Writing Revelations, and Other Fun Things to Do With Home Improvement

(Long story.)

So, I forgot to mention this in my last post (it was late, I was half asleep, etc.), but the local Lowe's is pretty much endeared to me forever.

The genre wars are still raging, as far as my NaNo is concerned, but yesterday I had one of those little writing epiphanies we all know and love and kind of get desperate waiting for. Now, I had already been to a different Lowe's and a Home Depot in the last couple of days, and when I walked into this new store I wasn't particularly impressed.

This, x1000.

I'm silly. I judge most stores by what music they're playing and how bright it is, and this Lowe's was bright enough, but they were playing this mainstream hip-hop/pop station - and a song I really don't like, no less. I am not a big hip-hop person, and Home Depot had already wowed me with a rock station that played some of my old favorites I'd forgotten existed. So, I was inwardly cringing at the music and getting sidetracked taking in the sheer number of different bathroom faucet fixtures they had on display.

Also, I was doing what I always do when I'm out shopping: imagining story characters. What they would do if they were here, why would they be here, what story am I putting them in, again? That sort of thing. I'm of the "voices in my head" and "hallucinations" writing set, and I take my characters everywhere. It makes trips less boring.

This is important
later.

As I wandered toward my actual destination (flooring, by the way), I was thinking about the aforementioned cyberpunk plot's characters. It's this trio of friends, and I was pondering the group dynamic (especially the sorta-romance between two of them), and how the girl is kind of the mystery. She's the one that's going to get the plot in motion, get into the weird stuff, generally be obfuscating. Because she's hard for me to get my head around, and sometimes I attribute that sort of thing to an actual character trait.

The thing is, with the plot in general, I was having a real hard time getting it squished into something I felt capable of writing. I wanted a story slightly less out of control than my Camp NaNo project, and the cyberpunk plot? Totally insane, over-the-top madness in my head.

Then, Lowe's came through. Bless its heart. I'm staring up at this huge contraption draped with laminate samples, and it's been ages since the last time I heard the song, when here comes the opening lines - I need a sign to let me know you're here / all of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere. "Calling All Angels" by Train, right? No big deal.

Except, in my head, it's like, "OHMYGOODNESS IT'S NOT CYBERPUNK AT ALL IT'S MAGICAL REALISM AND THE SONG'S LIKE, ELIAS TALKING TO LORE!"

Cue a torrent of mental images I have yet to sort through. It involved what was definitely not ghosts, but perhaps something similar. My mind blown, I continue to stare up at the laminate.

So, yeah, suddenly my crazy cyberpunk characters are plopped into my beloved home genre. Which is kind of great, because they're the kind of people I wouldn't expect to find there, and I'm excited to see how they fit in.

Another odd thing about me and writing - all my ideas come with color schemes. Swatches of color are intrinsically tied to the atmosphere I feel off any one story, so this one had this really light, white/bright color/mid-morning sun vibe along with some grittiness that Elias brings in.

And that, friends, is what I've been spazzing about for the last day or so.

People in My Head

I've never really noticed this before, but when I'm coming up with characters - not particular ones, really, but just the odd fellow for a new story or drabble or what have you - the first two things I tend to come up with are a mental image of them, and how they move. Which is funny, because I've never given a second thought to how a character moves - it just comes about all unconscious-like, and I run with it.

Take, for example, the girl I'm going to drop onto the page tomorrow, who has since yesterday decided she's called Cassiopeia, possibly Opal for short. The very first thing I got of her was her hair (this whole two days, she's kind of been sending little snippets of herself to me), which is super-straight and shiny and copper-colored. It ripples over her shoulders and looks like melted amber when she runs. Then she's topped off by this grey beanie of hers, which looks like it ought to be old and threadbare and holey, only it's relatively new and rather soft. And well, there was my first impression of Opal. The rest just kept dropping into place.

She wears a heavy, army green canvas jacket. The collar is usually up. Underneath that is a long, close-fitting, long-sleeved black t-shirt. Dark skinny jeans, or some days denim shorts with black leggings (but that's mostly when she's hanging around the house). Shoes are usually what's closest to her door at the time - sneakers, sandals, boots. Whatever.

Her face is narrow. Very thin nose, eyes that look too big in her head. I'd say she's rather average-looking, in most cases, but then you see her from a certain angle or temperament or light, and she's lovely. It's that sort of off-prettiness. I think she looks at people sideways a lot - it might actually be kind of her trademark. 

After that, I just sort of see her moving. I don't think about it. But Opal's light on her feet. She doesn't really dance around though, instead moving swiftly in whatever direction she's headed. She doesn't flounce, unless she's being purposely flippant. I don't think that's very often. Her reflexes are quick. I have a very solid image of her spinning gracefully on her heel, fluidly pulling a handgun from where it's tucked at the small of her back.

And then, from all that, I sort of have a feeling of what she's like. I haven't though too purposefully about her personality, because it will just come to me as I get about telling her story. I know that when she smiles for photos she has this smug little smirk, and with her whole get-up she looks like a right little smart-arse, but when she smile-smiles it's very sweet and simple and warming. I know that she's says what she thinks and is very frank about things, but she's very physically contained - her hands at her sides or in her coat pockets. Everything about her says slender. But she laughs easily, just not loudly.

That would be my character creation process, on most days. For me it's pretty much the case that the character is already a person, somewhere, and myself as a writer just drew the lucky card of getting to meet her and figure her out. It's fun when they have mind of their own, after all. It's all about making the writing exciting, and it helps when you haven't a clue what your character is going to pull next.

I Complicate August Explicitly

I've decided I'm going for some sort of creative mind-journey cataclysm for my NaNo practice. The whole plotless/bizarro/surreal thing brought me to it. The thing about writing that has always scared me the most is that always-present author-fear that what I put down on paper will never measure up to what I imagined. Every writer deals with that, right? It just particularly irks me that I'm flooded by extremely vibrant images - just snapshots of impossible things like boys who fall through skylights and shatter into emeralds - and half the time I wish I was an artist/graphic designer/film maker so I could fashion it all out visually and not have to worry about it being logical/making a semblance of sense/spurring a plot development.

So, I figure I'll just go all out and conjure some lovely half-coherent adventure in which I infuse all that pent-up imagery into something I never meant to plot in the first place. It takes the pressure off. It excites me. And as a writer, if you're not excited you've lost something, and like a car key you have to find it again or you're not going anywhere. Unless you know how to hot-wire the thing, in which case you're probably going to be just fine.