Brick Walls

I just finished reading about 6 books in the last two weeks.  It’s kind of a low number for me, not to brag or anything.  I think I need to renew my library card so my wallet doesn’t feel the pain quite so much, or my bookshelves considering I still love to read a paperback instead of the new electronic versions.  I am warming up to the idea of those e-readers.

I needed a mental break from my writer’s block, which happens a lot.  I am not someone who can easily spit out a 5 novels in a year.  I am amazed at some of these authors that just continue to have series after series come out every year.  How do they finish them so quickly?  Considering how quickly I read, why can’t I keep up with them?  Granted it’s usually the wallet that can’t keep up, because I love to buy my books and read them over and over till it looks like they’ve gone through ten different households.  But still, how do they do it?  How do they keep the words flowing?  I don’t have a shortage of ideas, and sometimes I will start another idea before I’ve finished thinking through the previous one and as a result, I probably have at least ten book ideas that I would love to write, but know realistically will probably never happen.

I do tend to notice trends in these authors books.  They have a slightly different story line, but the trend is the same.  So I’ve been focusing on pulling my inspiration from authors that give realistic but unlikely stories and responses.  One of the books I finished reading was by Kristen Heitzmann, “Breath of Dawn”.  I love her books.  They have layers upon layers in her stories and I fall in love with her characters every time.  I was hesitant to read this one book because of what I read on the back.  It was a sequel to my favourite book she had written and I didn’t like the idea of where she was going with it.  I won’t spoil it, whether you read her books or not, but I gave in and I read it.  I found myself enjoying it regardless that I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to like how she drastically changed the life of one my favourite characters she has created, and then she surprised me even more.  She threw a hook into the book that I did not see coming, not just for the story but for her style of writing too.  It seemed to come from left field this hook she threw in, but as I thought about how ridiculous it was, I realized that it still had the possibility of happening.  That’s what I love about her books.  She gives unlikely, realistic stories that have you hoping and waiting for more.  She creates characters full of depth and mystery that you still wonder at the end if there was even more to them then she revealed in her book.

It’s discouraging sometimes reading her books, because I don’t feel like I could ever compare.  Yes, I know that I’m not going to be writing the next great American novel, but I still want to write something with depth that will touch someone else’s heart and soul.  I look at my current novel “Storms” and feel it falls short of everything I wanted and hoped it to be.  I’m even questioning the title right now, and all I can see right now is the big brick wall in front of me taunting me to climb over it and make this book what I dream it will be.  The wall is telling me to just forget about it, you won’t get it published and it sure won’t change anyone’s life. 

Do those authors who release five books or more a year ever struggle with that same wall?  How do they overcome it?  I don’t know, and I don’t know how I will overcome it, but I am going to throw a rope or a ladder up that wall and try and scale it one step at a time.  Who knows, maybe I’ll make it the top and see the other side of a finished story that I can feel proud to call my own.

What I Write About

I think the best advice I’ve heard in books, movies and just researching on how to write, is to write what you know.  I’m more comfortable writing what I know, but I try to expand, by writing about a situation or experience I’ve had, but the characters are in jobs I know nothing about or I’m not that familiar with.  But I understand what they are feeling, so I write about that and research what I can on what they do, to try and understand why my character would choose it.

I love writing what I know, because what I know, I love.  My first novel was about horseback riding.  That’s what I knew, so that’s what I wrote about.  The most recent novel I finished I wrote about family, pregnancy, and faith issues.  I even explored a world I’m not a stranger to, but haven’t experienced first hand.

Adultery.

It started out one way, and the story ended in a way I didn’t expect.  I won’t tell you what that is, you’ll have to read it one day to find out.  It’s done, but needs a lot of editing.  I still struggle with some portions of it.  With questions like, do I really believe this?  Is this really what I would want to share with someone if they were struggling with the same thing as these characters?  I was very emotional when I wrote some of this book, and when I look back I see that emotion and that situation I was going through in my own characters.  I can’t help it.  Parts of me always end up in my stories, who I am and decisions I make end up becoming a part of my characters too.  Every character has a small piece of me in them.  That’s scary to me, because then I wonder would anyone notice that?  Would those that know me best see me in my books?  Or do they not know me as well as they or I think they do?

Learning to write has become a very emotional experience for me.  I think it’s because of the life change of becoming a mom.  You change when you have a child.  It just happens.  But it’s for the better.  You certainly look at life differently, and I think it’s helped me grow in my writing and I think it’s made it better.

