In The Works
As a writer, is there ever a time when something isn’t in the works? At any time, I could be creating new material, researching, editing, rewriting, fretting, letting the story percolate, rewriting some more, paying a sensitivity reader, having lunch with a beta reader, more rewriting, writing a synopsis, writing a query letter, sending out query letters, getting rejected, realizing it isn’t good enough, starting over at page one, and on, and on. Every step of the way, I ask myself, “Why am I doing this?” If with every step the story didn’t get a little bit better, I probably would have given up ages ago.
Below is some background on the two novels I have “in the works”. They are completely different stories. One takes place in 1886 Arizona, the other is contemporary and is set in Galveston, Texas. Somehow along the way, the two stories have become intertwined and in the process, I believe each has grown stronger.
Last Train Out is my first born. It grew out of the frustration with my marriage. I fantasied running off and traveling the country in a van. In my travels, I come across a man. Isn’t that how all fantasies work? Still Smoking is my ideal man, plain and simple. He is highly intelligent, self-confident and quiet. And is now one of the two main characters in this novel.
So, where did the name come from? I stole it. With a criminal justice degree, I went to work as a parole officer in Texas. More stories there than I care to remember, but one day a new releasee from the Texas prison system slumped into my office with the last name Stillsmoking. He only showed up once. He was from Washington state and quickly absconded from Texas. There was something about that name that stuck with me. Not long after, Still Smoking popped up in my fantasies. Trust me, my Still Smoking is nothing like the one who stepped into my office.
The narrator of Last Train Out is Serena. This is where my memory gets spotty. I have no idea where the name came from. I’ve never come across a Serena, real or otherwise. I’ve considered changing the name, but nothing else stuck.
Mystery number two, I have no idea how these two people ended up in Arizona in 1886. Maybe I read something about the end of the Apache wars that sparked my imagination. Geronimo surrendered in September 1886, marking the end of the Indian conflict. I was living in Los Angeles at the time and researching an idea for a book about John Wilkes Booth, Lincoln’s assassin. How did one lead to the other? Beats me.
Now if you are one of those nauseating people who can quote whole scenes from movies or recite entire Robert Frost poems, kiss my ass. I’m lucky to remember my phone number and have to pause before writing down my address.
This is simply how my stories begin. People, places, situations pop into my head. If I’m smart, I write it down. One of my short stories started as a dream. Not another fantasy man. This one is an alien being who crashes in the Idaho mountains.
I’ll stop here with the story behind the story. Look for more in my blog. Next up, how rejection lead to the Peace Corps.
Click on Last Train Out to read an excerpt.
There was a time when Last Train Out was supposed to be finished. Boy, was I wrong. There was even a small press that wanted to publish it, but I turned them down. Another story for later.
It was time to start a new project, but what? I had finished a middle grade book that needed to percolate for a while. It’s still percolating. This is where No Ma’am Just a Dwarf and Last Train Out first intertwined, only I didn’t realize it at the time. I began what was supposed to be a sequel to Last Train Out.
I’m a pantser, which means I usually have no plan for the story. I’m as surprised by what happens as a reader is. With Last Train Out, I always knew how it was going to end. How it would get there was a mystery. For the sequel, I had an idea that involved Indian schools – a topic that has been in the news a lot lately. I researched the schools years ago but never did anything with the information. Now was the time, or so I thought.
As I struggled to get started, another group of characters kept popping into my head. Usually at night forcing me to get out of bed. The narrator was a dwarf named Benton. Before long, I had all of these random scenes. Eventually, I had enough to put together a rough short story. I started spending less and less time with Serena and company, and more time with Benton. His story was more fun and funny.
“Good artists (writers) borrow. Great artists (writers) steal.” -Picasso?
I confess – again. I stole Benton. I am a huge fan of Peter Dinklage. Not the Game of Thrones Dinklage. More The Station Agent character Finbar McBride played by Dinklage. Benton has developed his own personality over time, but the reader may still hear a little of Finbar’s no nonsense snarkiness in Benton.
Next, came the name. Again, stolen. In the 1980’s was a television show called Benson. Robert Guillaume played the title character, a sharp-tongued butler. Benson was another one of those names that have stuck with me. Maybe there was something about Benson DuBois’s quick wit that I related to my character. With a bit of adjustment, my narrator became Mr. Benton.
“But wait,” you’re going to say, “in the excerpt, he’s Mr. Bastien.”
You will have to wait for my blog to get that story.
Click on No Ma’am Just a Dwarf to read an excerpt.