Week 14 Journal

Saturday, Feb. 28 No writing, but a bit of scribbling of notes & ideas, plus a little research, on the next book. (Poets’ advice)

Sunday, Feb. 28
After work: I’ll be darned. Now I know why Wayne married his third wife. I really couldn’t figure out what he’d have seen in her, and turns out it was hidden in an early chapter, all along. Really, how does it happen that the author can be the last to know?

Monday, Feb. 1
Before work: Cool dream last night, about my book, I think. Imagine this: Approaching *my* house at evening, I see a magnificent buck standing in the street. I go inside, where my (late) father is repairing something, oblivious to all else A doe and two youg fawns run into the house. Then, oh no! One of the fawns escapes into the back yard. . .
I watch from the porch as the fawn is ringed on three sides by a bobcat, a wild dog, a fox, and a grizzly bear. (They’re standing at a little distance, not much but some, and watching it, as if they are stalking, but not ready to pounce yet. A polar bear appears from the left and rushes toward the fawn, looking as if he will attack it. Instead, they touch noses. The p.b. rises up and makes sweeping motions with its arms, as if to say, “Go! Go, get away from here!”
Note: the grizzly is frightening to the other predators.
On the porch, I am concerned for the fawn, astonished at the p.b, but not that upset about what may happen.
Note: I often write on a similar screened-in porch.
Either it’s my book, or it’s an episode of LOST, lol.

I’m getting the most amazing book epiphanies from the dream. Each of the characters in the dream corresponds to a character in the novel. Also, the dream reveals certain things to me that I hadn’t realized–such as how many double sibling groups I have in this book and how in each instance, one sib goes forth into danger and the other one stays home. So strange. Thanks you, subconscious.

For the next book, I’ve discovered why I’ve had several years worth of fascination with the supposed sightings of black panthers/cougars in Kansas. In looking them up again, I came across a sentence that gave me chills, because of how it may work into the next book. Note: That’s one animal that wasn’t in my dream, but then it also has no place in the current work in progress.

Tuesday, Feb. 2
Middle of work: In writing, is there anything that feels any better than rewriting a scene and having it turn into something much more textured and “right” and satisfying? (p.s. I had another book-dream last night, only this time for the next book. Dream advised against letting book get quirky; need it to stay grounded in real life.)
After work: It’s coming together so nicely in rewrites. ::looks nervously over shoulder::

Wednesday, Feb. 3
After work: Took a scene from one chapter, put it at the front of another chapter, cut most of that existing chapter except for some dialogue, and rewrote the rest. (Baxter Springs scene.) Better now.

Thursday, Feb. 4
Work: Ack. The first 100 pp are now in pretty good shape, and I’m proud of them, but now I’m reading the second 100 and my eyes are spinning. Who wrote this mishmash, and why didn’t somebody stop her? I deleted two boring & unnecessary chapters today (Brooke going to his sister’s house, Terry meeting their family, Kristin meeting his). But I can only rewrite part of these next 100 pages, because before I rewrite the rest of them I’ll need to know what happens further ahead in the story, and I haven’t written that yet. (I’m wanting a chapter from Marcie’s POV, but that seems like too many POV’s, and she hasn’t had one up to now. What to do, what to do? Write it anyway, I think, just to get to know her better, if nothing else. Good enough reason to do it, even if I end up tossing it or giving the pov to another character.)
At least now I can tighten up some things. Lost a bunch of pages, but who cares if the story & writing are better because of it? I was a little worried anyway that I was taking too many pages/words to get to the next section of the book.

Friday, Feb. 5
Sent 99 pp. to brilliant, charming, funny, really really nice editor. Need coffee.
Got coffee. Then wrote 1,000+ words, thought I was finished, then wrote another 1,000.
Satisfied sigh.

Week 13 Journal

Saturday, Feb. 20
Not capable of writing today, so I’m doing internet research. I’ve learned a lot of facts I hope I have enough sense not to put in the book. But they’re so interesting! Like, the word “galena” comes from Pliny. And only 12.8 miles of old Route 66 is in Kansas. Okay, I’m using that one. Dibs.

Sunday, Feb. 21
It’s been 21 days since I took a break. I’m down to the bottom of the well. Taking today and tomorrow off.

