BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I recently rambled about the -30- at the end of manuscripts. If you happen to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or any of the other social networks I have linked to my ping account, you are most likely well aware that I just finished a writing project. Hence the sudden interest in the number 30…

But, while typing that symbolic notification of “the end” draws my “work in progress” to a close, I’m never quite finished. There are tweaks, editing, final revisions, and all that jazz – not to mention hopping onto the promotional bandwagon and “selling” the book. However, those aren’t the things I am talking about either.

Anyone who has been around me when I am working on a manuscript knows that I go through phases. Simply for the sake of explaining my process, I’m going to try to break them down for you here. By the time you are finished reading this, you will likely believe I need to be living in a padded cell.

PHASE ONE: I start out by diving into whatever research is necessary for that particular work. For instance, when I started the Miranda Trilogy, I knew next to nothing about Vodoun and Hoodoo. While I’m still no expert by any stretch of the imagination, I came out on the other side of that first book in the trio with more than just a passing knowledge of both. Granted, there are times throughout the penning of a manuscript where the story will take a direction I hadn’t foreseen, and this will require me to stop and take a day to research something in order to be accurate. But, for the most part, the reading, interviewing, and info gathering generally comes at the beginning of a project.

PHASE TWO: Next, I move into the, “Gawd, this is like pulling hen’s teeth” phase. I’ve started writing and at about 10-15K (word count) I hit this imaginary wall. It’s a barrier that is built out of my own self-doubt and inner fears about whether or not the story is going to be worthwhile. Suddenly, squeezing out a thousand words in a day is laborious. Nothing has changed quality-wise, but I spend so much time doubting myself that the characters decide to go sit at the bar and wait until I get over my one man pity party. I have even gone so far as to say to E K, “I don’t know what made me think I could write in the first place.” This is usually greeted by a couple of slaps, followed by a stiletto heel to the head. She’s all about negative reinforcement, ya’know…

Then, we move into PHASE THREE. Words are flowing, the story is unfolding, and I look forward to sitting down at the keyboard each day. Oddly enough, Phase Three is the least stressful of them all. (Not that the stress is all bad, mind you. There are definitely good kinds of stress…)

PHASE FOUR hits at about 40-50K, and things change again. No longer do I  merely look forward to sitting down at the keyboard, I begin to dread having to leave it. The story has not only continued to unfold, but I am now sleeping on the couch in my character’s home(s). I’m sitting in the back seat of their vehicles whenever they go somewhere. I am standing right behind them when something happens. I am a part of their world, and I belong. This is generally the point where I become very hard to live with – not because I’m an asshole or anything, although you might want to check with E K on that just to be sure. The primary reason is that I am not here. Brainpan-wise, I am no longer a resident of the here and now. 24 hours per day, 7 days per week, I am living in a different world inside my head. I am seeing all of the things that are happening behind the scenes. What I mean by that is simply this: I see the manuscript happening in real time, and all of the stuff that never makes it to the page. The boring interludes where Rowan and Felicity might be sleeping, or Ben is fixing himself a grilled cheese sandwich using a folded sheet of aluminum foil and an iron.

I am an observer in their world, and even though only a small fraction of their time is chronicled on the pages of that particular novel, I am witnessing it all. Every last second…

When I come downstairs from my office I am told there is a vacancy in my eyes. It’s flat out noticeable. The lights are on, but Murv is long gone. E K will see it right away, and now that my daughter is older she sees it too. They both give me a wide berth, and talk to me only about what is absolutely necessary – again, not because I’ve turned into an ass, but because my brain is somewhere else entirely.

