So you filled your hands

This is not a post about The Falling Woman, though I am leaving Friday morning and I am 137 words into that final pre-denouement scene. (I think this past fortnight has been my most frequent/concentrated use of the word "denouement" ever.) This is a post about Unlined.org, my sadly, sorely neglected litrag.

I've learned a lot since I started it, mostly because unlike four years ago, I've been actually reading a lot more online fiction. It's not like I've stalking through back issues of regular literary magazines, though I should, because there are amazing authors out there that I'd never find otherwise; but what's been getting me is the experimental fiction sites. The ones in which junk becomes treasure by telling the stories behind it, or the ones that just tell one story every week, or the ones that inspire through their ordinariness, or...

The pattern is clear to me: keep it simple, stupid. Make something new, and repeat it over and over again, to get at it from as many angles as you can. Some websites are just thank-you notes to the world. Some are postcards to no one or found objects. Some are snarky takes on grammar fails that nonetheless inspire something anyway.

The other secret is using Wordpress, honestly. The ability to just update and not have to fret about HTML and changing versions and all that other static web stuff is really nice for a change of pace.

So anyway, yes. I will continue to do some thinking about this. Probably after I get back from my trip. I just like my domain (and the potential) too much to let it go.

Having re-attempted silent improv last week and failed miserably at the whole "not talking" and "emoting in every way except moving your mouth" thing, I have a renewed appreciation for silent film and other wordless forms of moving entertainment. These stills pretty much speak for themselves, in terms of I want to see that and I want to tell that story. It's like the inverse of "use your words."

Here I was yesterday all excited about making progress! And today, I valiantly tried to sneak in some writing at work... nada. Nothing. Shoe shopping, yes, but novel-finishing, not tonight, apparently. Still, I think signs are pointing to this happening before I leave for my trip. Other good indicators: State Lines-related bits and bobs keep falling into my lap. I love this description of the early '20s, and there's something about this model's off-kilter smile that is really endearing and charming to me.

( Read more... )

Now, of course, to just keep this lesson in mind. And there might be hope yet if I shut the laptop and bring the notebook to bed. (Hey, I need some excitement, right?)

So here's the thing about The Falling Woman. I'm having a dilemma. I am so, so close to finishing, but every time I try, I can't. Part of this, of course, may be the classic "I'm afraid to end the story!" (variety of your choice), but even though the things that are left are purely emotional threads that really won't require a ton of alteration (reunion, restoration, return, that sort of thing), I find myself banging my head against the wall going, "The structure is wrong!"

See, I know the first draft is supposed to be your "discovery draft," the one where you just get it all out and get to know your characters. For the past few weeks, though, I've been mulling over backstory. I've suddenly figured out what the relationship is between ( spoilers? ) And now that these really critical threads are clear to me, I'm tearing my hair out because everything up to now has been wrong.

Well, that's not true. Not at all. But I want to start fixing things now. I know what happens next. I could list it all out for you if you wanted to know, in exquisite outline, even if I can't seem to get it out in a draft. It's frustrating, because I know intellectually that it's copping out to not write that last scene, to not show the confrontation, to not show our protagonists emerging somewhat victorious. Readers, you've been true champs, and I am so, so grateful for those who have been following and commenting and discussing with me. I don't want to let you down. But I love editing, and I want to get in there and whip this baby into shape.

( Some more thoughts )

I was dreaming, right before I woke up, that I was at a motel/mini-mall in suburban (near-airport) England that also was hosting two people from my hometown, one an across-the-street neighbor who talked at you for ten minutes straight if you so much as said hello to him, and another the father of a guy I knew from school. In the dream, for some reason, the father neither looked nor acted like the guy I knew, and didn't share the last name of his wife and his son: his kid was a first-class asshole from fourth grade to twelfth, and he came by it honestly. I had to ask how his son was doing, even though I truly could not care less. (Last I heard, he was a cameraman on one of the trashier reality shows.)

Anyway, for some reason, my bicycle showed up at the motel, even though I hadn't brought it with me overseas. I was flying back the next day. For some reason, there was a gallon carton of milk strapped to the back. After I had ridden through the tiered gardens stretching out behind the motel, I parked the bike but didn't secure it. Then, after I had been talking with some other guests, I went to go find it and it was gone. After I woke up, before I wanted to admit it, I kept going back to sleep, frantically trying to locate the bike before I missed my flight as the setting for the dream got smaller and emptier.

I can trace where most of that comes from, which I find to be a pretty rare occurrence for me, actually.

Here's another face/outfit that fascinates me and needs a home. I'm really interested by the stole and the yellow of the dress.

( Possibly this is a queen. )

Holy cow. I just mapped out the remainder of what I have to do with The Falling Woman. Seven scenes. That's it. Seven long, intense, involved scenes, but. That's all that's standing in between me and a completed first draft.

I also have five sheets of paper left in my notebook. End of a freaking era. Let me tell you, I cannot wait. Not just to start the next project (which may or may not be State Lines), but to rip this sucker up and put it together again. I still have so many notes and ideas to work in. And not to get premature, but I know I've learned so much. For now, though, I still really just want to be done.

I am utterly, utterly fascinated by their faces. Also, the clothes and jewelry. Wow.

( It's all about the eye contact. Always. )

One more face for the scrapbook, this time out of an incredible collection of color photographs from the early 1900s. This is an Iraqi woman; this portrait blows me away.

( Read more... )

In other news, I have the next two days off work. I plan on using some of that to get work done, some of it to remind myself how very much I cannot have a dog right now, and some of it to do some real writing. So hopefully that will happen.

Another face for the scrapbook, this time from an Etsy seller: ( What a neat way to do eyebrows. )

Also, if you're on the Falling Woman filter and missed it, more went up recently, hopefully with more to follow soon! The move is this weekend, and internet service won't start until Monday, so fingers crossed something can be accomplished in the near future.