Matters Close to the Heart, Writing

Holiday Mode

However you celebrate the holiday season, I truly hope you have had a peaceful, joyful and relaxing break.

Our New Years’ Eve/New Years’ Day grazing spread

Amidst the influx of celebrations and gatherings with relatives and friends, non-stop eating, and increased intake of alcoholic beverages, the creative part of my brain has seemingly adopted the two-week shutdown period most businesses observe during the Christmas-New Year period. Perhaps it was the subconscious mandating my mind, body and soul to fully surrender to the joyfulness of the festivities; to cherish and savour the company of those I have willingly chosen to surround myself with. Just like a car needing regular, major servicing once it reaches certain kilometrage, or a body needing plenty of rest to help get rid of a cold, perhaps, this was my mind’s way to slow down and recharge, preparing me for the year ahead.

Regardless of what the real reason might be, any semblance of writing – website-wise or progressing any of my WIPs – has come to a grinding halt. In-between watching the must-see Christmas movies and binge-watching episodes of TV series my husband and/or I need to catch up on, visions I had imagined so clearly become fuzzy as though seen through an unfocussed lens; the sophisticated-sounding words and flow-on sentences echoing inside my head vanishing soon as it had materialised much like a hypnotist could erase part of your memory simply by clicking his fingers. It is even fair to say that apart from writing the Christmas message (published on Christmas Eve), this was the first time I have fired up my computer and started anything resembling writing!

Unlike those businesses, however, there was no telling as to when my mind would resume the ‘business as usual’ mode. Apart from my own personal deadline, there is currently no other stakeholder mandating said part of my brain to open shop, for fear that indefinite closing period would mean losing a certain amount of profit. And whilst I could periodically hear (and entertain) a niggling voice at the back of my mind wondering whether, left idle for too long, my inspiration would ever return, I continue to remind myself that:
a) Track record indicates that it has continually done so; and
b) Like everything, this is nothing more than a phase, and ‘this, too, shall pass’.

Until such time said inspiration returns…

Magic lives in your creative mind, and flows best when you least expect it.
~ Ellen L. Buikema

Writing

‘Sprinkles’ of Information – Part 2

Whilst I do have ideas for a synopsis for Price of Admission, being the last book of the series, about 97% of what I have in mind will contain major spoilers. To those whom had pointed out to me that showing a sequel before the origin story could work (just look at the whole of Star Wars’ franchise), I say, “thank you for the vote of confidence, but I ain’t George Lucas 😜.”

Suffice to say that whilst The Lion’s Den and Peeling Layers focus on Elizabeth (Lizzy) Hartley (being the main character), the latter books and – in particular – Price of Admission, is largely told from Michael Bradford’s POV (an equally important character as the main heroine).

This is the first ‘sprinkle’ of section I can share; the Prologue, setting the overall tone of the fourth and final book.

Writing

The ‘Dream’ That Started It All (Sprinkle of Information – Part 1)

In the spirit of the Festive Season, this month’s blog posts will sprinkle excerpts from books other than The Lion’s Den.

I mentioned in my bio that what prompted me to grab that pen and paper and start scribbling was a dream; so vivid, the scene just kept building inside my head long after I had woken up.

The dream itself was brief; nothing more than a snippet, much like a scene you stumble upon whilst channel surfing. Standing on the third step of the spiralling marble staircase, a guy was asking a girl loitering at the bottom of the stairs to a dance.

Purely from a visual point of view, there was nothing too extraordinary about the dream. But, just as being chased by a machete-wielding crazed man or a hungry lion could send your heart racing, I woke up knowing there was a sense of casualness in the way the guy asked the girl out and the fact that the girl was hanging around the luxurious-looking interior of the house in the first place (as though she was dropping by to pick him up on their way to a movie); a deep sense of familiarity born out of long-term association, if not years of deep and meaningful friendship.

With only this rough idea to prompt me, I started to flesh out more of the scene. Much as I wanted to keep the fixture (because, let’s face it… who wouldn’t want to have a spiralling marble staircase as a backdrop?), in the end, it was more important to highlight the ease in which these characters conversed with one another. By the time this event took place, geographically speaking, spiralling marble staircase in a semi-private setting was on the scarce side, and having the characters stand around one simply for the sake of having said fixture present would scream forced, if not downright impractical and irrational.

