Fitting in the Jansson Five

Curtis Hawkins leaves Denver to travel back to Bishop Hill for special occasions. While in the area he often performs with former band members at local venues. His Facebook page lists the gigs he has arranged. I managed to catch up with him at the River Music Experience's community stage in Davenport for his birthday visit last year.

Curt grew up next door in Bishop Hill and is close to the same age as my boys. It’s my personal opinion, but I do believe his present musical career outshines by far his earlier efforts at pro wrestling. I would have thought a career as a bass player safer too, but he had a story that nipped that idea. At least, he hasn’t broken any bones, yet.

My husband and I sat in the audience, listened to blues tunes for a couple of hours, bought his new CD, and thought we’d had a successful night. But before we left, Curt came over with another CD. He gave us a copy of Jansson 5: Whiskey on my Breath. While this was not a full album as yet, it was a welcome treat in another sense: characters.

Characters, as in more people to add to my novel. More local color. Is it a good idea? Maybe. Maybe not. But it sure is fun to think about. Novel writing is supposed to be fun after all.

The question is where to put this windfall. I’m too close to the end to add major players that will shake things up and change the course of the narrative action. But I can’t leave them out either. The name is too perfect.

I’ve decided the easiest thing to do is have this new group make a cameo appearance in a Galva bar while my protagonist is waiting for some other folks to show up.

The next book is a different matter all together and there’ll be more time and room to work in Curt, Josh, Kathy, Ian, and Carol.

It should be fun.

And fun is what it is all about.

Rituals

I haven’t written much in the last couple of weeks. I’ve kept up my blog posts, started a story, and collected info for contests and freelancing. Except for jotting down notes about pertinent insights and ideas, I’ve done little on my novel.

The novel may have languished, but my garden is looking pretty good. I’ve weeded and trimmed. I’ve transplanted and watered. I’ve started some seeds. It’s all been about my springtime commune with nature, my annual ritual of digging in the dirt. I’m fairly pleased with myself and I’m sure the neighbors appreciate my tidiness, too.

However, as that ritual winds down, another is in the works. Cleaning. When starting a new project, or, in this case, continuing with an ongoing one, I have to start with a clean slate. So, for the last two days I’ve gone through stacks of notes, lists to myself, newspaper clippings, and assorted tidbits of information I thought I might use one day to see what I could recycle, throw away, or add to a notebook I’ve started that will organize the essential details of my novel. I’ve sorted and sifted and tidied up my indoor space. I take it all as a sign of progress.

While going through a file drawer, I found printouts of earlier versions of my novel. I can’t help it; I like to use real paper. I can write notes in the margins and just see everything better. What I found distressing was the sheer amount of paper I’d accumulated. On a whim, I picked the stack up and stepped onto the bathroom scale. The result: eight pounds of paper. I had no idea. It’s kind of embarrassing. I have to seriously think about using a novel writing program next time. 

But for now, I have clear space on my desk and a list of reasonable goals ahead of me for the next rewrite/revision. The novel will be better and another step closer to DONE.

Reading Lists

I’m currently a member of 2 book clubs and a short story group sponsored by the Davenport public library. That means I have 3 reading lists to keep up with every month. Over the past year and a half I’ve managed to keep pace and get all this homework done.

I appreciate the librarians who’ve put these lists together. They have done a great job. They’ve included books I would not have chosen on my own. Books that I’ve found challenging. One book in particular became quite timely when the author was found not to have been entirely truthful. He made headlines the month we read his book. Needless to say, it dampened the group’s discussion.

I mention this because at some point I, as a writer, could be asked, “What are you reading now?”

I’ve been to readings where this question does get asked. So, yes, I’ve thought about it. Right now, I would pull out my trusty book club lists and that would become my answer. It would get me off the hook.

Now, if I were asked about my favorite book, I’d be hard pressed for a good answer.

In the past, I think I would have said The Time Machine by H. G. Wells. I think about it a lot. Of course, it might be that clues about Eloi and Morlocks keep coming up in crossword puzzles. I might just stick with that one anyway. It’s safe.

