WALKABOUTS

I get some funny comments when I tell people I’m an author. The other day someone shared that they heard writers only work a few hours and spend the rest of the day goofing off. I’ve even been told that stories magically pop into our heads, and we scribble them down like a stenographer. Oh, if it were only that easy. I can’t wait to share this little chuckle at our monthly writer’s workshop. Writing this, I get the vision of lying in a hammock while little story bubbles hover above me, and I reach my arm out to pluck the ones I want that day.

?In my little world, ideas seem to come at the most inopportune times. It’s never when I’m sitting at the computer staring at the demonic blinking cursor as it flashes and taunts me. “Tick, tock. You haven’t written anything in an hour.” It’s usually at this point that my mind goes down some?Alice in Wonderland?rabbit hole that has nothing to do with what I want to write that day.

?No, ideas seem to strike when I’m in the shower (not a lick of paper in there), driving (let me just say that paying attention to the potholes, strutting chickens, and dogs who suddenly decide that in front of your car is the perfect place for today’s nap requires one’s full concentration), or walking (yes, I have been known to write my idea in the sand and take a photo).

?As I started book four, I felt a great deal of writer’s block and pressure. I wasn’t sure where to go with the series. I’ve put out three books since September 2022, and the thought of getting a fourth out by the end of 2023 feels daunting. I complained (okay, whined) to Dan that I was bone dry with no creative juice left inside. Being Dan, he looked over his glasses at me with that bored, deadpan look he has honed so well over the years and said, “Go for a walk.”

?I hate it when he’s right.

?Walking is how these books come together and sometimes get ripped apart. Putting one foot in front of the other tunes out the internal, distracting chatter inside because some days it’s like a kindergarten classroom with a substitute teacher. For me, walks are like putting battery cables on a dead engine on a frigid winter morning, and by the time I’ve hit my stride, the little engine that could (my brain) is huffing and puffing up the hill. I know it’s a chemical thing with endorphins, but let me think that walking is my magic mojo.

?This series started with a walk on a dreary, chilly day in January 2021, and I was walking Elvis along the Ohio River when I realized how I wanted to veer off course with a main character in book two. On that walk, while Elvis ran across a bed of falling leaves, I understood how this insane walking thought would affect not only the end of that book but would derail what I had planned for the entire series. Or did it? It meant a lot of rewriting and some serious angst, but when it was time to start book three, I had a springboard to dive right in. And it was a long walk on the beach to the river that I found the ending to book three. [SPOILER ALERT!] “Flowers? What flowers?”

?I hear the comment again in my head. Writers only work a few hours each day. Ugh, I only wish that were true. As writers, our brains are constantly churning. The on switch never shuts off unless we physically pull the lever down, and even then, it doesn’t always work. You never know what the prompt will be that turns into that lightning moment of writing. A sudden memory of an awkward date creates a monologue, being yelled at by a customer becomes a scene, a collection of old restaurant menus develops into the skeleton of a book, noticing someone wearing a purple t-shirt with two salmon on it…well, I’ll let you read book three to find that one, even an off-the-cuff conversation can lead you to reimagine a character in a way you had never contemplated.

?I’ve rambled enough today. I’ve worked for an hour and can now enjoy some much-deserved goofing off time and maybe a SunRumbrella in the hammock while I wait for a story to float above me like a butterfly…oh wait, I can’t do that—time for a walkabout to jumpstart today’s writing.