Sometimes it can be quite difficult to explain how a writer gets from point A to point B by drifting off to points Unknown and Well Maybe. It just happens!
Take for example, The Survivalist series. Jerry and I had begun seriously considering the basic story while we still lived in Chicago. We knew John Rourke had a survival plan and a retreat all set up for the bad days that would eventually come, but we hadn’t really fleshed out the details. We knew it would have to be structurally sound, lasting for hundreds of years, while keeping everyone safe. Fast forward and we are now living in Northeast Georgia. Out on a joyride, exploring a highway we had never been on before, we reached a highpoint and before us, off in the distance, loomed Mt. Yonah. I pulled out my camera and took a few shots and copied down the location as best as we could tell. When we got the photos back from the lab –yes, this was the early 80s and cameras used film -- locals recognized the mountain and gave us information on some of its history. We ran with it and gave the Rourke clan bedrooms, a full kitchen, plenty of bathrooms, a greenhouse and a greatroom complete with a waterfall.
Driving home from a business trip in Tennessee, we pulled over to watch a large group of kayakers and tubers waiting for a dam to open, causing a rush of water to flow down the river. The water indeed rushed down, and everyone headed in for a wild ride as they twisted and turned to prevent crashing into craggy obstacles, and each other. The shore on both sides was mostly rocky and the entire area looked like a canyon scene in a movie western. We both immediately agreed that it would be a great place to have a fight scene. Again, out came the camera. A few books later in the Survivalist, we fashioned a huge fight scene with characters climbing up the rocky slopes and some falling to their death. Guns blazoning, hand to hand combat and bodies floating down the rapids came out pretty well, if I do say so myself.
Sometimes, an article of clothing can help a story or become part of a character. When we traveled, I would switch from my regular purse to one quite a bit larger so that we could keep some things closer at hand. Jerry was one of those men who, rather than carry a lot of stuff in his pockets, would assume I would have plenty of room in my purse. That would mean that beyond my items, my purse was the repository for extra knives, guns, handkerchiefs, and notepads. Also business cards and extra cigarettes would be dumped in and any other items picked up along the way. I’m sure there are plenty of women who can understand.
Mary Francis Mulrooney carried my purse every day. She and Culhane traveled the world with her always finding the right thing needed to save the day, somewhere, hidden in that purse. The hardest thing for her to find was her lipstick. The Takers were able to defeat aliens, warrior Amazon women, zombies and Blackbeard the pirate, as well as other bad dudes, so I guess I can’t begrudge them the use of my purse.
Most times you have a pretty good idea of what your main characters look like, and are able to layer in their particular personalities and peculiarities, but secondary characters might come to you differently. Imagine stopping off for a quick burger at your local fast food joint and as you casually glance around the room, you spy a middle-age man, sitting alone, with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in front of him. At first glance he seems normal, but then you notice he’s wearing a rather heavy, bulky-looking coat on a hot and humid afternoon. Is he concealing something? Could he be armed? But maybe he’s an undercover cop! Could he be wearing a bomb, ready to blow up the place and scatter the greasy fries and onion rings to the four winds? There’s always the possibility that he has nothing on underneath the coat and this is all part of a dare. But why does he keep looking out the window as if he’s waiting for someone or something?
While you are still trying to decipher the overdressed man, you home in on a screeching bird sound emanating from a tall, skinny woman, up at the counter. She’s complaining about her order and the young girl behind the counter is trying to be understanding and polite. The woman is tall and thin, wearing large framed glasses resting precariously on the tip of her rather pointed nose. She would be hilarious in a comic short story about an unpleasant, stupid, ostrich, flapping her beak and wings and getting nowhere.
The next time you’re out in public and you see some stranger staring at you, it may be because of your fantastic good looks, or, it might be something entirely beyond your comprehension. Remember not to pick your nose! You may become part of someone’s newest adventure.
Sharon