Truth Be Told

California was meant to be a clean slate, but somehow it has turned into a quicksand nightmare that I can’t seem to pull myself out of. I used to take pride in my ability to think my way through difficult situations, to set my mind to a task and accomplish it. Lately, I can’t seem to do either. And it’s not just hindering my writing, it’s hindering my life. But since this blog is primarily about writing, let’s focus on that, shall we?

When I decided it was time to start work on Voodoo Dolls (yes, I’ve officially released the tittle) I knew I needed a different approach than I took with Phantom Ink. Writing fast and loose was fun, but with every scene so off-the-cuff, I was left with a gigantic editing job. Too gigantic, as it turned out. Lesson learned. So, to avoid the possibility of a major manuscript nip-tuck in the future, I spent a month creating a semi-detailed outline. I broke each chapter down based on main events. Then, I took it a step further, fleshed out characters, strategically placed pivotal plot scenes, and filled in the gaps. When I was finished, I essentially had a complete synopsis. And that’s where progress stopped.

Why, you ask? Good question, one I’ve been kicking around in my head since May. I’ve got a skeletal version of the story just waiting for me to add the flesh, and believe me, I’ve tried… on many occasions. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve written, though, lately I spend more time staring blankly at my computer screen than typing madly on the keyboard. The problem is, when I come to a part that’s not written to my liking I become fixated on it. I run the scene through my head, playing it over and over like a video. I move paragraphs, rearrange sentence structures, change words. Edit. Delete. Undo.

Argh! It’s maddening! Unable to move forward, I eventually just shut down. And I’ve tried everything. From meditation to medication, nothing seems to work. In my last post I said I felt like I’d lost my inspiration. Now I fear I’ve lost so much more than that. I’m afraid I’ve lost faith… in myself.

Not even sure I’m deserving of a pseudonym right now.

P.K. Dawning

The Death of a Writer

So, I’m trying to do better about blogging. A “hot” professor has been on me to build/maintain a better online platform. The truth is, I’ve been kicking ideas around for the past week, but I’ve failed to come up with a single good one- as far as blog topics are concerned- and that made me wonder: is it better to write crap than nothing?

Generally, I’d say no, but lately my stretches of writing nothing have become impossibly long. I suppose I could do a post on writer’s block, but that’s been done to death. Besides, that’s not my problem. I’m heartsick and homesick, and my writing is paying the price. I feel completely dead inside. My passion for the story hasn’t died, but something has. And it’s been dying slowly, day by day, since the moment I first unpacked my bags here. If I can, for a moment, steal a bit of melodrama from the Master of the Macabre himself. California will be the death of me- one way or the other. I truly believe that. Maybe not a physical death, but a spiritual one. If I can leave California without being completely jaded, it will be no small miracle.

And if I can finish the WIP without being institutionalized, I will confess, convert, and join a nunnery. I think I’d look pretty darn good in a habit. All jokes aside, I’d love to just lock myself away and write until my fingers bleed. Unfortunately, life will not allow it. Though, I’m certain it will… someday. Until then I suppose I will keep inching along, fingers crossed, silently praying for a change. For now, I’ll settle for writing crap. Anything’s better than nothing, right? Besides, it worked for a certain -ekhem!- vampire novelist.

Here’s hoping the next post is better.

P.K. Dawning.

And So It Goes

I never thought a deep love of New Orleans, Voodoo, and Marie Laveau would become my inspiration for a paper. A novel on the other hand, I knew would happen eventually. I just needed a little nudge in the right direction- thanks Ms. Paris. After four years of research, and countless scrapped manuscripts (ok, I was counting- eight!) I’ve decided it’s time to give this novel thing a go. Besides, I have all summer to finish this before I have to get serious about school again. A hefty task, you say? Nah, not really. I’m halfway there. With a little elbow grease, I’ll have this thing done in no time. Riiiggghhht!

Ok, enough grandstanding. If I want to have this book written, spit-and-polished, agent-ready by August, I’ve seriously got my work cut out for me. Of course, all true Voodooiennes know that nothing good happens in August. So maybe I’ll let the story settle a while before querying… But, first things first! I need a story before I can query, and at this point, mine has a few key issues in need of addressing.

First and foremost, Johnny LeBoeuf, or is it LeBeau? The pronunciation is almost identical, the F barely audible. That is, of course, if you speak Cajun. But since that’s a dying dialect, I’m afraid that brings me to problem numero uno. He’s been Johnny LeBoeuf since day one and I’m reluctant to change it now, but I don’t want my readers to think his name is LeBoeuFFFF! What to do? What to do? I think that question deserves a little more pondering. And ponder I shall.

