Optimist

I’ve been busy working on those adjuncts that go with getting Rain out into the world: covers, blurbs, loglines, teeny-tiny things on my author Facebook page (S.E. Hudnall), and waiting, perhaps not as patiently as I would like or should, for feedback from beta readers, so I can put on the final polish and proof. Snow is being submitted, chapter by chapter, to my critique group. And, for no reason I can fathom, my sci-fi love story seems to be peculating as well. It’s a long list and a story too long for blogging. I must write faster. I want four of them out before the end of next year. I think I can do that. I believe I can.

But . . . perhaps I have an inflated sense of my own capabilities, or maybe I’m just a cock-eyed optimist. Like this one I found in my backyard Sunday morning.

 

 

Optimist

A piece of trash . . . surely

Blown in by some capricious wind

A remnant of someone’s overload refuse bin

Now caught in the skeletal branches

Of leftover summer flowers

 

But . . . no.

One single white iris

Blooming low to the ground

Shy, but hopeful.
Whispering . . .
I’m here. Is winter gone yet?

 

 

What he could not tell her-- A Writing Prompt Completed

From Writers Write, 21 August 2015.

 

 

From Rain

What three things could Gerry never tell Cheryl?

There's actually very little Gerry could never tell Cheryl by the end of Rain. There may be things he simply has forgotten, but to say he could never tell her would be difficult. At least, not anything from the past. She knows his inner demons, his past mistakes.

The future is different and I'm foreshadowing a future story here.

I don't think he could tell her of the terror he experienced when he came home when she was pregnant and found her slumped over the kitchen table with a pool of blood at her feet.

I don't think he could ever tell her about coming home from the hospital that night and calling his father, not to simply inform him or his mother of the medical emergency, but because he needed to share his terror with another man. Tom would not have been enough. And he felt Cheryl didn't need to see or share his fear. Not that she could have.

I also don't think he could or will share his fear of losing her both during the birth and  in the estrangement which followed. His anger, yes. His fear, no.

 

 

From Snow

What three things could Aaron never tell Desiree?

I'm not sure yet what things Aaron could never tell Desiree. He is, after all, both an attorney and a judge. "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth" is something he believes in. Yet, he also knows, as an attorney, you instruct your client to answer only the question put to them, as simply as you can. He has a deep respect, if that is the word, for the truth.

But what three things would he refrain from telling her? Best I keep to the past with him. Their complete story is still very much in process. And Aaron is a particularly hard nut to crack.

I don't think he would ever tell her about meeting someone from the estranged branch of his family--the Cavalleros, his Italian mother's family. Not his Great-Aunt Bianca, who had, until she died a few years back, maintained a sporadic link with his grandmother, but a cousin who appeared as a witness in his courtroom.

I don't think he would ever tell her about the woman he almost became engaged to in law school.

I don't think he would ever tell her about Belinda Upstead, his senior year in high school. In the storage room of the bookstore. After closing. [Ha! Caught you, Aaron. :) ]

It's not my Bad Poetry this time --- Not Exactly

White Mountains of New Hampshire
S.E.Hudnall 2014 

That's correct. This isn't my "bad poetry". I was in New England this spring, having a grand old time and, yes, writing in my little spiral notebook. I knew I was going to be bringing back "bad poetry".

But this one, while written there, isn't really mine. It was my notebook. I held the pen. But it's really Desiree's. It's her poem. Who is Desiree? My female protagonist in Snow.

Honor for Sale

They're selling honor and glory on the street corner,
Hawking them like precious wares.
And the price---the rock bottom price
Is the blood of your fathers, sons, and brothers
A few hundred body bagsT
Caskets to be unloaded on a western dock
A sister's tears--- a father's aching emptiness
A mother's son-less arms
A future caught in crossfire on a rice field
The skein of brightness, love, and laughter
Cut by a sniper's bullet---no Fates involved.

They're selling honor and glory on the street corner
Special offer today
Death half off or two for one
Your choice of bargains.

Elizabeth Desiree Williams

 

 



They say there's a little bit of yourself in every character you create. I'll say "Amen" to that. I can't deny it. But it's never more than just a piece or two. Desiree, quite obviously, is the poet of the bunch. And also writes 'bad poetry'.  

