My Fiction Writing Method: Wandering for Words

My Fiction Writing Method: Wandering for Words

 

 

After reading what other authors have to say about their writing process, I’m ashamed to admit my bad habits. Some set word-count goals and force themselves to remain at their computers during specific times each day. But I follow an internal voice that tells me I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. It’s possible that I have authority issues, even with my own conscience. As evidenced by my current weight, self-discipline isn’t my strongpoint.

Nonetheless, while working on a chapter for my forthcoming novel, I decided to keep track of my writing methods. I likened this effort to maintaining a food journal (which, for me, might have been more beneficial). By looking back at my scrawled notes, I hoped to uncover both my good and bad writing practices.

Having ignored the urge to surf the Internet and check Facebook postings, I planted my butt in my work chair and got down to task. I needed to write another scene, a big one, to complete the final edits for my novel. No more procrastination. No more diversions. No more excuses.

Here’s a recap of what followed:

 

Nothing looks emptier than a blank page. To stop the agonizing pain, I type, “Chapter 8.”

I have no idea where I’m going with this story.

Pushing past my resistance, I crank out the opening sentence and pause for a self-congratulatory moment. Woo-hoo! Way to go, girl!

Before I know it, I’ve written several paragraphs.

But then the words float away into the ethers.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Still waiting for Divine Guidance to intervene.

I’m thirsty. I should get a drink. Maybe an idea will come to me somewhere between the office and kitchen.

At the fridge, the answer I’ve been waiting for arrives! I race back upstairs to my computer so I can write it down before I lose my train of thought.

Furiously, I churn out the next few sentences.

Once more, I’m stumped.

Waiting…

I rise from my chair and pace as I consider my next character move.

A car drives past my house, and I see it through my office window. Staring outside, I notice the front lawn looks parched. When is it EVER going to rain? Did I remember to reset the lawn sprinklers so the water police won’t fine me for watering on the wrong day? I should go check.

 

On my way back from the garage, I realize I have to pee. I’m inside the restroom, still concentrating on suitable character actions, when I glimpse the toilet paper holder. It’s nearly empty. I check the overhead cabinet. None in there.

Scenes continue playing out in my mind.

Didn’t I recently buy a jumbo pack of toilet paper? Maybe I stuck it in the pantry.

Finished with my business, I leave the throne and detour to the kitchen storage area. I have to restock the toilet paper. If I don’t, next time, I’ll be stranded.

I stand inside my walk-in pantry, lost, trying to recall what drove me there. Out of nowhere, I remember a word I couldn’t locate earlier. I repeat the word, over and over, hoping it won’t slip away before I write it down.

To my right, I spot not one, but three, multi-roll packs of toilet tissue. Omigod, am I becoming a hoarder?

Suddenly, I make a connection between hoarding and something in my storyline. That’s it! I know what should happen next! I trot back upstairs to my computer, holding two rolls of toilet paper.

At the keyboard, I realize I forgot to put away the tissue. However, I don’t dare return to the bathroom. I simply can’t afford to take that risk.

 

Last-minute Tax Deductions

Last-Minute Tax Deductions

Every year, I search for tax deductions to lower my bill to Uncle Sam. So far, the best way I’ve found to escape paying federal income tax is to remain unemployed.

But if you were smarter than me and you actually earned something last year, it’s time to get creative. Don’t worry about being audited. If your computers are like mine, they’ll crash sometime within the next 24 months—and then you can just tell the IRS that you’re unable to locate your records. They won’t care. But you can tell them this anyway.

I didn’t earn anything last year, after I accounted for all my valid deductions. By the time I subtracted for my costs of paper, printing supplies, and decent-quality Merlot (You don’t think I can write this stuff without alcohol, do you?), I didn’t make a profit.

In fact, my auditor husband tallied my expenses just so he could prove that my financial contributions have been, to be overgenerous, nonexistent. According to him, if I stay on course and continue to work hard, by age 65, I might achieve a positive cash flow.

