What I Learned from the Writer I Used to Be, Part 1

I started writing stories when I was seven. I was home sick from school for the entire month of February and apparently took to writing.

From that, I learned to be a pack rat. I remember writing the story, but I don't have it anymore. Somewhere along the way, it was surely pitched. Probably in one of those moments where, since I was growing up, I didn't need "childish" stuff anymore. Luckily I got over that...

Part of my pack rat tendency I blame on my less than stellar memory. The items trigger recollections that I enjoy. So I keep the items.

Slowly, I'm adjusting my storage methods. Things are starting to be scanned into the computer. Virtual storage takes up much less room than real storage.

At least I still have the books we made for English class in third grade. We spent a couple days writing and then typing up our stories. I took quite a bit longer than the rest of the class... and had to rush my drawings. (Not that it would have mattered that much because my fingers are made for typing, not drawing. I still draw about as well. ;-) After we printed our stories, we pasted them in little blank hard cover books. How fabulous.

Though, it's funny to go back and read that third grade story "Uni and Wolffy." Even then I had trouble writing myself into situations I couldn't get out of. At least now I have time to revise. Which is a later lesson I learned.

When did you start writing? How about them school writing projects?

My Town Monday: Grand River Trail

Like many original roads in Michigan, Grand River started as an Indian Trail. This road wound it's way from Detroit through Livingston County, through Lansing, and off to Grand Rapids, crossing the state.

West of Lansing, this road follows along the Grand River. Over on my side of the state, we don't have any Grand Rivers. Or great ones (ha ha). We've got the Huron, though, and that seems to do a pretty good job flooding much of Hamburg every spring... (pic shows Grand River in blue. The red lines are similar to where the Grand River Trail/Road ran.)

In 1848, Grand River Trail became a plank road. This was one of those bad ideas that took a while to get rid of. They would lay large planks (and sometimes just large branches) across the trail to make for a "smoother" ride. Because jostling a wagon over planks is going to be smoother than bumping over ruts and rocks. All that and you had to pay a toll to use the plank road.

Though, I'm thinking laying some planks might make Grand River Ave a little easier to drive along. Years of being barely maintained have resulted in some seriously crumbling road surfaces. The pot holes aren't so bad, but it's the lines that run with the road, making a chasm that grabs the car tire and tries to flip you into the ditch.

The Detroit & Howell Plank Road was one stretch, owned, if I understand correctly, by one company. There was another stretch called the Howell & Lansing Plank Road. This connected the major city of Detroit to the capital of Michigan.

With the construction of the railroads through much of Michigan in the 1880s and onwards, the plank roads fell out of favor. The companies who collected the tolls eventually disappeared and returned the roads to local control. Of course, the roads were in craptacular condition when the Plank Road companies left.

Here's a gem of a quote from the Brighton BiCentennial: "By the year 1880, much of the planking had been removed and been replaced with dirt and gravel, but the toll gates remained to annoy and harrass those who were compelled to use this road." I'm guessing that most local yokel would have tried to avoid paying tolls on Grand River. But long-distance travelers had little choice. Even today, getting from east to west without using Grand River (or it's sucsessor, I-96) is a difficult, long, and winding trip.

After returning to local control, the Detroit to Howell and Howell to Lansing Plank Roads became again called Grand River. Now, though, it's the Grand River Road instead of the Grand River Trail. It wouldn't be until bicycling became popular that Grand River saw it's next improvement... and it's next name change. In the meantime, Grand River Road was a barely maintained dirt road running through the center of Livingston County.

(Pic shows Howell on top and Fowlerville on bottom in 1908, looking down Grand River.)

While cities would have maintained roads in town, outside of town, for a many years, Michigan residents were required to maintain (grade and repair) the roads their property was on. And, the early 1900s saw plenty of people who didn't see why they should have to. So, a road like Grand River would be in questionable shape as it ambled along between two important cities in Michigan.

Come back next week and see Grand River get an Amazing Makeover!

And don't forget to visit Travis Erwin for more My Town Mondays!

I'm not a crazy. I'm a writer.

Though, it can be easy to confuse the two since both talk about, and to, people that don't exist.

Yes, I'm one of those people who talks to themselves. Only it's not me. It's Bo. And she's talking to other people... and every time such words pass my lips, I sound like a lunatic.

I like to think that part of the reason my dialogue is good is because I speak it. I take on both roles and actually speak the dialogue. I use this to make sure the lines are real.

But sometimes I talk to myself because I just enjoy the characters. I explore the things they would say to each other. Little vignettes, I guess, except they don't make it onto the page. But little scenes with Bo and her companions, or occasionally with other bit-part characters.

I often talk aloud. Sometimes I just move my lips. And I do it all the time. Empty aisles at the grocery store. While driving (when I'm not singing along to the music.) Walking to my car in the parking lot. And at home. Hubby's used to it. He pretends he doesn't notice it because if he said anything, I'd crawl under the couch cushions and wish I could die from embarrassment.

I can admit that I do these things... but I don't want anyone to see it.

Maybe I am just a little crazy.