Writing with a Soundtrack

I listen to a lot of music while I'm writing. A lot of it triggers memories of a particular era which helps a great deal. It's a submersion thing.

I do believe I have discovered, not one, but two more songs for my current WIP- Snow. Yes, I've been listening to them and not exactly sure why I was enjoying them so much or why they were haunting me even when I wasn't playing them.

It was my male protagonist, whistling the tunes in my head. Yes, the honorable Aaron Johansson, circuit judge, is whistling Dean Martin tunes. I blame Noona, his Italian grandmother. She loves Dean Martin. Aaron was marked. And he whistles when he's happy. [Must update his file.]

Now maybe I can get the tunes going in your head before I get back to work making him very, very unhappy. What can I say? It's what I do.

 

 

 

 

Character File for Aaron Johansson

I said in one of  my last posts, where I described my character sketches that I would post one from a current WIP. So I decided on the male protagonist from Snow. This is a very fluid document. Things can and do change. Would you like to meet the honorable Aaron Johansson?

 

Some Writing Memes: Part Deux

I finished my first revision of Rain then left it alone while I got some important scenes done for Snow. Now I'm back chugging away at Rain again. I don't know why some things didn't occur to me on the first revision but they certainly have this time--with a vengeance. And it's still darn hard work for me. Maybe one day I will understand or get to the point where I actually can start to enjoy it like so many people seem to.

So, in desperate need of something to make me smile and since I bit the bullet and paid for an upgrade of my graphics program, I made a few more memes. What can I say? They relax me. Ok, they torment me, too, as they whirl across my screen when I've stopped writing for more than five minutes. The scoundrels!

 

 

Ah, yes, my two favorite prejudices. . . again.

 

What's Going On: A Music Video

I'm working on Snow, which takes place in this era, but I don't think I will, can, or ever be able to give it the justice it deserves. I love and hate this video in ways too numerous to mention. So, yes, it's going on my Snow soundtrack.

Writer's Questions, the DFW Writers Convention, & a Snippet from "Snow"

Designed at Bitstrips



It's spring. After all this mind-crackling, bone-fracturing cold, it is spring. I suppose most people are cavorting with great abandon with the vernal equinox, warmer temperatures, and the promises of blooming flower beds. I love the season, too. But something comes with it.

With spring comes something else on the all-too-soon horizon. The DFW Writers Convention is coming up and , yes, I'm going again. Will I pitch Snow, my current WIP? I don't know. I have a pitch session scheduled again. I will research the agents I've asked for. Look at their biographies. Chase down their tweets. Read their blogs. Oh, I'll look for every piece of information I can find on them. I don't know which one of my three choices I will end up with.

I'm not as anxious as I was last year. The situation could change as the date grows closer. But I did manage to get through a pitch last year. Strange, isn't it? Someone who expresses themselves best in written form attempting to express it in spoken form---and evaluated accordingly. To me, it is very strange. Even in my former profession I hated doing performance art; although they called it BCLS, ACLS, and Clinical Competencies.

But the pitch for Snow will depend on whether I finish the rough draft in time. I don't like the idea of pitching something that isn't complete. If it isn't complete by then I suppose I use the time just to natter and ask questions.

Now there's a quandary. An odd one for me. I've labeled myself a Pochemuchka (Russian for someone who asks a lot of questions) but I'm afraid when it comes to asking actual people actual questions which would do me some good----I am terrible. It's so important to have the right questions. So what questions? I will only have ten minutes. Those questions will be the most difficult things I have ever written. I think finishing the rough draft of Snow will be easier.

So I think I will share a scene from Snow. An excerpt, not a snippet. This is one of the first scenes I wrote for it. Yes, it's one of the pivotal points. And , if summarized like a logline, it can be read almost like a comedy. I dislike writers who explain their writing but I will simply say Snow is not a comedy, romantic or otherwise. It is a love story and this scene happens midway.

Break-out Character: Does It Happen in your Writing?