Appearing more than halfway through Tormented by Echoes and Ghosts (Book 3), Wouldn’t Be The Worst Thing was actually the first conceptualisation of Elizabeth (Lizzy) Hartley and Michael Bradford.

Writing

Fattening the Seeds and Writing Out of Sequence

Fattening the Seeds

The author of the famous ‘Outlander’ series of books (and one of my favourite authors), Diana Gabaldon expanded on her writing process, and the reason why it would take her aaaages (say 3-4 years) before she publishes the next instalment.

She referenced the bits of the scene inside her head she could translate to written words as a ‘kernel’.

Sometimes, all I have is a seed. And when you’re a writer, even the smallest of seed is better than nothing.

Here was one such seed drumming inside my head recently.

EXCERPT from ‘THE LION’S DEN’, Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

“You couldn’t write me a note, could you?” She asked. “Excusing me out of school?”

“Just for today?” Lizzy continued as she risked a tiny sidelong glance at her father.

As seeds need water and fertiliser to grow, the above needs some fattening up to become a section.

But wait… As I re-read the above, my mind started conjuring up further ideas on how I could expand on the conversation. Like a camera zooming out, I could slowly make out the immediate surroundings the conversation took place; the feelings wrapped around the sentences. So, after toying with placing different words and sentences here and there and repeating the process a bunch of times (I may or may not have deleted and rewritten the sentences during the process!), the seed grew to become the following bud:

“You couldn’t write me a note, could you?” She asked as her father swerved the car into the nearest parking bay, the terror that had gripped her from the moment she woke up churning her stomach and prickling the hairs on her neck.

“Excusing me out of school?”

She pried her gaze from the window, feeling her father’s eyes on her even before she cast her imploring gaze at him.

“Just for today?” Lizzy added, her voice small and fearful.

Writing Out of Sequence

Unlike a landscaper methodically planting seed of flowers, vegetables or fruits, this particular seed – in addition to sprouting out all of a sudden – formed part of the end of the section.

Yet another common thing experienced by authors (Jodi Picoult and Michael Lewis have revealed how they often know the ending of their books, and have come up with the perfect concluding sentence before they even write a single word), now that I have some semblance of an ending, I need to incorporate the rest.

In addition to writing non-linearly (a topic worthy of its own blog post at a later stage), I also write out of sequence. Before I realise, the next string of sentences I have worked out was the actual end.

“I would, Lizzy, if I believe it would solve all of your problems.”

The hands tightly wringing her backpack and the breath she had subconsciously held failed to soften the blow. Still nursing the sucker punch of her father’s words, Lizzy schooled every muscle on her face from scowling as her father reached across the car console and tucked a small section of her hair behind her ear. With tears glazing her vision, her customary farewell kiss was nothing more than a barely there graze on her father’s cheek before she swiftly exited the Volvo.

To borrow Diana Gabaldon’s analogy, I now have a kernel, after all. Hopefully this will turn into a proper, full-blown cob, when the words for the beginning and the middle (not necessarily in that order) can flow; fluidly and coherently.

Writing

Translating An Imagined Scene To Flowing Words…

A lot of the times, what started as a scene playing so clearly inside my head becomes a process of ‘rinse and repeat’. A good opening sentence needs to be revised and rewritten. A word I first thought would be appropriate to use in a particular sentence might need to be re-arranged to appear later in the section.

Here’s an example, in which words started swirling inside my head I had to, first of all, typed onto my phone.

Scenario: Astonished that Lizzy has befriended the son-of-billionaire Michael Bradford in a short time since commencing at St. Andrew’s, Gordon Crane has asked Lizzy to put in a good word. This section reveals what happened after Lizzy told Gordon she wouldn’t be a go-between.

A rumble began to sound and grow louder inside him soon as Lizzy turned her back on him and walked away, dark spots slowly swarming his vision as she matched her pace with the son-of-billionaire.
Re-reading the above sentence (quite a few times, I might add), I began to pick a number of problems:

  1. ‘A rumble began to sound and grow louder…’ Whilst I think the word ‘rumble’ was a good one to use, the opening sentence as a whole read like a mouthful. I wanted something ‘punchier’, but still shows Gordon’s internal turmoil to the reader.
  2. Lizzy matching her pace with the son-of-billionaire insinuated that he was lurking around, patiently waiting until she finished chatting with Gordon. As a stand-alone section, there would be nothing wrong with this. However, in the previous section, I have written that Michael knew nothing about Gordon’s interaction with Lizzy, so him waiting for her around the corner would suggest he knew, and therefore changed the whole narrative altogether.

After a few tries, I condensed the original sentence to:
Gordon began to shake as Lizzy turned her back on him and walked away, dark spots swarming his vision as she matched her pace with the student emerging from around the corner.

No one had ever denied him! Certainly not his parents, nor those whom had grovelled at him, either wishing desperately to join his exclusive little clique or promising to comply with his every wish and be spared from his further torment.
Initially, I left the above sentence as is, but the more I revisited it, the more I thought there was a better way to show the reader why a) having to ask someone for a favour; and b) subsequently having his request denied, was an alien concept to Gordon.

I played around with rewriting the above paragraph, including:
Gordon narrowed his eyes considerably at the girl whom had matched her pace to the son-of-billionaire’s, her melodious cackle as she turned her face slightly upwards towards Michael might as well be a slap in his face.
No one denies me! His inner voice roared vehemently, both fury and humiliation compounding within.

Before finally settling on the below (the fact that I could incorporate ‘rumble/rumbling’ is an added bonus!):
No one has ever denied me! His inner voice stated as thunderously as the boiling blood rumbling in his ears.
Perhaps, the more exacting sentiment was that having had his stepmother shroud him with indulgences he wouldn’t otherwise aware of its existence, and others beg him to either desperately join his exclusive clique or be spared from further torment, Gordon had seldom had to request for anything in the first place.

Having given the reader a glimpse of flashback, I needed to bring the scene back to the present and progress the whole section forward.
Gordon narrowed his eyes considerably at the girl whom had matched her pace to the son-of-billionaire’s, her melodious cackle as she turned her face slightly upwards towards Michael might as well be a slap in his face.
It was humiliating enough that he had had to resort to some semblance of grovelling, the sting of Lizzy’s refusal to do his bidding fuelling his wrath further.

I could have left these two paragraphs well alone, but the below final version just made the whole thing more succinct whilst still conveying everything I had written above.
He narrowed his eyes considerably as Lizzy revealed her beaming face to Michael, her melodious cackle might as well be a hard slap on his face. If resorting to some semblance of grovelling was humiliating enough, the sting of Lizzy’s refusal to do his bidding only fuelled his wrath further.

For not only had Elizabeth Hartley robbed him of fifty bucks – having wagered that her friendship with Michael Bradford wouldn’t last longer than a week before his fascination fizzled out and he returned to his usual loner-slash-floater tendencies, she had also robbed him of the most powerful alliance he could ever had; an alliance that was rightfully his more than it was hers!
I struggled the most with this paragraph. I want to further show the reader as to why Gordon simply couldn’t let go of his grudge – that final nail on the coffin, but didn’t want to lose the potential reader’s attention span by writing long, convoluted sentences. I had written, and rewritten a number of versions, including:

Version 1
Staring at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, he began to concoct a devious plan to make the rest of her days at St Andrew’s utterly miserable. In his universe, the pairing of Michael Bradford’s status with someone whom a) had costed him fifty bucks, for he had initiated a wager that her friendship with Michael wouldn’t last longer than a week before the son-of-billionaire’s fascination fizzled out; b) usurped the alliance that was rightfully his; and c) ought to be scraping the bottom of the oil-greased barrel was simply… incomprehensible.

Version 2
Gordon stared at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, hell-bent in making the rest of her days at St. Andrew’s utterly miserable. For the girl had not only costed him fifty bucks… (see the reason above), but also robbed him of the most powerful alliance; an alliance that was rightfully his rather than hers!