PHASE FIVE is even worse. Not only do I live with my characters, I form an empathic connection with them at the basest of levels. What happens to them, happens to me. I feel their pains – physical and emotional. I weep with them, I fear for them, and I even become physically exhausted with them. At this point there is usually only 25-30K left to write. Now, the relationship between the manuscript and me becomes pseudo-sexual. The “foreplay” as I like to call it, is hot and heavy. The “climax” is only a few short chapters away. Everything quickens, and my daily word count, which started at 1K, then progressed to 2K, is now in the 3K or better range. My wife comes home to someone she doesn’t know. A taciturn and at times almost catatonic individual who stares into space while moving through the motions of life in a purely mechanical fashion. I am like a junkie looking for a fix. All I can think about is getting back to the keyboard, and although I take notes on a constant basis through every phase, by now if I am not at the keyboard I am scribbling on anything viable with anything that will make a mark, just to be sure I remember. I begin to spend all of my time sequestered away, living the lives of my fictional “family.”

PHASE SIX arrives when the “literary orgasm” occurs. Everything has come together into an explosive, emotional ejaculation that leaves me tangled up in the proverbial sheets on a bed of my own making. I’m spent, as are the characters, but it’s not over.

PHASE SEVEN is the cigarette and cuddling. All of us – characters and me as well – have to debrief. We talk it out among ourselves, making sure we understand what it is we just experienced.

And then comes the -30-, the scotch, and the cigar…

But, like I said, it isn’t over. There is a PHASE EIGHT… For several days following that numerical end mark, I continue to sleep on their sofas. I dine with them, I walk the dogs with them, I watch them when they sleep, like some kind of nebulous, fictional stalker. Then, slowly, I begin to fade from their world. I feel myself being tugged back into reality by those who need me here. And eventually, my life with Rowan, Felicity, Ben, Constance, and all the others becomes a bittersweet memory, underscored by a longing for my next foray into their world.

And… There you have it.

I’m relatively certain some – if not all – of you will probably think I am insane now that you have read this, and to be honest, I wouldn’t blame you. E K did the first time I confided all this to her, but thankfully she didn’t have me committed. A year or so later she was reading a book by another author (she does that a lot) and discovered in the afterword that I was not alone. That other authors develop these deep seated relationships with their characters, and see them as very real – even if the “real” only lasts for a very short time.

Even so, I know it sounds nuts. I actually think all fiction writers – myself included – are by definition just a little bit insane. But, you know what? I think maybe I like it that way.

More to come…

Murv

And so the dance of deception begins…

What dance? What deception? Read on…

In recent months some of the news organizations had their work cut out for them battling against slow news days. By “slow news days” I mean those stretches where the only news was the same old sucky economy and healthcare debate. Nothing new… No dead celebs, no scandals that hadn’t already been beaten to death, no multi-tuplets, and no shocking tragedies.

They needed something to wax poetic about, as usual, and so they filled the “news holes” with feature programming. One in particular that stood out from the crowd – for me, at least – was when they dusted off a bit of psychology coupled with the Internet. I probably took notice of it because of my fascination with the human condition and how our minds work, but something tells me I’m not the only one had an interest in this subject. (Duh, Sellars! Why else would they be doing the reports you doofus? Yes, I know, sometimes I can be Captain Obvious Doofus Guy…)

What am I babbling about? Simple – the news programs ran some feature reports about the “wisdom of looking up your old flames on the Internet.”

Is it wise to do so?

Is it not so smart after all?

And, what is it you are really after?

Well, personally I found these reports to be interesting, again, because of my fascination with psychopathologies and what makes people tick. They were nothing new. There have been articles about this before, but the statistics and correlations between them and other statistics (divorce for instance) keep changing… And not necessarily for the better.

However, as usual I thought their reports were a bit stilted and incomplete. By that I mean, they skewed it to make things sound like people don’t harbor subconscious intentions, and we all know that’s not true. But, moreover, they didn’t really get into the warning signs of the whole “what are you really after” factor. They had psychologists babbling about how it really isn’t a good idea to go in search of old flames because you might get in over your head, but they were simply paying lip service to the advice. No substance. No admissions that intentions aren’t pure. And most especially, no red flags for the prey of the “old flame hunters” out there who end up sliding down that slope as well if they aren’t careful.

Well, being a somewhat public figure, as mentioned in the past I have actually had to deal with stalkers a time or two. And, while not exactly the caliber of stalkers, I have also had to deal with old flames looking me up.

