Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Today’s music is feline inspired. I swear I could hear my cat singing this when I went through my morning rituals. As I went from room to room and activity to activity, he tagged along. Sometimes he would lean against my leg when I stopped, but he also sat on my foot, or stopped and peeked around the corner. When I moved, he moved, following me around.
Here it is, courtesy of Tucker’s inspiration, Little Peggy March (which I had to look up) with “I Will Follow Him” from 1963.
Floobsession (catfinition) – a cat’s persistent preoccupation with an activity or idea.
In use: “Papi’s water floobsession drove him awake in the other room. A thump was heard as he jumped to the floor, followed by thundering paws as he galloped down the hall, into the kitchen, and leaped up on the counter with a Cheshire cat grin and a question mark tail.”
Saying good-bye on the phone has become interesting in America. I know some that say nothing when the call is due to end. They’re done, and, saying nothing, they hang up.
It’s weird when it’s experienced. “Hello?” I say. “Are you there?”
Then I listen.
No; they’re not there.
I hang up with the assumption, I guess the call was done, but they didn’t say good-bye. Maybe they were disconnected. Maybe they were nuked, or dropped their phone in the commode. Whichever and whatever it is, the lack of a formal good-bye, farewell, or so-long leaves me feeling that closure is missing.
Others are like me, saying, “Bye-bye.”
Bye-bye, like a child. Yeech. I don’t like saying that, but it seems my rote response. I don’t know where the hell I picked it up, but I even often used it in the military. “Yes, sir,” I’d say to the wing commander. “I’ll call you back when I have an update on the bomb threat.”
“Good. Thank you, sergeant.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Bye-bye.”
Very professional.
This came to mind today because of an early morning call. The stranger, who called to confirm a service, ended with, “Okay, thank you, see you later, bye.”
I guess they were trying to cover all the bases.
Floofcination (catfinition) – the quality of a person becoming engrossed in watching a cat absorbed in watching or doing an activity.
In use: “Whenever the cats became fascinated with something, he found himself losing time as floofcination took over.”
Today’s theme music comes by way of yesterday’s choir performance. The Rogue Valley Peace Choir performed as part of an afternoon called one voice. Participating with RVPC were four peace choirs from Portland and Eugene, Oregon, and California. It was an enjoyable afternoon. One of the songs presented is the well-known “La Bamba.”
An old Mexican folk song, I learned of it from Ritchie Valens release. It came out two years after I was born. He was dead by then, so part of my maturing process was hearing about this song (and his other music), learning about why Richie Valens didn’t perform any more, and learning about the plane crash in which Valens, Buddy Holly, J.P. Richardson, and the pilot, Roger Peterson, were killed.
Though Valens died two years into my life, a movie of his life, “La Bamba,” starring Lou Diamond Philips, was released in 1987. Los Lobos performed “La Bamba” for the movie, sparking a new appreciation for the song and Richie Valens.
Turn it up and sing along. Happy Monday.
Yesterday was an excellent writing session. I walked away still writing in my mind. I’d reached a natural ending point for the chapter, but was then left mulling, what happens next? Meanwhile, I had other chapters in mind to write. Most of them were bridges, pivots, and place-holders.
Bridges, pivots, and place-holders are my terms. Someone in literature has probably developed more formal terms, but it’s how I see it, and I go with it. Action scenes often come in flashes, and I write them fast, to capture the lightning. Then they’re edited.
They’re not linear, though, and they’re often not connected to the main body of action at that point. That’s where a bridge or a pivot comes into play. A bridge links two or more action scenes; a pivot turn from one course of activity (or thought, or string of events) to another.
Then there is the place-holder. That’s a poor name for it. This piece of the novel is explanatory material, as exposition, dialogue, of stream of thought, for what has happened, and what the characters think is going to happen. My characters can’t be trusted in this regard. Some are like me, and try to analyze what’s happened to this point and predict what will happen next, but they’re woefully under-informed, so it’s garbage-in, garbage-out.
