Living with My Characters

 

My Annie Clock. A friend painted her for me, bringing my mystery heroine to life.

I am currently writing a non-fiction book, 300 Unsung Women. The women did exceptional things but were not properly recognized. In some cases, their work was stolen by men. They are from multiple places and times.

I'm also trying to finish an anthology of my short stories and poems, many of which were published. Title: The Corporate Virgin.

Going over the stories written over the last couple of decades was like having tea with old friends.

When I write fiction, the people I'm writing about move in with me.

Thus, Diane is a still a pain-in-the-ass sister, Liz worries about sexual discrimination at her college, Anne-Marie can't decide to return to her controlling husband, Daphne continues her friendship with Florence as they struggle to get their historical cartoon book published.

And there's Annie a part of my Third Culture Kid mystery series. She was with me for years. I still miss her. I watched her solve murders, live in places like Edinburgh, Paris, Geneva, etc. She married and had her daughter.

When I'm writing, it is almost as these characters sit on my couch and discuss what they want to do next. They wake me in the middle of the night sometimes suggesting complete paragraphs, which I usually remember in the morning.

The research for 300 Unsung Women and the writing has taken more than a year, and now as I start the final rewriting/editing process, I want it done. 

I miss fiction.

I've two novels I want to write. One is called Twins with two sets of twins who've taken very different paths and the other is Bean Pot. I didn't mean to write that but when I told a friend about my bean pot used by my great grandmother, grandmother, mother and now me, they said it would make a great saga. Since all the people are dead, I realize I can do that intermingle family history and fictionalize where necessary.

I've 3/4s of Twins written and put it aside to do 300 Unsung Women. As for Bean Pot -- as scenes pop into my head, I write them.

I cannot not write be it a novel, short story, blog. I try and leave time each day for living, enjoying my dog, my husband, my lives in France and Switzerland. 

I read that Rilke was too busy writing to attend his daughter's wedding. That's not me.

I never want to be too busy writing to miss checking on the donkeys or doing a café sit while sipping mint tea and people watching or staring at the many moods of the lake or Mediterranean depending on where I am.

I want the joy of the first fallen leaf in autumn, feel snow flakes kiss my cheeks in December, or discover flowers peeking from the ground in spring. I love watching a little girl chatter to her father as he carries the baguette, still warm from the boulangerie. Some sights, sounds, smells, tastes will work their way into my writing.

Others?

It all is part of what I call my life as writer as a woman.

Note: check D-L's website: https://dlnelsonwriter.com