back in the saddle, sniffle

When I'm unwell, I am rubbish for proper work.  No writing, no editing, but of course the minds spins; plots emerged over the weekend, as well as big inspiration for The Hounds Of War And Love, which has sat quietly since I poured copious energy into it last autumn.  I've been feeling a tad guilty over that novel, one that captured so much of my attention after last year's trip to The National Mall.  Since then it's been editing this novel for release, tidying that manuscript for publication, some scattered writing interspersed.  But a few days back I read a quote that kicked my butt.  As soon as I seek permission to reprint it, I will share that amazing sentence.

One collection of thought spurred me to reorganize the playlist for Hounds; music is the initial creative kernel for most of my books, songs in correct order.  I even started another playlist (Where am I supposed to get the TIME to write all these ideas, huh?) with a title in hand, no real plot until I saw this article in today's LA Times.  Between that and recently viewing On The Waterfront and The Train, I've had the itch to write something meaningful, or at least more than just the usual angsty drama.  Many of my novels have some, dare I say it, message among the prose.  But viewing those films really touched me, the way they were shot as well as the story.  If you've not seen them, please do!

So it's Monday and I'm feeling fair.  Not great, but well enough to start a round of Gentle Morning Edits on an old novel, The Road Home.  I wrote it in 2008 for NaNo, the sequel to Detours, which was penned in April of that year.  Why am I sorting the sequel first?  Because Detours needs more work than Gentle Morning Edits can provide, especially with me still battling this head cold.  The last thing I need is Rigorous Morning Overhauls, which is what Detours requires, mostly at the beginning.  The Road Home is in much better shape; funny how just a few months makes a difference in the writing!  I've revised those novels many times since 2008, but as I've found, the eyes constantly improve, finding better ways of getting across one's point.  Those books had a subtle nudge to marital equality, which in 2008 California was a big deal.  Four years later it's still in the news, not sure which way Proposition 8 will go, to the Supreme Court perhaps?  The Hounds Of War And Love will touch on the Vietnam and Iraq conflicts, September Story deals with racism, The War On Emily Dickinson is about AIDS.  A Slider, Tumbling denotes alcoholism amidst baseball, and I'm thinking about releasing a novel this summer comparing varying methods of torture, thanks to Herman Cain and Michele Bachman's unfathomable statements from last fall's political fury.  Yes, I can get on a bit of a soapbox, but as Alta McIntyre tells her granddaughter Jo Adams in September Story, one has to be careful; no fun falling off a high horse.

Yet, as a news hound of an author, I can't ignore what swirls around me, be it talking heads or folks with Uzi's strapped across their backs.  I am in no way within the league of Elia Kazan or John Frankenheimer, but I aspire to tell such wrenching tales.  Why?  Well, because I can't look askance at what sits around me.  I might live in Silicon Valley, but techie sorts aren't the only residents.  Injustice pervades every spot on the planet, drama too.  Blending those isn't easy, but it's what I do.  One of my favorite writer's quotes is that of Stephen King when asked why he writes such terrifying tales.  His response: What makes you think I have a choice?

Sometimes choices are very difficult; Elia Kazan is a perfect example.  If someone ever questions my views, all I could say is if I erred, it was on the side of love.  Other than that, I want to tell a good story.  Now that the tea and painkiller have taken effect, best to get back to work.  That horse isn't too high, but he's chomping at the bit, raring to go!