“All I want to do lately is work on my book,” I explained to my friend on a recent visit. Possibly, there was a slight whine in my voice. “I sit down to write a magicmonday and what comes out are further adventures of Jorrie.” (From the Five Gates series.)
“Well, write about what it’s like, my pal suggested. “And that isn’t the ‘ending” book, is it?” She had been teasing me the other month about writing the never-ending ending.
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“No, that book’s done and dusted,” I said. “I’ve run it by my three writer friends and they’re all happy with it. What I’m working on now is Jorrie 3, about three-quarters done. It will be book 4 in the series, and wrap up this particular thread.”
So, writing about the writing. Making magic takes a routine.
Like most people, I’m at my best in the morning. So my process is to:
1) Set the alarm to get up at a decent hour and
2) Attempt to schedule as many appointments as possible in the afternoon, dentist, friends over for tea, etc. My goal is to put in two solid hours every morning, and if I happen to have a free moment, like now, while I wait for my pizza to reheat for dinner, then I jump on it. But these other times of day become a bonus. They’re like a mouthful of home-made candied pecans, not a meal.
I go to sleep thinking of my characters. What’s the Hidnessver King’s real motive? Who is the ally who’s turned against him? It’s a happy obsession: I love the world and the characters are so quirky it gives me pleasure to spend time with them.
Outside, in the at-the-moment-Pender realm, it’s high spring. In my garden, bluebells are flowering and the air is scented with powerful bursts of spicy carnation from the two viburnum ‘Burkwoodi’ bushes in full bloom. Also the ‘North Star’ dogwood has never looked so magnificent! I adore this tree; I kiss her leaves when the other trees aren’t looking and assure her she’s amazing. I fell in love with a picture in a book and had to go to a real specialty nursery for this sweetheart. It’s the only time I’ve ever done that.
Viburnum ‘Burkwoodi’
.This spring has been slow in coming, however, it’s finally warm enough for me to write out on the deck, albeit with a sweater and often a throw.
At the pharmacy earlier in the week, the young cashier greeted me cheerfully. “The forecast is sunny with a 100% chance of pollen,” he said. We both laughed because pollen from the firs, the big leaf maples and who knows what else, has been blowing in for at least three weeks, leaving cars and windshields covered in yellow grit, with actual drifts of pollen along the roads, and of course on decks.
Right now, it’s snowing in Calgary, again, where my brother lives. And my sister in Nova Scotia says it’s a cold night. On Pender Island, the wet season is rolling over into dry; I can see some plants wanting water. Someone somewhere should blow off my deck and at least remove the top layer of the sticky stuff. This same diligent soul should do something creative with the big bowl of fresh tomatoes on the windowsill before they go bad. The beef thawed in my fridge could go with that, and some celery: how did one person end up with such a giant head of celery? I could make a chili modelled on one a friend used to make with steak. What I have is organic stir fry, but I darkly suspect it’s tough as a boot, so a decent time simmering will improve it. Cooking takes me away from writing, but so be it, I’ve got my two hours in.
The New Yorker
Bloom, the rolling over of the wet season into suddenly dry, and the sheer delight of suddenly finding a troublesome character in a place I hadn’t expected, ah, the storyline is flowering and continually challenging the characters.
As I write, I feel like I watch a movie unfolding in front of me—my job is to catch the actions quickly—here are Jorrie and Wulf looking out onto an orchard. I watch the expression on their faces when they are sparking and disagreeing, one trying to come close, the other getting angry.
Oops, Jorrie just said several wrong things and someone powerful overheard. Now what happens?
***
Does the bursting out of spring and plant growth equate with the creative sap rising for writers? Certainly, the longer days are happy-making for me, that and the sun. Right now, I am gratefully accepting the flow of images and ideas coming to me, feeling appreciative without trying to analyze.
Spring blessings on you, my friends! May your days fill with creative magic of kitchens, plants, writing or whatever brings you joy.