Tuesday, Feb. 23
Before work: I did it. I didn’t write, or think about writing for two days. Now to see if that was a good idea, or a bad idea. :) Bites nails.
After work: So the result of taking two days off is. . .drum roll. . .1,000 words on the chapter that was stuck, and 600 words on the (maybe) next book. I may have to do this again some time. ::Ironic smile::

Wednesday, Feb. 24
Before work: Too late, it’s already after work. Did a bit on the *next* book. Now off to work on the current one. I’m so relieved to know (kind of) how to handle this next scene. The characters are going to surprise each other and me, I think.
After work: They did surprise one another. Did they surprise me? No, I can’t say they did. I’d like it better if they did, but there’s still time. These difficult scenes are taking shape, even without that, however.

I wonder how long I’ll work on the *next* book, which would be my 4th “Kansas novel.” I seem to be getting to know a protagonist who is the most interesting (to me) and complex woman I’ve ever written. We’ll see. As long as the words come, I’ll write them down. The working title is Guardian of Ghosts.

Thursday, Feb. 25
After work: Trying something new. In between writing scenes, I’m writing small things to expand them. “Filler,” I suppose, but I’m concentrating on the writing, aiming for vivid bits that add texture & bring scenes to life. Not writing them in any order, just as I think of them; then plug them into ms. Increases daily output, extends workday, may mean less work later. Real purpose: make small stuff count more.

An example–a little bit of detail about the way a guitar player’s fingers/nails look and feel. It got playful and was fun (and funny) to write. I hope it’ll be good to read.

For some reason, it comes easier when I write these little bits away from the manuscript. first. I can relax with them, and let them play out, instead of feeling the pressure to make them fit in.

Meanwhile, the next book keeps offering up new bits and I keep writing them down. I’m almost afraid to think how wonderful it would be to have a big head start on the next one by the time I finish this one. Whispering. Emily Dickinson showed up today, in the form of my two favorite lines of her poetry: After great loss a formal feeling comes; the nerves sit ceremonial, like tombs. I have an idea for using it that I love so much I almost have to be suspicious of it, lol.

Friday, Feb. 26
Nancy Pickard After work: Wow. Another 900 words on the next one. But the big news is, I am officially at the halfway point of the current wip. 50,000+ words and 200+ pages. Now to get all this in as good shape as I can get it, and then move on to the next 50,000. Some of it’s still pretty rough. Very rough. Okay, crappy. I’m happy with crappy for now.

Week Twelve Journal

Saturday, Feb. 13
Work: mostly thinking about the organization of my chapters in the first half.

Monday, Feb. 15
At work: Ugh. Plotting. Who knew, how did they know, when did they know, what did they do when they found out? Sounds like politics.
After work: had an idea for a plot twist, did some research on churches in Galena, Ks., wrote another 1,000 words. Boring to read this description of my workday, and not all that much fun to do, either. I’m irritable and restless. Considering chocolate.

Tuesday, Feb. 16
After work: Necessary, productive, tedious, COMPLETELY annoying afternoon of moving clues around. Me, cranky? ::Bites heads off bats:: Why do you ask?

Wednesday, Feb. l7
After work: Today was fun. At my library, I took two free hours in a room with a long table. Laid out 20 chapters on the table & walked around them, getting a feel for the movement of the story. Switched a few around. Sensed what was missing in a few others. Stuck notes to some. When I was done, everything felt a whole lot better. Afterward, I researched goats on the web, yes I did, and then went to Starbucks and wrote a scene with four goats in it.
Bats got off lucky today.

Thursday, Feb. 18
After work: Ups and downs. Good morning at the Library Table. Good afternoon of writing and fixing things. Enjoyed researching the trailer Jimmy and Wayne live in, and then describing it on the page. Found I had Rex revealing something in Chapter 2 that he contradicted later. Changed the physical description of a deputy. Got started inserting new tension in Chapter 7. But I got too tired and plunged into doom and gloom. It took Boston Rob on Survivor to tell me I had a case of crybabyitis. Oh god, too true, lol.

Friday, Feb. 19
After work: Finally! I know what goes in that one chapter with the empty pages. Getting these first 200 pp. ready to go to my editor is taking a lot of thought and work. It’s going to feel good to finish them and feel ready to move on to the second half of the book.

Week Eleven Journal

Saturday, Feb. 6
Middle of work: rewriting the rewriten scene from yesterday. It’s getting there, but I peeked at the pages that come next. Shouldn’t have done that. I had myself fooled into thinking they weren’t the usual crappy first draft pages. hahahahah
After work: I will never stop being impressed and mystified at how something in one part of a novel can mysteriously solve a problem or answer a question in another part, without the writer consciously figuring it out.

