Scraps of paper and lost ideas

 I was deeply into a fast-moving part of a manuscript when my wife sat down beside me with a computer problem. After several minutes of unsuccessful troubleshooting, I referred her to our children, who are much more familiar with the workings of her Apple computer.

Turning back to my work in progress, I looked at my partially completed paragraph...and had no idea where the plot was going. I'd been on a roll, but the interruption took me away from the flow of ideas. I re-read several pages but couldn't recover the train of thought I'd been on. I deleted several paragraphs and went in a different direction. 

Today, my character told me he'd been inspired to pick up his guitar and play Vincent, by Don McLean. The lyrics, "Starry starry night," remind him of a painting by the artist who is the subject of an upcoming cozy. After queueing up that song on my computer, YouTube decided I would also like to hear Gordon Lightfoot music.

I was writing with music playing in the background when YouTube played a live performance. Gordon Lightfoot was talking between songs while tuning his guitar. He said the next song, Carefree Highway, had nearly been lost if not for a slip of paper with a few lines of lyrics he'd jammed in the pocket of his jeans. Armed with those few words, Lightfoot later picked up his guitar and composed one of his most famous songs. He quipped that if he hadn't found that slip of paper before the pants went into the wash, that song would never have been written.

As an author, I get that. I can't count the number of times I've had what seemed like a brilliant idea, only to lose the thought when I was distracted or fell asleep. To overcome that, I've sometimes rolled out of bed at 3 AM and written a brief outline, sent myself an email with a few key words, or sometimes written few paragraphs on a blank page, just so the idea isn't lost.

In an effort to help me overcome the random and unpredictable recovery process of my mind, one of my consultants supplied me with piles of recipe cards. After reading a few sample chapters of my first cozy, "Whistling Pines", Brian met me for lunch with three stacks of recipe cards. "These are characters. This pile is locations. The final pile is plot twists." He's continued to supply me with information, primarily via email now, but his ideas are boundless and well documented. He understands how many thoughts fly around while I'm writing, and he's determined to help me overcome the volume of ideas that are forever lost by my unreliable mental retrieval system.

My cop consultant, Deanna, sends me imperatives. "DON'T FORGET TO INCLUDE..." or "THAT CHARACTER CANNOT..." Messages sent in capital letters seem to stick in my mind better than lowercase texts.

Book signing events are often chaotic sources of plots and characters, supplied by the attendees. "You should set a book in the old quarry. My Aunt Harriet was killed by a burglar who set her house on fire. My neighbor was found tied to a chair in the basement with a gunshot wound to the back of his head-the coroner ruled it a suicide." In addition to the plot suggestions, colorful fans abound, giving me inspiration for quirky characters. The problem with a book signing is that the ideas fly at me while I'm politely inscribing books, trying to not misspell my own name. Most ideas originating from that setting are lost, but others stick in the dark recesses of my mind. Kirsten, a friend and librarian, suggested using images from a GoPro camera, a plot twist later used in "Devils Fall".

Like the bit of lyrics Gordon Lightfoot found in the pocket of his jeans, some ideas get randomly pulled out of my memory and inserted into books. Others end up in the mental equivalent of the washing machine: If ever recovered, they're blurred images on a water-soaked piece of paper that may or may not be recognizable.

Check out "Grave Secrets" the latest Doug Fletcher mystery from BWL publishing.

www.bookswelove.net/hovey-dean/

Grave Secrets is a mixture of memories from a Florida trip, research, suggestions from my cop consultant, and the voices of the characters. There may have been some notes on scraps of paper involved...

My dear friend Kathy, a celebration of life and crazyness, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

“A rich plot with building suspense, the writing is perfect and flows well. I loved this story.”   ~History and Women~

To purchase Ghost Point: Ghost Point

To purchase my novels and other BWL books: BWL

On January 3rd I lost a dear friend to cancer. She flew into the realm of the gods and goddesses, the fairy world we often spoke about. She liked to envision chants around bonfires and other mystical rituals.

We met in an on-line critique group, nine years ago. When my mother passed, Kathy was there for me, understanding the difficult relationships we both had with our respective families. We spoke almost every day over the internet after that. Her loss, her advance to a higher plain, is a big hole in my heart.

We almost met in person, while three hours apart when I attended the Historical Novel Society conference in Portland, OR, six years ago. She was to drive down from Seattle to meet. But that was when she'd found out her cancer had returned after fifteen years in remission. She cancelled to set up doctors appointments.

But I want to celebrate our dark humor, talk of witches, and fairies, the pagan souls we both shared.

Kathy was a dedicated Pagan, in her thoughts, not her actions. Our bon fires were metaphorical, as well as our flying away on brooms to cure the world of its ills. We had the 'what's the matter you-snap out of it!' attitude, and laughed at the craziness of life, the perilous political scene, and the irony of so many things. Her father had soured her on religion, so this was her 'feel good' place.

