Recharging the brain cell.

Sherry: So, my DH and I went to the Texas Hill Country on a motorcycle trip to meet up with friends and on the trip there I’m admiring the scenery and reminding myself that I have a book to finish writing and that I’m stuck. I should be using all this downtime spent riding on the back of the Harley occupying my brain cells to solve my wip problem.

So, sez I, here goes….

Now my H needs some motivation… oh, look! There is ….count em. 10 deer! Beautiful. Anyway, so why is does he have the heroine…mmm, spectacular view of a field of purple thistle. With the rolling hills, it might be somewhere in Scotland…

Focus!

Okay. Now concentrate. The hero has hied away to the cabin with another man’s intended bride. How will he turn this into his advantage? Oh… What a gorgeous cloud of butterflies. Wonder where they are off to? Oh my gosh, look at the roadside display of pottery. Is that a water feature? Sure would look great outside my dining room window.

What was I saying about the wip? *confoozlement*

Finally, I sighed and told the DH my predicament. He was quiet and seemed as confoozled as me. Finally he said, ‘we are surrounded by some of the best scenery in Texas. Maybe your braincell is trying to tell you to give it a rest and to soak up some new experiences. Maybe you should just relax’.

Relax? Huh. There’s an idea, but could the anal side of me concede the point?

Well, 14 hours of ride time, a pitcher of the best Sangria wine ever, one Hawaiian luau and two days spent with some of the best people and fellow riding enthusiasts around, all in some of the most wonderful countryside that Texas has to offer --- I’m no closer to solving my wip problems, but even my anal retentive brain cell is thanking me.

Today we are rejuvenated, refocused and recharged. Still don’t know how I’ll fix my wip, but I’m a lot happier and more relaxed trying to figure it out.

Sometimes, you just gotta let it all go and then it will come to you.



Laura: My braincell gave up the ghost on the current WIP a couple weeks ago. I KNOW what I need to do to finish this novel, and get it done, but gee... I have a house to finish unpacking, pictures to hang, laundry to do, children, a spouse and pets to clean up after, swimming lessons to take the boys to, read HP7, see HP 5 (both excellent, BTW)... What's the problem? Why can't I just Sit the Heckadoodle Down and Finish the WIP?

I think it's because my brain has moved on to the next project. I'm chomping at the bit, as it were, to get to my "Adventure WIP"-- the one I should be writing while Sherry's writing hers. Hmm... we seem to be on the same wavelength most of the time, I wonder if writer's block is contagious.

Anyway, it all comes down to having the time AND the motivation to finish. I can make the time. Just need the find the right motivation. After all, I can only clean the kitchen and bathrooms so many times before they're scrubbed away due to my procrastination. Huh. Maybe I should contemplate painting the downstairs bathroom as my next procrastination event.

Oh, brother.

Pass the chocolate.

And put Procrastination back in his cage, for crying out loud.

The Big Switch-A-Rooney...

Laura: To cut or not to cut... that is the question. Whether the scene serves any purpose, or is just there taking up space, hoping it will be tied into the fabric of the store further into the novel... Who’s to say when they don’t write by sticky notes, dry erase boards, diagrams and charts?

Yes, it’s one of the woes of being a panster. The scene is good. It’s a nice scene. I like the scene, even. Did I manage to tie back into, as I initially thought I would when I was writing it? Um... nope. Didn’t. Am I going to on my revisions rounds? Um... dunno. Would it add anything to the story if I did? You betcha. Can I think of a way to tie it in and make it significant?

*Crickets*...

The Perils of Pansterhood.

So, here I sit, IM window to Sherry open (she’s off getting lunch for herself and her wild monkeys— grandchildren), pondering the notion of hijacking her post-it notes. After all, she’s tried to write the panster method. Why shouldn’t I try to write the plotter way? (Pardon the twitching... it’s an allergic reaction that occurs every time I think about actually plotting on purpose.)

Digs through post-its... Hmmm...

Goals! What goals do the H/h have?
Conflict. Make it hurt. Make the H/h earn it. How? 1)...2)... 3)...
Motivation! I need H to do X, so Y must happen, and that’s going to occur when the heroine does Z... Z1)... Z2)... Z3)...
How does this move the story forward? A)... B)... C)...

Pockets post-it notes and whistles an innocent tune... Heh. She’ll never know I stole these notes. Nope. I bet she has 11ty gazillion more just like them...


