Crocus, Spring, and Writing

I love flowers, but also the plants, the botany, and both their and my responses to the seasons, so somehow a garden scene of some sort shows up in my books. From my experiences and emotions about changing seasons, I hope I insert metaphoric meaning using gardens. Most of you, I am sure, have already had spring emerge where you live, but here in Northern Michigan, mounds of snow cover my garden, and although I had Snowdrops at this time last year, we had four more inches of snow yesterday. More is expected today. So I wait with hope for the promise of spring, just as I wrote in my first novel, Magic Aegis:

The garden looked beautiful even under the snow. The gray stems of parterre shrubs seemed to form a cleaner pattern, its framework more distinct. The hard work of pruning them had provided visual results. Swaying branches of the fruit trees, striated in smooth bark, created moving mosaics on the clear blue sky. Patterns in the wall were picked out with bright snow and the air held a frigid scent of promised renewal.

With fresh resolve, she rose at long last and shook the snow off her cloak and skirts. A bright color unseen at the side of the bench caught her eye. A small purple and yellow crocus bud emerged from the snowy blanket. The sight cheered her. Beyond the wall she heard crows cawing, and feeling different somehow, she left the garden.

Hope your spring has sprung. I’m waiting.

The Writing Cave

Hi Everyone!

I'm in my writing cave for the month of March, trying to get this book done so I can enjoy conference season, go to Spain for a wedding, and move across the country. So sorry for the lack of post! I'm elbow-deep in werewolf wars, torture, angst, and finding true love.

My word count goals are 5k a day, do you set goals yourself?

The Hardest Part

There are days I think each part of the book is the hardest to write. Yet on others, it all comes easily to me. *sigh* I miss the latter as they are few and far between some days.

The beginning of the book can go two ways for me. It could be the fastest, easiest, BEST thing ever. When that happens, I feel like I’m sitting on a mountain top with my Muse by my side talking a mile a minute. My only job at that point is to let my fingers go and pray to the writing gods I can keep up. I feel free, ready to take on anything because this is THE BOOK.

Then other days I’m string to start the book going “OMG why?” Those days I’m looking at this book saying, yes, these characters need me, but I don’t want to move on. I over think things. Am I writing to much? Is this an info dump? Is this engaging? Wait, was that passive? Why would anyone want to read this garbage?

I hate those days.

I love writing the beginning of a book. Most days.

Then other days, the middle of the book is the one that has me in its claws. Sometimes I’ve found my stride and things are coming together. That key plot point that was alluding me is in full force and I’m ready to rock and roll. My characters are just starting to fall in love and the chemistry is intense. I want to be them. I want to have them love each other, defeat the bad guy, and rule the world in the way that they do because I KNOW the world is ready for them.

Then other days I’m crying because my characters are boring me. Okay, not really. But I feel like they could bore me. And that scares me.  What if this is the wrong direction for the book to go? What if I can’t get through? What if my characters can’t make the chemistry work and I have to force them to love each other for the readers even though I KNOW they love each other and I just can’t write it? What if I’m doing all this backstory and world building and I find myself so lost as to what the point was?

Yes, the middle of the book can drag on. That’s scary. But we can make it work.

Other days it’s the ending. When I look at my outline and I realize that it’s almost here and I’m at the final BIG BANG before the quiet HEA, I’m READY. These characters are going rock. They are going to kick some demon ass and fight for the right to be themselves. (Yes, I just sang the Beastie Boy song, RIP man. RIP.) But I digress… Sometimes the ending is SO there for me that I almost don’t want to let them go. I’m totally ready for them to be happy together and the words are just flowing from me like I’ve lived it.

Other times I’m sobbing again because I don’t know if I have enough action, enough passion. What if the ending screws it up for the rest of the series? Should I put that final sex scene in there? Is it lagging? What if it sounds cheesy? Hey, don’t I like cheesy?

Yes, the ending is hard. Hard like the middle. Hard like the start.

Imagine that. Writing is hard. It’s filled with self-doubt. It’s filled with the OMGs and sobbing. It’s filled with the ups and downs of a manic roller coaster. It’s filled with creating new worlds and then beings scared to let them thrive. It’s filled with taking those new worlds and making them even bigger.

Yes, you’ve just seen into the mind of a neurotic writer. We’re all thinking the same things. Am I good enough? Is this good enough? Then it leads to Yes, I’m amazing. This is a NYT bestseller. Then it leads to Why would anyone read this? To finally, yes, THIS IS MINE. Mine.

We’re all a little bit crazy. But sometimes the fact that we have an outlet to be that crazy is the best thing.

Carrie Ann Ryan

www.carrieannryan.com