DA DOO RUN RUN RUN DA DOO RUN RUN

This is what the imagination looks like running free...The creative process full speed ahead.

Let's journey inside to that special place where novel premises are born and pages of fantastical prose are released into the world with much bated breath and anticipation (not unlike ketchup).
Deep.
DEEP.
DEEPER.
Deep in the recesses of the author's mind whence come those little nagging voices. Those tinkling inner conversations that are SOOOO helpful to the creative process.
Let's listen to them now shall we?
Chapter one...
"It's going well isn't it?"
"What? Are you kidding? Look at that dialogue!"
"What's wrong with the dialogue?"
"You can't make your characters say Pishtaw!"
" It sounds good to me."
"Anyway you have to change that description!"
"What about the description?"
"Blue sky? BLUE SKY??!! that's such a cliche. Think of something else"
"Azure? How about azure?"
"You already used azure for the drum majorette's eyes. You can't use it twice in one chapter."
"Why not?"
"You just can't."
"Okay I'll make her eyes brown."
"Everybody's eyes are brown. Enough with the brown."
"There's just no satisfying you is there?"
"Look if I wasn't watching your every move you'd have the mother dead in chapter one and alive again in chapter three."
"It was merely an oversight. I'd have picked it up in copyediting."
"Some oversight! Was relocating the Grand Canyon to California an oversight?"
"This is just a first draft! I can't be worrying about the details."
"Not worry about details? NOT WORRY ABOUT DETAILS???!!! ARE YOU CRAZY?!!!!!!"
Yes.
Yes I am.

WHERE IDEAS REALLY COME FROM

I didn't want to keep it to myself. It's not really fair. I have often been asked where I get my ideas. Every writer is asked that. Well I'm coming clean.

Here.

I walk down the dock.
"Hey Pat! Hold on a minute."
It's Kevin. He lives on a catamaran.
"What's up, Kev?" I ask.
"I got this idea," he says. "A GREAT idea for a book! These guys they go on this boat and then like go after these other guys on another boat and then...um...oh yeah a guy gets killed and then the CIA comes after them. It's kind of like DaVinci Code meets Mutiny on the Bounty..."
"Gee thanks Kev but..."
"Hey it'd be a good story! You just have to write it."
I continue walking down the dock.
Mike leans against his boat and waves me over."Hey Pat! Got a minute? I had this dream. It was about vampires. Only these were like fishermen. Got it? Fishermen vampires. That'd make a great story wouldn't it?"
"Gee Mike why don't you write it?"
"Aw I can't write! How about you write it and we'll split the money?"
I buy a cup of coffee at the marina store.
"You the writer?"
"Yeah" I say.
"You wrote a book?"
"Yeah" I say.
"You gonna write another?"
"That's the plan." I say.
"How about martians? You gonna write about martians landing here and then like taking all our boats. You could write that couldn't you? I mean nobody's done that yet have they?"
"No I'm sure they haven't."
"OK then you write that and then let me know 'cuz I wanna read it first."

I get into my car just to get away and drive to the North shore. Wonderful silence. The tradwinds blowing in the ironwoods. I grab my saddle and bridle and walk to the gate.

"PSSSSSSSTTTT!!!" I hear.

"I GOT THIS IDEA!THERE'S THESE HORSES SEE...AND THEY'RE IN A BOAT SEE..."

WHERE SMILEY FACES COME FROM

You can see the eyes just moving into place...
Shhh. Don't move.
You'll scare it.

soon the smile will form and the fully evolved face will crawl out of the primordial soup of visages and emoticons.


What was I doing on October 18th?
Judge do I have to answer that question?
I do? Well uh er at 8 pm Mountain Standard time I was on the phone.
Yes I have witnesses.
My alibi is ironclad.
It was a book club.
In San Antonio, Texas.
Really.


AND HERE THEY ARE!
They'll back me up.

I can't tell you HOW MUCH FUN it is to talk to book clubs. Trust me. It is. This group from Texas asked some amazing questions and laughed at ALL my jokes.
That made me happy.
Another thing that made me happy?
This POST from booknook!

I MISS MISS SNARK

ALSO TITLED:

THE CONTINUING SAGA OF THE I'M A NITWIT AND PROUD OF IT FAN CLUB


I miss Miss Snark.
I miss Buffy Squirrel and following her back to her hole. I miss Bill E. Goat and M G Tarquini when the wit flew thick and heavy.
I miss Anon. I miss Clueless Anon. I miss Snarky Anon. I miss Nitwit Anon.
And I miss Anon Number 512.
I miss getting up in the morning going online and immediately having to clean the coffee off my keyboard before I can start my work for the day.
I miss the camaraderie.
I miss the glamour.
The quality of charisma.
I miss all that.
And more.
I miss Miss Snark
I miss being a part of a club.
I miss being a part of the group.
I miss nuking the scammers.
I miss saving another snarkling from the clutches of nefarious BB (and we know who you are)
I miss fiction novels.
I miss cluegun.
I miss guaranteed best seller.
I miss urban-romance-thriller-mystery-fantasy only with vampires and butt weasels ala Stephen King.
I miss the crapometer.
I miss gin.
I miss yanno.
I miss wtf.
I miss dear dog.
I miss clueless.
I miss have a clue.
I miss get a clue.
I miss Miss Snark.
And her little dog too.
I miss it.
I
miss
it
all.

