a bad class because although the exercise part of it is important, each class should include some center work with choreography). I was in the ballroom dancing club in college and loved that but wasn’t able to find a good place to dance as an adult. The one time I had a date to go dancing, I found that everyone only danced with the person they came with, which meant there was no point in going to public dances without a partner. Some of the big science fiction conventions, especially those near the West Coast, have ballroom or contra dancing as part of them, and I’ve taken advantage of that.

I took adult ballet for about 10 years, until I had a knee issue and had to drop out and do physical therapy, and then the pandemic hit, and then they fired the teacher who taught the adult classes. They have a ballet studio that offers adult classes here, but I don’t know if I want to get back into that.

Now I know that some people in choir are part of the local social dance scene, so I can get clued in to the other events they do, and I may get to do it more often. It’s great exercise, plus a way to meet people and be part of a community.

So you can probably look forward to more dance scenes in my books.

Life

More Garden Surprises

As the weather continues to get warmer (though with a few cold snaps — we’ve got frost and freeze alerts for this weekend) and the ground wakes up, I keep finding more surprises in my yard.

One was bluebells. I’ve read about them in books about spring in England. I’ve seen pictures and thought they were so magical. It turns out there’s a native Virginia bluebell, and there’s a state park that has a bluebell festival, plus at the right time of year you can just go there to walk on trails to see them. That was Easter weekend this year, when I was too busy to deal with it. Then a couple of weeks ago I was in my backyard, spotted something blue, went farther up the hill, and saw that I had a little patch of bluebells. I need to see what I have to do to nurture them because I want to encourage them.

A cluster of bluebells, small blue flowers on long stalks, gathered around the base of a tree, surrounded by greenery.
These bluebells are so sweet, but so tiny that I can’t see them from the house. I only found them while walking through the yard.

I also found some forget-me-nots in the front yard. I planted those. Last year, I put out some seeds on a bare patch in the front lawn, but nothing happened. This year, though, some came up. Some of the other things I planted last year also seem to be thriving. I moved in for real last year the day after Easter (that was when the furniture got moved in and I started sleeping in the house), and after the Easter service they encouraged people to take the flowers. I snagged a hydrangea and planted it. It seemed to stay alive last year but never bloomed, and now it’s got new growth this spring. The following week, they’d set the remaining Easter lilies out in front of the church with a “free” sign, so I took one and planted it. I thought it was dead, so I dug it up and threw it aside. It’s growing now and looks good. No bloom yet, but we’ll see what happens. I found a “balloon plant” on clearance at Lowes and kept it in the pot as a patio plant, but then I saw a lot of bushes of it around town, so I planted it in a flowerbed. I thought I’d waited too late for it to take root before winter, but it’s got new growth this spring. I really liked that plant, so I’m glad. My Realtor gave me some plants at closing, and the one she took a cutting of from her yard is doing well and spreading. It’s a ground cover called Creeping Jenny. She also gave me some creeping thyme, but I can’t find it so it must not have survived. I thought the mint she gave me died because I couldn’t find a trace of it, but I spotted a sprig yesterday.

A few tiny purple flowers have emerged from among the dead leaves.
I thought the forget-me-not seeds did nothing last year, but some came up this year.

As I pull weeds, I’m finding that there are a lot of stepping stone paths through the yard that have been covered by grass and other vegetation. I’m trying to uncover all those to add some visual divisions, but some of the paths are in just the wrong place, the way my front walk is. I think some bushes have grown since those paths have gone in, particularly the lilac, which is going nuts right now. It’s almost intoxicating being near it, the scent is so strong. Now that I have a screen door up over my back door, I’ve been opening the door to get the lilac scent into the house.

Not all my discoveries are garden-related. I keep digging up odd things like silverware and even a potato masher. I just about have a full place setting, but I don’t intend to bring them into my kitchen. I may keep them as garden tools.

Several pieces of cutlery, including three forks and a soup spoon, plus a dirty, rusted potato masher.
I seem to have a kitchen utensil store buried under my yard. I found all these while pulling weeds.
writing life

Dead Social Battery

The book festival last weekend turned out pretty well. I met a lot of local authors. A fan made a two-hour drive just to meet me, so I felt famous. I sold some books. I had a really good time.

