Creativity is a funny thing. Some think it’s some sort of spontaneous will o’ the wisp kind of thing, and I’m inclined to agree, at least in part. I certainly don’t believe creativity is always “turned on” at the same level in an individual. Take short stories for instance—I cannot write one to save my life unless inspiration hits, Once when asked to contribute a short story to an anthology about World War II, I dithered forever about what to write. And then, an idea came out of the blue—I clearly heard an old woman’s voice lamenting her children lost to war. I wrote the first draft in about two hours and called it, “A widow’s lament.” The same is sort of true for novels—an idea has to “hit” me. I’m sure what really happens is that an idea simmers in the back of my brain and then bursts forth in my consciousness.
I thought for instance that I
was through writing about my diva faux French chef, Irene Foxglove. But then an
idea struck me—as I’ve been telling it, Irene tapped me on the shoulder and
said, “Ahem, we’re not through with my story yet. I have to tell about the
family I’ve left behind.” My fried Fred, who advises me, says if I ever am
really through with Irene, I’ll have to drive a spike through her heart.
Meantime, she’s given me the idea for a new story. That doesn’t mean writing it
has gone smoothly. There’s that thing called writer’s block.
Writer’s block is an even
funnier thing than creativity, though not in an amusing way. The dictionary
tells us writer’s block is a state of being unable to think of what to write or
how to proceed with writing. It happens to me, predictably, somewhere between 20K
and 40K words. I write short—I know writers whose first draft of a mystery runs
up to 90K to 100K but mine are often 55K at best. A good traditional or cozy
mystery should be about 70K.
When I get to that middle
point, my sticking point, my instinctive thought is “There’s so much more to
go! How will I ever fill those pages? I’m ready to wrap this up now.” Hank
Phillippi Ryan, an author much more talented and prolific than I am, calls that
point, “The muddle in the middle.” I have been known to shelve a manuscript at 20K
words, go back months later, and think, “Hey, this isn’t so bad!” That has
happened with at least two books in the Irene series. And it happened with the
current one which I’m calling, Irene in a Ghost Kitchen.
We are told in writers’ groups
that persistence is the basis for success as a writer. Classic advice: put your
butt in the chair and keep it there. I guess that’s where I failed. I put this
manuscript aside at 32K words and focused on my cookbook. Then a friend, whose
literary knowledge I respect, commented on what a good character Irene is, and
I thought, “Hmmm. Maybe I should go back and re-read that.” I did, and suddenly
my head is teeming with ideas. Whereas before I had no idea how it would work
out, now I can see the ending. I’m just impatient to get it all down on paper.
Last night, Sophie and I didn’t
sleep well, partly because one or the other of us had to pee. But I also lay
awake for great bunches of time writing in my mind. I’m not one of those who
gets up in the middle of the night to make notes, so I am trusting that some—most?—of
that night-time activity is tucked away in my subconscious and will surface
when needed.
Excuse me. I’ve got to go now,
because I left Irene in a precarious situation. But PS I am delighted that
people find Irene funny, interesting, complex, all those things. I call her
outrageous. But I hope the narrative voice, which belongs to a much younger
chef Henny James, is as riveting with her wry sense of humor and her clear understanding
of Irene—well, almost.
Want to start the series? Try Saving
Irene. Amazon.com:
Saving Irene: A Culinary Mystery (An Irene in Chicago Culinary Mystery) eBook :
Alter, Judy: Kindle Store
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