March in April

It was chilly, in the low 40s, and there was drizzle in the air ... so why was there a group of people, myself included, standing in the middle of the street this morning in Joplin, Missouri?

We were there for the March for Science. You might have heard of it, because there were marches held all over the world today in hundreds of cities. Thousands of people took part. Joplin didn't have thousands of people, but there was a respectable turnout. There were men, women and children. Most of us didn't know each other, but we smiled and chatted. We waved signs at passing traffic and cheered when the cars honked. After a while, we walked four blocks, carrying our signs and chanting in unison. Then we turned around and did it again.

So why do this? Why brave the unfriendly weather and wave a sign that now sits unused in our kitchen? Why chant slogans such as "One Earth, No Time" and "Stand Up, Fight Back" if not many people other than the marchers were there to hear?

I can't speak for the others, but I was there simply to show my support for science. Scientific findings and funding have come under fire lately, and I think that leads this country, and all countries, in the wrong direction. I greatly value scientists, engineers, researchers and educators ... and I think everyone else should, too. These people are making a big difference in our lives and should be encouraged to continue. They should also be allowed to travel in order to take part in research and education. They will bring us the next big technology, discovery and/or cure.

I know I didn't make a direct difference. It was purely symbolic on my part. (Just for the record, I would do the same thing in support of the humanities, too.) But if some influential people took notice of this movement, and if any of those people reconsider their stance or their beliefs or their actions, then I will have been a part of that. And that's a good feeling.

Diane after the March for Science April 2017

By the way, I didn't do this because I'm a member of one political party or the other. To me, this had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with the whole world. Politics plays its part, but it's only a part. Everyone, not just politicians, needs to pay attention.

Besides, if you take "Defiance for Science" and remove efc, you have "Diane for Science." How could I argue with that?

Happy Earth Day.

Transition

Tomorrow is the First Day of Spring.

That phrase means many things to me. It means sunlight, warmth, birds, flowers, baseball, hope. It means I can think about travel and birding and long walks in the park. It means I won't huddle inside, shivering in the darkness even when the furnace is running.

Later, there will be bugs, loud motorcycles, people not wearing enough clothing ... But I won't think about that now.

Phlox in our front yard March 2017

For now, I'll look at the flowers that survived the sudden frost this past week and I'll smile. Winter has been vanquished once again ... at least temporarily.

I wouldn't have it any other way. What I mean is this: I wouldn't enjoy spring if I hadn't had to struggle through winter first. It's only months of neutral colors and chilly temperatures that can make this season so special.

Grape hyacinth in our front yard March 2017

If there were hyacinth blooming all year long, would I even notice them after a while? Probably not. If there were mockingbirds here all the time, would I cherish the first time I hear that unique series of songs and calls coming from atop a telephone pole? Nope. If I had to mow the grass all year long, would the sight of green in the yard make me happy? Certainly not.

I salute winter for making me appreciate spring. I can still recall snuggling under a pile of covers, happy to be safe and warm, dreaming of long days and a time when I could put hats, gloves and coats into storage. I'm grateful that winter gives way for a while, allowing us to take a deep breath of fresh air without making our lungs hurt.

Flowers in our back yard March 2017

I might even miss winter eventually. But not now.

Happy Spring!

Update on the Fifth Novel

It occurs to me that this blog is supposed to help you keep track of where I am on my novels, but it's kind of hard for you to do that if I don't post updates once in a while!
So here goes ...

The fifth novel, which does not have a title that I want to share yet, has a long way to go. This weekend I finally started to break part of it into chapters so that it's not just one big lump of story. I've done some other minor formatting, but it doesn't have headers yet.

The biggest problem is the story itself. I had a story written, but it's too short and the beginning is horribly boring. Because of this, I decided I needed to add something to the beginning, and that's where I've gotten myself in trouble. It turns out that it's very hard to add onto the beginning of a story because you have to come up with stuff that not only fits in with what's already written but also doesn't mess with the themes or give away anything that's coming later in the story. That's hard!