And then I completely crashed. I’m the kind of introvert who doesn’t mind being around people and sometimes enjoys it, but it drains my batteries and I need solitude to recharge. I’m basically a cell phone that’s useful and bright when out and about, but it needs to sit on the charger at home afterward because all that work drains the battery. I had to drive the back road home because I didn’t trust myself not to zone out on the freeway. The back road is the old turnpike road that dates to the 1700s (it’s been repaved since then), and it has all the driving focus benefits of changing speed limits and stoplights, plus it also has all the quaint villages, historic buildings, and gorgeous scenery to help me stay focused. The freeway is more boring, and you’re driving the same speed without stops, so it’s easy to get into road hypnosis and snap out of it with no idea where you are.

Then I got home, made tea, and collapsed on the sofa. Sunday turned out to be pretty social, too, as there was a reception for new members after church, then there was an organ concert, followed by yet another reception, in the evening. I’d recharged enough to get through that, and I had some nice conversations and made new friends (someone who’ll give me gardening advice in exchange for some of my bulbs when I divide them), but I was even more tired when I got home.

By Sunday night, my battery was in the red zone where all you can do is dial 9-1-1. I went to bed early and slept late on Monday, then spent most of Monday working in the yard and brainstorming on the deck. My social interaction was limited to a wave and a hello to my neighbor, who was also working in her yard.

I guess before I do a bigger event like a convention I need to build up better social muscles. Then again, this was one of the more difficult kinds of interaction for me. Put me in front of an audience and I’m fine. I can talk easily. It’s a bit harder being in a mingling situation. Selling is hard for me. I couldn’t sell Girl Scout Cookies, and this kind of event was all selling, with a little mingling.

Now I’m back in my writing cave, developing a new story. That fits well with the time of year when I need to be doing a lot of work in my yard, since I think while I work and come up with ideas.

writing

A Matter of Perspective

At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised by anything on social media, but I was astonished recently to learn that a big hot take in book circles on social media is people who refuse to read books written in first-person narration because they don’t like being told what they’re doing and don’t like reading about doing things that they don’t agree with. It seems someone is confused by what first-person narration means.

I’m sure most people reading this are okay with first person, since most of my books are written that way, but I need to get this off my chest, and maybe this will give you some ammunition if you run into someone talking like that.

First-person narration is when the narrator is a character in the story, so it uses first-person pronouns like “I,” “me,” “we,” “my,” etc. This does not mean that you are the “I” in the story. It’s someone else telling you a story about what happened to them. It’s like if a friend sent you an e-mail about the crazy thing that just happened to her. You wouldn’t think those things were happening to you because it was told from the perspective of “I.” You are seeing things through that character’s perspective because they’re the one telling the story, but you, yourself, are not becoming that character. I like that conversational and confessional tone to this kind of narration, that sense that you’re sitting with a friend, hearing the story, or else reading a letter. In fact, a lot of early novels were written in first person because they were in the form of letters. I’ve joked about 19th century Inception with the layers, where the book is a letter written to someone about a story someone told that narrator, who learned the story from a letter they received.

For the stories in which you do become the narrator, that’s second-person narration, the “you” books. You see this in the “choose your own adventure” type of stories, where you’re meant to take the role of the main character and aren’t given many details about who this character is, then the story unfolds based on choices you make. It also shows up in more literary stories that are meant to immerse you in a particular setting and type of person so that you experience it as the character as you read.

Third-person narration is probably the most common style of narration in genre fiction. That’s the books that describe the action with words like “he,” “she,” and “they.” Most of the current books are in third-person limited perspective or “close third.” This is very similar to first-person, aside from the pronouns, because you’re in the head of the viewpoint character and the narration may even reflect their voice. If the perspective switches to another character, it’s usually in a different scene or chapter. It’s generally called head hopping if the story switches close perspectives within a scene because it forces the reader to rapidly move from one character’s head to another.

