Eric Mayer

Byzantine Blog

Get Email Updates
Cruel Music
Diana Rowland
Martin Edwards
Electric Grandmother
Jane Finnis
Keith Snyder
My Incredibly Unremarkable Life
Mysterious Musings
Mystery of a Shrinking Violet
The Rap Sheet
reenie's reach
Thoughts from Crow Cottage
This Writing Life
Woodstock's Blog
Email Me

Admin Password

Remember Me

1481428 Curiosities served
Share on Facebook

Previous Entry :: Next Entry

Read/Post Comments (1)

During the past couple weeks Mary and I have been outlining the sixth "John the Eunuch" mystery. Not everyone likes to work from an outline, but for two writers, working on the same book, trying to keep a mystery straight, it seems necessary.

The outlining weeks, for me, are a sort of twilight zone. I read, search the web and brood. Not much seems to get done. Any attempt at other writing halts the fermentation process. I tend to derive ideas from research, rather than plotting out a story and then doing research to fill in necessary information. So I will peruse this and that and every once in awhile some scrap of information suggests a plot point to me. Ah, there were few bridges in Egypt and the canals could generally be waded, but there were crocodiles in them. Surely something can be done with that?

I'll run an idea by Mary. We'll discuss it. Meanwhile she's doing her own research and passing on information about whatever byways she's decided to wander down. I suppose it gives a story twists and turns when you have two authors traveling different routes to the same destination and you're determined to drag readers past all the interesting sights.

This is a time to actively do nothing, rather like our cat. To simply wait. Ideas often arrive just before sleep. Thinking hard, concentrating on forming a *new* idea doesn't work. It's scary. Because, what if, this time, the ideas don't show up? I dislike the whole concept of inspiration. It is overdone. An excuse for lousy poets to lollygag. Besides, I prefer to believe I have some control over my being able to write or not.

Nevertheless, I'm not sure exactly how ideas form. All I know is that if I perform the approrpiate rituals, do the research, avoid distractions, repeat to myself that I am outlining a plot materializes.

Gradually things accumulate. A scene appears, set in an exotic landscape caught by a nineteenth century photographer; a character shuffles in, plying a fascinating occupation I'd never realized existed before seeing it mentioned in an obscure article; an vital clue derived from....ah, but that would be telling...

Read/Post Comments (1)

Previous Entry :: Next Entry

Back to Top

Powered by JournalScape © 2001-2010 All rights reserved.
All content rights reserved by the author.