The AHA moment!

GARDEN DATE: 2012.5.6

I’ve underestimated the weeds and work and overestimated my stamina, which means I’m woefully behind in my schedule. I’ve not completed the next leg of my weeding plan to reach the sitting area.  

Planning my garden work reminds me of outlining my book.  I usually underestimate how much I have to write and overestimate my time. I’m almost always crunching as I get closer to deadlines.

I’ve learned through gardening, not to expect one season a garden to make! Gardens are works in progress—exactly like books. Editors demand deadlines and so books cannot be tweaked as much as gardens.

Before I begin a book I develop a loose outline with points of where I want to be with the story, time-wise or story-wise. I walk the story through my head, just the key points.

In my garden, I want the entire path before I begin to develop a plan on weeding, pruning, and mulching. All this has to happen before a plant or seed goes into the ground.

I have an idea when I’m writing of how I want each segment to look, just as I have ideas on how I want each part of my garden to look. Does it happen that way? Not usually.

In the garden, I look for spots where I can develop an ‘aha’ moment. My neighbor and fellow gardener, Robin, so named the little areas where I’ve placed a pot on its side at the base of tall peonies and next to bushy yarrow, or the circled a birdbath and new plant with small  rocks. In order to lay those rocks around the birdbath, I had to first weed that section of the garden.  The pot on its side has been there all winter, waiting for the yarrow and peonies to grow up around it.

I try for those ‘aha’ moments in my writing; a piece of business that stays with the reader for later examination. I may tuck a turning point clue into the ‘garden’ of the story. And so stories go, some need extensive preparation to get the ‘aha’ just right, while others have an ‘aha’ that’s been lying in wait for the story to grow and expose it.

What impedes my garden and writing schedules? Distractions, new ideas and review. How sweet, a robin is splashing about in the birdbath. Wish the top were more secure. It’s not a tight fit since it’s not the original top. Fortunately, the robin is light enough to safely bathe.

After four hours of weeding, I had to stop working before I finished the piece I’d set as my goal. I became distracted by a patch of weeds outside my designated area but that garden seemed in more urgent need of weeding.

Stories do that. I set myself a goal and an arc that I’m going to hit and then I realize there is a notion, a storyline that must be written NOW or it will become overrun by exposition. While I was weeding I thought of a way to take up more garden space and keep the weeds down and clear area for pots in the garden. I plan to plant cascading petunia in the center pot and let the plants trail down the slope. The cap is an old birdbath that broke over the winter a few years ago. Never throw away garden pieces. Never throw away old stories, pieces of dialog, and interesting names and ideas. You never throw away a ‘pot’ that didn’t work somewhere else in the story. I hope this will be an interesting ‘aha’ moment  once it is planted. It’s a wonderful idea but it took me away from the weeding plan.

Sometimes, I’m plotting along and new idea invades my process. I have to stop and fiddle with it and it just right. You combine a couple of things you have lying about in other manuscripts and it is---a new idea!

Forging ahead requires looking behind. That backward glance shows you what you missed. How could you miss a Maple sapling, two feet tall when you pulled the wild garlic and chokecherry starts growing all around the young tree?

When I read what I’ve written the day before, I find saplings of too much narrative sprouting where there should be dialog. How did I miss several boring paragraphs? Too anxious to move on weeding, writing? Not expecting a sapling, hiding in plain sight? It happens…and so does the compost pile. But that’s another story!

Convergence of Cardinals

Three weeks ago my husband heard a tap against the tall tower window at the front of the house. Tap, tap, and tap again and again. The source of the continual tapping was two cardinals intent on reaching something in the window. They started flying at our window at first light and continued until dusk. They took turns flying from their perch in the crab apple tree outside the window, up to the glass, fluttering their wings and tapping the pane with their feet, as through trying to land on the reflected branch.

They drove Martin Marmalade crazy. He sat on the second floor landing and meowed at them for the first day. He ignored them after that, recognizing that he couldn’t reach them and accepting the tapping as ‘white noise’ in a cat’s life.

