Exquisite Tension, Character Reverence

Yesterday was a very long day. I had a meeting first thing in the morning and at ten last night, I was still at it, without any sort of break in the middle. I love days like that, because when they’re over I have such a sense of accomplishment.

The downside is that I didn’t have any time to write. Sitting at my computer, getting ready to put it to sleep, I decided to write a couple of paragraphs. Three thousand words later, I made myself go to bed. 

The tone and pace of this book is so different from the others I’ve written. Time is moving very slowly, the detail is in the minutes rather than in the days, weeks or months. What I like about this is how deep I can go into the characters. They’re an interesting couple, one who isn’t one yet. ;-) But the tension is exquisite.

With each book I write, there is at least one character whose voice I hear distinctly. With the last book, it was the main male. This book is the main female. She is based on someone who has been a friend of mine forever, although we lost touch for thirty years. It was the one friendship of my life I mourned. I hated that lost connection and with each passing year, I missed her more. Wondered more whatever happened to her, and celebrated the memories because they were some of the best ever.

We all have that friend, the one who makes us laugh more than anyone else, the one we speak in shorthand with, because so often more than a couple of words aren’t necessary. Just uttering one or two can lead to rolling on the floor belly laughs, that you both share.

Thanks to Facebook, my friend and I have been back in touch for a couple of years. And when I was in California, we got together. If there is anything I’m thankful for this year, that is it. 

It is with great reverence I base a character on someone. It means I think the world of them. It also means I get to spend lots and lots of time with them, which is such a gift to me. 

It is a sad day in Colorado. The rains continue with no end in sight. Roads are washed away and worse, lives have been lost. 

When I was growing up, my grandparents and I spent summers at our camp on Canada Lake in the Adirondacks. Every year on our five-hour drive home, it rained. I have vivid memories of being on the New York State thruway, the rain coming down so hard we could barely see. My grandfather would pull off at the next rest stop and we'd wait it out. My grandmother would say, “Canada Lake is crying because it’s going to miss you so much.”

I wish whatever it is that is making the Colorado skies cry so many days in a row, would fine comfort.