My spouse doesn’t understand why I purchase thousands of dollars’ worth of books every year. I try to explain that I need to compare my writing style to those who are making money. But he thinks I should spend more time at the library, despite the fact that our community doesn’t have one. And he can’t fathom why I need a Web presence when my own family members refuse to read my columns, which is exactly the point of why I need one.

Still, it would be nice to feel valued for what I produce—which is why I’m begging you to consider me for any last-minute tax write-offs you might need. I know you’re thinking that all charity deductions had to have been made before year end. But I’m perfectly okay with backdated checks.

I’ll also accept leftover holiday gift cards and unexpired free meal coupons. Please send your donations to the Save a Humorist Fund, a U4(c) my scam corporation, c/o Totally Skewed Productions, 555 Obscure Lane, Nowhere, TX, 77890. All contributions are fully tax objectionable.

Additionally, you may purchase my one of my books and claim it as a tax deduction—provided you can invent some business reason for owning it. *

* Consult your tax advisor before making any stupid decisions. Actual deductions may vary. Past audit evasions are not valid predictors of future detection. Not suitable for persons under age 12, individuals who are laugh-impaired, oxygen-deprived, or for those who are taking mood inhibitors. Do not read while driving, operating heavy machinery, or texting. Some thinking could be required. May cause sudden excitability, unexpected oral emissions, snorting, frequent howling, and abdominal cramps. Should any of these symptoms occur, stop reading and immediately notify your book club.

http://www.TotallySkewed.com

 Driving on the Wrong Side of the Road

Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life

Stilettos No More

 

Award-winning humor book now $2.99 on Kindle

I know how much Kindle owners (I’m one) appreciate a good read at a low price, so I’ve just made both my humor books available on Amazon for the low list price of $2.99.  But it gets better! Amazon is discounting Driving (not sure for how long) to $1.99!

Driving on the Wrong Side of the Road: Humorous Views on Love, Lust, & Lawn Care includes tales of misadventures in travel, home repairs, and everyday life.

 

Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life offers wacky wisdom and advice to help conquer life’s daily annoyances. Deedee (my alter ego) explains why women won’t read maps, Bubbas build the best burgers, and wise men should never use the B-word, “budget.”  A ForeWord Book of the Year Finalist.

These titles are available in paperback too.

Thank you for checking out my books!

Diana

What do your dishes say about you?

The Blue Willow Bowl

 

Thanksgiving Central, the “war room,” otherwise known as my kitchen. In the place where it all begins each year, I search for a mixing bowl that hasn’t yet been soiled and sent to the sink.

Nothing.

Oh, wait. Here’s that Blue Willow bowl I never use, the one Grandma gave me . . . when was it? Seems like it was right after I married. I recall her voice when she asked, “Don’t you need a good mixing bowl?”  

I lift the bowl and examine it. How many foods have been made and served inside this cobalt blue and white heirloom? Probably thousands.

My fingers trace the rim. Still chipped in two places—just like the day she gave it to me. Otherwise, I see no cracks. Not any unplanned ones, at least. There’s a crackle glaze that’s rather pronounced around the love birds painted near the bottom. Hmm. Love birds. I hadn’t ever before noticed these.

Now, where is my banana nut bread recipe? Well, it’s not really mine. Actually, I got that from Grandma too—indirectly. For Christmas, one year not long before she died, she gave me a cookbook published by her church. Grandma’s contribution to the book had been her banana bread recipe. She was already up in years when she’d provided those instructions. So she accidentally left out the flour from the list of ingredients. I’ve penciled in the correction. 

I stir together the flour, sugar, eggs, and lard. Yes, lard. That’s how she made it. It’s one day a year. I’m probably not going to kill anyone with cholesterol. I mean, it wouldn’t be her recipe if I substituted canola oil.

Mindlessly, I stare at the blue and white china.

I miss her.