My husband, not so much. His first attempt to dissuade them from pursuing the new desirable but elusive perch fell short of his intended result. He used our telescoping dust mop, the head being long and blue like Marge Simpson’s hairdo. He carefully placed the handle across the ceiling light fixture and leaned the mop end against the window.

Imagine the joy the cardinals felt when they spotted that fabulous nest – theirs for the taking! The assault against the glass increased, both birds stepping up the tapping. After a few days, we noticed only the male would return to tap against the glass. We thought the female wised up, or maybe she was on a nest in a real tree, but what of the insistent male? We surmised it had become personal and a guy thing with the bird.             



My husband, understanding the challenge, but wanting the tapping to cease, fought back with a guy thing of his own.  If you can’t make out what is at the top of the pole, it’s a coat hanger with a series of his old ties knotted at intervals to scare off the cardinal. And so, the trident made from old, out-dated, ugly ties, did the trick and frightened the feisty cardinal. We waited a day then removed the pole. The next day at first light he returned, tapping with renewed vigor since his feet and beak had rested a day. Or maybe he sent in a ringer who thought messing with us would be a lark. So the pole is back and keeping our red feathered friend at bay.  But I ask you, who is the real winner? I think the cardinal is sitting pretty somewhere, laughing his little beak off at our window display, tweeting, “Gotcha’!”

TRANSPLANTS IN THE GARDEN

   At season’s end, gardeners view their perennials with an eye marking development and appeal. One makes notes with ideas for the spring.
Writers do the same. At the end of story you make notes for the next story or maybe you realize you need more re-write.
   If a plant didn’t do well in a spot, I investigate the possible reasons for stunted growth or minimal flowering.  With a new purchase, a plant I’ve never grown before, I read the planting label, clarify the label with someone at the plant shop, and follow suit. If I’m purchasing a replacement plant, I look at the area where its predecessor died.
If an idea didn’t do well in one spot, perhaps I needed to move it to another location in the story.
   Was there too much shade to expect good growth? Perhaps the Lavender Twist Weeping Redbud grew too quickly and overshadowed the small Dogwood.
   Was the soil too alkaline or too clayey? Either amend the soil with an additive or dig out the clay and haul in better soil.
   Did the neighbors overspray of the weed-killer they use to manage their side, land on your plant? How does one amend a neighbor?
Maybe it was a great plot twist, a slender clue dropped gently into the story, but the characters were moving too quickly and trampled over it without stopping to discover the gift at their feet. Perhaps the story line had already developed so strongly that the twist seemed insignificant and was overlooked. But it was a great twist! What to do?
   This spring, I reviewed my transplant from last fall, a variegated red twig Dogwood bush. It seemed easier to move the bush than to move the larger shrubs and trees.
It’s always easier to move a small piece of business (regardless how wonderful) than move an entire story. Hard to move a grown ‘tree’ like location. Easier to send your protagonist out of town to follow up a clue and drop your seedling there.
   This would be the dogwood’s second move. Its first location was such a good choice that it grew profusely but I neglected to take into account that its growth would soon block the already narrow opening to the yard which gave access to my husband on the riding mower. If he couldn’t use that pass through to get from front to back his mowing pattern would be altered. And that’s another story!!
Every now and then a secondary character or sub-plot develops so quickly that you don’t notice that they are about to become an impediment to the story. The story line starts revolving around them. The pattern of the story could change drastically. That character or sub-plot has to move to the back of the stage.
   I moved the dogwood to a mulched area. I gave it two years to re-establish. During those two years, my gorgeous weeping shrub which grew slowly (partly because the top portion had been cracked in an ice storm) took hold and grew amazingly well in those two years.
The risk of moving that rising character is that they might become over shadowed in another part of the story. It’s all about balance and finding where each character belongs and thrives within the story.
   The dogwood survived the transplant and has new shoots. I suspect that in addition to needing sun it also needed different soil. Before the dogwood lived in the mulch I had planted a Callicarpa in the same spot. It languished until I transplanted it to the main garden. In the last two seasons it has developed the style of growth it’s known for and blooms beautifully. I believe that the soil under the mulch is tainted or at best stripped of nutrients. I’ve decided to leave the area to the redbud.
When a story or character doesn’t fit in the spot you thought would be perfect, you have to move on and let what works in that spot develop on its own. That just may be the thriller novel that works itself up from ground into your head. Or a pretty spot to put a bench.