Before finally settling on the below version:
Gordon stared at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, hell-bent to make the rest of her days at St. Andrew’s utterly miserable. In addition to costing him fifty bucks for debunking his conviction that her friendship with Michael wouldn’t last longer than a week before the son-of-billionaire’s fascination fizzled out, she had also usurped the alliance that was rightfully his. And in his universe, the pairing of Michael Bradford’s status with someone whom ought to be scraping the bottom of the oil-greased barrel was simply… incomprehensible.

Click here to read the section in one fluid, flowing motion.

Shy of 250 words, to get to the stage where I am happy with it before moving on to another section, there were a number of delete, re-write, rinse and repeat processes involved. Time-wise – depending on how fluid the words flow in my brain, the topic, and which point of view I’m writing from (and let’s face it – the more antagonistic the character is, the more challenging the process), could be anywhere from a few hours to half-a-day.

Hope you enjoy this little glimpse into my creative process. Feel free to leave your comment and/or feedback below.

Writing

A Window to The ‘Happenings’ Inside My Head…

I stumbled upon this clip of Swedish author Fredrik Backman from another website the other day, and found myself:
a) Nodding vigorously to almost every word;
b) In stitches; and
c) Putting his book on my to-buy-and-read list.

Without further ado – here is a sneak peek of what it is like inside my head… most times…

A few memorable quotes/key take-aways from Fredrik’s speech:

  • I find myself locked inside a room with people I have made up.
  • My brain and I… are not friends; … we are classmates doing group assignments called ‘life’, and it’s not going great.
  • “Everyone around you suffer” (from creative anxiety)
  • I am, obviously, an idiot. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I became an author anyway.
  • So you can, too!

Whether you are a fellow writer or not, let me know in the comment below if any of Fredrik’s sentiment resonates with you.

Writing

Through the Lens of Babel…

Barely recovering from the emotional roller-coaster two days after I finished reading ‘Babel’ by R.F. Kuang (book review published on 3 October), my niece commented so eloquently that “you can snap yourself out of Babel, but you can never snap Babel out of you.”

Whilst I have written the following section prior to ever knowing of the book’s existence, somehow, this has become even more impactful when viewed through the lens of Babel…

The ‘Grocery Store’ Incident

And A Dog, Writing

A Few Things Our Dog Has Taught Us…

Develop, and perfect your intuition
Applying just the right intonation to her name, the girl who could be dead to the world a second ago would perk up and stare at us expectantly. The word ‘walk’ had to gradually be spelled out, then shortened to a single letter, and subsequently changed to ‘explore’. We think she’s slowly learning said substitute word, so we are slowly introducing yet another phrase to say without her understanding it.

Give 110% of your time and energy to things you’re passionate about, including:
‘Zoomies’ around the coffee table when we are all gearing up for our regular exploration outside, even at the expense of her own time because it delayed us from securing her harness and leash on, or placing her inside her stroller.
Channel all of your focus towards your final destination, paying attention to nothing, and no one else.
Hit that ‘Turbo’ button to reach your intended destination in the fastest time possible.
Stop and smell the roses. No one lives out the literal meaning of this phrase , though in Nala’s case, it is more about stop and smell every. single. blade. of grass!

Know a good thing when you see/experience it, and keep doing it for as long as you possibly could
For someone who couldn’t wait to reach the park or mall, she would, just as suddenly, dawdle slower than a bride walking down the aisle as we start to veer back home. Or, as a good friend of mine (whom had the pleasure of looking after Nala for a few months) testified, the girl would put the break on, simply refusing to take another step.

Beyond the obvious benefits such as soaking up fresh air (or as fresh as could be, depending where you live) and increasing blood flow to every pore of your body, there is something invigorating and freeing about walking and enjoying nature. Often times, it has given clarity to my muddled mind. It has occasionally unkinked the knots on a particular section I’ve been struggling with, or provided me with those ‘light bulb moments’; from substituting a word here and there for a more impactful one to reworking a particular sentence or paragraph for a better flow.

In his ‘3-2-1’ weekly newsletter, 21 March 2024 edition, James Clear (author of An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones) wrote:

The reason people get good ideas in the shower is because it’s the only time during the day when most people are away from screens long enough to think clearly. The lesson is not to take more showers, but rather to make more time to think.

What has worked for you that takes you away long enough from the screens to think clearly? I would love to hear from you. Share your story by commenting below.