Everyone has them. I had one last night driving to my roommate’s birthday dinner. (He was born on Friday the 13th – it’s no wonder he’s my friend!) Luckily, I remembered it until I made it to the restaurant.
The past few days I’ve been putting scenes on 4 x 6 cards, so I can shuffle them around easily. And it occurred to me a lot of scenes were taking place around meals, at home and at restaurants. I don’t know what made the connection, exactly, but as I was driving I realized I had to set the scene. I have to let the reader see the movie scrolling in front of my eyes. And in the process, I need to engage all the senses. That actually makes things so much easier, you can’t imagine. (Actually, being writers, you probably can.)
So I’m at Starbucks right now, inhaling coffee and getting lots of work done. It feels so good to be relatively unblocked at last. The creative constipation is gone!!!
Planning is going marvelously now. Things are very clear. Once the rest of this planning is done, the rest of the first draft is going to fly out of me like projectile vomiting. And that can only be good. You can’t edit a blank page, right?
My posting is still going well. I’m concerned about my other blog, Statesmen Not Politicians. No one has even read it, much less commented. Oh, well. I’ll keep plugging, and we’ll see what we see.
For ReGi, and all the other WIPPets, here’s what I promised: (Warning – it’s a bit long)
“Now,” Meredith continued, “the outer bands of Hurricane Bernadette began coming onshore this afternoon. For those who don’t follow the weather, she’s turned into a category five. It would be very dangerous for anyone to try and leave. I’d like everyone to feel free to enjoy the reception just as though the wedding ceremony came to its normal conclusion. I understand the chateau has generators and fuel, so we don’t have to worry about losing power. We’ve got lots of food, music, and enough alcohol to keep any number of our America’s Cup racing yachts afloat. But there’s one more thing before we begin a bit of general revelry.” Meredith faced Greg and Charles.
“There’s one thing I need to know, gentlemen. And I use the word ‘gentlemen’ with a grain of salt. Which one of you is the girl, so I know who to give the bouquet to?” Laughter broke out in the back of the ballroom. She waited, then answered her own question. “Oh, wait Greg, that must be you–you always do what Charles wants you to do. In everything.” She smiled brilliantly at him. Meredith focused so hard on her now ex-fiancee she didn’t notice Emily stepping up next to her in silent support. Greg didn’t say anything; he looked at Meredith with a horrified expression on his face. Charles, smirking, sidled up to Greg and, seeing no reason for pretense, silently took his hand.
Meredith turned to face the stunned and incredulous audience. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, distinguished members of Congress, I’m going to make a somewhat less than graceful exit. After all, it’s always so tacky when the third wheel hangs around. Enjoy yourselves, everyone.” Smiling broadly, head up, Meredith dropped her bouquet at Greg’s feet, and lightly ran out of the ballroom, Emily at her heels.
As the doors closed behind her, the media locusts swarmed all over Greg and Charles and began to feed.
Happy scribing, everyone. See you all on Sunday!