PARABLES AND PARTY ANIMALS

I will blog today about THE ANT...hardworking...studious...focused...



and THE GRASSHOPPER...flippant...live for the day...devil may care...

Monday morning (for me) 75 degrees. My muse at my hip.
I went to the stable this weekend and worked with Baby Horse -- he's really coming along. Light. Balanced. Responsive. He's a pleaser. He's learning his job as a horse. Has figured out what I want. He listens to me. Thinks. Analyzes.
Then I go home.
To Beelzebub.
Hell Cat.
Grasshopper.
What? YOU back? I don't know WHO pulled all your clothes out of your cupboard. I was busy doing kitty litter therapy art in the forward stateroom.
I have no idea where your keys are and besides you shouldn't leave them on the table where it's so tempting to paw them off so they slide under the sea chest.
AHHH so many hours in the day and so many naps to take. I am inspired...
So what are you? The ant-like Baby Horse who works hard at what you do taking this writing stuff seriously.
Or are you a grasshopper like Touloose? At turns slovenly but with moments of inspired creativity and unparalleled genius (according to him).
I am both.
I think it takes both.
During the revision process that I am an ant. Thoroughly focused. Knowing where I need to go with a manuscript.
But during the first draft stage? I am Touloose. I am the brilliant but foolish grasshopper flitting and darting from one plot point to the other.
Never keeping to the point but getting there all the same.
But what is my true nature?
What am I deep inside.
And what are you?
Because it only took a second.
For me to realize.
That I am.
A Dragonfly.

THREE'S A CROWD...NOT!

How many manuscripts does it take to pillage and plunder from to get a decent second draft?
Hint.
How many do you have?*

75 degrees by my air conditioner outlet. 78 degrees by the nav station. 86 degrees outside ORION.
4:30 pm.

*Four. One to put under your coffee so it doesn't make marks on the table, one to prop open the forward cabin so it doesn't shut on a cat, one to sit on so you are ergonomically correct and one to lean against so you have proper alignment of the lumbar region.

A little sleepy.
Just a tad. Stayed up late chatting.
Had a marvelous interview by THE BOOK SELLER. The UK publishing magazine. Veddy.Veddy exciting for me.
She was an UBER INTERVIEWER (I hope you're reading this Anna.)
First of all the UK is 10 hours later.
And second.
She was one of the very few interviewers who had actually READ my book completely before interviewing me. We had such fun and talked about loving books that give you a good cry. So cathartic.
How cool is that?
I have to admit no matter where someone is from -- after a few minutes I start to talk like them. I started saying "Brilliant!" and "righty ho!" and "All right then."
I do it to people from the south too,
"Weeeellll honeeee chile..." and "Ya'll"
I just can't help it. I also couldn't prevent myself from saying "Aloha" in New York. If you want some really GREAT looks do that to a cabby.
I'm so grateful no one has hung up on me or hit me yet.
Yet.

I am currently collecting all the things people have said to me at signings starting with this from Washington.


"Did you write this book?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

STUPID AUTHOR TRICKS, UNINTERRUPTED WRITING TIME AND OTHER FANTASIES...

OKAY SO SHOOT ME...

At least it's a PRIUS and not a PORSCHE.

10:37 and 75 degrees inside ORION and 85 degrees outside ORION.
Air conditioning status: cool...very cool.

Let's get this over with right off the bat. It's a complete and utter fallacy that writing becomes easier once an author becomes published. No.
An author's life is one interruption after another

pitter patter gallumph CRASH!!!!!
WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING IN THERE???!!!!!

nothing...



type type type type
finally getting somewhere...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

(hit save hit save remember to hit save)
*climbs companionway and looks out

"Down here!!!"

"I'm selling chocolate covered plankton for the school...do you want to buy some? It's so our band can go to Sea World..."

*be polite. Say yes. It's a deduction.

type type type type type

ding ding ding
email
EGO: oh an email. I'll read it later when I have time.

ID: WHAT??!!!ARE YOU KIDDING!!! IT"S PROBABLY FROM OPRAH!!!YOU BETTER READ IT!

EGO: Now just calm down ID you're never going to get anything done if you answer each and every email as soon they come in.

ID: ARE YOU F***ING NUTS!!!THIS COULD BE IMPORTANT!!!IT COULD BE THE PULITZER PRIZE COMMITTEE NEEDING YOUR ADDRESS TO SEND YOU THE CHECK!!!!

EGO: Oh ego be reasonable...

ID: I AM BEING REASONABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*much time is wasted listening to id and ego argue
**looks at watch
Oh no.
Must make cat hat out of grapefruit rind.

ORION HAS LEFT THE BUILDING
LEFT THE BUILDING
LEFT THE BUILDING