Have I confused anyone yet? If you’re a fan of “The Big Bang Theory,” you might remember Sheldon using Erwin Schrödinger’s thought experiment when both Penny and Leonard, wondering if they should follow through on a date, asked him for advice. (We’ll just skip over the fact that Sheldon would be one of the last people I’d ask for relationship advice….) Continue reading
Sunday, the snow started and was predicted to turn to ice later in the day. That’s not a forecast we want to hear in these parts because the power can go out at the mere mention of that three-letter word. So just in case I can’t complete and upload the post I was writing on Sunday, I’ve preloaded this additional tidbit from Death Out of Time.
My PerNoReMo moves forward, despite some major self-doubts earlier this month. To help me through the mire, I read some of my earlier posts, looking for inspiration. And one that I originally posted on 2 June 2012 reminded me why I’m rebuilding Death Out of Time and not sticking with my original version. I thought it was worth sharing again with readers. Rather than force you to make extra clicks, here are the highlights from that post. Continue reading
So, as you know, the characters from my first two WIPs have been suggesting revisions to improve their stories’ chances of finding an audience. While Katharine continues to talk with the other characters in Summer at the Crossroads, Madeleine O’Brien of Death Out of Time has stepped up to the plate and made some serious changes. And I mean serious. Continue reading
In late 2008, a friend told me she had started working on her novel again. And I told her what I said in my last post. I could come up with ideas, but writing them down was another story, so to speak. I envied her talent and perseverance. At the same time, another idea started taking shape in my head from various threads – string theory, the multiverse, alternate selves. Take a character through a slice of her life in a few different universes.
That idea kept going through me, taking more substantial form in my mind, although I still didn’t sit down at the computer. But on Easter Sunday in 2009 I was talking with my mother. And at one point she said, “You’re a good writer. You should write a book.”
Something clicked in my brain. She’s right, I thought – I should try to write this story. And in that conversation, my mother told me a family story I’d never heard before. It became the germ of the last idea I needed to start the book. (Sorry, I can’t tell you what it was – I don’t want to give away too much!) Two days later, I sat down at my computer and started writing a story I would ultimately call Summer at the Crossroads. This time, the words came. And they didn’t stop. I was writing a novel. Looking back, I think that clicking sound was the Muse unlocking the door to creative writing. And that’s how I got here.
If you’re still with me, you might be asking, “But what about the first idea? What happened to it?” Oh, it was still there. But that’s another post for another week.
Any other writers have a similar story? Or a completely different path?
So how does an archaeologist come to write fiction? Some of my associates in the other subfields of anthropology might tell you it’s no great leap – they think that’s what archaeologists do all the time. You can imagine how most of us feel about that joke.
Seriously, I never saw it coming. I always got As in English classes, and my teachers and professors said I was a good writer. But once I got to graduate school, all of my writing was academic. And trust me – professional archaeological writing will never appear on a bestseller list. It’s everything good fiction isn’t – wordy, passive, and jargon-filled. Have trouble sleeping? Pick up an archaeological site report. You’ll be out in no time.
Still, over the years I’d get some ideas and think they’d make an interesting book. But ideas are easy – writing a book is hard. Then, in late 2007 or early 2008, I watched a documentary about the Smithsonian Museums, and there was a segment about a naturally formed mummy. It grabbed my attention. Researchers couldn’t match the name on the headstone with local records from the time the guy lived and died. And some of his clothing wasn’t quite right.
Now there was an idea for a book. An archaeologist excavates a burial, and something doesn’t fit. When she examines the artifact more closely, she accidently reactivates it and the adventure begins. I tried to start it then, but the Muse wouldn’t unlock the door to creative writing. And so the idea kicked around in the back of my head with no way out. But the Muse apparently had plans for 2009.
To Be Continued – if you haven’t seen them yet, I’ve posted the current drafts of the opening scenes to both books