Sunday, Feb. 7
After work: I started this rewrite with 150 pp., and I’m hoping to get to 200 pp. by the end of it. So far, after a week, I have a net gain of. . .two pages. The challenge right now is to be patient, let scenes shrink/grow as needed without worrying about the end result. Everything’s improving, but slowly. Things are. . .as they are.

Monday, Feb. 8
After work: I’m such a conflict avoider, both in RL and it fiction. Thank goodness I don’t feel the need to add it to the scenes of my life the way I add it to my chapters.

Tuesday, Feb. 9
At work: sometimes when I get fuzzy on my plot, I skip forward and write several scenes of the ending to clear things up. I can’t do that this time. Pouts.
After work: Thank you, writers who do things better than I do. I’m reading Marilyn Robinson’s novel, Housekeeping, for the first time. She inspired me to be a better writer this afternoon. I’m very grateful. Brought the joy back. No more pouting.

Wednesday, Feb. 10
After work: Today a character finally talked about two things that haunt him, which just happen to be two things that made me write this book. I don’t know why the feelings are so strong; he doesn’t know, either. Maybe between us, we’ll find out.

Thursday, Feb. 11
Wallowing in good writing. Finished Housekeeping, now rereading John Gardner’s Grendel. It’s even better than I remembered. I’m devouring–monster-like–his spot-on descriptions of things. Not figures of speech, but outright descriptions that awe me, because he gets it So Right. Like, this one: “. . .lean wolves rise, glance at me awkwardly, and, neat of step as a lizard, sneak away.” I can see that. That’s what they do. Well, okay, there was one simile, and it was perfect: “neat of step as a lizard.”
After work: happy.

Friday, Feb. 12
After work: Wrote a thousand brand new, crappy words. Hugs them. Assures them they don’t have to remain crappy forever. Advises them to be patient.

Week Ten Journal

Saturday, Jan. 30
Before work: the middle muddle just broke through into sunshine. I figured it out by thinking about what Don Maass wrote about my own book, The Virgin of Small Plains, in his book Fire in Fiction. It’s not the size of the storm–weather or otherwise– it’s the breadth & depth of its impact. It’s funny when you learn from somebody else’s analysis of your own work.

Sunday, Jan. 31
Day off. Sneaked away to do one of my favorite things–see a matinee movie alone, just me and my diet coke and my slightly buttered popcorn. A movie is one of the few things that can get me out of my own head when my mind is deep in a book.

Tuesday, Feb. 2
Before work: Back into it for realz today. It’s going so eerily fast that I’ve promised my editor half of it by the end of March. Everything between now and then will consist of polishing and filling in the first 50,000 words. I don’t dare think how unusual it is for me to be this far along this soon. Mumbling to self: Printed out 150 pp., got my post-its ready to go, starting thinking about all the things I need to check for, already have some ideas about how to tighten a couple of scenes, expand others. I may go hide in a private room in my library to do this intense work. I suspect I’ll emerge with around… 200 pp. which I’ll turn over to my editor while I start rough draft scenes for next 200.

Wednesday, Feb. 3
Before work: At library, itchin’ to edit.
After work: Sixty-two pages later. . .Geez, I wonder who slipped all of those clunky sentences into my manuscript? The same one who left out the conflict in two pivotal scenes, I suspect. If I ever find out who did it, she’s in big trouble!

Thursday, Feb. 4
Before work: There’s a romantic scene I loved writing. Now, I’m distressed to find it’s boring. Lacks dramatic tension. I need to tear it open (ala Maass’ Fire in Fiction) and find the tension. As I write this I suddenly realize exactly where it is. *He* says something that my original version has *her* accepting too easily. She should feel surprised and uneasy.
After work. Well, the first 62 pages are now 59 pages. Not a bad net loss, really. I’m pleased. Didn’t get to the romantic scene today. Oh, boy, they’re in for it tomorrow.

Friday, Feb. 5
Snow, but not enough of it to use as an excuse for anything.
After work: Deleted about a thousand words, substituted about a thousand better ones. So much of writing a novel feels like running on a treadmill moving backward, just trying to stay standing and not fall behind too much. This is not a complaint, believe it, or not, it’s just life in the novel lane. I’ll be on this backward moving treadmill for a while before it reverses direction and shoots me forward again.

Week Nine Journal

Sunday, Jan. 24
Mid-work: More filling in, rearranging, moving scenes around, tying them together, thinking about timelines, paying attention to first lines and last lines of scenes, making sure settings feel real, double-checking emotional responses of characters, stuff like that. Suddenly I have 32,000 words. Virtue rewarded.
After work: After work: Okay, back up past 32,000 words the honest way. I want to make another trip to Cherokee County to see the area I’m writing about, but I thnk it can wait for spring.