We had a third witch in our imagined coven, but for privacy reasons, I won't name her. We Three had a ball whirling through the flames of the pretend bon fires, stirring our cauldron. Imagining we had some control over the insanity of the world.

I'd send her funny jpegs to cheer her, though Kathy rarely complained about her own health. She was the strongest woman I knew.

When the doctors had to put a new port into her for her chemo, I sent her the above jpeg and she loved it. When things got iffy in the world around us, we'd say 'gird your loins' because that phrase is often found in historical novels and people scratch their heads about it.

Her last completed novel was a fictionalized tale of when, after a divorce, she took her two boys to England to research another novel. Her bravery to do that amazed me. (also available at https://bookswelove.net/pym-katherine/  )

It's difficult not to mourn such losses, but I need to celebrate what we had, short though it seems now. I'm girding my loins! I'd like to think that she's flying about the stratosphere on a magic cloud, laughing at us mere mortals. We never did get to meet in person, and only spoke once on the phone (she sounded so young). But maybe that's how we kept the mystical part of our friendship intact. I was blessed to have her as my friend. We made each other laugh right to the very end.

A funny, brave woman with wit and talent, the gods must have needed her wry and steady advice. She told me she wasn't afraid of dying, she said 'energy' never dies, but she often wished she could stay longer. 

Fair winds, my dear sister of the heart! And strength to your loving husband who also had to say goodbye.

Kathy's expertise was the seventeenth century; check out her other wonderful historical novels.

Katherine Pym Novels

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

She's trying to set up a new website on Blogger: wish her/me luck!

How the Internet Affects Your Brain Function by J.Q.Rose #BWLpublishing

 

Deadly Undertaking by J.Q. Rose
Mystery, paranormal

Click here to find mysteries by J.Q. Rose at BWL Publishing

Hello and welcome to the BWL Publishing Insiders Blog! 

The Writing and Wellness site released a study entitled The online brain: how the Internet may be changing our cognition. According to the Oxford dictionary, cognition is "the mental action or process of acquiring knowledge and understanding through thought, experience, and the senses." 

Lead author Dr. Joseph Firth reported, “The key findings of this report are that high-levels of Internet use could indeed impact on many functions of the brain. For example, the limitless stream of prompts and notifications from the Internet encourages us towards constantly holding divided attention—which then, in turn, may decrease our capacity for maintaining concentration on a single task.” from the article 5 Ways to Power Up Your Writing in the Morning.

Dr. Rawan Tarawneh, in an article from the Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center, states, "While digital multi-tasking may be a good practice for shifting focus, it may also weaken our ability to maintain focus on one area for an extended period of time." He adds, "In addition to its negative effects on cognition, excess internet use has been associated with a higher risk for depression and anxiety and can make us feel isolated and/or overwhelmed."

Photo courtesy of Pixabay by Geralt

Starting your day by checking your email and social media will set your brain up for a day of distraction. It's like starting the day eating sugar, so the rest of the day you will crave sugar. With all the multi-tasking online, you create a pattern for your brain to be in racing mode for the rest of the day.

If the Internet interferes with an adult brain, just imagine what it can do to a child's brain. The Internet has already shortened the attention span of adults to 8 seconds...shorter than a goldfish attention span. !!! 

The article suggests five ways to start off your morning so you will have a productive day of writing.

1. Read a poem
2. Read a book
3. Meditate
4. Make a gratitude list
5. Write down your thoughts for five minutes.

Have you noticed you have trouble concentrating during the day? Do you have any other suggestions on how to start your morning without first checking the Internet? 

Click the links below to connect online with JQ Rose:

JQ's Focused on Story Author Website

JQ Rose Author Facebook page

Changing Times by Helen Henderson

Windmaster Legacy by Helen Henderson
Click the cover for purchase information

As I worked on preparing for the upcoming release of Fire and Amulet, I was struck by how things changed since my first established work.   

Those early pieces consisted of numerous messy drafts handwritten on lined notepaper. Next came the laborious and sometimes aggravating transformation of the drafts into double-spaced, typed manuscripts. This required mastering the skill of erasure and the ability to replace the paper in the typewriter for perfect alignment for the key strike to make the correction. The finished manuscript went into a box and consigned to the tender care of the postal service. Things such as antique photographs for the covers were often hand-carried to the editor to prevent their loss.

Review of the galleys required more than a careful line by line check. Unlike printing today with digital printers and modern word processors, since production was by offset printing, text autoflow and automatic pagination didn't exist. Changing the wrong word could mean the redo of several pages. Wanting a rewrite of several paragraphs, or heaven forbid, an entire scene resulted in a stern request from the editor to justify that significant a change. Which meant that the great idea you just had could not be used.

Magnetic card readers provided a means to save the work and easier corrections. Instead of retyping pages, mere reprinting accommodated text shifts and repagination. Then came large floppy disks. Yes, we used to crack the cases of corrupted floppies to remove the disks inside. The resulting games of frisbee provided entertainment in the wee hours of the morning. Desktop computers and early word processors made things even easier, but paper and pen remained the basis for drafting and brainstorming. Laptop computers allowed for writing while sitting on a riverfront bench watching boats parading up and down the channel.

