My Adventure Begins

**REPOSTING THIS HERE. I HAD ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS ON FICTION FIRST ORIGINALLY.**

A passport and a journal--necessities on any adventure

I'm at the airport, typing this on my phone, waiting to board the plane for the biggest adventure I've had in years. For the next 10 days, I'll be backpacking through northern Wales.  

Believe it or not, I have everything I need in my backpack. (It only took 5 tries!) I've got the usual--clothes, toiletries, shoes--plus a journal and paperbacks of one of my favorite fantasy series: The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander. The Chronicles were inspired by medieval Welsh legends, so what better companions to take with me?

My trusty backpack. Thank you, LL Bean! 

If wifi allows, I'll post here periodically during my trip. I already have few friends traveling with me in spirit. What's a few more?

The Story Behind the Story: Clara and the Kid

It's been months since I put pen to paper to work on anything short. It took, of course, another NYC Midnight Challenge to get me to do so. July 22-24 marked the first round of the 2016 Flash Fiction Challenge.

Last year, I was knocked out of the challenge in December, after writing a not-very-comedic comedy. So what did the NYC Midnight gods assign me for Round 1 of this year's challenge? You got it: comedy.

This time I had to write a comedy that made use of a podium and was set on an airplane. Curses! (Yes, I did utter a few.)

I slept on the prompt and woke up in the morning with a premise. It came from a Letter to the Editor I read when a local shopping center announced they were going "dog-friendly": dogs would now be allowed in some of their shops. A very disgruntled man complained about the policy, citing--among other things--the idea that some people were allergic to dogs. I remembered my own work with a local shelter, helping with cat adoptions even though I'm allergic. Allergies + animal + airplane = story!

I ran the premise by my writer's group, who helped me brainstorm around a couple of obstacles. I spent the rest of Saturday drafting.

I knew, by the end of Draft 1, that my story was cute but it wasn't yet a comedy. I posted an SOS on Twitter. Two writer friends read my story and gave me suggestions for upping the funny. (Thank you, Nancy and Callie!)

I spent Sunday revising. By Draft 4, I'd written a story I could live with. To be honest, I still don't think it's a comedy. But it is cute and it has a few funny moments. I'm happy with that.

And I'm prepared to make sacrifices to ensure I don't ever get assigned comedy again.

Click here to read "Clara and the Kid."

The Same Thing Happens Every Night

Duncan, dreaming

I've had Duncan a total of four months, as of this week. We're still bonding, still getting to know each other, but after four months, I've noticed a pattern: he has the same dream almost every night. Of course, I have no way of knowing exactly what's going on in his doggie brain, but it sure seems like the same dream on repeat. I almost think it's a memory he's reliving, rather than a dream.

The dream usually happens when Duncan sleeps spread out, rather than curled up. It begins with his paws twitching, as if he were running. