Story’s for me are far different than articles as how I come to them. To build a story for me it just…comes. And I let it. The first time I wrote a novel was Mr. Jones and I was going through these times as a young woman, really coming into womanhood on my own and realizing I had formed. So the story of a young woman emerged along the lines of this…with the voice of eat pray love in the back of my mind. Which had gotten me through my divorce practically. At the same time I had this story forming with the gentleman I did secretarial work for in mind. He was artistic, elderly, alone and a bachelor and fascinated me. It was a friend who told me why don’t I combine the two stories and parallel them.
My NaNoWriMo project novel, Behind The White Gate’s formed on my summer of walking to a daily job that I hated, but I almost lived for those walks…my utmost time to get lost in thought. I daily passed this drive way with a white gate and each day a little story or scenario formed in my mind. Then…one formed and kept building, and before I knew it, that was my story, my next novel to write….and with NaNoWriMo coming up I chose to use NaNo as a platform to actually sit and write the story.
Plans don’t always go according but I am sticking with it, though around day jobs and whatnot. So the month of November won’t be a planned-for blissful saved up for month off of work to just write daily with a crockpot of good smelling food in the back ground but will be around a new job (hopefully) and time management…tired of looking at computer screens and staring for hours at a blank page rather.
During the summer I have let the idea and story form and form. I have asked questions of it and let the answers form in their own time. On my walks. Everyday.
I will question…how did she come to this house? Was she born there? Walked up to it? How did these relationships form? What is my first line?
And I let the answers form like grains of sand into pearls. I will be walking along with the lingering question floating softly in my mind and then suddenly…the answer just floats, like a whisper.
Not always. Sometimes I have to work for the next line or idea or way or meeting of a relationship in a story but this one so far has really fallen into place such as this. And I have yet to write down a word.
I suspect November 1st I will be yelling at my laptop ” God damn it fuck why did I think I could remember?!” as my mind goes suddenly spelling bee, SAT test taking day blank.
Before NaNoWriMo begins my thoughts rest in my characters. Each personality as this is the hugest part of the story.
So though I planned to long ago sit down and sketch these out I am, of course….not quite there yet. Procrastination is such an ugly word.
Today to get me motivated and do a little NaNo update I came to writing this instead (not procrastination…just a warm up. You shush your judgement) .
My characters. These are women of far different personalities and without going into detail, how I am coming to them is this so far.I am writing about women I know. Then I will take from each and form the character’s of the story.
As we often do, writers have more mother issues than father issues don’t we?
I started with my mother.
I wrote out her personality and things I loved…and hated about her. Even things I am made up of from her as well. Good and bad. Therapy much?
Moment’s of pure rage to moment’s of absolute best advice when I was nearing thirty and told that I was set in a life and not so much as working on it but having made it. I just didn’t see it myself. The disappointment I feel.
I moved onto my grandmother next and memories of her.
Especially her super distinct gravely voice and me laying under the piano bench as she played.
A woman who had all the same options a lot of us do every day and made so many right decisions when so many of us don’t always.
Each of my sisters.
The strength’s in them. The weaknesses. The hurt’s of our lives and the obstacles overcome.
Then influences and mentors of my life.
Especially one of a story of when her child was little and their car broke down she put him on her back to get out of the major California HWY and told him ” this is a game, let’s play a game.” taking his focus from fear. When I heard this story I felt ” this is a mother’s love and protection.”
Then even how I feel when watching the movie or reading the book eat pray love.
How she made a decision to leave a marriage that wans’t bad…he wasn’t cheating or beating her…but it wasn’t good either and she simply wasn’t happy. I love love love the moment they dance later and she makes up with him in her own hearts forgiveness of herself and her decisions. As a woman who left my husband this…hit close to home. The guilt we hold. The chip on our shoulder.
I sit and watch a movie and break out my notebook paying attention to the female characters. Breakfast at tiffany’s; I hate. I hate because she is basically a prostitute and a weak mindless gaggling of a woman. Why do people think this movie is cute? It is not. Saving Mr.Banks ( a movie which I watched at the theater twice and cried so hard during. I connected. So connected and it made me go back and read and watch Mary Poppins with a whole new eye and wow…just…wow. Amazing. I wrote of the movie. I wrote of the author. Characters.
There are many others.
And I still add to it.
I will sit in a coffeeshop and write of those I watch. The girl over there is insecure and uncomfortable feeling (not from my watching…just with life in general…I think), and that girl over there has more feelings for her bf than he does her…and she knows it. And that woman just walked in with an air of confidence I hope to bask in a little. That girl is artful and quirky and doesn’t give a damn, I kinda like her. There is the overly nice one I wish to hit when she speaks to me like I am in a preschool class.
And so forth.
There are moments of memory. Stories told. And there are the feeling’s of moment’s that I remember. How a reaction, action or word or song or whatever made me feel. I draw on all of these. What I think of the woman. What I felt about the woman.
Working. Building. Forming. Preparing.
Behind The White Gate’s ; in the works. NaNoWriMo 2015.