Just as readers now have options besides printed books, so do writers. Writing the twist on a dragon shifter story, Fire and Amulet used even newer technology than my previous works -- a tablet. Until Trellier and Deneas' tale is available, it is a good time to read any of the fantasy romance series, the Windmaster Novels, you might have missed. 

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

~Until next month, stay safe and read. Helen

Find out more about me and my novels at Journey to Worlds of Imagination.
Follow me online at Facebook, Goodreads or Twitter.

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. 

Is it Spring yet? by Nancy M Bell

 

To see more of Nancy's books click on the cover above.

Spring

I chose the cover of The Selkie's Song because it's just so pretty and reminds me that Spring is coming. Really, it is.

With that in mind I thought I'd just share some of my poetry that celebrates Spring.

May Moonlight

How many times have you heard

You can’t go back again?

It’s true you know, you can’t

You can go back to the way things are now

Never to the way things were then.

Long summer nights spent under the stars

Riding in the moonlight up Spy Glass Hill

The May darkness rich with the perfume of apple blossoms

The orchard ghostly white in the gloaming

The world is dark around me where I stand alone

Once more at the apex of that steep hill

Silence gathers, deep and still

Muffling the subtle chatter of the river

I see them coming through the cedars

Rising through the pearly clouds of flowering trees

Young and confident riding sure footed horses

Too young to know how the sweetness of this moment

Will linger in memory long years after this enchanted night

Celebrate

The banners of Spring are flying on the blue of morning

Yellow catkins dance in the sunlit air over the ice-skim puddle

Purple crocus carpet the brown and grey prairie

Bright butter yellow jonquils nestle close to the house foundation

Sheltered from the ever present Alberta winds

Spring comes riding the coat tails of the mighty Chinook

The earth breathes in misty tendrils above the rough ploughed field

 

Winter’s back is broken, melt water runs like blood

Warm sun shyly promises the glory of June to come

Alberta blue sky and flowering prairie flowing forever

The long cold months are gone, come celebrate Spring  

But Spring doesn't always come gently, does it?

Spring Snow

The storm demons are howling rabidly across the sky

Dragging their icy talons against the window glass

Screeching their defiance through the hydro wires

Buffeting the house with their fists of wind

Shrieking they the fall upon the exposed prairie

Vomiting great gouts of snow to cover the earth

They hurl handfuls of icy pellets in my face

As I struggle to let the stock into the barn

Mean spiritedly they snatch the door from my frozen fingers

Slamming it open and popping one of the hinges

I bare my teeth at them and wrestle the door from their grasp

Hold it steady as the horses troop in out of the angry storm

The bale of hay spills its summer scent in the frigid air

A sunlit meadow song to battle the storm raging outside

The storm demons grab me in their teeth and shake me

As I blindly make my way back to the house

Power and fury personified; they scream their defiance

Their voices howling through the wind in my ears

Reluctant to exchange the winds of winter

For the thunderheads of summer 

Seasonal Sestina

Why is it that the first flowers of Spring

Are so special and the green of new leaves

Wakes a wild joy in my heart

Is it because they signal the end of Winter

Filled with the promise of long summer days

And the lazy hum of honey bees among the flowers

The tiny white snowdrops are among the first flowers

Along with the purple crocus of Spring

Courageously piercing the snow with their leaves

Small purple clusters to gladden my heart

Throwing a gauntlet in the face of Winter

Shining brightly through the short Spring days

The snow retreats with the lengthening of days

The garden paths are strewn with clots of flowers

The sweet bouquet of flower scented Spring

Bright daffodils dance above their pointed leaves

The tulips glowing red as the sun’s heart

They chase from the path the last of snowy Winter

Now only under the brambles lies the evidence of Winter

Soon that too will retreat from the sunny days

The lilacs burst into a froth of fragrant purple flowers

The scent mingling with the sun warmed air of Spring

Slow awakening summer flowers break the soil with their leaves

Heralding the coming of Summer’s heart

Spring passes softly into summer; the pulsing green heart

That rules the year opposite the white of Winter

The long halcyon green and gold days

Forged by the fire of the sun and the glory of flowers

There is just the faintest memory now of Spring

The full heady bounty of Summer canopied by trees of leaves

In due course fiery autumn will colour the leaves

And the flames of October will quicken the heart

The winds of snow will welcome the Winter

The frosty silver and blue of early winter days

Will make us forget the summer of flowers

Too new and beautiful yet to make us wish for Spring

By January we will be wishing for green leaves and Spring

Our heart will have hardened against the silver beauty of Winter

And we will hunger after the days of Summer and flowers 

Thanks for sticking with me this far, and here's hoping Spring is right around the corner.

Until next month, stay well, stay safe