Tag Archives: writing my future

#19 Insurgence

They Don’t Like How I’m Writing This!

If you recall, in the continuing narrative of Chapter 4, “The Potluck,” Renee has met Ada Greenway, Joe Kerr and Reese Archer in casual conversation. Then after everyone had been seated Ada has stood at the head of the table and moving around to the long side to her left introduced Sir John, Rita Kulos, Fuller Banks and Dee Lyla:

“Finishing off that side of the table, Judge Case, one of the greatest criminal lawyers in the city and recently elected to the bench.”

“In this circle of friends I’m simply known as Justin. Please call me by my first name.” There was a rich texture to his voice. Commanding, yet soothing at the same time. Like one would imagine the Voice of Reason to be?

“At the opposite end of the table to me, sitting next to our beloved Monty is The Very Reverend Gilda Temple. Gilda is a carpenter who has recently built her own church.” Gilda had honey-colored curls, large doe-like eyes and a short plump figure. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, she looked more L.L. Bean than clerical.

“And now, next to Monty on the other side of the table….”

I’m reading this aloud to my “Writing My Future” group. but they have a dazed look about them. “Stop!” one yells. “Too many characters! I can’t keep them all straight.” The others nod in agreement.

Continue reading

#17 Mind Games

The Past Is The Future?

Remember last time I said there was so much to tell you about blogging a novel, but it would have to wait because I didn’t have enough words left? Call me whimsical (or perhaps another word you would like to substitute), but now I have a more compelling interest. Here’s how I came to it:

I am focusing on writing my future through the character of Renee. That means my future is attending a potluck, right? But guess what! I’ve been attending spiritual potlucks for years! (My definition of a spiritual potluck is a group of people with diverse spiritual views gathering to eat and talk.) I have forgotten until a member of my writing group reminds me! And the reason she knows is because she is often a guest at the same dinners. OMG! What do you do when the future that you have been writing has been happening all along?

Continue reading

#16 Synchronicity

 I Love Fun Surprises!

The “Writing My Future” group is still functioning; you know–the experiment I introduced you to in Post #1? The members are mostly coming to hear me read another chapter of The Potluck, however. At one meeting a member hands me a book written by a friend of hers, Nina Amir. The name of the book is How to Blog a Book.

I page through it and see it is about blogging a non-fiction book, and I idly wonder if one could blog a novel. I feel a spark of excitement. It feels like synchronicity, that right brain experience of unexpected coincidences pointing to a path. I love out-of-the box ways of doing things. Writing my future has taken a new twist!

Long story short, in the next few days I read the book from cover to cover and come up with the idea for this blog: a non-fiction framework about a new way of writing, with an embedded excerpt of fiction!

I want to tell you so much more, but it will have to wait because I am running of words (the blog book says a post should be no more than 500 and ideally about 250), and I need to save some for the excerpt from Chapter 4, so here’s the review for those who can’t remember: you have met Joe and Ada, and I left you with Renee gazing across the table at the girl with the cigarette and cleavage.

Continue reading

#13 Paths

Breaking the Rules: It’s a Good Thing.

I’m thinking about what I am learning about writing. Pesky writing teachers, editors and publishers say one of the main rules in writing a novel is to have a plan: make a story board; list, then flesh out the characters. Later on it is OK to abandon the plan, but you have to have that plan to start with. However, when my Muse demanded more, more, more, now, now, now, and I didn’t have a plan, I went ahead and wrote without one. She was the first person who ever showed such enthusiasm about my writing, and that had me pumped! And here’s the magic: every time I wrote, the words came without effort. Characters wandered–and sometimes even jumped–into my story. The plot coalesced without an outline. I started writing things I did not know, which made me shout, “Wow! I want to know more!” I had to write the next chapter just to find out what was going to happen. It was like reading a book someone else wrote.

Not to mention the whole experiment about writing my future. Well, actually, let’s mention it. It’s what got me started writing in this fashion in the first place. So imagine my exhilaration when the scarves leapt out of my book into my life (cf. Post #12). I can see the headline now: What J.K. Winters, Author of The Potluck, Writes, Comes True. I like it!

Anyway, I know some of you came here to read the next segment of my book, so here it is starting where Renee was impatiently waiting for Monty to take her to the gathering:

It was seven o’clock but no Monty. Well, wasn’t he late last time? Seven-fifteen. Seven-twenty. And then she heard it—the distinctive sound of a motorcycle blasting up the driveway. She rushed out into the night clutching the Tupperware bowl that contained her salad.

Continue reading

#11 A Muse Zing

We Need to Move Faster!

My Muse is kicking up her heels again, saying the blog is too slow and she’s afraid people are getting impatient. She thinks they want to read the story in bigger chunks. She’s never been a fan of the blog idea anyway and has been pushing for finding an agent and a publisher for my book, pronto. This would be great, of course, so if you know any….

Well, anyway, here’s what I have decided: if you are one of those readers who is just popping in to look around once in awhile and haven’t become a subscriber, you get to read my summary of Chapter 3 of The Potluck in this post. Subscribers will also have a chance to download the whole chapter. (Hint, hint!)

Chapter 3 is called “Crone,” and it tells how Renee reads in the little black book about Serena’s experiences growing up in a small town in Czechoslovakia where her father was a physician. Bands of Gypsies would wander through the town periodically and Serena became fascinated with their gaudy costumes, their tipsy wagons and most of all their crystal balls. Eventually she has an opportunity to gaze into a ball (called scrying) and is hooked. She goes away to medical school, but comes back to practice in the village and study the ways of the Gypsies. What she learns is that there is a long history of scrying, which at one time was viewed with a great deal of respect.

Continue reading

#10 Deflated

Don’t Just Write to Please Your Audience!

I’m really happy that Serena wants to be in my book, but not so much the crystal ball. Not that I have anything against crystal balls, but….been there, done that! I’m supposed to be writing my future, not my past. Maybe that’s why none of what I am writing is coming true. Nevertheless, the chapter needs finishing, so I finish it:

Serena’s smile was serene. “Just gaze into da ball and relax. If you see someting, don’t try to make analysis. Just obserfe until it passes.” Her eyes were so kind and twinkly that all consternation melted away. As her voice softened and slowed, Renee’s body relaxed in response. The words her guide caressed with her tongue were foreign. Was it Czech? Hungarian? Romanian?  No matter; they were comforting. The ball turned cloudy and time ceased to exist.

Continue reading