Thank you so very much to the Luck Public Library and Jill and Colleen. Including me there were a DOZEN PEOPLE! Holy crap! I was literally shaking my fists in the air like a mentally disturbed woman who got Yatzee in the asylum rec room. I was that happy! Fruits salad and cookies  were plentiful as promised. I read TWO excerpts from Book 4: Torso in the Torrent Copyright 2012. I talked everyone’s ears off (not literally; that would be counterproductive), and they probably bought a few books to shut me the hell up. I tend to babble when I’m happy. It’s probably why I compulsively scat nonsensical songs while I’m cooking, because the anticipation of a meal makes me happy. Anyhow, here’s evidence of my captives and my madcap grin of joy:

captives and madcap author at Luck Public Library

You’re born alone, you die alone, and in between you write alone. You can debate me on the semantics if you want to, but I think you get my point. You can be in a room full of people, or hidden away in some exclusive enclave; the process of writing is still a closed circuit looping in your brain. It’s just you and your invisible alternate universe. If neurons are flowing freely, you can hear breathing, smell sweat, sense tension, notice shifts in moods, all this as words flood your brain with descriptions that you desperately attempt to make tangible before they disappear like sand in the wind.

You can get lost in there. Entire conversations can flow around you, even at you, and you can miss what’s going on because your reality just can’t compete with your imagination. If you’re a writer that’s usually a good thing. Unfortunately, most of us have to crawl back into the light at some point and give just due to our loved ones, and perhaps anyone else we feel obligated to pay attention to.

And, as easy as it is to be completely anti-social, as many creative people often are, our alternate universes will starve without outside stimuli. You can’t make diverse characters believable if you never talk to anybody. Life experiences are the backbone to any decent work of art, and that requires leaving the keyboard once in a while and actually living.

I’m not great at meeting people. I have to work at it. I have to make myself go to events. I have to be open to the possibility that someone might not take to me, or I to them. Every introduction is a potential confrontation.

My people up here in the stubborn cold consider direct eye contact suspicious. If it weren’t for churches and bars, no one would leave the house. I’m not exaggerating when I say only strong drink or an act of God is required for us to socialize with confidence.

So I’m thrilled that I took my friend Debbie’s advice and joined her writer’s group at the local community ed. We met in an official class capacity this spring and have continued in a less official capacity this summer.  We read our work to each other (no homework, thank god) and discuss story ideas, critique each others work, or just shoot the shit. I had lunch with two of the people I met there. It was nice.

When I put myself on these tight deadlines, like for Book 4: Torso in the Torrent (due out this fall! I promise), I tend to draw inward and keep people out. I battle my demons as I flesh out the book, tie up loose ends, and polish what I can before the editors get to it.

Sleep is sometimes interrupted, errands get put off, forget house cleaning, everything else gets neglected when I’m running that loop in my brain. I just have to remember to come back once and a while and say “Hello, remember me? I didn’t forget you. Thank you for not forgetting me either.”

I won’t lie. I’m not the most organized squirrel in the tree. Visit my office on any given day, and you would see for yourself. The debate as to whether organization helps or hinders creativity is still raging. I’m sure I have the article I printed out about it…somewhere, probably hidden under something that didn’t get put away in the right place. Anyway, scheduling out my day is a form of organization, and admittedly I am bad at keeping to that schedule. That is why I set deadlines. That is why I publicly announce deadlines.

I am a huge procrastinator, but I am also perpetually guilt-ridden. Therefore, the only thing that will not compel me to put a task off is the shame of not completing said task and disappointing others.

I have at least 5 editors waiting for Book 4, Torso in the Torrent. At this writing, I have 40-8 1/2 x 11 inch pages or 70-5×8 inch pages written. I have just announced to them that I will have the book written for them to edit at the end of July. To get near the 300 page goal I set for myself for every book, I will have to write at least 8 pages every single day between now and then. That’s 5-letter paper sized pages every day. No biggy right? I’m suppose to be a writer after all. What’s five lousy pages?

That’s just it. It can’t be five lousy pages. It has to be five marginally brilliant pages. The relationships and crimes have to sinc up and dance like a literary tango, hypnotizing the reader with it’s rush of passion and mystery. The rhythm needs to be spot on. The timing of dips and twirls needs to excite and enchant. If the reader doesn’t want to follow the dance, the entire exercise is pointless.

Jesus, Chris. No Pressure.