Table Legs in the Garden

Sunday April 2012

The sun is attempting an end run around the clouds. Sitting in my garden at 7:30 a.m., I want to believe there will be sun today.

I’m in my garden most Sundays having a coffee and enjoying the view. Today I’m delighted by what has ‘popped’ especially in view of our early spring. Sitting in my garden always turns my thoughts to writing--gives me time to think through problems in a plot or character development. I don’t know why staring at weeds, dried out stalks from last season and new blooms struggling to break the cap of dead leaves, reminds me of writing but it does.

Today, I notice how crooked all the posts and shepherds’ crooks became over the winter. I haven’t yet brought out the wind chimes or the pots that hang from the crooks. I’ll have to boot up and stomp the metal bar at the bottom of the crook deeper into the ground. Now that reminds me of how I have to, in some stories, push down hard to develop a deeper level of engagement for the reader.  If I don’t secure the story with some strong groundwork, I could have to go back and straighten that premise after the story has grown and attached itself to it. Takes more work and you run the risk of breaking a beautiful stem or offshoot.

Last season, on a morning walk, I discovered five turned wooden table legs with balls for feet at someone’s curb. I carried two and drove back with the car for the remaining three legs. Don’t know what had become of the sixth leg. Maybe the table hand only five. More likely an earlier ‘picker’ needed only one.

I set them in the ground upside down with the ball at the top. They’re in all parts of the garden, highlighting a clump of plants, shoring up an old birdhouse post or just standing about.

They remind me of twists and clues. Do I need to firm up a ‘leg’before I can add a piece of business? Can I use a table leg to develop a clue, or theme, or a quirky McGuffin?

This is how my mind works in the garden. I’ve ‘plucked literary table legs’ from my discarded manuscripts and from fabulous stories I’ve absorbed. Sometimes they become an important bit of business and sometimes they’re just table legs in the garden.

Enjoy the garden on the ground and the one in your mind.

They remind me of twists and clues. Do I need to firm up a ‘leg’ before I can add a piece of business? Can I use a table leg to develop a clue, or theme, or a quirky McGuffin?

This is how my mind works in the garden. I’ve ‘plucked literary table legs’ from my discarded manuscripts and from fabulous stories I’ve absorbed. Sometimes they become an important bit of business and sometimes they’re just table legs in the garden.

Quilting vs Plotting

     A friend of mine quilts absolutely beautiful pieces. I am in awe of how she can design, plan and pull together such wonderful quilts. What look like bits of fabric all mismatched and odd sized confound me as they become a beautiful quilt.

     She in turn, seems amazed by what I do. She wonders at how bits of dialog and events all mismatched and oddly stacked in my head can become a mystery. She admits to enjoying mysteries but never figuring out ‘whodunnit’.

     My sixth Grace Marsden mystery, The Innkeeper: An Unregistered Death, has elements of the Underground Railroad in Illinois. Sue made this quilt for me after I told her about the book.

     The quilt features symbols used by abolitionists to guide freedom seekers to safety or to relay messages.

     Quilts would have one message/symbol stitched into the piece. This quilt shows four symbols. The four corners depict the Monkey Wrench (get ready to leave—gather tools you may need). Between the corners you’ll see Flying Geese (directional prompt—follow the spring migration--North). The left panel depicts Crossroads (advising a change in direction). The last panel is The Log Cabin (seek shelter or safe haven).

     Slaves were not allowed to learn to read or write. It was imperative that an oral and visual system of directions be created. It would be dangerous for any directions or safe house descriptions to be written down in case the papers were found by slave catchers.

     When Sue presented me with the quilt I gushed at her work telling her how in awe I was of her ability.

     She laughed and told me she felt the same about my writing.  How could I pull the threads of all those odd bits into a plot that led to a great ending?

     We insisted that the other had the greater talent and began to compare our processes and results. We compared the excitement that the glimmer of the idea for the project creates. How we let the idea steep in our minds as we go about our days. How we begin to ‘sketch out’ what’s been percolating in our heads.

