After the gnome appeared in the story and vanished, having served his purpose, I missed him a bit, but he had served his purpose … which was to prove that Angela’s journal could make things happen. Even if not possible. So imagine my surprise when he suddenly pops out of the bushes again to wave at Angela, when she hadn’t written a thing in her journal. Glimrick’s re-arrival in the story took it in an entirely new direction and I was so glad. Now I cannot even imagine the story without him. And it led me to find an answer to one of the questions I knew I had to answer by the end of the story, but had no idea how I was going to do so.

For me, writing without an outline was a good exercise. I had become too entrenched in this is the way I must write and was in danger of stifling the voices of my characters … because let’s face it, at heart I’m a bit of a control freak. So the lesson of Glimrick was to let my characters lead the way, and by doing so I will have the story I was meant to write. Do I still outline stories? Yes, but perhaps in a less restrictive manner.

The illustration is by the fabulous Sam Shearon who illustrated not only the cover for The Journal of Angela Ashby but created 13 images for a set of playing cards based on the book. He plucked the image of the gnome out of my head and brought it to life on the page.

A little man with a full white beard, and fluffy eyebrows, wearing a blue work shirt, sat in the middle of the grass outside the window and waved at me. He didn’t have the red pointed hat I expected, but a flat cap covered his head instead. His face, lined with the wrinkles of a lifetime, wore a gleeful expression.

Print: Indiebound  |  Amazon  |  B & N  |  BAM!  |  Book Depository
Ebook: Kindle

The post The Journal of Angela Ashby: Glimrick, the Gnome appeared first on Be the Cat.

Flash forward to this year, and my excitement that, once I had taken care of some other obligations, I would finally have the opportunity to work on the story living in my head for so many years. I had even juggled the obligations so I could work on the story and keep working on the other things as well. I managed to get the first three chapters completed. Which makes me ecstatic because this book is really happening. And I was getting so close to being able to put it as the number one priority.

Here’s the thing … the technical difficulties I mentioned were the most difficult to address in the first few chapters. I had been thinking for four years about how to effectively address the issues I saw inherent in what I wanted to accomplish. And somewhere over the four years, my focus had shifted from how I could best serve the story to how achieving my goal with the chapters meant I could point to them as an example of my technical skill. My problem? I didn’t recognize the shift. If I had, I would have known better. The only thing with a story that matters as far as the writing is concerned is how best to serve the story.

I stopped writing and re-read the first three chapters, tweaked a few words here and there, and went back to writing the next chapter. But I had doubts, and it is critical that the beginning be right, so I sent the chapters off to my critique partner for her opinion. She promptly came back and told me what needed to be done. I heard what she said, but didn’t know pride was blinding me, so sent it off to my literary manager, Italia Gandolfo, for her opinion.

When Italia gave me her response it was almost word for word what my critique partner stated. And I got mad… not at them, because the very first thing I said was I’m not arguing. I wasn’t. Because they were both right. Here’s what they said … “Take chapter 3 and move it to the front because the first two chapters won’t pull the reader in.” And they were absolutely right. Unequivocally.

I had known for four years those first chapters would be extremely difficult to pull the reader into the story with, and I gave it my best shot. And I was furious with myself because I had not accomplished the goal I had set. Italia is known as the Mama Bear (for good reason) and I’m sure while we were corresponding back and forth over the changes she could have cheerfully taken me by my scruff and shaken me. She kept her focus on what was best for the story, and I was having a hizzy fit over not having achieved an arbitrary goal. And that’s what finally got through to me. The realization that I was upset because I had taken a blow to the pride — nothing more or less. And that’s not the writer I want to be. I always want the story to be the primary focus.

Fortunately, since this face-plant was four years in the making, I had my guardian angel on my side. He ensured I had the right support structure in place to make sure my stubborn pig-headedness didn’t get in the way of doing what is right for this story. I have been working with my critique partner, Linda Welch, for several years now, and I value her opinion greatly. So when she told me what I didn’t want to hear, I knew she was right, but wanted my agent, lit manager, and Mama Bear extraordinaire, Italia, to validate it for me.

She did.

Her exact words when I got upset about what I viewed as missing the mark: “It’s more important to grab a reader and publisher and I’m concerned they may drop it by chapter two. I have to sell it and you’re selling the story short by laying it out like this. No one else will know, care, or understand why you want it opening the way you have it.” And “It’s not that your opening is bad at all. Quite the contrary … but I prefer the tone [Chapter 3] sets.” And she was absolutely correct. And this is why I am thankful every day I have her by my side, guiding my career. She doesn’t hesitate to say what I need to hear. To be told I was selling the story I love so much short hurt … but I had to hear it to put things back in perspective again.

I could have kept this to myself, and no one would know I had taken a sharp smack to my pride, but through sharing I accomplish two things:

1. Maybe someone else will be able to escape this particular lesson learned. I’d really like for that to happen and save someone else the pain.

2. Putting my experience out here ensures I am less likely to repeat it. My execution of the first couple chapters accomplished exactly what I had set out to accomplish, but it didn’t matter because the story was not served best by starting at that point. I had written something else which will cause the reader to care far more about the character and what is going on in her life by the time they reach those chapters now. And that was the right place to start the book. At the end of the day, the technical difficulties inherent in the first couple chapters destined them to a slightly later point in the book.

And now I’ll go back to my writing cave, commune with the characters and get more of this fabulous WIP completed.

