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“Don’t go there. Just don’t. I know how you are.”
These were the parting words that my daughter’s nurse left me with a couple of nights ago. Only she wasn’t using them in the current connation of not discussing a topic. She literally meant, “Don’t visit.”
In this case, a website.
“I’m trying not to,” I said, watching her gather cigarettes, a purse, wandering keys. She’d been with Rach all day and was heading out. We always have a great debriefing before she goes – all about our days, Rachel, plans, whatever fun stuff is happening…or un-fun stuff. Girl talk, good and bad.
Phyllis is also a great supporter of my work, my writing. She loves my books and wants me to write more. She also knows that some of them take a lot of research, as evidenced by the massive stacks of books on my desk right now. My editor now wants TWO manuscripts from me. I have a lot to do. And in the middle of it…
…”You get on these tangents and you’re like a snapping turtle. You won’t let go till it thunders. And they keep you from doing stuff you need to do.”
She’s right, of course, but my current tangent makes me grin a lot. It’s a guilty pleasure…and the website in question is a simple one…biography, basic facts, pictures, filmography, gossip….
Okay, so I’ve stayed away. But the problem isn’t really the current “fascination.” It’s that this new fascination slid into the holes left by my current lack of focus. The fact that I sit down to write, stare at the screen, but instead of diving into the book, my mind goes in 18 million different directions. Call it what you will, pulling back from it, regaining my direction, has been a pain in the ass. Instead of discipline, I drift…..
But, y’know, sometimes it’s during the drifting, the dead calm, that the treasure islands pop up.
Filmographies lead me, inevitably, to Netflix, to which I’m becoming rapidly addicted. I love offbeat films; once upon a time, I was a film festival junkie. Can’t get those at Blockbuster, so I’ve been prowling NF, with one filmography leading to another, then another…and today, a tiny film I’d never heard of popped up.
Songcatcher. At first, I thought it might be an adaptation of Sharyn McCrumb’s book of the same name, and I had a small moment of celebration. I adore Sharyn McCrumb; she’s one of the few writers I never get tired of. (And if you haven’t checked out St. Dale, do so. It’s a hoot.)
It wasn’t. It’s an original film by Maggie Greenwald, and after reading the description and watching the trailer, I immediately added it to my queue. This is right up my alley. Maybe even to buy, if it lives up to its promise. But with Sharyn still in mind, I wanted to know what inspired Ms. Greenwald to write it, so I looked up her biography and a couple of articles about the movie (This is what Phyllis meant about, “I know how you get…”)
There in the middle of one article was a quotation that grabbed me.
“Every script I’ve written is built around a single character I’m fascinated with. I’ve searched the landscape of whatever the environment of the story is and try to create honest relationships.”
–Maggie Greenwald
It was a wet cloth slapped upside my face. It’s why I’m stuck. I’ve been so focused on “what happens next” in my book that I’ve lost “who it happens to.” I’m no longer in love with my heroine. My hero. In working out the plot details, I’d let them slip away from me. And my current “fascination” slipped right into their place.
Because I am a writer who loves people. Who loves characters. Who wants to grab to those I love and sink them into my heart with an intimacy of knowledge and emotion. A book or movie could have a plothole the size of my garage, and I’ll forgive, as long as I’m completely and totally in love with the main characters. No wonder Miss Karen (my heroine) has been over there tapping her foot at me. I’ve neglected HER.
So the next thing on the agenda is a long chat with Karen, to renew my love.
So I guess that website will have to wait. At least for a few more days…. 
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