Yes, I know it comes as a shock to many of you, but I actually dated before becoming an indentured servant to the Evil Redhead. And, I know it’s an even bigger shock to discover that any of them would actually want to look me up after managing to get rid of me… Well, just imagine how surprised I was as well, so there…

But, moving right along… Said flames have ranged anywhere from a “quick flick of the Bic” to “long lasting bonfires.” However, the common thread and most important point about them is that they have long been extinguished and there are no smoldering embers – at my end anyway.

Now, I should point out that there is a difference between an old friend and an old flame. If you don’t know what that is, go back to 5th grade health class and watch the birds ‘n bees filmstrip again (yeah, dating myself…) And, there is a huge difference between looking up an old flame and looking up an old flame then contacting them.

Especially if the old flame happens to be married.

These latter two points are exactly what I am talking about.

So, while I don’t even begin to consider myself an expert on the subject, I do happen to have more than just a bit of experience in this area, as well as some intense background studying irrational behavior (I write about sociopaths, remember?)

Admittedly, I hold no degrees in the subject of psychology. But, as noted, I write fiction for a living, and as any fiction author can tell you, we are lifelong students of human behavior. It’s how we make our stories real. So, while we aren’t licensed to help you cope with your clinical depression, odds are we can spot a bullshit artist quicker than your average bear. And yes, that talent also draws from the old adage, “it takes one to know one,” as fiction authors are bullshit artists by trade. What makes us different from other BS’ers is that we readily admit it.

So anyway, it recently dawned on me that perhaps I could put my powers of BS X-Ray vision to use for the good of mankind, and at least partially fill the void left by the feature news programs. Especially since it is “that time of year” – yes, the holidays – which as it turns out is when statistically there is a sharp rise in the number of “old flame contacting” occurrences. (I have a pet theory that Dan Fogelberg and his song, Same Old Lang Syne are directly responsible for this phenomenon. I call it the Fogelberg Unwanted Creepy Kook Marriage Encroacher Effect or FUCKMEE for short.)

To that end, I am offering here a “red flag dictionary” of sorts. A modest listing of phrases often used – and reused – by “old flames/flings on the prowl.” The thing is, they appear perfectly innocent at first, but when unwrapped they look absolutely nothing like the representation on the outer packaging.

And there you have it.

While the “what it really means” column was presented with a bit of over-the-top, tongue in cheek verbiage for the entertainment value, it isn’t actually far off the mark. The stark reality is that more often than not, the gist of the “hidden sentiments” are exactly the same as those listed above, even if the words themselves aren’t. Word choices have meaning, both obvious and hidden. They are hooks, they are invitations, they are designed to evoke a response. Ask any writer – it’s what we do.

Statistically, the whole old flame thing is a slippery slope. If you don’t believe me, here’s a link to an article written about it back in 2006 – Think Twice. The one thing in this particular article I take exception with is the idea that these things start innocently. This is where I step out over the abyss and state that I think perhaps writers just may know a little bit more about human nature than psychologists doing experiments with a room full of chimpanzees, a crate of bananas, and some bad porn tapes. Primarily because of the fact that a simple universal constant is always ignored, that being – nobody is completely innocent after the onset of puberty. Yes, the “father of modern psychology,” old Sigmund himself (the psychiatrist, not the sea monster) said that, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Well, that’s true. But, it’s the intent of the person holding said cigar that is at issue here.

Furthermore, I would posit that rather than being the norm for an old flame or fling to contact someone out of the blue after several years simply because they care how they are doing, it is in fact the complete opposite – extremely rare. Whether conscious or subconscious, in contacting an old flame or fling, a person is hoping to re-kindle a feeling that once existed because it is something that is currently missing from their life. And, as noted in the article, the percentage of these “old flame contacts” has grown because the internet has made it easy to chase people down.

But, you need to be aware, people don’t go looking for you unless they want something. That’s a hard, cold fact.

Take it from someone who has not only been on the receiving end of such contacts, but knows others who have as well. There’s an entire story written between the lines, and it’s not Hallmark material…

And trust me dear readers, that is non-fiction…

More to come…

Murv