It hits me. I am here, stirring the banana bread that I will serve my family tomorrow, and I am mixing the same batter in the same dish that my grandmother used to blend her baked goods decades before this.

So who cares if the bowl is chipped?

Some day, I will look at one of my daughters and ask, “Don’t you need a good mixing bowl?” When I do, I hope she appreciates the significance.

I pour the batter into a loaf pan and turn on the tap to rinse the bowl.

Water pours. The blue willows weep. And tears flow.

Everybody needs a good mixing bowl.

 

http://www.TotallySkewed.com

Deedee Divine on Sacramento & Co., News 10

Happy to be home today! Deedee Divine made a trip to Sacramento to appear on a morning news program. See her in action here:

http://gannett.a.mms.mavenapps.net/mms/rt/1/site/gannett-kxtv-3334-pub01-live/current/launch.html?maven_playerId=sacnadcofrntplayer&maven_referralObject=1328377429

 

 

 

 

Book signings: Crazy comments

I watched a funny Youtube video about the differences between author book signings and book club visits (see the link at the end of this post), and I remembered having written down many of the silly remarks bookstore visitors have said to me during signings.  Here are just a few of the comments I’ve received from customers while standing inside a bookstore, next to a table filled with my books and a poster that says “Author signing today” :

“Do you sell lottery tickets here?”

“Where are the restrooms?”

(Asked by a man who was staring at my breasts) “Do you sell bookends?”

“Can I give you my Barnes & Noble number?”

“Can’t I just pay you? Why do I have to stand in that long checkout line?”

“When is your NEXT book coming out?” (This person didn’t buy the one currently offered.)

(After I’ve tried to hand the customer a free bookmark) “I only like the PRETTY kind, the kind you pay for.”

“I could have written THAT book!”

“This looks like a chick book. Is it?”

“Have you read (fill in any Oprah’s Book Club selection)?”

“I’ve been thinking of writing a book. Where should I start.” (It was all I could do to keep from answering “with the first word.”)

“How do I get to the restroom?” (On foot and quickly? )

“My book got published and I only sold TWO copies.” (Gee, I wonder why?)

“Is this at the library? Because if it is, I’ll read it there.”

“I ordered a book over a week ago! When is it coming in?” (The lady was asking about another author’s book.)

(Man looking at stack of books) “You’re GIVING these away?”

“Is this on Amazon?”

“Do you work here?”

(An elderly man) “Has anyone ever told you that you look like one of the Lennon Sisters?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Shirley McClain?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Carol Burnett?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Vicki Lawrence?”

“There used to be a woman who looked like you, but I forgot her name.”

(Responding to a funny grilling story that’s in my book) “Someone needs to do something about charcoal lighter fluids! They’re destroying the air!”

“Driving on the Wrong Side of the Road? ( the title of one of my books) Ha-ha-ha-ha! I do that all the time!” (These people scare me.)

“Just make it out to my wife.” (Man who doesn’t provide wife’s name)

I have another book signing tomorrow night, after which I’m sure I’ll have more material to add to this list.

Here’s the link to the video I mentioned earlier:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SufkZyIp5Fw 

 

Diana Estill’s latest book is titled Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life.

Visit www.TotallySkewed.com

Book Expo America: an inside look

 

Having spent the past three days at Book Expo America, in New York City, I am now home. Seated comfortably in a lounge chair in my backyard, near Dallas, TX, I consider the contrast in these two vastly different environments.

It is quiet here, with only the occasional hum from a distant passing automobile. Purple finches and cardinals serenade from the trees overhead. Trickling streams cascade over a rock waterfall. My cat roams, searching for any sign of invaders.

This is not New York. Not even its distant cousin.

This is the space I share with my husband, an oasis from outside concerns, a place where I find solitude when needed.  However, only a day ago, in New York City, the scene looked more like this:

 Inside the Marriott Marquis Hotel I am challenged to select, from a series of alphabetized doors, the correct elevator to carry me to street level. 