The main difference between first and close third, aside from the pronouns, is the narrator character’s awareness. The first-person narrator knows they’re telling a story, so they choose what to tell and how to tell it. That’s why first person is commonly used for unreliable narrator stories in which the narrator selectively leaves out or skews information so that the reader has an inaccurate view of events. The close third-person narrator doesn’t know they’re a character in a story. They’re just going through their life, and the reader is hitching a ride in their brain, so they’re privy to the character’s feelings and secrets, even if that character wouldn’t choose to tell anyone.

You may also see third-person omniscient narration, in which the narrator sees and knows all and can dip into all the characters’ heads. I think of this as “storyteller voice” because the narrator may not be an active participant in the story, but they have a viewpoint and opinions. It’s almost like first-person, except the narrator isn’t involved in the story. Jane Austen’s books are like this. They’re very much told from Jane’s perspective, so we get her views and opinions on all the characters as she tells us what’s going on in the heads of many of the characters. Terry Pratchett also used this kind of narration, even with footnotes to explain things. He was telling us this story, and he knew what was going on with everyone.

So, if you’re worried about being forced to become a main character you don’t agree with when you read “I” books, you can relax. You aren’t the main character. You’re listening to someone else’s story.

My Books, Publicity

Public Appearance

This weekend I’ll be shifting into “author” mode for the first time in years as I do my first public author event since before the pandemic, the Rocktown Author Festival at the library in Harrisonburg, Virginia.

My work has two key modes. In writer mode, I sit at home in sweatpants, shorts, or other comfy clothes, no makeup, hair in a ponytail or messy bun, and write. I tend to get reclusive when I’m in my book cave. My words are saved for the book rather than for socializing. Author mode is when I go out in public as an author to meet with readers, speak, do booksignings, etc. That involves dressing up, wearing makeup, doing my hair, and being all bubbly and outgoing. I’ve had a few virtual “author mode” events during this time when I appeared on camera, but I haven’t been out in the world that way.

This is also my first author event in this area. I used to be a regular at science fiction conventions, writing conferences, and library events in Texas, but they don’t know me at all here, so I was pleased that I was selected for this festival. Maybe I’ll meet people who’ll get me on the list for other events. One nice thing about starting over in a new place is that no one will have seen my “author” clothes so I don’t have to buy anything new to avoid repeating an outfit with the same audience. I still haven’t decided exactly what to wear because the weather is being crazy and the forecast keeps changing, so I don’t know if I’ll need spring/summer clothes or cold-weather clothes, and I don’t know if the library will be overly heated or air conditioned when it doesn’t need it. I don’t have a lot of cold-weather “author” clothes because most of the conventions I went to were in the summer/early fall and my books from big publishers all had warm-weather release dates, so my booksignings tended to be in May, June, and July.

I’ve had to dig around to find where I put my promo materials when I moved, and I may have to get some new pens, as any that I was using to sign books are now more than six years old. I’d almost forgotten what preparation I had to do for an event. There’s no speaking involved in this, so I don’t have to prepare a talk. It’s mostly a book fair situation, where I’ll be selling and signing books. I’m set up so I can take credit card payments on my phone. I need to make a checklist of anything else I need to do.

I’ve had mixed results with this kind of thing in the past. I’ve had times when I sold out of books and had a constant stream of people wanting autographs. And I’ve had times when I sat there for hours with nobody coming by. I figure at the very least I’ll meet some other local authors and librarians. I have a couple of slices of chocolate cheesecake in the freezer, so I’m ready to either celebrate or console myself afterward.

If you’re in the western Virginia area, stop by sometime between 10 and 3 on Saturday. You don’t even have to buy books. You can bring something for me to sign and just chat.

Life

My Quirky Home

As I approach the one-year anniversary of living in this house (I closed on April 9, but the first night I spent here was on the 21st), I’m gradually coming to terms with some of its quirks and with some of the issues of having a house like this.

For one thing, I have a basement. This is the first time I’ve lived in a house with a basement since I was a kid living in Germany. There it was damp but cool. Here, it can get pretty humid, even when it’s hot. I learned last year that a dehumidifier is a good idea, especially during the times of year when it’s too warm for the heater but too cool for the air conditioner. Mine seems to pull about 3/4 of a gallon of water out of the air every other day or so, even when it’s not humid at all. This is essentially distilled water, so I’m using it to water plants. I can’t imagine what it will do when it actually gets humid, but by then I’ll be running the air conditioner. I learned during the past couple of summers that I have to adjust my idea of a good thermostat setting and can’t set it where I would have in Texas. Sometimes, I need to just put on a sweater and run the AC to get the humidity out so things don’t mildew.