Sherry: *noting Post-it notes, numbers 16, 47, and 119 – all dealing with GMC have gone missing*

I do have 11tygazillion notes. I also have a GMC issue with my current Hero. Have all those notes helped me this time? No. I’ve jotted notes, plotted extensive flow charts and diagrams and nada. Zip. Zilchola.

*twitch*

Lord help me, I’m going to have to pantster this scene too! I’m going to need more chocolate. Clearly.

The moon must be rising, Mercury is in triple retrograde or something if Laura is plotting and I’m still panstering. I wonder if somehow, our writing together these past two years has gotten our writing styles out of sync. Can that happen?

Whatever the reason, all I know is that I keep staring at my stuck scene in this wip and the only solution I can come up with involves either imbibing much chocolate or a lengthy “pondering nap”. Heck. It’s a big problem; I’ll just do both.

Zzzzzz…*her sword, the failed wedding…a cabin* snurfle…zzzzzzz…..

How Well Do We Know Men?

We took a blogthings quiz to find out.

Laura fell off her chair when she read her results:

You Have Your PhD in Men

You understand men almost better than anyone. You accept that guys are very different, and you read signals well. Work what you know about men, and your relationships will be blissful.

How Well Do You Understand Men?

Hmmm... Why can't I stop thinking PhD stands for Piled higher and Deeper?

Sherry's thought when she read her quiz results: "Let my guy off the hook sometimes?? Never! This way I can keep both of us on our toes..."

You Are a Good Student of Men

You're pretty good at knowing what men are thinkingBut you're not dead on 100% of the timeLet your guy off the hook sometimes... because you may be reading him all wrong!

How Well Do You Understand Men?

Now the question to answer is: how well do we apply what we apparently know about men to our writing?

Just Sit Back and Enjoy the Scenery

Laura: So, there I was, just minding my own business, writing along and my WIP took an unscheduled, unforeseen left turn. "Hmmm," sez my Panster Muse, "Surprise!" I sat back in my chair, staring at the screen at what I’d just typed. My first thought wasn’t "Gee, now what?" It was, "Jones is gonna laugh her Plotter butt right off at me."

I pinged her. No answer. I posted a note, "You’re gonna laugh at me." No answer. I pinged. She says, "What did you do this time?" I said, "You’ll be very surprised to know my WIP just turned left, without using the turn signal."

Sherry Jones is STILL laughing at me. Not with me, but AT me.

"So, what did you do?" she typed. (How she managed to reach the keyboard from the floor, where she was rolling with laughter, I don’t know. We’ve met at a writer’s retreat, so I know she doesn’t have gorilla-length arms.)

I c/p’d the entire chapter to her.

Her response?

That rolling on the floor, laughing his butt off smiley icon. Then the comment, "Color me surprised."

I held my breath, waiting for her to pull out a dry erase board. Flow charts. Diagrams. The dry erase markers. I figured she’d draw me a road map, to show me where the Muse turned left and kept going. Not because I couldn’t recognize the illegal turn myself, but because I clearly need a map if I’m ever going to finish this novel.

She says, "So, whatcha gonna do?"

I smiled my best innocent smile, put up the angel icon, and said, "Run with it, of course."

"Of course you are. Just another stunning example of you writing by the seat of your pants," she replies.

And then there was silence for a while. Nervous after ten minutes, I IM’d, "You already blogging about this?"

"Nope. Just killing time until I have to strap on my school bus and go get DD," she replies.

Yeah. Right. She’s already got her part of this entry jotted down on little sticky notes.

I never think at all when I write. Nobody can do two things at the same time and do them both well. ~Don Marquis

Sherry: Hey! Is she talking ‘bout me?
*digs out from under a pile of sticky notes* My glance falls on a paraphrased quote:
‘If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll wind up somewhere else.’ Yogi Berra

Exactly. Is that a bad thing? Nope. But it does have its hair-raising moments and some really funny ones, too.

See above for a perfect illustration. Heh. Laura is funny. She is also a very comical writer, which is why I love working with her. Simply, she makes me laugh.

My Muse recently took a wrong turn at Albuquerque (to quote that renown wit and raconteur, Bugs Bunny) and left me scratching my head.