The post Lesson Learned appeared first on Be the Cat.

Today started off after an unusual, but completely welcomed, good night sleep—only to be followed by the first bump in the journey. I’ll talk about the bump after the chemo update, but suffice it to say that it rocked me harder than I expected.

Onto the chemo experience. The first cocktail I had was Rituxan, and being me, I had already thrown the doc a curve-ball before the first drop hit my system. You see, standard practice with Rituxan is to have Benadryl standing by, in case the patient has an allergic reaction to it. So what’s the curve-ball?? I’m allergic to Benadryl.

I am the first patient for my doc in the 12 years Rituxan has been available who has not been able to accept Benadryl in response to an allergic reaction. The doc decided with my respiratory system issues and the number of allergies I do have, it would be best to give me a steroid along with the Rituxan treatment, and she slowed it down initially so she could more closely monitor in case of a reaction. So my treatment was longer than the anticipated 6 hours, but that’s okay by me. I’d rather they went slower to make sure I wouldn’t have a major reaction than to proceed at the normal pace only to have to get the ambulance to carry me next door to the hospital.

I was actually able to do a little work on the WIP while I was having the treatment, but I had to keep taking my headphones out when the doc would come in to check on me, or the chemo nurse, etc. and then I’d get distracted by Facebook (ooh the shiny) or having conversations with people. But progress is progress. I caused the doctor some concern when I was telling Denny (the hubs) that I brought a blanket as recommended because I might get cold, but I was sweating. The doc thought I might be having a reaction to the chemo, but I run hot, and had just plugged in my laptop because the battery was down to about 20% and had both a hot laptop and a hot power supply sitting on me. I told her I could stop the sweating and lifted the laptop in the air. **Magic**

I’m not really sure how the rest of the journey will go, but right now, my laptop is the most important thing to have with me, after something to drink (and I say that grudgingly only because keeping the fluids up should be the most important thing, but—shhhhh, the laptop secretly wins with me every time.)

That was pretty much it… I was the most active of the patients in the room … I kept going walkabout—mainly to use the facilities. I loved listening to the other people in the room as well. Like the lady who was brought in by her sweetheart from junior high … they got married out of high school and had been together ever since. I think she said they had been married for 56 years. And the lady who came to pick up her husband had come to the United States from Japan in 1956 … and her husband says, I think she’s going to stay here…

About the morning bump in the road … it boils down to communication or how we’re dealing with the situation … and the we in this case is my husband and I. He jumped in the shower shortly after we woke up this morning, and I thought he was getting it out of the way while I was trying to choke down something to eat (morning eating has not been kind to me of late). Then he came in and announced he was going into work to resolve some pay problems and ask whether they had anything for him work wise, as he is a rover and hadn’t been fully scheduled for this week. My response was along the lines of You’re leaving??? and then the volatile nature of me kicked in and I said, Fine! Just go!!

Dear husbands, partners, and significant others everywhere – the words Fine. Just go. translated from their subtext mean Buddy, you’d better stick around and explain what kind of crap you just pulled/said, because you have PISSED me OFF! After seventeen years of marriage, my husband still doesn’t understand the subtext, so he left.

I had a brief meltdown. My first for this journey, but I’m sure not my last. While I have gone through this entire process so far pretty prosaically, it rocked me hard to feel abandoned before the first treatment. My thoughts were along the lines of if he can’t even be there for me for the treatments, how am I going to survive the next six months?? I know he’s scared—more than I am, truth be told. Sometimes it is harder being the one not going through the process. And yes, I know he wants to bolt and come back when this is all over, but I was unprepared for how bereft it would make me feel when he did run. Because I fully expected him to run (briefly) at some point, just not this early.

Before you start a hate campaign against him, let me explain why I said the problem here was communication/dealing with the situation. Also he did come and sit with my mom through most of the day, came back and put my slippers on when I needed them, and checked on me throughout the treatment and left a little early to go pick up some medications I hadn’t had a chance to pick up. He left this morning because he had completely blocked out the fact that I was still home because today was my first day of chemo. And I had no idea he had blocked it out because I was still home and preparing to go to my first day of chemo. Remember when I said he is more frightened than I am. That is the truth and he is suppressing all of his emotions to the point that he has turned blinders on about the whole thing.

Before he told me he completely forgot, that idea would have been incomprehensible to me. This is the man who can tell you a baseball stat for the Titans from 2004 without having to pause to think about it. It’s the man who can tell you the anniversary of our first date, first kiss, proposal date, and the list goes on … none of these things can I tell you (I’m lucky to get the anniversary date right—and that has been since the very beginning … I requested time off for the honeymoon for the wrong month.) So the fact that he had suppressed what was about to happen so deeply that he had “forgotten” it, never occurred to me. I know it is possible, and it is not outside the realm of normal when it comes to a huge (negative) life event for someone you care about more than yourself. Your brain blocks it out because you can’t deal with it yet. And he certainly didn’t know he was going to have an issue with it—because his brain blocked it out.

Tomorrow morning I’ll know to remind him about the appointment. And once I post this, I’ll add my list of appointments for the next two months into his phone. Lesson learned: Don’t assume he won’t block things out.

I love the picture at the top of the post because it really symbolizes this day for me. The sun rising (new adventure) over rippling seas (a few bumps, but not too bad) and casting glorious colors to help light our way.

Oh—almost forgot… no nausea yet, and I was able to eat when I got home and am having a nice cup of warm tea. Life is good.

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