Monday, Jan. 25
Driving to Lyons, Ks. for a speaking gig. Back tomorrow. Long drive, lots of yummy book-thinking, mmmmmm. And the wheels go ’round’n’round. Later: On the drive, I thought out two family trees and saw how they relate. Interesting. Then, scribbling at dinner tonight, I *met* some bad guys for the first time on the page. Scary dudes. I’m glad they’re imaginary. You should be glad, too. :) Then a lovely time with local peeps. Now my Mizzou is not beating my son’s Jayhawks. Decisively not beating them.

Tuesday, Jan. 26
This morning, I’m writing about the bad characters I met last night in my head during supper. They are so bad I feel nervous committing them to paper. This is probably good, right? I can always back off later if I’ve gone too far. They feel believable, though. Sorry to say they do. Okay, now to check out of motel and go search for a big breakfast in this town or another one.

Wednesday, Jan. 27
Before work: The scenes are backed up again. I love this. It hasn’t happened quite like this with any other book I’ve written. Can’t wait to get at them before the queue gets too long.
After work: Why am I so tired after so few hours of writing?

Thursday, Jan. 28
J.D. Salinger died?? I loved Nine Stories and Franny & Zooy so much. So much. I’m afraid to go back and reread them. I want to still love them forever, and maybe I won’t. He influenced me, though you’d never know it from my writing. RIP, strange storyteller.
After work: somehow managed 1,000 words in an hour, in between life stuff. New character who feels very unreal in those 1,000 words. I wonder what she’s really like? I’m leaving her as is for now, though. More will be revealed, I hope.

Re-reading Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories. Oh, man, she is so good I’m in awe. Her flashbacks don’t even read like flashbacks. That’s one fine quality, but there are so many.

Friday, Jan. 29
During work: The last few days have felt as if I’m writing weak, drifty scenes, without being sure where they go. Words, but words without focus. It just now occurred to me the heart of the problem is that I’m avoiding a pivotal, difficult scene that needs to be faced. Okay, I’m glad to know that, and I’ll get on it. After lunch.

Curses. Halfway to a book and I’ve hit the middle mud right on schedule. At least I can see the way out, for once. But getting there feels like dragging my boots through sludge. ::Picks up foot, knocks mud off boot, steps forward into the squish, picks up other foot.:: Bird by bird, step by muddy bloody step:: If anybody says anything cheerful, I’ll have to kill them.

Week Eight Journal

Saturday, Jan. 16
Middle of work, 7:30 p.m.: I futzed around all day building up enough steam to write, and now, 800 and some words later, I has writ. I love coffee shops at night. Funny how I came in feeling as if I need a week off, and now I have lots of energy. Okay, caffeine, but still, lol. I want to think it’s the writing. ::Dives back in to see if there’s more where that came from.:: Later: So I looked at my page count and thought, holy cow, 150 pages already? Then I remmber I was writing in 14 point type. Well, holy calf, 115 pp. is pretty good, too. G’night.

Monday, Jan. 18
Before work: I think I’m not ready to write what wants to be written. We’ll see who wins this one.
Later: It won, but I’m still shaking my finger at it, and saying, “Do you really think this is such a good idea?” It feels like 1,300+ words of loosey-goosey first draft that’s missing all the good stuff. Oh. It’s a first draft. Right. Slaps self. P.S.–did I happen to mention my editor loves it? Cartwheels! It’s a book, or will be in a few months.

Tuesday, Jan. 19
Before work: I have no idea what I’m going to work on today. Call 911 MUSE.

Robert B. Parker, RIP. He sure brought a lot of readers a lot of pleasure. One of his books, Looking for Rachel Wallace, was important to me. It was the first time I’d ever seen a male author let a female character banter as an equal with a man. I was thrilled! I may have cried. That was 1987. I should read it again and see how it seems now. I never met him, or I’d have thanked him in person.

After work: Okay, now I know what I’m doing for the rest of the week. I think. Filling in the gaps in the rough draft scenes I’ve been writing.

Wednesday, Jan. 20
My day: reviewing second pass page proofs on The Scent of Rain and Lightning. Found a few more things. Better now than never.

