Author Archives: Cathy

After a couple of weeks of walking our two dogs I’ve come to see them as two personalities that can be related to writing techniques.

When I walk the dogs, I keep them both leashed because one would hare off into the woods or lallygag behind while the other kept going in whatever direction we were headed, regardless if I were to twist an ankle or get mauled by a bear.

Holly, the Rottweiler/Golden Lab, is excited and anxious when we start on our walk. Her pace is brisk and she knows exactly where we’re going. Along the way, however, she starts looking all over the place and sniffing everything. Every sound, every bit of detritus requires investigation . Her pace begins to waver and I periodically have to tug her leash to keep her moving in the right direction.

She’s like me when, sometimes, as I’m writing a scene or chapter I’m distracted by ANYthing in my vicinity. (Oooh, something shiny!) It’s not that I’ve become disinterested in the story. Usually my most distraction-prone periods are when I’m stuck on what to do next, on how to get to the next plot point. Some would say I should just write whatever I can to get words on the paper then fix it later. Others would tell me to skip that part, write the next bit I DO know, and go back later. But like Holly, I diddle along, making a little progress but not really keeping on pace. I need someone to tug on my leash. OK, get the bondage images out of your heads, people. Or was that just in my head…?

On the other hand, Bailey, the Border collie/Lab cross, is a steady as she goes pacer. We start off at a nice clip and she rarely deviates from her path. She’ll look up when she hears something odd, but it doesn’t throw her off. She is willing, if not happy, to do our 15 minutes out then turn around and head back. No questions asked. I could let her off her leash and she’d stay relatively close, but she wouldn’t slow down.

I’m most like Bailey when I’m in that writing zone where I can crank out 14 or 16 pages in a day. Nothing except refilling my coffee or tea cup (and the resulting trips to the bathroom) distracts me. I’m in the groove, man, and nothing feels better. It’s like a runner’s high. OK, it’d be like a runner’s high if I were a runner, but you get the idea.

When called for, I can be as focused as Bailey on my objective. Here’s where we are, here’s where we want to go. OK, let’s move! But there’s something to be said for Holly’s technique. She’s very aware of her surroundings and often picks up on things Bailey misses (or perhaps ignores because it’s not in the Plan). I think she’s more of a creative dog, our Holly, possibly imagining things in the woods are there so she can have an excuse to run and explore. Not a bad trait, just not always conducive to getting the job done.

I can’t always channel Holly, or I’d never finish a book. But I don’t channel Bailey near enough either. I mostly find myself in the middle ground between the two, giving over to my more creative side now and again as I bound into the woods, but then getting down to business and parking my butt in the chair to write when I have to. In the end, I get the job done, but who says I can’t chase a squirrel now and again along the way?

Some how, some way, I’ve managed to lose my favorite compact dictionary. I know it’s in the house. I didn’t leave it behind during the move, that’s for sure, but where oh where are you little blue Webster’s????

Yes, I have other dictionaries. Mostly of the big, hardcover, smash-your-toe-if-you-drop-it variety, but my battered Webster’s has been with me for over 20 years. I got it before I started college, and it shows. The front cover is torn and scarred. The back cover and last few pages are loose. I keep it held together with a rubber band lest I lose the Z’s.

My love for words has been with me for as long as I can remember. I’d flip through dictionaries, picking random words, and learn their meanings, their origins. I was distraught to find no classes offered in Latin, Greek, or Old English at my high school. French helped, but not enough.

In college, I had to put aside my word-lust and focus on my major. Granted, I got a little more instruction in Latin and Greek as I memorized scientific names for every freakin’ duck that flew near North Dakota (and that’s a lot of ducks, let me tell you), but my leisure time for delving into dictionaries was limited.

After graduating and moving into the work force then into parenthood, I still loved to read, but never got back into looking up words for their own sake. Until I started to write. I rediscovered the joys of learning a new word, even if it didn’t make it into the manuscript. The thrill of clicking on my thesaurus tool or rifling through Roget’s and finding a different word than the one that initially came to mind and expressed the nuances of what I meant to say.

And my little blue Webster’s dictionary was always close at hand, an old friend I could rely on to show me the proper spelling of just about any word I could come up with. Oh, sure, I have spellcheck on my PC, but nothing beats the whisper of pages as I search the columns for that special word. Or the delight as my eye falls upon a new word that MUST be read before continuing. The rapid response of a click of the mouse is too fast to allow my brain to simultaneously search for words while mulling over the passages I just wrote.

I have my thesaurus here with me now, but it’s not the same. Oh, I know some will say a thesaurus is more important than a dictionary to a writer. But I say that’s just not so. My thesaurus is helpful, but it doesn’t tell me everything I want to know about words. If we could live with one or the other, why would they bother printing both? I want–need!–my dictionary.

I’ll find you, little blue Webster’s! I swear I will!

8/15 UPDATE: Little blue Webster’s has been found! Sadly, the Z’s managed to slip the rubber band and are torn beyond use. But despite that unfortunate loss, I will now be able to concentrate on my writing, knowing my faithful Webster’s is there to guide me!

My friend Jody and I were discussing blog topics. She had to come up with two and I suggested this one, but she told me I should do it. I’m not sure if that was a good thing or not. But being the gullible person I am, I said, “OK!”

So, here is an idea of what I’d do if I ever made the New York Times Best Sellers List:

1. Build a soundproof office with video monitoring of the rest of the house to see if the kids really were bleeding or on fire when they interrupted me.

2. Buy two copies of all my favorite books (new, not used!), donating one copy to my local library and keeping my own copy in my new, splendidly constructed home library.

3. Tell my spouse, “See? It was worth not having a ‘real’ job all those years.”

4. Actually pay my web goddess (though she’ll hit the list well before I do and no longer have to be my web goddess).

5. Recommend my fabulous unpubbed pals to my fabulous editor.

6. Travel extensively for research, even if my stories are set in other worlds. Hey, you need to get ideas from somewhere.

7. Use both sides of the paper when I’m making hard copy drafts not to save money but because it’s a good environmental practice to follow. (I do it now for both reasons.)

8. Burn the copies of those first manuscripts we all keep hidden under the bed or in the bottom drawer so I can’t be blackmailed or think about reworking them if I get writer’s block.

9. Convince my writer friends we need to collaborate on a series or anthology so we can all be wildly popular together.

10. Hire someone to come up with blog topics and perhaps even write them for me.