Not too long ago I commented on another writer’s blog. Well, I actually didn’t comment–I asked questions since she had asked for questions. The questions I asked at the end were fairly simple:

·       Just how often does a secondary character morph into a primary character for you?

·       How often were you surprised when that happens?

·       Does it not surprise you at all?

 

When I look over my own project list I can see that happening. All. The. Time. Right now I’m revising Rain and working on Snow. His Honor, the honorable Aaron Johansson, came directly out of Rain and now has his own set of troubles in Snow.  Summer Heat will feature two characters from Rain, albeit in an earlier time period. And as if there isn’t enough characters from Rain jumping up and down and waving their arms–well, there are the kids! Fatherhood I will have to create a file folder for so I can keep the kids corralled and quiet for a little while.

Even in Dani’s Song, my fairytale, I have characters in the back of my brain waiting to have their story told. I simply refuse to listen to them right now. I know they are not happy but there is a limit to the number of voices I’m willing and capable of listening to at a time. Get all of them into my living room at the same time and I’d require a DSM-IV diagnosis with treatment plan and appropriate medication.
 
Troika has even more but Jerome is the most insistent of that group, aggravating pushy male that he is. I don’t care how much he grins at me or how charming he is! He will have to wait his turn as well.

Every single one of them is a love story, not always a romance but always a love story. At least they’re consistent.

 

Music to Write by

I'm still working my way through the revision for Rain. Yes, the process is still an arduous one for me but I think it's getting better. I hope I'm not too optimistic when I say the revision should be finished by the first of next month. At that point, Rain will be sent out to publishers and agents for their consideration. And sent out again and yet again. I have a number and/or a date on my query history sheet and if nothing happens by the time the number or date is reached. Well, I've kind of made up my mind---I will be publishing it independently and online. I want it out there somewhere and in some form.

Snow, the rough draft, is getting done as well. At least the primary love story is proceeding nicely. I'm working on the secondary arc now a bit more slowly. I want to get the facts and the tone right historically speaking. The time period can so easily become ---stereotyped? 

Both come from the same time period and I've been listening to a lot of the music I loved as a teenager: Motown, bubble-gum rock, and war protest songs of the late sixties.

I've also been thinking about that romance rule that says you have to have something keeping your couple apart for anything from 60% to 94% of the story. I've never liked that rule. I've always preferred letting them get together then spend the rest of the time trying to wreck havoc with them or the relationship.

"You think you're in love. Life is wonderful and nothing will ever hurt again? Bwa-ha-ha!" She cackled. Not a chance! I'm mean, ugly, and my mother always dressed me funny.


Back to the music, an old favorite of mine popped up on my playlist and I thought . . . perfect! Falling in love should be easy----but??? Will it stay that way? Should it? Can love persist or even grow deeper when things change? When challenged? Oh, yes, me and my questions again.

So I give you Mr. Len Barry and my personal trope that falling in love is easy.

 

 

 

 

 

Now I must get back to work. I have a very patient critique buddy who has been waiting far too long for her feedback! 

December's Bad Poetry and Brief Fiction Update

I have been so neglectful with this blog. With good reason, I suppose. I'm exactly six weeks post-op from a total replacement of my right knee, a surgery almost too long postponed. I'm actually doing quite well--at least my physical therapist thinks so. But the process is a draining one both physically and creatively.

I'm still writing every day but how much I can do every day varies a great deal. Some days are better than others.

I'm still waiting on feedback from a second reader before continuing with the revision of Rain. I do wish they would hurry up. I want--need--to get it sent out early in the coming year. I would pester and nag but one doesn't do that to friends, does one?

Snow is coming along, more slowly now than before surgery, and there are parts I think work well and others that don't work as well. But that's what revision is far isn't it? I'm still quite hopeful I can have it finished before the DFW Conference next year.  It remains to be seen.

Now, how about some bad poetry?

Recent Poems from Facebook and Twitter

I.

Wrapping my eyes in gray
My ears in soft cotton wool
Hypnosis or sleep?

No difference in the hours
One sliding into another.

II.

Sunlight refracting
Into droplets of color
Falling one by one.

III.