Friday, Jan. 22
Life has intervened for a while, but I’m back at Starbucks tonight, doing some rewriting and filling in gaps. Two things of note–A physical description very thoughtfully provided me with an apt simile a little further into the scene. And–my pov character is dismayed by something, and I’m not entirely sure why it has filled him with such a deep sense of unease. Poor baby. I hope he lets me know.

Saturday, Jan. 23
Mid-work: “Filling in” is tricky. I get tempted to add details nobody needs to read. I write it, then delete a lot of it. Feeling my way through chapters that are already written. Carefully. Like treading on slippery flagstones across a marsh in the rain. No unnecessary steps, stay on the track, avoid slippage and …the quicksand of self-indulgence. When I finish, I’ll be ready to move on.

Week Seven Journal

Saturday, Jan. 9
Middle of work:
In an early draft of Scent, my editor said the heroine was self-absorbed. It was understandable, but unattractive. By opening her to thinking of others, I made her a more interesting character and better person, I think. I’m using that today, on this book. This also ties in with Don Maass’ reminder: it’s not an… event that makes a big book, it’s the extent of its impact on people that makes it “big.”
After work:
This is funny, but only because it ends well. Today I wrote a new scene and then discovered I had already written it! The new one is different, though, and a LOT better. If it weren’t, I’d have to shoot myself. At least I was able to steal a couple of paragraphs from the first one to give the second one.

Sunday, Jan. 10
Before work:
It’s time to clean up what I have so I can send it to my editor as my version of a proposal for my next novel. I figure 75 pp is plenty. Sally Goldenbaum is going to read and critique it for me, bless her.
After work:
Did it. Now we’ll see what Sally thinks. I already love these people. I’ll be sad if my editor doesn’t, but I think she will.

Monday, Jan. 11
Sally was the biggest help in one particular way: figuring out where I need to give the reader more info in early chapters. Very very helpful to get that new eye on the writing. No major changes. Whew.

Tuesday, Jan. 12
My editor loves it! Cartwheels! It’s a book. Or, will be in a few months.

Wednesday, Jan. 13
Lots goin’ on, so it’s been hard to post this week. Today, I worked on plot connections. As I did, scenes wanted to be written, so I stopped to write them. Kind of an odd way to work? Kind of a pleasure, though. Am pooped.

Thursday, Jan. 14
I feel as if I need to keep the lightest of reins on this book right now. Whatever it wants, it’s getting, short of bucking me off entirely. I feel like a very tired rider atop a very energetic pony. Damn, who put Red Bull in its feed? I guess all I can do is keep riding and watch out for tree branches. End of metaphor, I swear.

Friday, Jan. 15
I meant to write a Before Work post, but worked before I could post, lol. The scenes! They keep demanding to be written. Alright, already, calm down! No, no, wait, I don’t mean that, keep coming, please. Only 76,325 words to go. Git along little dogie.

Week Six Journal

Saturday, Jan. 2
Before work: Now I know that the blank space between chapters 6 & 8 begins with a boy reading an obit. It needs to be short–because reading a long one would be boring–and now I know how and why it can be brief. Eager to get going. Have to start earlier today, so I can catch the KU bball game.
After work: barely got 300 words out. Motor running down. Time to take a couple of days off and let it build up some steam again. Trish MacGregor (T.J. MacGregor) has said that when she’s starting a new book sometimes she purposely lets the desire-to-write build until she practically bursts into her office with eagerness to get going. That’s a great feeling.

Sunday, Jan. 3
Make it stop snowing.
I have successfully not written today. Didn’t know if I could do it, but I did it. I’m going to not write tomorrow, too.

Tuesday, Jan. 5
I’m going back to work today after my “weekend.” Question to ponder as I do: what is the purpose of this next scene? I know who’s in it, I think I know where he is, and I know some of his thoughts. But I don’t yet know how the scene will advance the story and reveal more of his character. ::rubs hands together in happy anticipation of finding out::
After work: Happiness is a crappy first draft of a new scene.

Wednesday, Jan. 6
Before work: In yesterday’s first draft, there’s a character who seems too prominent for a bit player. This morning it hit me who she really is, and why. So I’ll be working with that today. Also, figuring out how to let a character get what he’s after without tipping readers to what he’s really doing. Reminder to myself: you don’t have to perfect it, just progress it.
After work: Wrote only 300 words, deleted all of them. The world is better for it. Interrupted by stuff to do for Scent. Yikes, a copyeditor caught a character saying he drove somewhere and then on the next page saying he walked there. I clutch my throat. Arrgh.

