along the shoreline of Lake Huron.
I have always considered myself a pantser. I
blithely write along and hope something good happens—kind of like throwing
spaghetti at the wall to see if it sticks, ergo it’s al dente. Don’t get me
wrong; I take my writing very seriously, but I don’t plot. I trust my Muse (whose name I still must
discover) and my characters. I like writing this way, but it came to a
screeching halt when I began my attempt at a mystery. Oh no, I AM a plotter!
idea of the story arc, my mystery calls for more planning. I have notes (handwritten pages, sticky
notes, typed sheets saved into files that I cannot find) containing characters’
backgrounds, motives, red herrings, flashbacks, and scenes that need to happen…eventually.
This is like being lost in the Fun House.
I can’t find my way through the tilting rooms or see clearly in the distorted
mirrors, but, man, I’m having fun.
me as I drove along a busy highway with no way to record the first paragraph of
the book she whispered in my ear (see blog post June 21, 2012) and I remembered
it—word for word. The book must be written. So I’m currently about 13,000 words
into The Cavanaugh House, and I love
my characters though I’m not sure the plot moves along fast enough.
I will be publishing book number 3 in the near future. It’s HOKBIS time.