About Writing and Talking to Daniel

I’ve decided to spend a little more of my time with fiction. Generally, in the other places I write, it’s all memoir and snarky stuff. Not that I’m into bashing anybody, but as old as I’ve gotten, I’ve discovered there is a lot about being old I didn’t know before. Also, I don’t care as much as I did when I was younger. I can be kind and snarky at the same time.

Where I write in other places, I write about being a writer. I write about productivity that can be applied to writing and just about any other thing a person is interested in. I write about memories from long ago and how they might mean something new to me now. The same memories I’ve had for 60 years. Exactly the same, and yet, they are like road signs that get twisted by little boys on a lark, and now they go somewhere else.

I write about spirituality and how you don’t have to be a sturdy church-going member to discover your own kind of spirituality.

I talk about what it’s like to be a psychic, which at the age of 35 really put a new spin on things in my world.

I’ve come to learn that the difficult things we experience in life can beat us down or lift us up. Our choice. I’ve come to understand that we alone are responsible for what we do in life, just as we are the only ones who can make ourselves happy. Nobody else can do that for you.

What I don’t know so much about is fiction. Here, at Vocal Media, there are a lot of people who write fiction. I’m just getting comfortable. It’s like being the new kid at camp. At first, you’re not sure what’s going on. Gradually, you join in with the others, and by the end of a few weeks, you’ve not only got a new best friend but you’re not afraid to join in with the others.

That’s what I want. I want to play with my people, as I call them, my characters. To me, my people are very real. They are backed up by FIS (folk in spirit), who volunteer their services to play with me.

I’ve got this pioneer from South Dakota named Daniel. His story hasn’t gone anywhere, but I was with him for a time. It was awkward. I wanted to take it point by point, from beginning to end, thinking that was what I had to do. Turns out, as a writer, anyone’s story doesn’t last from cradle to grave. A story can go from the age of 23 to the age of 43. Just two decades in the life of….

Daniel?

Yes?

Am I right about that?

Yes.

Don’t you want to say something else?

Why? What would you have me say?

Well, I’m a little awkward here. It’s not exactly fiction, but it’s talking to one of my people.

I will always be your people. We’ll meet up again when you’re done here. I’ve been more worried than not recently.

About what?

The weather. Damn grasshoppers. We heard tell they swarmed over a town twenty miles from here. Damn near wiped out crop after crop. The families are starting to leave, too. Not much else to do. Might as well have set a match to their places.

I’m sorry.

About what? That I’m worried or people’s lives have been ruined?

You are a blunt man.

Well, there’s not much else to do. Pussyfooting around never got anybody a new harness or a sturdy mule.

You’ve changed.

You noticed? You were so busy before directing the show I hardly got a sensible word in edgewise.

How can I do this?

Just play with it. It will come. In time. For now, I’d say we had a nice chat.

What if I want you to meet a woman?

Excuse me?

Would you?

I wouldn’t go out of my way. No. I’m too busy here.

Oh.

For somebody who talks a lot, you don’t have much to say.

Right.

You’re also frowning.

I don’t know you anymore.

That’s okay. A character is only as filled out as the author allows them to be. I’d suggest something, but I’m not sure you’d be too amenable.

What?

That you do some trial runs. Going to meeting where I am with a group of townspeople in church. Or, another one where I need to make arrangements with the blacksmith. Or, where I buy seed corn. Or, God forbid, some woman gets interested in me or, better yet, a matchmaker gets interested. They used to do that. Men and women sometimes had their lives together arranged by other people. And sometimes they never even saw it coming until it was too late.

Can I ask you something?

Certainly.

What are you happiest doing?

I’m happiest when we get enough rain for the crops. I’m happiest when it stops raining, and the sun shines. I’m happiest when I don’t have to worry about a hailstorm. I don’t need things to happen to keep me interested. I whittle for that.

Hey, I’m back. I didn’t think that was going to happen, but it pleased me. Do you do that with your own characters when you write?

Love,

Pauline