In thinking about the books I’ve read over a lifetime, I have to admit that I’ve enjoyed them all, for all kinds of reasons.

There have been a few exceptions. The Exorcist and Jaws were good reads, but, in my opinion, proved that movies could be better than the books. The lesson here probably relates to sagacious editing and not liking pretentious profanity.

Fortunately, I’ve only had a handful of books that I couldn’t actually finish.

My memory of specific books may be becoming cloudier, but I remember the first grade and its oversized Dick and Jane books. I can still recall the day when “See Spot Run.” actually made sense. I was amazed by the transformation.

I still try to keep myself open to that feeling whether I’m reading or just exploring the world.

Character Acting

Each of my novel’s characters started out as a composite collection of people I’ve come across in some way in real life. I picked a personality trait here; an odd bit of history there; mixed in a different job or career choice; and, with the aid of my stash of magazine clippings for facial features, came up with a new person. Someone I had to get to know.

It has taken time, but it’s worked out pretty well. I have a cast of characters that I can count on. I set up the scene, give them a goal, and let them go to work. I know how they’ll talk to each other and move around. I sometimes get a bit of surprise when they provide fresh insights on how things should go. It’s a surprise that has always turned into a pleasure. They know their stuff.

Now, take my 103-year-old retired teacher. She objected to being called honey by the 22-year-old protagonist. Seemed like a reasonable point to for an oldie to make. I thought it a good bit of business and left it at that.

The surprise, in this instance, came then it started happening to me.

In the past month, I’ve been called honey and dear numerous times while I was checking out at the grocery store and waiting at counters in coffee shops. I seem to have made this transition to cute, familiar pet names. Maybe my hair has suddenly gotten grayer. Maybe I’ve started looking more confused than what has been normal for me. One thing for sure, I can identify with Pearl’s annoyance.

The only difference is that I let these incidents go without saying anything. Pearl doesn’t do that. She speaks her mind. Ya gotta love a character that can fill in a personality void.

I just hadn’t counted on life imitating art. Or is it art imitating life? I am getting a little confused.

I will endeavor to be true to myself and let my characters be true to themselves within their story world. Each to our own. 

One Year

I’ve had a successful year of blogging.

My personal goal of posting 200 to 400 words once a week about writing my novel have been met.

There were only two occurrences of outright panic when a Friday morning dawned and I realized I’d almost forgotten all about the day’s blog post.

Somewhere along the course of the year my fear and uncertainty subsided and I developed a pattern. I started thinking about the post in general terms on Wednesday. I wrote down some ideas and thoughts on Thursday. Friday morning became the time to fine tune and get ready for the actual upload.

But before I ever sat down to design my site, I made a list of potential topics that I thought I could write about: one, to see if I could even come up with 52 items of interest; and two, to have reference material when I needed it.

I went so far as to begin six posts and then saved them off in a special folder. I’ve added to that reserve pool as I’ve dipped in and used them. I still have some sitting there waiting to go. (I just checked and I have a dozen. Some are no more than titles, but I feel secure knowing I have something there.)

Of my list of 59 blog topics, I’ve actually used 22. The difference means I’ve had 30 weeks where prompts/ideas came to my attention in a current and timely manner and I was able to write a post that made a connection to my novel or writing in general. With time and experience the whole process has gotten easier.

I’m grateful that Blogger has been so very easy to use. I went with a very simple design with lots of white space and stuck with it. If I needed to go back and edit, no problem, Blogger makes changing text easy. I’ve added photos on 4 occasions. Not all that much by other peoples’ standards, but significant by mine. I have remained focused on the writing, on the words.

All and all, it’s been an important year for me: I’ve accomplished something new, I’ve stuck with a regime of writing, and I’ve found a really useful tool for understanding the inner workings of my novel.

Toward/Towards an Ending

I sometimes have to stop on my novel writing journey for some very small detours. One of those detours revisited me last week.

It was a small thing, a simple choice of a word. Do I use toward or towards to describe a motion or direction?