Now cold cobalt nights

Descend sans dreams or nightmares
Empty . . . so empty.

IV.

On every journey

Light roads, dark roads co-exist

Traveled best with friends.

Number IV is one I wrote and tweeted to someone I know (albeit not well) in response to one of his tweets. I generally consider such 'gifts' and would not share them here but Twitter is public.

Stories within stories: a Snippet from "Snow"

I talked about characters in yesterday's post. How I create them and they tell me the story. Sometimes little pieces of story simply become snippets---a story they told me which influences them but serves as back story, much like "Judith".

I've been revising Rain over the past few weeks but I've also been working on my second project, Snow, with an eye to having them both ready (possibly) for next year's writing conference. As happens with me, a name caught my eye and, while I knew she was important, I didn't or don't pursue that particular story in Snow. It's backstory again. And, yet, I liked it. Another story is folded up inside. Would you like a peek at the snippet? It's unedited rough draft and incomplete (even now my fingers itch to rephrase and elaborate some things). I think I'm going to finish it up as a short story and put it up on Scribophile. The story folded inside? Please tell me in the comments if you see it as well as I do and ,if I wrote it, would you read it?

Do Your Characters Ever Invade Your House?

I'm so sorry. I couldn't help myself. In a recent email exchange with another "writing buddy" I wrote:

I am busy with my 'own stuff' but I think the guys improve when I make them sit in the living room and amuse themselves while I do something different. (Now there would be a funny scene to write!) I better stop thinking about that image!!

Of course, I looked up from my laptop into the living room and the images started popping up. The urge became overpowering. My fingertips tapped out the following little scene. Maybe it will make you giggle like it did me.

Sanity? I Was Sane Once?

Well, actually it hasn't. I don't think so anyway. I've spent the better part of today finishing up my homework for the DFW Writers Conference. Yes, the Romance workshop I signed myself up for in a sudden fit of brazenness.

My pitch session was emailed to me not too long ago and I initially was super excited about it. I looked at it again and groaned. Just from looking at the time my session is scheduled for the end of the day or pretty close to it. End of the day. I can't make up my mind if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I'm leaning toward the latter with various descriptors tumbling through my mind: tired, hungry, thirsty (for a stiff one), and aching (me at least).

Ah, well, as I told the friend who is carpooling with me. "It's practice. You're going to have to do it sooner or later. And there's always going to be a first time so just do it!" I was actually negging on her after she told me she wasn't going to pitch her manuscript. No way was I going to let her get away with such cowardice! Last night we talked for almost an hour and yes, she will be pitching as well. Yes! After all, misery loves company, yes? OK, I didn't urge her to do simply for that reason but it will  be a double learning experience. We debrief each other extensively afterwards I'm sure.

I will not be posting here again until  Saturday night at the earliest or Monday at the latest. In other words, if I hear encouraging words I will probably be posting Saturday; if the words are discouraging I will probably post Monday. All of which means absolutely nothing--------------everyone here knows I'm going to keep writing no matter what is said.

Excerpts and Snippets: "Snow"

Another excerpt today I think. This one is from "Snow". I think the era or time frame should be explicit.

“Mark, I want to know why you came all the way to Wisconsin,” Desiree asked as they sat down at the small dining table at the apartment for a late night snack.

“It’s complicated, Lizzie.” Mark played with the pickle she placed next to the grilled cheese sandwich he had asked for. “I guess I’m looking for some support for a decision I don’t really want to have to make.”

Desiree propped her arms on the table and looked at her brother for a moment. “What decision?”

“I graduate this May,” he said and snapped his pickle in half. “My degree will be finished.”

“Yes, Mama is so excited about it.”

“I know. But I don’t think she realizes what will come with it. And I do. I’ll have . . . do have some choices to make and none of them are ones I want to make.”

“What choices?”

“Lizzie, for God’s sake. You read the newspapers; you watch Walter Cronkite. Have you been living in a cave?” His voice rose and his eyes gleamed bright with tears she hadn’t seen since their father died. “Listen to me again. I graduate this May; my degree will be finished. I’m not married with kids like Monroe and Tal.”