I also find that it's hard to write toward something that's finished. In other words, I'm used to writing with no particular ending in mind, which gives me a lot more freedom. Right now, I'm limited on where the story can go or what the characters can do, and that's had a negative effect on the writing itself. I wrote myself into several dead ends and had to backtrack to get where I wanted to be.

I like most of what I've written and I think I can make all of this work, but there's still a lot to be done. Because of that, I'm not very far along. I'm sorry to say that, because it makes a potential reader a little exasperated, I'm sure.

I am working on it, though! I spent quite a bit of time this weekend on the novel, which felt incredibly good after my long bout of writer's block, so I'm confident that this novel will see the light of day.

We'll just have to see when I can finish it, but I think that's a lot better than having to see if it will happen.

In the meantime, if you'd post a review of any of my novels, I'd really appreciate it! Please be honest if you do so. You can post a review on Amazon, Goodreads or wherever you prefer.

Thanks! And thanks for reading my blog.

Closet Spaceship Part 19

I was looking for Reggie when Tim Caswell spotted me in the corridor of Penumbra.

“Hey,” he said.

I winced, hoping he’d forgotten our last talk. “Hi.”

He laughed. “Caught you.”

“I was actually looking for Reg …”

“Is it important?” he asked.

“What?” I said. “Uh, well, no, I guess not. Not really.”

Sometimes I have to stop to admire how articulate I can be. This was not one of those times.

“Good,” Tim said. “Then it can wait.”

He beckoned and led me into the radio station, where we sat down in some chairs a few meters away from the microphone.

I fidgeted a little, wishing I could hear the song that was playing throughout the ship so I could lose myself in the words or the instruments, but he’d turned down the volume so it was inaudible. I looked at the blinking lights on the control panel, the crumpled candy wrapper on the floor next to the wastebasket, a scuff mark on the floor that looked like a bent cactus.

In short, I did almost everything but ask him what I wanted to ask.

Tim might not spend a lot of time around people, but he’s not dumb.

“You want me to find Reg for you?” he asked.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I can’t ask him any more than I can ask you.”

“Ask us what?”

“What’s going to happen?” I slouched down in my chair. “Don’t answer that.”

“Happen where?” Tim asked.

“In my novel. In my life. In the U.S. Everywhere.”

When I saw the puzzled look on his face, I added, “Sorry. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t tell you anything,” Tim said, “but maybe I could walk out of here and leave the database unlocked.”

I shook my head. “I’m trying not to get you fired.”

“Okay, so what set this off?”

“A lot of stuff. Amazingly enough, having the Cubs win the World Series didn’t solve the world’s problems. Or mine, although it made them a little less obvious for a while there.”

Tim started to say something, but then he shut up.

“No,” I said. “You can’t say whether they did it again. Why am I even having this conversation?”

“So you won’t have to tell me about the cubicle?”

I laughed, which felt good.

“If I did walk out of here,” Tim asked, “would you look?”

“No,” I said without hesitation. I’ve always had a fear of knowing the future, because if it’s not good, I can’t do a thing about it. If I don’t know, I can still hope for the best. “Would you?”

He thought about it for a while. “No, I guess not. But I do know this: you’re not going to tell me about working in a cubicle.”

“Not if I can help it,” I said. “You’re better off not knowing.”

“It’s funny,” Tim said. “I’m not a big fan of secrets, but we can both keep ours: don’t ever tell me and we’ll be even.”

“It’s a deal,” I said.

I can hope for the best, but will I?

I’ll try.

Unwriting

Writer's Block.

The mere phrase strikes terror in the hearts of writers everywhere. Nobody wants to think about it, but it happens to all of us.

I have several methods to deal with it. I go for walks so I can think. I listen to my favorite music. I read books by other people. I reread my own books (to remind myself that I can do this).

Lately, though, I've recognized that something else is called for. This one took me a long time to figure out when I first started writing.

Here's what's happening: I write a few sentences and then it's as if my characters stop and look at me to ask what's next. I write a few more sentences and they stop again. They're not running out ahead of me like they usually do. They're looking at me as if to ask, "What are you doing?"

