The crown jewel on my desk is my computer. I work on a lap top connected to a large monitor. Like the famous author, Ian McKewan, I am a "grateful convert" to the computer. Without it, I would have written nothing longer than a shopping list.
Behind and around my monitor are things I need for inspiration when I feel stuck and comfort for when I feel lonely: my battered copy of Roget's Thesaurus (better than the online version ), a too-heavy-to-lift dictionary I've had since college, pens, paper, books devoted to writing, books written by people I know, books that have been with me since childhood, a bronze statue of Ganesha, the elephant headed Hindu God, often called the patron saint of letters, engraved glass awards, a police badge enclosed in plexiglass, a engraved brass star paperweight, a blue glass heart, various trinkets given as gifts or collected during my travels, pen and ink drawings by friends, a bulletin board stuck with photos and poems, an obituary of my father scotch-taped to a rock, and a dollop of my mother's ashes in a tiny sea shell urn.
Because writing is a solitary pursuit. The most essential tool a writer can have is a respected friend whose opinion you trust. This was reinforced for me just this week. For months I have been submerged in the business of marketing my newest book, The Fifth Reflection. Instead of writing novels, I've been writing content for newsletters, websites, Facebook posts and blogs. Content is written, but it is not, IMHO, the same as writing. Unable to get started on the next book, I called Ann Gelder, a writing friend and author of Bigfoot and the Baby.
Over tea and scones, I threw out a few lackluster plot ideas and bemoaned my captivity in the world of marketing. Ann listened carefully. She asked questions, hard ones. What did my protagonist need? What was her motivation? The waitress brought us more tea. I ate a second scone. Ann ordered a petit-four, lemon with marzipan filling.When the tea shop closed we parted company. Ann looked drained. At home, wisps of the ideas we talked about began percolating, pinging, demanding my attention. I ate dinner. The pinging continued. I watched the news. More pinging. I turned down the bed. The pinging grew louder, more insistent. I sat down at my computer and started to write. Not think. Just write. By 2:00 a.m. I had written seven pages, 1403 words, 6451 characters, and had half a dozen decent story lines to explore. I felt elated. The buzz was back. Thanks to Ann for helping me find it.
Nothing helps jump-starting a book like a good brainstorming session. You're fortunate to have a friend like Ann. I'm sure the friendship is mutually beneficial. Good luck with the new one.
Posted by: Michael A. Black | June 23, 2017 at 07:41 AM
Some writer friends go it alone, all the way to the editor; I surround myself with critique and brainstorming sessions!
Posted by: camille minichino | June 23, 2017 at 08:50 PM