Jas Said
Sidetracked
I’ve been sidetracked on side stories while pursing the novel-in-progress.
These side stories are about the characters and the quintessential question, who are they? They’re entertaining but time and energy consuming.
One of the characters is Tink. I knew his companion, Deca, very well, and was coming to know his friend, Belt.
Not Tink. I’ve been wrestling with Tink’s character. I couldn’t get a handle on him. Part of me worried about this Tink because of other characters known as Tink, like Tink on “Lovejoy”, the tinker in rhymes and titles like “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy”, or Tink as in Tinkerbell from Peter Pan. Didn’t want my Tink to be like those Tinks. My Tink’s name is not short for Tinker; it’s not short for anything. He is Tink, has always been called Tink, and doesn’t know who came up with it.
So, busy on other matters this morning, and suddenly his voice arrived. No fanfare, just there, flashing into my head. Sudden subsequent spurts of excitement were enjoyed: aha, that’s Tink.
Love those eureka moments. Think that’s what I live for as a writer, getting the answer to these queries I’ve created for myself. I always thought the scenes with Emma Thompson as Karen Eiffel in Stranger than Fiction (2006) when she’s wrestling with what should happen. The restlessness, obsession, irritation, and contempt personified what I sometimes experience.
Got my coffee. Time for Tink and I to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Diversity Fail
Saw an article today: “Friends Creator Marta Kauffman Tearfully Says She ‘Didn’t Do Enough’ for Diversity”.
No kidding, right? Black characters were few on that show. Past that, though, I thought, now there’s a timely sitcom: “Diversity Fail”. It would be about all the ways that diversity fails, and would feature a diverse cast, not just of races, but sexual identities and genders, sexual preferences and fluidity, and religion. It’d be a broad, rambling show focused on one person struggling to grasp it all without offending everyone. I’m thinking it’s more like “Fleabag” than “Friends”, though.
Got to stop thinking about it. It’s a distraction to the novel in progress. I’m already distracting myself with side stories trying to understand my characters. Gotta get more coffee. Then it’s back to writing like crazy, at least for a while longer.
Two More Dreams
I often dream about four things: being in the military (again), cars, houses, and animals. Two of those made it into the second dream. It was the main event. First, though, came a dream snippet.
I was working on rice flavors. I came up with a new, exciting idea: cinnamon rice. Awakening, I thought, cinnamon and rice? That’s been around for eons, as in, say, rice pudding. I was quite excited in the dream, though.
My boss entered. I made my announcement.
He loved the idea. “Cinnamon and rice. That’s our new potato chip flavor.”
Whaaat? I’d been working on potato chip flavors? I was aghast, horrified, and crestfallen. Then I said, move on.
My second dream found me in a huge house. My wife and I had been living there for years, but the place surprised me with its size. Besides several levels, the house featured several wings and a huge yard.
I’d been living on the main levels, I realized, and had forgotten about the other parts. Now, remembering them, I went on a re-discovery exploration. Everything was well lit, plush and well furnished, but some of the white marble steps were dusty. I had to clean those off, I told myself.
Back in the house, my black cat was clamoring for my attention, but I had a house guest. I took her to a breakfast nook off the second dining room (the more informal one). There was a table with three chairs. Two were standard dining room chairs, white with light blue padded seats. The third, in the same motif, was on wheels and featured a wicker headrest that could be folded up to extend the back.
I presented this to my friend. I hadn’t seen here in over a decade. She’d never been to my house. Dressed in light blue and white that weirdly matched the dining room and breakfast nook, she stood there with a laptop bag over her shoulder. “Perfect.” She set her bag down. “I will write and type here.”
Good. She wouldn’t bother us there. But I said, “You’ll be facing a wall.” That was anathema to me; I liked facing a window so I could look out.
“No, I like facing walls, so I’m not disturbed,” she replied.
Weird to me. Meanwhile, I had to pick up the dogs from the vet. I went out as the van arrived, bringing them back. (Yeah, that confused me for a second; I thought I had to go get them, but no, they’d been brought to me.)
I took the dogs inside and let them go. They rushed to one bathroom. Surprised, I followed them in. There, I found kittens: a gray, ginger, and two black and white. They were toddling around, their little tails straight up the air like pointers. The dogs avidly sniffed them.
I called to my wife, “Where did these kittens come from?”
She didn’t answer. That’s where the dream ended.