After this has happened several times, I finally admit it to myself: they're doing this because something is wrong. If I can't figure out what happens next, it means I'm not happy with where I am. Somehow, I've gotten off track and I shouldn't be here.

So I do one of the hardest things for a writer: I "unwrite." In my case, that involves cutting and pasting text into a Rejects file, in case I want to use some of it later. Basically, it means removing a big section of what I've written most recently. That hurts, especially when I've been battling writer's block and I'm so proud of myself for actually writing something, anything. It has to be done, though. My characters are telling me that they shouldn't be here, so I have to take them back to where we went wrong and start again.

This has worked for me in the past. I think my subconscious recognizes that I went astray at some point, and I just have to figure out when that was and correct it. Once I get it right, my characters usually run out ahead of me again and we're all on track together.

Meanwhile, I've also recognized a major plot mistake in this novel, so I'll be trying to correct that.

All in a day's work for a writer.



Thanks for reading my blog. Feel free to post comments. Happy 2017!

To Be Continued

There were a few dried leaves in the open doorway. My footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as I entered. Most of the tables were gone. There were a few lonely books on the remaining bookshelves. It was the last day that Spellbound bookstore was open.

I shook Brett's hand and took back the copies of my novels. He told me he doesn't know what he'll do next, but he acknowledged with a smile that there are a lot of opportunities. I wished him well.

Then he said something that sort of surprised me: he wanted me to let him know when my next novel comes out.

It surprised me for a few reasons. First of all, I was touched that even in his situation, he wasn't thinking only of himself, but was reaching out to someone else.

Second, it reminded me that I have another novel to work on. That might sound silly: how could I forget that I have this novel to finish? Well, this has been kind of a tough year for me, and several factors combined to give me a pretty tenacious case of writer's block. The novel kind of slipped out of the Top Ten things I was considering ... until Brett reminded me.

As I walked to my car, I made myself stop and consider the plastic bag in my hands. It held four novels and they were all written by me! When I was younger, the mere thought of that would have made me do a silly little dance of joy. And those books made me realize that I want to create another one. It's been sitting on my computer and needs me to finish it.

So I want to thank Brett one more time. His dream hasn't ended: he's just going to move on to the next one. His attitude about that has been positive and hopeful, not angry or disappointed, which is a lot better than I would have reacted. And he's inspired me to keep up with my own dream. I have actually written seven whole sentences today and I'm going to keep going!

I think we'll both be okay.

I wish you all the best in 2017.

Winter Show

I’m not fond of several aspects of winter: the cold, the long nights, the relative lack of wildlife and birds.

But these past few weeks, I’ve discovered something, a bonus that makes me a little more tolerant of the lengthening night (and the end of Daylight Saving Time).

When I step outside after a day of work, I’m facing west and I’m confronted by a sunset. The nearby buildings and trees aren’t tall enough to block it. I can’t bury my face in a book or hide inside four walls because I have to walk to my car if I want to get home.

In other words, I can’t miss it.

So I stop. I stare. I marvel.

The sun has usually just gone away, leaving a bright flare of yellow, orange and peach. Above my head are the clouds, which come in all shapes and, more importantly, colors. They’re white, gray, light blue, purple, yellow. They’re edged with orange, pink, purple and dark blue as the sunlight reaches out before slipping over the horizon. If I’m lucky, the display is accented by the sliver of a pale moon.

I stand there in awe as co-workers scurry past me, rushing to the comfort of their cars. I don’t even realize my breath is visible or my hands are going numb.

Winter is a time of neutral colors: white, gray, brown. But she has a few tricks up her sleeve, and this one is magical.

By the time I get home, it’s usually dark and the colors are gone. But they live on in my memory, enough to hold me until the next day when the show begins again.

There will be sunsets in the spring and summer, but I’ll most likely miss them.

Right now I have no choice, and I’m glad.

Here’s to beauty in unlikely places and times.