Outside, throngs of tourists and locals compete for pavement along with schools of taxis, snaking busses and viciously circling Lincoln Town Cars. Horns blare, despite posted signs that threaten to fine violators $350 per offense.

Pedestrians pay no mind to walk lights or each other. Once caught in the flow of traffic, individuals must keep moving or risk being pounded by those who surely will.

Inside the Javits Convention Center, the cars, busses and taxis are no longer a threat. But the foot traffic is equally, if not more, hazardous than it is outdoors.

In here, there are no traffic lights or unified patterns. Booksellers, publishers, authors, librarians, literary agents and others move about at every imaginable pace—and in no particular direction.

People dressed as storybook characters wander through the crowds. These whimsical figures mix incongruently with the bikini-clad women who’re offering free pina coladas.

An extraterrestrial-looking costumed pair holds a sign advertising a book about alien abductions. I can’t help myself. I laugh at their gray masks.

There is something here for everyone, whether fans of Harper Collins, Harlequin, Hay House, or L. Ron Hubbard.

A super-sized inflated Clifford greets visitors to the main floor atrium where media members periodically collect to film a variety of authors.

Educational classes are underway on the lower level. Inside the ballrooms, sessions are filled to standing room only capacities. I attend a few sessions, climbing over floor squatters to reach whatever crannies haven’t yet been occupied.

Every hour or half hour, depending on a predetermined schedule, authors rotate in and out from behind 30 autograph tables. Between classes, I bounce from line to line to obtain signed books and have my picture taken with The View host Sherri Shepherd.

Predominately, the action takes place on the main level, around the Random House, Simon & Schuster, Harper Collins and other major publishers’ booths. In these areas, ARCs (advanced reading copies) are distributed to those who arrive early enough to grab them. Occasionally, an author such as James Patterson may make a brief appearance.

I spot sex therapist Dr. Ruth Westheimer, whom I had previously thought was dead. What can I say? Believe me, I’m not the only one who’s admitted this.

 At the Ingram booth, a collection of gawkers (including myself) watches the new Espresso machine (billed as the “ATM for books”) print out an entire book, cover and all, within seconds.

By midday, my hands ache from hauling an ever-growing stash of books. My feet are throbbing from traversing the gargantuan facility, and I am tired of dodging those who are clearly more important to the book trade than I.

A stop for some much needed bottled water sets me back $3.75, but that’s just part of the carnival-like experience. In the old days, pre-recession, many of the publishers dispensed water and sodas for free. For the most part, those times have disappeared. I’m sure the food vendors aren’t disappointed.

My latest book has been nominated for an award. I try to appear happy when the winners’ names are announced, though mine is not among them. Oh, well, I tell myself, God must have something better for me. I force a smile and keep moving.

By the end of day two, I’ve scored a private meeting with an editor of a major publishing house, met a man I’ve been trying to contact for months (and nabbed his personal email address) and developed tons of new book marketing ideas. None of this, I realize, would have been possible from home, though by now I sorely miss the tranquility of Texas.

At night, in Time Square, I again meld with the undulating masses, snapping photos whenever safety permits. It seems as if I’m the only object here that’s not in perpetual motion.

Suddenly I am struck by this revelation: I am but a single pixel in a mural of humanity.

That’s easy to forget, sometimes. Especially when I’m sitting quietly at home in my backyard.

 

 

 

 

 

Diana Estill is the author of Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life.

Books as gifts

http://www.buybooksfortheholidays.com/

 

Please join the campaign to purchase books as gifts this holiday season! What else can you buy for less than $20 that will bring joy all year long? Socks warm the sole, but not the soul. Nobody likes cheap perfume. And nothing says “You look like a person who watches too much reality TV” better than a throw blanket. Books educate, enlighten, and entain. Support literacy. Feed an author. Give a gift that offers true value and genuine meaning. (And, yes, making someone laugh does too have value!)

