Book Three Protagonist

Susan Schreyer, author of the Thea Campbell mystery series, challenged me to talk about a character in the books. I’ve chosen a new one, from the current work in progress. You know, that work in progress that might be finished before man settles Mars. Susan answered these same questions, and she can be found over at http://www.writinghorses.blogspot.com. Wander over for a visit.

1.) What is the name of your character? Harlow Grafton

2.) Is he/she fictional or a historic person? Is that a trick question? Fictional of course. Isn’t that what all writers say when they’ve actually pieced together someone from traits of those around them?

3.) When and where is the story set? Current time, in Wallace Idaho as with the other two books. Current time, but at the same time, this is a prequel to The Memory Keeper.

4.) What should we know about him/her? Six years previously, her father died in a logging accident. Most people believe Harlow had something to do with that, and the death may not have been an accident. She left shortly thereafter and at the opening of the book has just returned. No job, no money, living with her sister, the new owner of a rescued dog, and the discoverer of very old bones in the woods.

5.) What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life? The main conflict is the discovery of bodies. Young girls, found in the same areas as old bones, and all with a connection to Harlow. Another big conflict for her is her mouth. She speaks without thinking, says what she wants, and, as she has told others, usually offends someone every time she opens her mouth. Interestingly, a lot of my husband’s expressions have made their way into Harlow.

6.) What is the personal goal of the character? To lay the ghost of her father to rest, to find peace within herself, and to find the missing girl who just might still be alive.

7.) Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it? The working title is Ghost Roads. There really isn’t more to read about it as this is the most I’ve talked about the book. I have to be careful because if I talk about a story too much before it’s finished, I’ll never finish it. I’ll keep you posted on the progress here though, and it would help the first draft to have some reactions to Harlow, from the little I’ve given here. It’s not much, I know, but it would be interesting to see if she’s piqued your curiosity.

Show message history

Princesses, Pigs, and Stories

This evening I sat with an ice pack on my shoulder following physical therapy, listening. There were conversations all around me between patients and their therapists. It was a struggle to not join in. I’d hear one subject and realize I had a story about that, or an opinion on something else, or a desire to laugh – one guy told a hilarious story about how his darling princess daughter tackled a pig. I restrained myself because those were not my conversations, didn’t involve me, and comments from a stranger probably wouldn’t be appreciated. But when I am included in a conversation, it’s very easy to talk. About anything, to anyone, anywhere.

The thing is, it wasn’t always that way. All throughout school I talked only to my small group of friends. I’m sure most kids didn’t know I was in the room. Except when called upon by the teacher, when I would flame brightly into existence, the blush putting me right on everyone’s teasing radar.

I used to think the ability to be comfortable talking to people, or being in front of a crowd came about because I took on a job in the 70s that required my having to talk. But now I’m not so sure.

One thing that seems to make a difference is having something to talk about. I now have life experiences. I’ve been through many things that allow me to relate to those around me, which creates a sharing environment. At eighteen my life was still very sheltered. What was there to talk about? Heck, at age 30 my life was still sheltered but that’s another story.

Lots of talking here: You did WHAT? You swam WHERE? Are you INSANE? I had no problem finding words...

Lots of talking here: You did WHAT? You swam WHERE? Are you INSANE? I had no problem finding words…

A teacher tried helping one time as I stood, shaking, contemplating an oral report. He said, ‘pick something you know’. It didn’t help then, but now I see the wisdom of that. If there are things you know well, that inspire you, then it’s going to be easier to talk to someone. Might even be hard to get you to stop talking. So I think that helps some, too.

And then there’s the simple blossoming of a storyteller. As we’ve talked about here before, there is a story behind everything. From a simple trip to the grocery store to the spider in the bathroom, to the latest headlines. We all have tales to tell that connect us to one another.

Of course not everyone wants to talk or tell a story. My husband, for one, would be very happy if, when out in public, he didn’t have to interact with anyone. Which works out great because I fill that silent void. Give me an excuse to tell a story and I’m off and running.

Well, okay, the husband can hold forth occasionally...

Well, okay, the husband can hold forth occasionally…

Posted just because I've always liked this photo

Posted just because I’ve always liked this photo

Like the princess and the pig: the little five-year-old girl dressed up for dance class, and dad stops at a friend’s for a quick visit. The little girl got charged by a pig and before the dad could react she grabbed the pig, bit its ear, yelled ‘take that!’ and sent the pig running, squealing.

That little girl is going to go far in life. And I bet she’ll be talking the whole way.

Lack of Self P.S.

When I wrote the last post I was laughing at myself. At the process I always go through before an event, at how silly that process is, and how I can’t seem to change that process. I wanted to get across how, in spite of the doubt beforehand, these types of events leave me feeling so rejuvenated and ready to jump into writing. How they leave me inspired by those around me.

I got several very nice comments to that post but I haven’t replied to many yet as I’m not sure how to go about it. Rather than most commenting on their own ways of dealing with nerves or on how these types of things can actually be productive, I ended up with a lot of reassurances and compliments.

I appreciate all of the support but it leaves me feeling odd because that wasn’t the intent of the post. I’m left feeling like I unintentionally went trolling for compliments. I don’t think I got my point across at all, about how silly I was and how I knew I was silly and how I can’t stop being silly this way. Instead, the way the post reads, it sounds rather like those Facebook posts I find annoying where someone says they need a hug and ask their friends to post a word or phrase saying what they think of the poster. I always resist the urge to type ‘Needy!’

Which I now realize is the appropriate word for how the original post here sounded. Which was far away from my original intent.

So thank you for all the support and wonderfully kind words. I do appreciate them, I just didn’t mean to ask for them.