As I walked after writing yesterday, an audacious twist struck me. It so surprised me, I laughed out loud as I walked along the street. The energy of the idea made me walk faster as the flash scene developed, and then the structures of the pivot, bridge and place-holder scenes jumped into being. By the time I sat down with my coffee to write this morning, I just needed to recall what I wrote in my head on the previous day. The biggest challenge of today’s writing session was keeping up. I’m a fast typist, but not fast enough to keep up with thinking.
Again, I ended up spent, in a good way. I’d stopped at a natural point once again, but a lot of words and scenes remained to be written that I’d already written in my head.
I love it when this happens, but it’s not always like this. I take advantage of it as I can. Eventually, knowing myself and my writing habits, I’ll reach a point that I won’t really know what to write. Then I’ll walk away to think about it. I’ll hopefully begin writing in my head again, because lightning often does strike more than once. If not, I’ll read and edit what I’ve already written. That usually triggers a natural flow of more words.
Meanwhile, the sessions of the last two days are a little different than usual. I’m reaching the end of the novel, and the series. That awareness causes a different tension in the writing sessions as I actively ask myself, is this really going to be the end? Will the ending work?
In such sessions, my thinking and writing focus narrows and sharpens. Even as I do that, other potentials for this series hang on the horizon, because that’s the nature of creativity and my writing process. Ideas rarely stand alone. It’s more like the classic process of thesis, antithesis, synthesis triad.
I’m careful not to look too closely at what’s on the horizon right now. Number one, I want to finish and publish this series of four books. Number two, other projects are in the wings.
This one must be completed so I can go on to them. I’m done writing like crazy, at least for today.
Back when I needed a new character, I cast a net for who they were. I found he was male, and a scientist. I named him Professor Kything in honor of the communication technique L’Engle employed in “A Wrinkle In Time.”
I didn’t know much about my new character. I’m an organic writer. I knew he would grow into something, but when I introduced him, he was a minor character, essentially a cardboard prop at the moment.
He grew, though, as my primary hero encountered him. As I developed a description, he became based on a person I used to work with. A senior research and development engineer, my co-worker managed to be smarmy, arrogant, and condescending in almost every encounter with me, usually with a smirk. Since my new character was evolving into a major villain, remembering this former co-worker was very helpful. He was supposed to be a deep thinker, but the certainty of his own knowledge kept him from thinking too deeply. He was dismissive of others instead of working with them to advance ideas, and he was conceited, a womanizer, and a liar.
Most of my characters aren’t based on one person. They’re typically composites of others I know (including me), so this guy, being based on one person, is different. When using composites, I generally think about how one of the composites that I know would react in the situation. That helps me stay consistent, even when the person I base them on is inconsistent and unpredictable, which translate to the same for my character and their behavior.
My cultured dislike for the fellow behind Professor Kything works well for this villain. I’m posting about him today because he was active and smug yesterday, crowing about how much smarter he is than others, and he’s going to be exposed today for the fool that he is.
Sweet.
Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Many of you know this song because it’s one of those ubiquitous tunes that started during one era, and gets pulled out and employed to make a point.
The song is “The Beat Goes On,” originally by Sonny and Cher. Sung in a flat, almost monotonous style, it features words and stanzas that reflect superficial changes even as certain defining trends of an era continue. “Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain.” “Cars keep going faster all the time. Bums keep asking, hey, buddy, do you have a dime?”
Yes, cars are getting faster. We don’t call them bums, hobos, or panhandlers any longer, but there are still people out there asking for money, usually more than a dime, because a dime just doesn’t buy much in these times.
Here it is, from 1967.
When you’re vacuuming, you ever notice there’s always one piece, usually lint, but typically a clump of cat fur in our house, that has supernatural powers to resist the vacuum? You run the sweeper over it repeatedly, but it defiantly stays on the floor, sometimes moving around and pretending that it’s been sucked up, only to re-appear a few moments later. Then you’re forced to other courses of action to get it up, even stooping to pick it up and feed it to the vacuum, just to prove who has the power.
Yeah, that’s so annoying.
Incatation (catfinition) – spells and verbal charms used to call felines; many people often mistakenly think they’re calling a cat’s name, but cats don’t share their true names with other species.
In use: “Calling, “Here kitty, kitty,” he hoped the incatation would work on Ashley. Darkness and snow were falling, and he wanted her home safe and warm.”
Michael Seidel, writer 