At least I enjoy it. =D

Lay and Lie

The short story by this name is now up at Twist of Noir. This little story originally appeared at DZ Allen's MuzzleFlash.

Sex and lies. And some wordplay.

I'm glad this story got to come out into the light again. I'll be dusting off some other reprints, too.

I've been working on a couple stories lately, though none of them flash fiction. Flash fiction is a beast of a whole different type. Those ideas tend to come to me fully formed, ready to slam down on paper.

But flash fiction just hasn't been in my brain in a while. Perhaps a consequence of working so long on novels last year (finishing Novel #1 and starting Novel #2). Or maybe I'm just tapped out on flash. At least my muse has tossed me a couple other ideas. Longer ones. I thought one of them was a flash fiction idea, but so far, when I try to pour it into that size glass, it just spills all over the damn place. Either I'm writing it wrong, or it's just not flash fiction.

The story will always determine how long it's supposed to be. It's important to listen to what the story says.

Excuses, exscuses

It's fascinating to me, when amongst a group of writers, to hear the creativity at work. How many different ways can people find to excuse or explain why they can't or didn't write.

It echoes a similar trend in society as why everything is not my fault.

But writers are the most creative, I think. Unfortunate mischanneling of energy.
Can't write because Word has too many features.
Or because the computer has internet access, that's too distracting.
Can't write because I'll edit.
Or because the house is a mess, but that's not my fault either-- it's just too overwhelming.

All valid reasons. Valid excuses.

But at some point, I think, a writer has to realize that they are making excuses. It's not the internet's fault or the sun's fault for being in the wrong place in the sky or even Word's fault. It's the writer coming up with roadblocks.

The first step in overcoming a problem is identifying it.

Now that the new semester is in swing, I have far fewer excuses of my own. And I'm back to writing. Not as much as I could. And that's my own fault. It has nothing to do with the internet... that's a symptom of a very different problem. The problem is, for the most part, that I don't want to write something bad. (This is compounded when I don't like where the story is going.) But this is all on me.

I can't-- I WON'T-- blame anyone or anything else. As tempting as it may be... ;-)
Except maybe Hubby...

Hardboiled and Washed Up?

Maybe it's just been the string of hard-boiled novels I read lately, but I sure read a lot of worn out, washed up folks who seem just about ready to sit down and wait to die.

Is it the underdog thing that appeals to people? The former police/detective who pulls himself out of the bottle, wrings himself out, and goes off to redeem himself for the woman he loved-- perhaps this type of tale appeals because it's that second chance, that redemption, that coming from behind for the win scenario? Does it give people hope?

Me, I have trouble getting past the damned depressing intro with the unhappy protag who doesn't know what to do with himself (him more often than her) after screwing up royally.

Do readers not identify with someone who's successful? Or resilient? Or should I say, do hard-boiled readers just prefer the old, tired out, beaten down guy who just needs one more chance to do right. Maybe that's what being hard-boiled is about-- those mean streets kicking ass too many times?

I don't like happy fluffy books, but I'd at least like to see the characters be successful. No private eye who works all cases for charity and can't pay rent or some such thing. In my world-- the real world-- there's no such thing. If you're gonna stay in a business, you need to make enough to pay the bills. Or before long, you're not in business. (Besides, who would hire the guy who's not good enough to support himself?)

Maybe it's an age thing-- I've got most of my life ahead of me. I intend to be successful at it. And I'd like some characters I can relate to in this regard. Ones who have their focus on a successful future, not a messed up past.

But that doesn't mean I don't like me some good bitter commentary. Even from washed up, worn out former screw ups.

My Town Monday: Walking in Brighton

Now that the weather is getting nice, one might be inclined to stroll through downtown Brighton. There's some nice shops and restaurants in this downtown area, along with the The Mill Pond, Mill Pond Walkway, and Imagination Station.

If you happen to be strolling along though, you should be aware of how we cross the street.

See, in Brighton, we make cars stop for people. This happens in Ann Arbor too-- except in Ann Arbor, psychotic pedestrians will leap in front of moving cars just to remind drivers that pedestrians have the right of way. I'm not sure if driving or walking is more dangerous in Ann Arbor...

Anyway, in Brighton, the crosswalks have been paved with brick. And to cross, you press the crosswalk button.

There are little yellow lights in the brick crosswalk and those will begin blinking. Once the lights are blinking, you walk into the road. Yup. Cars will stop. If you're the slightest bit polite like I am, you will wait until there is a space between cars. Traffic is already slow on this stretch. A few pedestrians slow things down even more. It's not a bad thing.

I think the idea is to encourage people to park and stroll through the downtown area, rather than just zipping from one errand to the next.

We'll ignore the fact that the downtown area is half empty. There's still a few shops there... I'm sure the new mall a few miles away didn't have any impact on the downtown area. After all, when you go to the new mall, you get chain stores instead of local ones. And you don't have to walk-- you can drive around the parking lot and park close to the store you want.

Or so I hear. I'm still boycotting the new mall.

But I will be heading downtown.

(Though, until it gets warmer, I'll drive there. Thanks. I don't like cold.)

Visit Travis Erwin, the My Town Monday wrangler, for other posts.