###  End of sermon

 

www.totallyskewed.com

Totally Skewed: Denim Dinosaurs Found at Back-to-School Sale

Despite having no children who are students, I love back to school time. In fact, I wait all year for August to roll around. That’s when I stock up on spiral notebooks that normally sell for a dollar or more but can be purchased for ten cents during “back-to-school wars.”

You probably thought I wrote in those leather-bound journals, didn’t you? Come on. You can’t put drivel like this in nice diaries like that! Nope. I use the plain, old-fashioned spiral notebooks. But I steer clear of the licensed print ones because I’d look even more immature than I do now if I were to carry a Barbie journal.

Other school items appear on my purchase list too. Highlighters and three-ring binders get carted home by the dozens. I use the binders to store all of my newspaper clips, just in case anyone in my family should one day—maybe after I’m dead and planted in a pauper’s grave—want to finally read them. That is, before they auction them off for pennies on eBay. (It’s entirely possible that my heirs could receive more for my work than I did.) 

Along with my office supply boon each fall, I also experience savings on uniforms. My standard dress is the same as most students’: blue jeans, T-shirts and athletic shoes. Oh, okay, I’ll admit that’s not my usual attire. But you don’t expect me to tell you that I’m naked when I write my blog posts, now do you? Well, I’m just saying. . .

Anyway, I’ve been encouraging my husband to get new dungarees during back-to-school sales. Jeans prices will never be lower than they are in late summer. So at my advice, he ventured out with me to a mall. And that’s when we discovered he’d become a denim dinosaur.

After trying on several pairs of pants that made him look like he was ready to either rap, smuggle dope or hold up a convenience store, he shot out of the dressing room, disgusted.

“Do you have the regular fit Levi’s,” he asked a male clerk. “I don’t want boot cut or baggy-fit or any of that. Just the straight-leg, regular jeans.”

“Oh, you mean these,” said the twenty-something menswear rep. He pointed to a table stacked high with layers of folded pants. “You need the five-o-fives.”

My spouse was again in and out of the dressing room faster than I can sprint past couture wear. “What’s wrong, now?” I asked.

He held up the jeans and pointed to the fly.

“What?” I huffed, failing to see the problem.

“They BUTTON up the front! There’s no zipper. I’d pee myself before I’d ever get these open,” he protested.

“It’s really hard,” I explained to the store clerk, “to find appropriate cuts when you’re our age. Don’t you have any blue jeans for . . . you know . . . grown ups?”

The young man nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “This is pretty much all we have, right now. It’s either this or, you know, the AARP catalog.”

Won’t it be nice when all the college students return to school?

 

http://www.totallyskewed.com

How to reduce publishing costs

 

In my never-ending search to cut expenses, I’ve discovered a business rule many writers have known for some time: Never publish ANYTHING that you have to print yourself. That pretty well explains why this blog was born.

 

Here, I can write and write and write—assuming that somewhere out there in the vast blogosphere there’s a reader who’s bored enough to stumble upon my posts—and I never have to pay for a single sheet of paper!

 

No more query letters, clips and sample chapters to print and mail. No more waiting months for an agent’s summer intern to pop out his or her ear buds and respond to the boss’s freaking e-mail. No more strategizing about how to get Internet surfers to click on the link that leads to my Web site that pitches my book that’s sold on Amazon and stored in my closet because, at the current rates, I can’t afford an air conditioned warehouse.

 

Yes, I have at last uncovered the path to publishing profits! Okay, maybe not PROFITS. But at least to dramatically lower expenses.

 

So here we are, just me and you—and maybe a few billion other bloggers—working to protect our forests from the paper mills. Kind of makes you feel all warm and tingly, now, doesn’t it? We are saving trees. Authors, however, are still starving and dying. But, hey, there’s no chance we’ll ever run out of them. Right?

 

 

http://www.TotallySkewed.com