Here’s an excerpt from my finished novel Storms.  If you’re interested in reading it, once I feel it’s been edited and is ready, I’ll share it with a few, and hopefully it’ll get published and anyone can read it.

Prologue

I found what seemed to be the last available parking spot in the church’s parking lot.  I paused to watch other church goers mingle and come in and out of the building.

The website had claimed the church was large and popular.

It looked like the perfect place to hide and lose myself among the crowd.  A petite brunette stood at the entrance doing her best to greet every person entering the church.  A tall man stood beside her.  He must be her husband.  He seemed very protective of her, but he never missed an opportunity shake someone’s hand or give a high five to any age willing to give one back.

It was time to put on a smile, and go make some new friends.  I did wonder if this was it.  If this was finally the place I could put down roots, and feel like I didn’t have to move away.  I tucked a curly blonde strand of hair behind my ear, took one more look in the rear view mirror and stepped out of my car, ready to embrace whatever this new life would hold for me.

My heels clicked on the pavement, and I smiled at the sound.  There was something about that sound that always made me smile and make me glad to be a woman and a confident woman too. 

Unfortunately I wasn’t always so graceful in my favourite shoes, and to prove it, I tripped on the curb right in front of the church.

I could feel my face heat up in color that I’m sure was a bright crimson red.  Thankfully it seemed no one had noticed, until I felt someone touch my elbow to steady me.  I startled and turned to look at the one person who had seen my gracefulness.  My gaze fell on the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen.  He was ruggedly handsome, and I could feel myself ready to trip over myself all over again.

“Are you alright?”  He asked, breaking me out of the trance his gaze had put me in.

“Fine thank you,” I was finally able to say.  An even smaller black haired woman appeared out of nowhere, took his hand raising her eyebrows at him and this predicament the two of us were in.  I quickly stepped back, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.  They were obviously together.

He turned to this woman smiling and patted her hand reassuring, “Hello Janine.  This young woman tripped on her way into our church.  I was just making sure she was okay.”  He looked back at me smiling a devastating smile and I found myself jealous of Janine instantly.  “This is my wife Janine, and you are?”

I shook myself, trying to remember manners and polite conversation.  “I’m Holly,” I managed to say, deciding in the last moment to use my real name.  “I just moved here and heard this was the place to be for church.”

“Well Holly, it’s nice to meet you.  I’m the pastor of this church, Phil Wright.  Welcome, I hope you enjoy the service today.”

“Thank you,” I said, and decided now was the time to make my exit before I embarrassed myself anymore.

The beautiful day was quickly turning gloomy, as I felt raindrops hit my nose and then feet.  I hurried inside quickly before the downpour would soak through my clothes.

__________________________

                Phil watched as Holly hurried away, still somewhat overwhelmed by her.  He felt Janine’s hand tighten around his, and he knew he’d been watching Holly for too long.  He immediately turned to his wife, and gave her a quick kiss of reassurance.  She was his wife, he was attracted to her.  Not this Holly woman.  He pulled Janine quickly behind him, as the beautiful day turned stormy and thunder sounded off in the distance.

_____________________________

We were having coffee in my house.  Everything about the situation screamed it was wrong, but it felt so right.

                The phone rang, saving me from what felt like a trap for my vulnerable emotions.  I paused when the lawyer used my real name, after I answered the phone.  It was still hard to get used to.  Phil was watching me concerned, and I felt nervous under his gaze.

                Wait…what did the lawyer say?  Dad was dead?  What about Mandy?  Is she ok?

                After confirming Mandy was okay, I hung up the phone quickly and sat down slowly not sure what this news really meant to me.  I sensed him move towards me and froze.

                Please don’t, I thought.  I’m not strong enough.  You’re too perfect.

                But instead of reading my thoughts he gently placed his hand on my shoulder and knelt down in front of me, forcing me to look into those gorgeous eyes.

                “What happened?” he asked gently.

                I sniffed.  This wasn’t right, but who else could I go to?  “My dad died,” I finally replied.

                “Oh Holly, I’m so sorry.”  Before I could even think of resisting he had pulled me into his arms, hugging me and destroying any and all defences that I thought I had. 

                His defences were gone too.  Could he still feel how wrong this was, even though it felt so right?

                Then he kissed me, and that was it.  I was hooked and there was no going back.

Thunder rumbled in the background, and lightning lit up my living room as I melted into his kiss and soon everything seemed to disappear.  No one was around anymore, not dad, not Janine, not anyone.

                Oh God, what have we done?