Taking It on the Road

I started work on a new book last week. I couldn't figure out where to set this one—San Francisco didn't feel entirely right. My heroine isn't really a city girl. She's kind of a hermit, actually.

So I thought about it. And I thought about it some more. And then it hit me: the perfect place for my heroine to live is Carmel-by-the-Sea. A couple hours away from San Francisco and her meddling parents (who own a palatial estate in the City).

But I hadn't been to Carmel in ages. Ergo, a road trip was in order. Purely for research. I talked my friend Katie into going with me. Singing along to Prince, we drove down and spent the day feeling out the charming little chi-chi town. Brace yourselves—I feel a photo-journalistic experience coming on.

Carmel-by-the-Sea: One Author's Journey

 

My Sister, the Un-Writer

The comments from last week sparked all kinds of questions emailed to me about my sister Parisa and her writing. A little bit of a misconception there. The brat doesn't really write. Yet. But I'll get to that in a moment.

The two of us are close. Almost unnaturally close given the twelve-year age difference between us. And we're quite alike in most ways—because I influenced her as she grew up or because of a genetic link, I don't know. No one else in our family is like us, so I'm inclined to believe it's the former.

So when she graduated from college last year and declared she wanted to become an editor, it wasn't surprising—she's often followed the paths I've taken. As luck would have it, her college has a kick-ass grad program in publishing and creative writing, with a student-run publishing company and everything. She's getting practical publishing experience as well as learning elements of storytelling.

Of course, whenever she needs help on her writing assignments, she calls me. The fact that after all these years I'm still helping her with her homework tickles me. And because of it, I think she approaches writing the same way I do: develop the characters, figure out the major plot points, and let the rest unfold.

She's a fantastic editor (the kind all of us authors dream about having), but I think one day she might take the plunge and become a writer. Her voice rocks—it's sparkly and vivid and fun. Her stories lean more toward fantasy than romance, but they contain quirky, lively characters that wiggle their way into your heart.

Here's a snippet from a suspensy piece she started last year. It's different than her usual stuff—way darker—but equally evocative.

I had been here for five days. The smell of sweat and aged urine wafted to my nostrils, and I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that I didn't close my eyes. If I closed my eyes the monster would come back. Maybe not physically, but mentally he was always here—just like he said he would be.

Dirt and grime stuck to me like dust to a monitor. I was covered in it and I was grateful there would be a layer between my naked skin and his flesh the next time he came. He always came at night—he liked to tell me the time. He said it was because he knew I liked it when people were punctual. I knew it was because he wanted me to know how long I'd been here, and to know that tomorrow at the same time, he'd be back. Punctual, as ever.

I lay huddled on the floor, gripping the army blanket that he had thrown at me the second night I was here. The room was dank and dark. I was close to the earth. The walls were wooden, but the floor was soil. There was no furniture, not even a cot to sleep on. I was living in my own tomb.

Doesn't she write well? I think she has it in her to be a great author if she decides to take the plunge one day.

Characters Welcome

I spent this weekend plotting.

Doesn't that sound sinister? Like I've holed myself up in a dark corner and I'm malevolently rubbing my hands together, dreaming in glee of all the havoc I'm about to wreak.

But, no—I haven't been cooking up schemes. I've been cooking up books. And this weekend, not even my own books. All the plotting I've done has been for other people.

However, I'm not really a plotter (even though I know my critique partner would vehemently disagree). I maintain that if you focus on character, the action follows. Figure out what the character wants, and you know what the character will do in order to get it.

Needless to say, building a strong character is important.

I'm about to embark on a new project myself. I'm in the beginning stages of figuring out the cast, and I've been trying to pinpoint exactly how I go about creating characters. Not out of idle curiosity (I'm not that masochistic) but because I've been asked to give a talk early next year on Creating Unique Characters.

The problem: as far as I can tell, the process consists of a lot of staring off into space and sudden bursts of inspiration from ice cream containers. How do you teach people something that's organic and flowing? Because characters are everywhere—you just have to open your senses to find them. Maybe I'll take incense and make them meditate.

In the meantime, be on the lookout for Ben and/or Jerry in one of my next books.

One Word

This week I had a compulsion to write a one word blog. Whenever I thought about it, I chuckled in glee imagining all your faces when you came here in the morning and saw just one word. I'm still grinning about it.

The dilemma: which word do I choose?

There are a number of ways I can take this. I can make it a public service announcement. Something like vote. Or perhaps slower for the people who, while driving, have little respect for pedestrians crossing the street. Or maybe smile, because your smile will make another person smile and that changes the world. Or love, because that's the most important thing there is.

Yeah—that's all too goody-goody. Be more edgy maybe? Since I'm not often edgy, it'd put you guys on your toes. I could write prevaricate or seethe or tempest. I like tempest.

And then I thought I could just mystify y'all. What would you think if you came here and simply saw squash? That's what I'm talking about.

Only I can't decide which way to go. And in the process, I've written a plethora of words, defeating the purpose.

Sigh.