The basement itself is kind of weird because it’s actually upstairs from my first floor. My house is built into the side of a hill. The front half of the downstairs is the ground floor, where the front door is. Then you go up a step into the basement, which is the back half of the downstairs and the part that’s mostly underground. It’s not a finished basement. The floor is concrete, and it looks like the walls were encapsulated and sprayed with foam insulation by the people who restored the house. I don’t know what it was like before. The utilities in there are new. They were still installing the connections for the laundry when I first looked at the house. Then the upstairs is the second story in front and the ground floor in back. The back door to the house is upstairs. This is the only house on the street like this. For the rest of them, they built them up on the hill, with retaining walls to hold in the hillside and stairs from the street level to the house. My neighbors’ ground floors are just about level with my upstairs.

I think there may once have been a back kitchen door, as well. When the house was restored/remodeled, they took out the wall that cut the downstairs room in half. There used to be a separate kitchen and living/dining room. The chimney for the coal or wood stove that was apparently used for cooking and heating is still there, though there’s nothing attached to it now, and they took out the wall that was there to open the space up, putting in a bar instead. There’s a bit of concrete slab on the side of the house by the kitchen that looks like a small porch, though there’s no door there. It’s behind the refrigerator, but there’s an electrical outlet that’s at the height for a refrigerator on the wall beside it, and the window for the kitchen is a different size from all the other windows in the house, without the wood framing that’s on all the other windows. My guess is that there used to be a back door behind where the fridge is now for bringing in coal or wood for the stove, the refrigerator went on the wall beside it, and there was a different window in a different place. The siding is relatively new (though not part of the remodel), so there’s no trace of the old door from the exterior, other than what looks like a side porch that has no door. The neighbors who saw the kitchen before the recent remodel said it was very different and it’s good that it’s totally new. That part of the house was gutted, so the kitchen is what you’d get with new construction. I’ve added an island because there was a lot of floor space that wasn’t very useful, and now I have more counter and storage space that I can reposition as needed because it’s on wheels. I’ve also bought a small chest freezer since, as a single person, I generally have to buy packages that are larger than I need at the moment, so I need to freeze a lot of stuff.

The living room isn’t of much use as a living room. It was definitely built before the age of television. I guess it would have worked as a kind of sitting room/parlor, and they might have put a kitchen table where I have the kitchen island, so they didn’t need to use the front room as a dining room. I have the chaise lounge that wouldn’t fit through the door of any other room in there, and that’s where I put the dining room. I use one of the upstairs rooms as a living room. It’s designated as a bedroom in the floor plan that went with the listing, but I don’t think it’s been used as a bedroom for a long time. The door to the room has been removed, there’s no clothes rail in the closet, and there’s a sliding glass door to the deck. I don’t know if the deck is original to the house or if it was added later, and I don’t know if there was always an exterior door in that room. It’s a little odd having the living room on a different floor from the kitchen, but I’m getting used to it. I put my old microwave (there’s one built into the kitchen) in the spare room so I can reheat tea or even make microwave popcorn without going downstairs. I love that living room and looking out at the yard from my seat on the sofa. It’s snug, but it works for me.

I’d thought the lack of closet space would be a problem, but it seems to be working out okay. Most of my tops are knits, so I can fold them instead of hang them, and I’ve turned a bookcase into a wardrobe with fabric bins that fit on the shelves. Since I am who I am, that bookcase does have some books on it, as well.

I think I’m eventually going to get different blinds for my bedroom windows. The window frames are a slightly odd size, so one size of blind was about half an inch too big. I thought I could make the smaller size work, since it covers the glass part of the window, but since it has to hang over the lower part of the window that you can raise and lower, it leaves a gap on the sides on the upper part of the window, and in the summer when it starts getting light around 5 in the morning, that’s annoying. I may go with something that fits over the window rather than inside the window, and I have some ideas. For now, I have some lined curtains that I can throw over the curtain rods that hold the lace curtains, and that deals with the worst of the light.