Well. I didn’t expect THIS twist and where shall we go with it now? *searches frantically through stacks of notes, charts, diagrams and empty chocolate wrappers* Huh. Nothing. No writing map at all. I’m really going to have to wing this, pantster-style.

Then again, there is the tried-and-true-patent pending Pondering Nap route to carefully consider.

Hmmm…

Of course, this last method has to be used sparingly, or the family will begin to A) think I have fallen into a depression-induced coma. Or, B) a year from now, the plot twist will still be there and the Muse will have deserted me again for the Bahamas. The tart.

Decisions, decisions… there is also one more thing to take my mind off the unplotted plot twist, and that would be twitting Laura about her unexpected twist.

I’m liking that plan. Have chocolate and I’m not afraid to glut on it.

Oooooh… Laura…! Heh.

Did You Miss Me?

I know what follows that question: "Where you gone?"

I was moving. The way Sherry makes it sound, you'da thunk I'd been off on a cruise or lounging on beach in the Bahamas.

A few items to comment upon...

See, Jones? Contrary to popular belief, panstering didn't cause your head to explode. This is probably due to the block of medicinal chocolate you kept on hand. (Makes note to steal "medicinical chocolate" phrase from Sherry... and to purchase my own block of medicinal chocolate. Hmmm... I wonder if George Clooney delivers chocolate...) (Oh, and yes, I typed "George Clooney" and meant it. It's wrong, just plain wrong, to oogle hunks who are younger than I am--- makes me feel like a female dirty old man. Mr. Clooney is a tad older than I am. A "tad" is a vague measurement. Heh. Confused yet? So am I. There's still blood in my veins, rather than caffiend.)

I bought a Swiffer. Just your basic Swiffer. I think I'm in love. Yes, it took me a long time to join the Swiffer Revolution, I will admit. You don't wanna know how long it took for me to transition from record albums to cassettes, and from cassettes to CDs. And yes, I still mourn the passing of the 8-track tape.

Now, you may be asking yourselves, "What does ANY of this have to do with writing?" And that's a good question to ask. The short answer is: "Not a darned thing. Although I suspect, given time and a suffient quantity of caffiend, I could somehow turn the Swiffer Event into some sort of writing metaphor." Give me the day, several gallons of caffiend, and generous amount of Medicinal Chocolate (I like this phrase so much, I've elevated it to "Caps-Hood"), and I'm 89% sure I can do just that.

On today's agenda: wait for the cable person to come hook us back up to "real TV" and write. I'm going to ignore all the unpacking and cleaning that needs to be done. It'll still be there tomorrow. An' the day after that, an' the day after that...

Hey! Who's In Charge Around Here???

Laura Hamby has elected to be elsewhere these past few days, so *I* have control over our blog. O, the POWER!



In actuality, the above picture represents ME being, yanno up to my *ss in alligators… or, Why Did Laura Think It Was A Good Idea To Leave Me In Charge?

Nevertheless….


The day has finally come. On Wednesday evening, having been deserted by my writing partner and IM buddy, Laura Hamby, who decided to have a LIFE elsewhere for a few days, I had to set aside my *gulp* dry erase board, markers, post-its and PANTSTER my way to the ending of my chapter four in my wip.

O, the horror! All alone and with only a large block of medicinal chocolate to sustain me, and steady my nerves, I muscled my way to The End. *inserts Julie Cohen’s patented Mindless, Feckless Dance Of Joy*

Heh. I’d done it! No charts, no Plotter’s accoutrements… just nerves of steel and a good supply of Hershey’s Special Dark bar. (Have I mentioned that’s my favorite? Not a small HINT to the Hershey Corporation. No, not at all. Much.) Heh.

Whew. Good job, me. Yep, I did it.

But, what exactly DID I do?? You see, when I get into a writing groove like that, the Muse takes over and I’m not longer creating, per se, as taking dictation. In other words, I have NO FREAKIN’ CLUE as to what I wrote or what sort of plot corner the Muse wrote me into to begin Chapter Five. Hence, another reason for me being up to my…yanno.. in alligators. I tried this pantstering thing, I really did.

I’m not worried, though. I know how to solve this. *drags trusty dry erase board back into center of the room*

What? You’re still here? Well, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got a bit of plotting to do….

With any luck, Laura will be back with us on Monday and turn this ship around.

Gone Fishin’ , indeed…

Where’s my chocolate?