Thursday, Jan. 7
Chapter 1: Shovel the deck. Chapter 2: Shovel the front walk. Chapter 3: Shovel half of the driveway. This is not an engrossing storyline, and the only twists are in my back, but I feel there is character development, so I’ll keep at it until the end.
After work: Wait. There was work? I don’t think so. There was shoveling, there was too much fun on the internet, but there wasn’t work. ::looks around to see if she can find any:: Nope. I thought about doing some, though.

Friday, Jan. 8
Before work: Well, this is embarrassing. I didn’t write a “before work” post because I didn’t know if I could actually get myself to settle down to work. Now, 500 words later it appears I can. Is it too late to say that my plan for today is to give up on one chapter for now and jump ahead to another one? If I don’t do that, I’ll stay stuck. Something unnerving is happening. More later.
After work: 2,000 words later, I guess I got some work done. The unnerving part is that this heroine is stealing my life. She may turn out to be closer to “me” than any of my characters has ever been. I’m not sure how I feel about this, but I’m gonna let it be whatever it is.

Week Five Journal

Monday, Dec. 28
Before work: Work? I remember that. Okay, off to the coffee shop to. . .I’ll figure it out when I get there.
After work: Got back into the groove quickly. Working to get several chapters ready to show my editor in the hope she’ll approve this as next novel. Toughest thing today: a moment when a character hears shocking news. I find that kind of scene hard to write so it feels genuine. There was a moment I felt emotional for her, so maybe I got it. We’ll see when I go back and re-read it tomorrow.

Tuesday, Dec. 29.
Before work: Spooky coincidence #3: Yesterday I said it’s hard to write it right when a character gets bad news. This morning, for about 15 minutes, I thought I might be getting the worst news possible. All is well. (Collapses with relief.) And now I know what I need to add to that scene. Ack. This “everything is material” stuff is hard sometimes.
Late to work. Busy mulling what to work on besides that one little scene. I think I’ll tackle a new chapter and wrestle it to the floor. Maybe all dialogue for a first draft of it? I can see my characters, almost hear them talking, and I’m dying to meet one of them for the first time on the page. I think she’s Sylvia, but she says if I try to use that name, I’ll write her all wrong.
After work: So I started with dialogue, and now it’s more than 1,500 words later, and I’m very happy with my crappy first draft of a new chapter. Sylvia turned out to be Cathy. With a C.

Wednesday, Dec. 30
Apres shoveling, before work: Brush off the snow, then go work on that new chapter. It holds mysteries that are as yet hidden from me.
After work: Writing fiction is so funny/strange. For instance, in this new book there’s a motorcycle crash in which a guitarist/singer dies. I kept thinking I must put a guitar case at the scene, but it kept not wanting to go there. I kept trying. It kept refusing. Today it showed up at the place where he’d been just before the crash. It always knew where it was supposed to be. (Facebook comment from Margery Flax: You better not have killed Bruce ;) Springsteen, she means, lol. I would never kill Bruce.

Thursday, Dec. 31
Before work: It’s funny. I have full or partial chapters 1,2,3,4, 6, 9, 10. I know what chapter 8 will be and may work on it today, but there are only big blank spaces for 5 & 7. Crucial scenes are waiting to reveal themselves. I sense them, but cannot see them. I am truly curious. What goes there?
After work: I finally got to meet the character I’ve been eager to meet, but only on the (fictional) phone so far. She seems funny, bawdy, kind, wise. She talks too loud. She’s over-dramatic about small things. I’m not sure we’d be friends in real life, since I tend to shy from extreme extroverts, but I hope I’d admire her from afar. Maybe I’ll go over to her house on New Year’s Day and eavesdrop when she has visitors.
(Facebook comment to mull, from Judy Wirzberger: She sounds like a great person to have at a piano bar. Sounds like the people I like to be around as they ask the questions I’m too timid to ask. Is she really that way or does she force herself to be that way so people won’t know how frightened she is?)

Friday, Jan. 1
Spooky#5: A character has wondered, in my head, why she misses omens of danger. This morning, a reader (Thank you, MJ & JJ) asked if I’ve ever known a killer or a liar. In the shower, I remembered a dream that warned me away from scam artists years ago. Another dream warned me away from a man who killed two people and himself. Now I know what to tell my character, and how to use it.
After work, after movie, after dinner: just enough energy left to say the revelations of the morning made all the difference in the work this afternoon. Now I have something in that previously-blank place between chapters 4 & 6. I hope the blank spot between 6 & 8 proves to be as interesting to fill.