     We search for the right ‘fabric’ and the best ‘layout’ for our vision. Mine become characters and plot; Sue’s become material and pattern. I layer my story with secondary characters and hold it together with multiple ‘threads’ of the storyline using a backdrop of place and description and history. Sue uses just the right amount of batting under her pieces to give the quilt substance and warmth. She’ll stitch in the ditch, securing her pieces with inconspicuous seams. She tries her best to avoid ‘bearding’ (tiny tuft of batting that pokes through the hole made by the needle). She finishes with an appropriate backing. I try to write the events seamlessly (no holes in the story) so as not to pull the reader out of the story. Along the way, we both encounter ‘difficult threads’ and have to use a different needle or plot point.

     We enjoyed sharing our process and finding so many similarities to our creative expressions.

     Has anyone else discovered the overlap or common process with different art forms?

Say it Ain't So...

        Two weeks ago I put up a post, KISS KISS or BANG BANG, in which I wrote about how it felt to end an eight year, seven book series. Would I end the Grace Marsden Mysteries with 'happily ever after' or a high body count?

        The response from different quarters surprised me. Some friends who didn't know the series ended with The Reenactor: A Staged Death, jumped on my email with statements of solace and disbelief. Author friends, who know how quirky this business is, asked, “So, what’s next?”

        One reader, whom I ran into at another author’s signing, asked if her calling the publisher would help. I hugged her! Other readers emailed their sadness at no more Gracie stories. I sent them smiley faces and virtual hugs!

        Why does a series end? Just when you get used to the characters and you’re looking forward to the next adventure, the stories stop.

        In the case of Grace, calling the publisher won’t help her ‘ride again’ in what would have been book eight, working title, The Mystery Maven: A Clueless Death. My publisher and I, mutually (I won’t say it was 50-50) decided during the writing of book six that number seven would be the end of the series.

        They look at sales, they look at Return on Investment, and they make a decision. My publisher is doing more with E-books and the possibility that I would continue in E-book format only didn't appeal to me. You look at the options and make the best decision.

        SO, what’s next? That’s the question I prefer to answer. Thank you for asking! I’m excited that to say that Harlequin Worldwide Mystery has picked up the second in the series, The Lion Tamer: A Caged Death, for their mystery catalog. AND what about that great title for book eight? Sometimes, coming up with a title is the toughest part of the book. When you write a series, you have bits and bobs of ideas for new stories running through your head most days. I’ve managed to write down most of them and I’m confident that the title won’t die on the dust heap.

KISS! KISS! or BANG! BANG!

When the time comes do you end your series with sweetness and light or with a high body count? How do you say ‘good-bye’ to your characters when a series ends?

Do you end the storyline in such a manner that you can never go back unless you tap the unsatisfying (in my opinion) ‘revivalist’ trick of a dream sequence, or mistaken identity or a miraculous recovery.

Do you end the series in a manner that leaves the possibility, as unlikely as it may be, that all or some or a few of the characters could return?

Do you choose an interesting secondary character and spin off a new series?

The decision to end my series became reality while I worked on the sixth book, The Innkeeper: An Unregistered Death. I am grateful for the advance notice that gave me the opportunity to start pulling in the nine book arc I’d thought the series could be. Knowing two years ahead of time gave me the distance I needed to begin to find what I hoped would be satisfying conclusions to the characters’ stories.

It was a gift and a curse. 

 

As I began to write this last book, I started by doing something I’d never done with the other books. I outlined. I outlined points I wanted to make, situations from earlier books that I wanted to wrap up, relationship resolutions. I had outlines for secondary characters even some tertiary characters.

Then, I experienced something that had never happened before with the earlier books…writer’s block. I sat paralyzed by the thought that I didn’t have the next book to expand a theme, develop a character, massage a plot twist or resolve a relationship. I sat dead in the water at my computer, fingers frozen over the keys while I reviewed my outlines. 

 

Who has struggled with this dilemma? I’d love to hear how you handled, The End.

If you haven't yet read all six of the previous Grace Marsden Mysteries, you can read the first chapter of each one and then purchase the ebooks for just $.99 each -- but only for a limited time -- at www.luisabuehler.com