Problem number two is a little less problematic- as far as plot problems are concerned. The question being- is Mama Nonie really a creole? Now, that question may leave you wondering two things- (a) Who's Mama Nonie? And (b) What’s a creole? Let’s start with the easy question. Mama Nonie is a supporting, non-plot-pivotal character in my story. She’s the Abshire’s housekeeper, my MC’s confident, and local Voodoo expert. Her part in the story is important, necessary even, but whether or not she’s creole doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Which brings me to question two. Creole, what? Well, the answer is… well… there is no answer. No true, definitive, end all be all answer. That’s right, the verdict is still out on what actually makes a person a creole. Even in New Orleans, where the term originated, people can’t agree on what it means to be a true creole. However, the most commonly accepted and widely known definition of creole is: a native-born descendant of
early French, Spanish, Haitian, and Portuguese settlers in the southern United States.

So does Mama Nonie fall into this category? Yes. Does it matter? Not really. I’m afraid my story is already loaded with things that need to be explained. I mean, gris-gris, anyone? I don’t have time or word count to spare on a character who isn’t driving the narrative. Does she need to be fully developed to be a good supporting character? Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean I need to devote several chapters to explain a lengthy back story. Bits and pieces, I’m sure, will filter in as I write… so I’ll just take it from there.

On to number three: This is a topic that probably deserves a blog of its own (and may possibly get one at a later time.) Is language a barrier in YA lit? After posing this question on AQ, I received several firm, yet contradicting, responses. Although it’s been done, successfully, I might add, several times, it’s apparently frowned upon among my fellow YA writers. Why? Apparently because many writers think readers are too lazy, and/or too ADD to use a language reference, even if one is provided in the back of the book. I, as a reader, don’t mind it… but I’m not the reader in this instance. I’m the writer, and if this issue could prevent me from publication/sales/readership/fan-base, then I don’t want to risk it. Which, I think is a real shame. Cajun-French is so much fun, and so culturally rich- not to mention one of my MCs speak it- I’d hate to leave it out of the story. I really think it would be a disservice to New Orleanais who’ve struggled to keep this dying language alive, So, I have but two options. Leave it out, or leave it in with minimal usage and superb in-text references. Obviously I’m leaning toward option number two. I just don’t think I could do Johnny or the book justice without it.

Finally, at least as far as this blog is concerned, does Marie II need/deserve a POV all her own? I suppose that’s not the right question at all though, is it? Does the story need an antagonistic POV or can Shay handle things all by herself? I’ve been back and forth on this issue and I’ve come to the conclusion that that’s a question I’m not yet ready to answer. Hopefully the answer will present itself as I write. But, as for now, I have a literary Jazz Funeral to attend in the AM, so I’d better get some sleep.

Until next time. Bonne lecture et bonne nuit.

PK Dawning

Big Changes This Way Come

I have so much to catch up on: my research trip to New Orleans, progress on Voodoo Dolls, and big changes in my personal life. But, before I get into any of that, I feel the need to make serious changes to this blog. So… I’m taking down all old, unrelated posts. That’s right, no more Phantom Ink. I don’t want to be bogged down with the past. I need a clean slate as far as my writing is concerned. So goodbye Phantom and hello Voodoo. It’s time to move on.

Back to Basics

I don’t blog as much as I used to, and certainly not as much as I need to. Everything in California seems so hectic. It’s hard to find time to write, work, and go to school, not to mention blog weekly. I keep telling myself it’s important, but so is keeping up with the laundry and walking the dog. Priorities! I can never seem to get them organized. Unfortunately, the deadly storms that ravaged my old stomping grounds have brought what really matters front and center.

For those of you who don’t know, 66 tornados ripped through Alabama yesterday. The death toll is currently over two hundred and still expected to rise. Thankfully, my family is safe. I can’t say the same for many families in my community, including that of a dear friend of mine who lost his mother. My heart aches for him and other families devastated by the storms. I can’t begin to imagine the pain and sense of loss they are experiencing. And as far as my latest work in progress is concerned, that’s a big problem.

You see, my story opens with a jazz funeral in present day New Orleans. The main character has just lost her mother. I’m trying to capture all the sights and sounds of the Crescent City - the sound of the band, the buzz of mosquitos, the sticky morning air- and that’s easy enough. The problem is, while I’m capturing the feel of the city, I’m losing a perfect opportunity for the reader to connect with my MC.

I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, but how do you describe a pain that cuts so deep, so completely? I know what it’s like to feel alone, to start over new, but how do you describe the hollow ache, the unrelenting pain of loneliness? I know what it’s like to feel, but for some reason I’m having a hard time knowing what my new cast of characters feel. Maybe I will spend my morning meditating on that.

For tonight, I’m content on sending up another round of thanks for my family’s safety, and heartfelt prayers for those suffering and in need. If you come across this blog and are looking for ways to help, please visit the Samaritan’s Purse online or your local Red Cross chapter. Thank you!