Monday, March 24, 2014

Watchtower Guilt

Creeping along at the slow, taxing pace of an ant crossing a spill of honey…

That’s how my work day has been going.  How has yours been?

Hopefully considerably speedier than mine. 

My two hundred and fifty words on Book Two of “The Lion & the Steed” series couldn’t have come much slower if I had chiseled each letter out in stone.

I got them done and I’m actually fairly satisfied with them but… did I mention it took FOREVER?

Oh, yeah. I guess I did.

Moving on, then.

*smiles tiredly*

Confession time. I have this ‘thing’ with poetic license. You know, the idea that a writer can fib the facts to better tell a story?

Yeah, well, this ‘thing’ I have about it is, uh, guilt.

I feel stupidly guilty changing even the most mundane facts about a location or a person to suit my silly old needs. And when I say mundane, I mean mundane. Let’s go to an example.

I’ve spent the day researching a foreign city where the bulk of Book Two is going to be taking place in. I wanted to get all the describers of the city down, making sure they shine with authenticity and flavor. I always want my readers to be able to visualize the locale in their heads. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the feel of the air on your skin should all be there in a select few of my words.  So, yeah, I think it’s real important to my story. I want to get it right.

So, today I found out that my city has a 16th century watchtower. One source tells me it’s at the foot of a mountain. Another source says it’s on the coast. While geographically both can’t be actually true, I made them true.

PLOP!

Down I sat that stinking watchtower on a rocky outcropping at the base of a sea cliff.

Totally conjecture on my part.

 Complete poetic license.

 A “fact” that plays no part whatsoever in my story except to exude atmosphere.

And how long did I spend deciding if I could move the freaking watchtower? A whole hour. Did you hear me? A WHOLE HOUR!

And now, with the deed done how do I feel?

Guilty.

????

I feel guilty for not being true to a place I’m pushing my fictionalized characters onto.

????

Yeah, sometimes I think my whole life is a string of question marks.  

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

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