I had to get used to not having a landline phone. There isn’t even a phone jack. There’s a connection box from Bell Atlantic on the outside of the house, but it doesn’t lead to anything in the house (I think the phone jack must have been in the part of the kitchen that was gutted and remodeled, probably one of those old phones that hung on the wall). So I joined the 21st century and just use my cell phone. My old cordless phone system with two handsets connects to the cell phone via Bluetooth, and my house is small enough that my cell phone is always in range, so now I have handsets up and downstairs that ring when I get a call and I don’t have to find the cell phone or run up or down the stairs to answer. I have fiber optic Internet, so I have my phone set to run over the wi-fi so I don’t have to deal with cellular reception at home.

It took me a while to get my office the way I wanted it. I found a small desk that’s on wheels and that can raise and lower, but I found that I couldn’t get it to lower enough to be comfortable, and the keyboard drawer that was at the right level didn’t pull out enough to put my laptop on it. I also needed more desk space than it offered, so I found another desk that’s pretty much like a hospital tray table. I can lower it enough to type comfortably, and it raises if I ever want to do the standing desk thing. The other desk works as a “desk” for other work, and the keyboard shelf is good for keeping my planner and reference notebooks handy. I found a gaming chair that has good lumbar support that I can adjust, so now I can sit comfortably at my desk to type.

A lot of the windows don’t have screens, but I found some that you can slot in from the inside, and they work pretty well. I’ve got one of those magic mesh things for the door that leads to the deck, so I can go in and out with my hands full.

There’s still some fine-tuning to do to get the house exactly the way I want it, and I have a lot of work to do in the yard, but I’m getting closer to ideal in my cozy little cottage full of quirks. One thing I find amusing is that my house pretty much looks like what you get when a child draws a picture of a house. It’s got the pointy roof, two windows upstairs, two windows and a door downstairs, and a chimney sticking out of the middle of the roof. It’s like I was drawing pictures of my future home when I was a child drawing pictures of houses.

writing

Endings

The hardest part of most books for me is the ending. I’m seldom entirely satisfied with the way my books end. Some of that is because I’m usually getting tired and eager to just get it over with by the time I get to writing the last couple of chapters, so I tend to rush through them. The first draft is often just at the level of “and then they beat the bad guys, the end” so that I can be done. And that’s if I even know what the ending is at all.

I used to have a bad habit of outlining up to a point, and then when I wasn’t sure how to end the story, I’d give up and start writing, with the idea that I’d figure it out by the time I got there. I usually didn’t, which meant I spent a lot of time rewriting once I did figure out an ending because I needed to set up the ending. Writing series makes it even harder because I need to decide how much to wrap up and how much to carry over to the next book.

When I do know the ending before I start writing, when that scene is clear, it’s so much easier to write the book and I do a lot less rewriting, so I’m forcing myself to work on the outline until I know the ending before I start writing. Or even figure out the ending before outlining the rest of the book. That’s where I am now with a book I’ve been developing. I had no idea where to end it, which made it nearly impossible to outline the rest of the story. Without knowing the end, I didn’t know the characters’ goals or what they would do to achieve them that would lead to that point. Earlier this week, I finally figured out an ending I love, so now I’m working to outline the rest of the book in a way that leads to that ending.

But what makes a good ending? I’ve been trying to think of my favorite endings, the ones that make me close a book with a sigh and a smile, maybe wiping away a few tears or else trying to get my heart rate under control. I’ve joked about the George Lucas ending, which has a 1-2-3 format — usually a big, cathartic moment (like blowing up the Death Star), then hugs (the reunion when Luke and Han make it back to the rebel base), then some kind of concluding moment (the medal ceremony). It’s not in all the movies, but it does seem to show up in the ones that end triumphantly.

