Another Major Milestone Passed

r-avatarOur double-complete rainbow is double-completed!

A few nights ago, we laid out the rainbows for both of the sequels to the Science Novel, with one flowing directly into the other. At that point, the second one was only about two-thirds done, but we were hot on the trail of a plot wrinkle that would give shape to the remainder of the story. So by the end of that session, our colorful array of paper squares reached its final form.

Our next step was to sleep on it. Not physically on the rainbow, of course. But this did mean that Lady Marzipan had to be banished from the Auxiliary Writing Cave for another night so we could leave things laid out. The next evening, Jen read off the first rainbow a row at a time while Kent typed up a synopsis of sorts, something we refer to as our prose outline. If Kent didn’t need to sleep, we might have powered through and done both of them, but Lady Marzipan had to stay out for yet another night. But finally, next time, we got there!

Typing up the prose outlines moves the story development process into a new phase. It’s not just transcription; it’s a chance to catch gaps and inconsistencies — looking at things through a different lens — and start getting a feel for the rhythms of the stories.

So what’s next? We lay them aside and work on something else. Specifically, we’re assessing critique notes on the Music Novel. We like to give stuff some time to rest as part of our process, and we don’t like to try to work on more than one book at a time.

My Conversation with Svetlana was Interrupted

  • by Kenta “macho male rock figure”
  • with the utmost coolness
  • that delectable pastime
  • turn doorknobs without fainting?
  • began unlacing his moccasins

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My conversation with Svetlana was interrupted by a sudden shift in the music, and a titanic increase in its volume. Chopin was replaced by a thunderous chord progression. The flying piano was still upside down, but now the red haired performer stood on it, himself still inverted as well, with his electric guitar’s strap slung cleverly between his legs. He cut quite a “macho male rock figure” up there, belting out crunchy music with the utmost coolness. Svetlana gaped, all carnal thoughts of me clearly washed from her mind, but the sexy swiveling of her hips indicated she was still daydreaming about that delectable pastime.

The female dancers’ fancy costumes had been shucked, revealing neon-toned unitards more suited to the modern interpretive style of their new dance, a swooning rubbery motion that made me wonder, could they turn doorknobs without fainting?

“Let’s keep moving,” I said, again using the pistol to encourage Svetlana to walk. We found another door in a distant corner of the warehouse and exited into an alleyway. One other person was out there, dressed all in buckskins and feathers.

“Who are you?” Svetlana asked. The stranger silently began unlacing his moccasins.

 

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Far Above the Heads of the Dancing Ladies

  • by jenhandcuffed to the table
  • you know that’s not allowed
  • I’m not a machine
  • now she was all sweet decorum
  • I wish I could sing like that

Tune in next time part 66                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Far above the heads of the dancing ladies, the pianist was strapped to his bench, playing what I now recognized as a Chopin etude. He sang along, his voice as striking as his red hair. I wish I could sing like that crazy upside down man, but my talents lie in other areas.

Svetlana stared at the tableau, transfixed. I heard her sigh and reminded myself that even if now she was all sweet decorum she was a very dangerous woman. I led her into the darkened recesses of the warehouse, away from the stage and its peculiar performers.

I didn’t know exactly, or even roughly, where we were, and Svetlana refused to tell me. I frisked her, hoping to find a phone, but all I found under her leotard was her blowgun and a tube of chapstick. My hands lingered on her narrow hips.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to make me horny,” Svetlana purred. “I’m not a machine.” She leaned in for a kiss, her arms still bound behind her back.

“You know that’s not allowed,” I said. “You’re my captive.”

“That never stopped you before,” she pouted. “Last time I was handcuffed to the table.”

“That was recreational. Today it’s business.”

 

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Letting Your Villain Spread Those Villainous Wings

r-avatarStill outlining the second sequel to the Science Novel, but we think we’re past the midpoint in devising a plot. It should get easier from here on out, although we’ll inevitably hit a few more snags.

One of the key moments this week was when we gave our primary baddie a little more latitude by having some of the other evil characters target a different victim. The way we’d initially blocked things, Main Bad Guy was lured into a trap but then turned the tables. The new setup makes him proactive rather than reactive, which is good (even though in this case it’s evil). Another benefit of the change is that it brings back someone who would have otherwise retired from the story with hardly a scratch. The outlook is a bit more complicated now, which is usually a sign that you’re doing it right.