Desiree dropped her head to her propped arms and fought the urge to pound her head against the wood. He was talking about Vietnam and she knew it. She looked back up at her brother. “Mark, what happened to med school? You’ve been dreaming and planning for med school since junior high.”

“I got my fifth application back. ‘Thank you for applying’, ‘our best wishes in your pursuit of a medical career’, and all that other crap that adds up to ‘tough luck, buddy.’ I’ve got two more applications still out but I can read the writing on the wall.”

Mark seemed to grow smaller in the dining chair like he was physically shrinking in front of her. The words finally began to sink into her, calling up images of fallen baby sparrows and the wounded rabbit he had brought home when he was only in the fifth grade. Big, tough football player he might have been but his grades were stellar and his scholarships were not based on his athletic ability. Medicine was his dream. Pediatrics to be specific. She had always known that. To see the big guy with children, newborns in particular, sent some girls she knew into hormonal overdrive.

“You’ll have a degree, Mark. They’ll probably send you to OCC.”

“Maybe,” he answered. “It would be a sure bet if I had joined ROTC like Monroe told me to last year.”

“Why didn’t you? It sounded like a good idea at the time,” Desiree asked.

Mark sighed and shrugged. “I thought about it. I already had the short hair and with the family history no one would have thought anything of it. But I just couldn’t. It was fine for Monroe and Tal but. Lizzie, even officers have to be ready to shoot to kill.”

Mark’s blue eyes looked hollow in his face, his mouth drawn. Desiree sat silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Dad did what he thought was right and , God knows, we were raised to believe in our country and all that. But the stories I hear from guys who’ve been in Vietnam make me want to puke. It’s not the war Dad was in. The reporters don’t tell half the story, even if they’ve been trying lately. But it’s not just that. Hell, I go deer hunting every year with Tal and his friends and every year I have to pretend I like it. I don’t. I never have. Imagine that, a southern boy who doesn’t like guns or shooting. Pull up a gun and shoot another human being? I can’t do it, Lizzie. I just can’t.”

No, it's not the most romantic part of the story. I just like Mark, my female protagonist's youngest brother.

 

 

An Almost Never-Ending Writing List

So I'm writing, that's been established. I thought I would actually write a list to keep myself honest and on track. Do I know what I'm doing? That is a question I don't know the answer to right now. Who knows?

Writing projects (as of December 2012)

StClare Chronicles (all are "working" titles)

·                 "Rain" first draft completed April 2, 2013

·                 "Breaking Precedent"

·                 "Fatherhood"

·                 "Couples and Pairs"

·                 "Scenes from a Wedding"

·                 "Snow"

·                 "Summer Heat"

·                 "Evelyn and Alexander"

·                 "Spring Break"

            Of all those, only one is complete and it's a short story which will probably never be published or even submitted for consideration. Two are being written right now; three have only been started. The last three are just ideas with titles and principals in my head. I don't know if I dare even begin them right now. "Snow" really doesn't belong here but it started here so I'm keeping here.

Fairy Tales

            "Dani's Song" is complete; actually has been completed for some time now. It was written back in the 90's. Two laboriously printed copies were given away to the ones I dedicated the story to. It was a birthday present, you see. Currently I brought it back out, decided it wasn't too bad. So I've teamed up with my friend Tasha,an artist who likes fairy tales and fantasy, and we (she, actually) are working on some illustrations. When the illustrations and editing are done, "Dani's Song" will go up on Kindle.

            "Dragon in the Snow" is another one. I have started writing snippets but have put it on the back burner, so to speak.

Other Projects

            "Familiar Strangers" is the third major story I'm working on. Like "Rain" and "Snow", it's a romance, aka 'love story', too. Heck, all of them are. Some are just more traditonally romances than others. But that's another posting.

Future Ideas

·                 "Taste of a Man"

·                 "Troika"

 

            I think I'm going to stop now before even more pop up in my mind. Now to get the bloody things written and some characters (who shall not named--nags, the lot of you!) off my back. Enough, wouldn't you say?

 

 

 

 

 

Today's Quote:

 

The bravest thing you can do when you are not brave is to profess courage and act accordingly.- Corra Harris