There’s a popular romance writer who indulges in a bit of emotional manipulation. Her books leave you with a tear in your eye, which gives you the sense that this was a really good book that hit you emotionally. But once when I was reading one of her books on an airplane and had to put it in my bag before I got to the end, when I was at a point I otherwise wouldn’t have put the book down until it was done, I figured out her trick. Just before the romantic happy ending when the hero and heroine get over their issues and declare their love, there’s always something sad that happens — usually an older person dies, a kid gets sick/injured, an animal almost dies (but not dies because killing an animal in a romance novel can kill your career) — or else something good and emotional happens — the sick kid or animal miraculously recovers. This incident usually has very little to do with the main plot, aside from involving a character who’s been around during the book. This big, emotional scene means you have tears already in your eyes for that romantic ending and when you finish reading the book, which makes you feel like the book was great. When I had to stop reading just after that emotional part and didn’t pick the book up again until I got through the airport and made it to my destination, so the emotion was gone, the romantic happy ending hit differently and I had a much flatter impression of the book. Normally, you’d be close enough to the end that you were definitely going to read it straight through, but it didn’t work when I was forced to stop reading. I looked back at her other books and realized she did this all the time. I started thinking of it as the “throw the kid under a bus ending.” I don’t think I’m going to try that in my writing, but it’s an interesting idea to make sure readers end the book feeling really engaged with it.

I mostly want to feel like the main character has been transformed in some way or has achieved something. I want the villain and any other annoying characters to get some kind of comeuppance. For a series, I prefer to have at least something in the story wrapped up while enough is left hanging to make me want the next book right away. For a standalone book, I want that sense of “ah, this is just the way things are supposed to be.” But even while I like things wrapped up, I also like a sense that these characters will go on with their lives and do more stuff, even if I don’t get to see it. If my imagination has something to work with, the book is more likely to linger in my mind. I don’t want all the details about their future, so I’m not a fan of those romance epilogues in which the wedding happens or the baby is born. I’d rather imagine that for myself.

What kind of endings do you like?

Life

Surprises

As of yesterday, I’ve owned my house for a year. The first year was focused on getting the house set up and in order, and now I’m turning my attention to the yard.

According to the neighbors, the man who used to own the house before abandoning it had landscaped the lawn extensively. Then it was left to run wild for years. The people I bought it from, who’d restored the house, mostly just mowed down the lawn before putting it on the market. It went wild with weeds in the summer, but now that I’ve cleared out a lot of the weeds and am seeing what it’s really like in the spring, I’m getting a lot of surprises.

For one thing, there are a lot of bulbs that didn’t get a chance to bloom last year because they were mowed down just as they were coming up. This year, the yard is full of tulips and daffodils. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of blooms. Part of that may be because the greenery was cut down last year. I’ve learned that bulbs essentially “recharge” after blooming by using the greenery as fuel, so you’re not supposed to cut back the leaves after the blooms fade. The bulbs got their cycles messed up last year by having the greenery mowed down as soon as it came up. The bulbs also need to be divided because they’ve been allowed to just grow and spread, so they’re in huge, tight clumps. After the greenery dies off, I’ll have to dig up some and move them around.

Then there was the field of something from bulbs. The greenery came up, and it looked kind of like grass, but thicker and more tubular, and when I pulled up some of it along with a weed I was digging up, I could see that it was bulbs, not roots, but I wasn’t sure what it would be. Last Sunday, it bloomed, and I had a field of these white flowers, which my phone identified as Star of Bethlehem. There are other clumps of these all around the yard. I also have fields of wild violets. I had some daylilies last year, but it looks like I’ll have even more this year.

A mass of star-shaped white flowers, with a few violets around them.
Suddenly on Easter Sunday afternoon, a field of these flowers popped up.

I’ve figured out what the leaves of the worst weeds, the ones with sticker burrs, look like, so I’m trying to dig them all up before they go to seed and produce the stickers. That alone makes the lawn look a lot better. Aside from that, my main project this spring is to move my front walk, which is in the wrong place for my traffic pattern — as I discovered when I was shoveling a walk in the snow and realized it was nowhere near the actual walk. Moving the walkway will create a flower bed. I hope to gradually turn the whole yard into a cottage garden, but that may happen a patch at a time.

Fortunately, I’m in a thinking phase of work, and I’ve found that pulling weeds is almost as good as taking a shower for encouraging creativity.