This proactive-vs-reactive concern applies to characters in every part of the moral spectrum. You might have been advised to make sure your protagonist isn’t just the person stuff happens to happen to, and what we’re saying is it applies equally to the antagonist. Look for plot nodes where any of the major characters become the object rather than the subject and take them apart to find a better move.

This is a great illustration of why we like to do such detailed up-front work. Had we been flying by the seat of our collective pants, this minor change would be a nightmare to implement. This way we will be able to concentrate on the characters’ voices, and vividness of description, and sentence rhythm… the parts of novel writing that are actually fun.

Heinrich Began to Get Up

  • by Kentkeep hearing your name
  • “It’s an honour!”
  • Jeepers creepers!
  • all that glitters is gold
  • danced on the ceiling

Tune in next time part 65                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Heinrich began to get up off the floor, but in a flash Svetlana leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his neck. His face purpled instantly from the pressure. Meanwhile, Aphrodite still had a mouthful of toxic sea life keeping her from breathing.

I picked up the pistol from where Aphrodite had dropped it. My sense of fair play gave me conflicting impulses, dual ways of balancing the outcomes for these three villains. I could probably save both Heinrich and Aphrodite by subduing Svetlana, or I could wait another few minutes until the pirates expired and then polish off the contortionist.

I knew no one here deserved mercy or salvation, but I knew also that I’d be forever haunted by evil dreams, the kind where you keep hearing your name echoing from charnel vaults, if I took part in their deaths so callously.

Plucking the jellyfish from Aphrodite’s tongue, I aimed the gun at Svetlana’s head and said, “Off.” I had to cock the hammer to make my point, but she released Heinrich and took a step back. “Heinrich,” I said, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the classic jellyfish-sting antidote? She needs it quick, at the site of the injury.” He gulped, massaging his throat, and nodded. “Then she’ll probably need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” I added with a smirk.

“It’s an honour!” he said chokingly, with an unexpectedly British inflection. Sliding up alongside his wife’s head, he began undoing his belt.

“Jeepers creepers!” Svetlana cried. I held the gun on her and made her watch the lifesaving treatment for a few minutes before chivvying her out the warehouse’s enormous front door. I swung it shut again, then ordered Svetlana to shift some nearby oil drums to block it. Meanwhile I located some discarded electrical wiring, which I used to bind her wrists when she was done with her assignment. Her face was ashen, her eyes unfocused. Some things cannot be unseen.

“Steady now,” I said. “Like they say, all that glitters is gold. What you just learned is, not all that’s gold glitters. And some of it smells pretty rank.” She looked on the verge of fainting.

I surveyed our surroundings. All the nearby buildings were indistinguishable from the one we’d just left. Hot sun blazed down on us. I directed Svetlana across the alleyway to the next massive building and pulled its door open.

Guiding her inside, I heard music. The interior mostly lay in darkness, except for a rectangular area at the far end. A bizarre orchard of glowing crystal illuminated that area, with a grand piano suspended upside down far above. I nudged Svetlana with the gun and we slowly moved toward what I realized were inverted chandeliers, mesmerized by the sumptuous shimmering gowns worn by a trio of ladies as they danced on the ceiling that had been created for them.

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Aphrodite Snarled At Me

  • by jenme, I want a hula hoop
  • I consider you a rascal
  • burn the air you breathe
  • live long enough to get into space
  • without a hug and kiss

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Aphrodite snarled at me, “I want a hula hoop‘s width between you and Svetlana.” She gestured with her gun. “No more, no less.”

She didn’t want me to help Svetlana, who was still being throttled by Heinrich, but if I moved too far away she wouldn’t be able to monitor both of us with her single eye.

“I consider you a rascal,” she continued, “not a great threat. I will deal with you once the contortionist bitch is no more.”

Svetlana writhed beneath her former lover/sherpa, her lips a blue grimace, her eyes wide and angry.

Heinrich’s grip faltered and Svetlana drew a gasping breath. While Aphrodite was distracted by that I raised my hand and plucked a jellyfish from my hair. During my years developing the underwater excavation machine I had developed an immunity to jellyfish stings. I was counting on that not being the case for my captors. I flung the gelatinous creature at Aphrodite’s face, hoping to temporarily blind her, but my aim was off and it landed in her mouth just as she inhaled.

