Out of Focus

Point #1: Somehow, I managed to get 1k words written on the lengthening of Oklahoma yesterday.

Point #2: I exist out of focus. While the majority of people are crisp and clear, their psyches relatively easy to look at and understand, looking at me requires squinting. Hard and lengthy, headache-inducing, squinting. When there’s so much beauty in this world, who can blame a soul for ignoring the fuzzy, gray spot?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Narrowing the Spotlight

A long time ago, in a galaxy no larger than my couch, I tried my darnedest to write a synopsis for The Hushing Days.

Now this wasn’t going to be any old run-of-the-mill, humdrum synopsis either. Oh, no. It was going to be masterful.

I researched and studied and researched a little bit more about how to write a smashing good two page blow-by-blow of my first mainstream historic romance.

The problem emerged early on.

Every pundit, every writer, every know-it-all who had bothered to write a guide to synopsis-penning asked for a lead character.

Yeah, well, since my book is an ensemble affair with a handful of fine characters who all wanted to take the lead, I was stuck.

Eventually, after trying to stretch the one lead formula over my whole gang, I bit the bullet and chose one couple as my lead. (Yes, I know, that’s still technically two people, but I’m ornery.)

Needless to say that didn’t work either, and I ended up tossing the whole synopsis idea in favor of a detailed chapter outline to pitch to my agent.

It worked and, a year later, here we are on the homestretch.

But the funny thing is that the couple I chose (with great and tortuous thought, mind you) to take the lead are far from center stage in the soon-to-be complete The Hushing Days. They’re a good level or two above supporting, but they are hardly on the marquee.

Bottom line… Let the novel take you where it will, and when it’s all done, the story will cast its own lead.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Focus Needed

While in the middle of a big, family visit, my writing has been a bit of a smash and grab affair.

A hundred words here, a handful of sentences there and that’s about it for the last two weeks.

Pitiful, right?

What’s even more pitiful is the quality of the work I’ve been sputtering out. Bad habits of fluffing dialogue needlessly, of excessive scene-setting and meandering inner-dialogue are raising their beady-eyed little heads and causing trouble again.

Deep breaths are needed.

Deep breaths are in short supply.

I’ll keep you updated.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Blinders On!

I am not a horse.

This should be a simple enough concept to grasp, especially for the accused-equine in question.

Should be.

Isn’t.

Apparently for me to work effectively, the blinders must remain tightly secured at all times.

I refer to, of course, those flaps/blinkers racehorses or workhorses often wear to keep them focused on the road ahead and nothing more.  There’s no looking back at what’s coming up from the rear. There’s no looking sideways to see distractions or the competition. Straight ahead. End of story.

Well, yesterday, in a mistaken effort to start toeing my way into the big historical romance writers groups on Facebook, I made the error in actually glancing at some of these esteemed author’s postings…

*pauses to scratch the hives of abject terror now encircling my throat…*

Let’s just say it was a COLOSSAL mistake.

There were huge discussions on late 18^th century footwear.

Group conversations on daily Colonial diets.

Raging debates on tri-corner hats!... (Ok, this one is an exaggeration, but I’m sure it’s there somewhere. At that point, I was cowering behind my dog hyperventilating and had lost all tactile ability.)

The point is, I was intimidated clear out of my early 21^st century shoes.

So, blinders back on.

I cannot look to the side. I’ve got to run my own race, using what scraggly legs and big clumsy heart God has given me.

Period.

No, I may not be a horse. But, for pity’s sake, send me nowhere without my blinkers.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Focusing That Viewfinder

Still perched on the stoop awaiting my care package of research goodies, I am happily humming to the news that the Cubs have landed free agent Jon Lester. (This is after a late night happy dance in my bedroom that included fist pumps and fangirl giggles.)

But as I doubt many of you have dropped by to hear the Shakespearian tale of the Chicago Cubs, I will now veer the conversation back toward writing. (Whether this is an improvement or not, I leave to your judgment.)

Crafting a historical novel is one thing, actually writing it is another.

I thought setting up a logical, entertaining chain of events that would buckle and climax at the appropriate times for a 100k novel would be the truly hard part.

Wrong.

Writing it has been the real bear.

Now, as the holidays have arrived and writing schedules have been scattered to the winds, I’ve had time to strategize a little on how to move forward more efficiently with the Six Brothers project.

With all the historical depth and richness available about the years of the American Revolution, I have decided to concentrate the novel’s historical core on the prisoners of war. Accuracy in this department will be key, crucial and demanding. However, by focusing it all in one area, I hope to be able to move more quickly through the actual writing of the novel while still retaining its all-important historical feel.

Let’s be frank. People and their relationships to each other haven’t changed drastically through the years. Love, hate, jealousy, generosity, faith and forgiveness are all the same, just expressed through different methods. I’ve got a ton of experience writing these emotions, so they will flow rather easily from me. The trap I’ve fall into is one of obsessive historical accuracy on all fronts, in all nooks and crannies of the book.

An impossible goal to reach.

At least for me.

So, the bulk of my detailed historical efforts will now lie with the prisoners of war. Hopefully, this strategy will limit this research nut’s OCD tendencies to more manageable levels.

Hopefully.

We’ll see.

And here end today’s rambling lecture.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe