It has been quite a while since I blogged. Even longer since I have written anything substantial. Life changes have silenced my written word flow. I seem quite capable of speech, though. That never goes away, apparently.
Thank you to Kevin Hale for hosting me on his fabulous SoundCloud show called, Round of Shots. Get the good, the bad, and the very ugly of Paige Randall. Take a listen. We talk about writing Circling The Shadows, music, reflux and many other fun, ridiculous and random topics.
Let me know what you think.
Yesterday was a bizarre and amazing the day, probably worthy of a #Mondayblog share. Please forgive typos and ramblings. I’m on my phone, here…
That’s my interpretation of the seemingly requisite legs and toes facing the surf pic. You’ll have to settle for a knee sliver.
Anyway so I arrived at the eastern shore of Md yesterday and noticed immediately the town was insane. It was like the day before Christmas at Tysons, combined with the night before Thanksgiving at Wegmans and the Mall on the 4th of July. (Too much local color?) Pulling up to my hotel I nearly ran off the road as a bright red bi-plane (Is that a thing?) flew about 6 inches over my SUV (I’m serious) before nearly taking off the roof of my hotel and climbing vertically, then spiral diving the beach leaving an enormous contrail. Clearly a terrorist attack.
After I pulled myself off the floor of my car I started to notice signs and banners and a celebration under way. Oh… an air show. Huh.
An hour later I was sitting on the beach with a good friend and 4.2 billion other people. It was interesting, but a Xanax or 12 bourbons might have helped. I think I saw some very interesting planes that other people would have known. I did not, but this one was very interesting and terrifyingly fast and loud.
And this helicopter rescue stuff was very cool…
And then it happened. Unbeknownst to my dumb ass, I was front row center at the Beatles Show of aviation. “Next up, THE BLUE ANGELS.” Ummm what?
My Dad was a Blue Angels fanatic! I can’t remember how many times, or where I was, but all I know is that I was on my Dad’s shoulders watching. Watching The Blue Angels. These are some of my earliest childhood memories. My Dad would have LOVED sitting on this damn beach smelling the smoke.
What a gift! It is impossible to watch the Blue Angels and feel anything but grateful. Here’s to unexpected surprises.
Inspiration is a funny thing. It is everywhere or no where at all. Angel Oak, the tree above (behind my name) is outside of Charleston, SC. It is awe inspiring. The tiny snail over this post crawled his way onto my pages, inspiring as well. Music, for me, is the surest form of inspiration. In the early drafts of Circling, before giving a crap about precision or technique, just trying to “see it,” I listened to music a lot while I wrote. On headphones and LOUD (my audiologist friend is going to make a killing off me in a few years). A guitar riff can shift the action of a whole scene. One line of a song can alter a character’s entire motivation. Music is easy.
But inspiration comes from other, less expected, places. Driving down a city street, I saw a cable repair man standing in a hole gesturing with both hands facing down, pressing repeatedly, up and down, up and down, with fingers spread wide. I have no idea what he was doing, but it was a beautiful movement. It was ballet. It stuck with me and made me think about the challenge of transferring gestures and expressions to the page. That repair man gave my characters more movement. They tend to get a little static since they are busy having deep thoughts and making snappy retorts.
I tried to give that movement words all day. I still don’t have it, but trying is a good exercise.