I knew from sad experience that man-o-war venom in your esophagus will burn the air you breathe, turning your lungs to fire, and making you doubt whether you will live long enough to get into spaces not built of agony. In other words, it was an effective distraction.

Aphrodite’s gun clattered to the floor and she soon followed it, gagging and coughing and clawing at her mouth. She drew Heinrich’s attention long enough for Svetlana to break free and somersault out of reach, gasping.

Should I take my chances and team up with Svetlana, or leave now, without a hug, and kiss my ass goodbye?

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It Happens When You Aren’t Looking

r-avatar[Location: auxiliary writing cave, interior. Kent and Jen enter with hot beverages, colorful paper squares, and steno pads. While Kent relearns (again) how to sit on a couch, Jen starts filling a steno page.]

Kent: What are you —

[Jen holds up exactly one finger for exactly one second, then resumes her mad scrivening.]

Kent: Should we start marking things on the cards?

Jen: Shhh.

[Five minutes pass, then Jen presents the still-glowing steno pad for inspection. Kent is moved almost to tears by the majesty he beholds there. On a single page, Jen has captured the essential form of Grandson of Science Novel, that which has resisted them for weeks. It’s like the surgeon’s photo, mysterious and evocative and somehow all the more true by dint of its artifice.]

Kent: What’s with the three lines that have stars?

Jen: Those are the places that aren’t really there. Deep, huh?

[Hold for applause.]

Ever since we decided that it made sense to do the outlining now for both sequels to the Science Novel, we’ve been hammering away at the third tale in the set. We confirmed that there would be plenty of story left to tell after the middle volume, but it was just sort of all in a pile. And we knew stuff was missing from the pile, but we couldn’t tell how much; how big were the gaps, and where were they?

The other night, some kind of threshold was reached in Jen’s creative faculties. As we’ve described previously, after you tell yourself things enough times they feel true, and when they feel true they become sturdy enough to lash together into a coherent structure. (Or, maybe the pieces are fastened by means of a goose wrench.) In this case, it was a structure that had three “and then a miracle occurs” linkages. However, that very night we filled in two of those gaps. The third one remains, but discussions about how to fill it have been fertile and are revealing new levels we can explore over the course of the book as a whole.

Having a variety of ways to look at your ideas is important to help you get unstuck. Having a partner doubles (at least) your chances of someone being lit from within by the creative spark you need to get past a particular obstacle.

While Heinrich and Aphrodite Were Preoccupied

  • by Kentcoughing and spewing and afraid to move
  • And the salt.
  • near constant tabloid surveillance
  • supposed to sever the jugular
  • made little use of his arms in speaking

Tune in next time part 63                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

While Heinrich and Aphrodite were preoccupied I made a break for it, scurrying from beneath the truck and into a narrow aisle of wooden crates. Creeping to the end of the aisle on my belly, I peered around the corner. I strained my ears for signs of pursuit, but all I could hear was Aphrodite hectoring Heinrich about letting himself take a blowdart from his contortionist floozy, and Heinrich whimpering in reply. Their spat was occurring at the main entrance, meaning if I wanted to get out I’d have to find another doorway. Finding the coast clear, I wormed through the intersection and into the next aisle.

Svetlana peered down from atop a stack of crates, malicious delight shining in her eyes. I tried to tell her using hand signs that we had to work together, but she calmly undid the catch holding the side panel of the crate on which she perched. It swung out dumping greenish water onto me, a stinking low-tide sludge infested with jellyfish pressing the air from my lungs as it mashed me into the cement floor. I lay there, coughing and spewing and afraid to move lest I get stung. I gagged from the rotten smell. And the salt.

Svetlana plopped lightly into the mess, standing over me with a raspy giggle. She wore the same scandalously skintight outfit that had been a signature of the side-show act with her sister all those years ago, before John decided he couldn’t stand to be near constant tabloid surveillance and estranged himself from his family, uttering sharp words that were supposed to sever the jugular that carried blood so much thicker than water. Although probably no thicker than the slimy muck now covering me.

A resounding boom from the far end of the building indicated the slamming of the door. “Get up,” Svetlana said. She marched away, pausing to glare when I didn’t follow. We soon came into sight of the main entryway, where Heinrich lay on the floor alone. As we drew near, he mouthed words that we couldn’t hear. Svetlana knelt close, trying to discern his message. His torpid stillness made it harder to make sense of the faint sounds. Even when he wasn’t paralyzed, Heinrich made little use of his arms in speaking.

Suddenly he made full use of them in seizing Svetlana by the throat. In full voice, he said, “You should have known better than to leave your darts laying around where I could wipe off the poison!” Aphrodite slid from the shadows beside the door, her pistol aimed at my midsection.

 

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I Became More and More Sure That I Was Inhabiting a Warehouse

  • by jenwait to find out why her husband is hobbling toward her in insane panic
  • far-reaching international manhunt
  • I thought his bouncing was accidental
  • in the very near future
  • — one fat, one skinny

Tune in next time part 62                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I became more and more sure that I was inhabiting a warehouse as the drug cleared my system and my faculties returned to normal.

I seemed to be alone in the large open area. Why had Lyudmila and Tessa left me unguarded? And whose warehouse was this?

After arranging the tarp to look like I was still beneath it, I dropped to the cement floor, rolled underneath the pickup, and curled up in the shadow of its oversized tires. And just in time! The door at the far end of the room opened and two figures entered — one fat, one skinny. I recognized them immediately as Heinrich and Aphrodite Hunter, which meant I was in deep shit. Or would be in the very near future. Those two hated each other almost as much as they hated everyone else. For them to team up meant something huge was going down, and I was in the middle of it.

Aphrodite laughed at something her rotund husband said, and then went back out through the door. Heinrich approached the pickup truck, whistling, his belly bouncing. For a moment I thought his bouncing was accidental, merely a result of his loping gait, but then I realized that he was purposefully jostling his stomach up and down. What could he possibly be doing?

In a moment I had my answer. He pulled his enormous Hawaiian shirt up and over his head. Instead of the expanse of flesh I expected, I saw instead a small woman, curled into a ball and clinging to a harness around Heinrich’s normal-sized torso.

He wasn’t fat after all! All this time he had merely been smuggling a contortionist under his clothes. With a sigh she unfolded herself and stood beside Heinrich, fluffing her hair.

My spine chilled as I realized it was Svetlana, John’s other sister, and subject of a far-reaching international manhunt. No wonder she’d proven impossible to find! For just how many years had Heinrich been smuggling the nefarious criminal around inside his clothes? And to what end?

This situation made less and less sense every minute. Lyudmila would never knowingly be in league with Svetlana. They hated each other, and with good reason.

“What are we going to do about this one?” Heinrich asked, gesturing toward the truck bed where he assumed I still lay unconscious.

“We can’t kill him,” Svetlana said in her scratchy voice. “Yet.” She stretched her arms and then bent over into a backbend, every vertebra popping. “I still need him.”

I swallowed.

“But I no longer need you.” Svetlana turned her backbend into a backspring, and launched herself away from Heinrich. She pulled a blowgun from somewhere in her skimpy leotard and shot a dart into Heinrich’s leg. In a blur she disappeared up into the rafters.

The door opened again, admitting Aphrodite who could only stand there and wait to find out why her husband is hobbling toward her in insane panic.

 

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Did We Say “Geniuses”?

r-avatarWork progresses slowly on the outline for Grandson of Science Novel. It’s probably no more sluggish than the corresponding stage of things for the book that precedes it, but the headwind is kind of killing our morale.

Coming off the wrap-up of Son of Science Novel’s outline, we had a lot of momentum. Also, we were brimming with ideas for the third book because there was stuff — lots of stuff! — that was left deliciously untidy at the end of the second one. Thus we were counting on maintaining our momentum and having half the work already done.

Er, yeah. No.

The ideas are great, but what we’re discovering is they’re not the hard part. The stuff in between them, the connective tissue, that’s the challenge. We got ourselves persuaded that it wouldn’t feel like starting all over, but it does. Dammit.

The advantages of having both books in a state of high plasticity are still valid. We’re still confident that working on them in tandem is the smart move. What we’re learning is that “time savings” probably isn’t among those advantages.