In the past week I’ve had two major revelations about writing. The first being: books are a lot like guys. Though inherently the same by nature, they all possess a uniqueness, and some are just not as much fun as others. The second: it’s hard to move forward without a good foundation. That’s the problem with Voodoo Dolls. I can’t move forward without finishing the first chapter. Side note- yes, I’ve written more than the first chapter.
What’s the problem with the first chapter you ask? Well, friends, let me explain. Chapter one opens with a traditional Jazz Funeral, complete with Dixieland Jazz band, mournful drum major, second liners, and curious tourists waiting to join the parade. Enter problem. How the heck do you capture the essence of a city like New Orleans, sum it all up, and put it on a page? You can’t! It’s impossible!
Sure, I can describe the sights and sounds. I can explain the way the hot summer air settles on your skin like a film. I can tell you how the clomping of mule hooves falls into the rhythm of the music. I can even describe the way the scent of magnolia blossoms mingles with the aroma of freshly baked beignets and the stench of stale beer wafting from the gutters. But can you see, smell, taste, and hear it? Can you feel it? Can you be in New Orleans without ever once having stepped foot on the uneven redbrick streets?
Perhaps I’m over thinking this and I should just write it, but I want to do right by a city I love. I want my readers to see there is so much more to New Orleans than beer and Bourbon Street, masks and Mardi Gras. There is so much culture and history. Of course, I know I can’t capture it all. But if I can just capture a glimmer, a glimpse of it… then I would be satisfied.
It won’t always be a slow jazz mourning.
P.K. Dawning