When I asked a poet what to use, she suggested that I go with what most people would be used to reading.

I turned to the Oxford English Dictionary. It’s good for supplying both British and North American usage for common words. I read that towards was considered North American and figured that left toward as the British.

After that, I took to using toward in my novel thinking that would be a better fit for the larger English-speaking world.

I should say here that my first inclination had been to use towards. I don’t know why. It just seemed natural.

Enter Miles Gibson, a British novelist and former pen pal to my oldest friend.

I helped my friend reestablish contact with Mr. Gibson and in the process discovered his literary legacy. While reading his first novel, Vinegar Soup, I noticed he used towards in his sentences.

Hum, what’s up with this? I wondered before starting a Google search. My online exploration revealed the two words are interchangeable. No biggie there. But it also revealed that towards was actually considered the British favorite. Mr. Gibson got it right. Again, no biggie. But I was left with two problems: did I misread the OED entries and where did I pick up this usage?

I showed the OED entries to a neutral third party. He came away with the same impression as I had—toward was the British favorite. Strange. My 2004 concise eleventh edition wasn’t so concise after all? Perhaps the twelfth edition will do better.

That left me puzzling about where I picked up my personal preference for using towards. I have to say I’m inclined to blame my friend. She has been a confirmed anglophile most of her life and it must have rubbed off while she was pouring me cups of Typhoo tea.

For the time being I’m going to let this situation remain as is and continue toward my ending.

Springtime in Bishop Hill

I recently made it back to Bishop Hill. The sky was blue and the temperature excellent for the middle of April.

As I headed south on I-74 toward Henry County, I checked out the atmospheric conditions with my usual simple test: At which mile marker will I spot the first hint of windmills on the horizon? I caught sight of them at mile marker 16. A new record. Marker 20 has always been a safe bet—except for foggy mornings.

Driving back is always good for research. I make sure to check out the roadsides to see what’s growing, how far along it’s gotten, and to note what kind of visual impression it makes.

This day’s results: Tree branches hadn’t entirely lost their skeletal starkness. There was just enough new leaf growth to lend them a little fuzziness. The grass in the ditches was greening up nicely between patches of the dormant yellow-brown of winter. I didn’t detect anything blooming until I stopped in the village.

As always, the best treat for me was the small blue flowers that bloom between the Bjorklund Hotel and the Colony Residence. Three dainty delights take turns giving the patient viewer overlapping waves of refreshing blue every spring: Scilla siberica (Siberian squill), Chionodoxa (Glory-of-the-snow), and Mertensia virginica (Virginia bluebells). Add a few yellow daffodils to the mix and you have a fitting salute to a Swedish spring. A lovely treat that I tried to duplicate in my Bishop Hill yard.

 I came to meet up with old friends and check out changes such as:

·        The brick sidewalk by the Colony Church has been re-laid with new bricks by someone who wasn’t chintzy with them. A nice solid sidewalk with hard edges. Colony-made bricks are softer looking and irregular. Actually, they are simply softer and therefore show the wear of many feet easier.

·        The sagging wire that spanned the Edwards River by the bridge is gone. The kingfishers have to work a little more to get their fish.

·        The Blacksmith Shop has been totally redone and looks a lot sharper than when I worked there. Adaptive reuse in action.

·        The Steeple Building has a new coat of stucco and painted windows. It has to be close to its original look.

Other familiar sights near the center of the village: the post office, the Colony Store, The Filling Station, PL Johnson’s, the barn, and the bakery. All there and decorated for the season’s official opening day. Farther out: Outsider Gallery, Summer Cottage, and the Feathered Nest. Other shops and storefronts are different from when I lived there. It’s sad to see the few empty spaces, but I’m sure something interesting will come along.

Overall, I’d say that Bishop Hill is rooted in the past but not stuck there.

Not like my novel where the main part is stuck in 2008, a pre-windmill era.

Henry County has lots and lots of windmills. I left them out of the world of my novel on purpose. However, I did let them sneak in a symbolic appearance. Fair is fair.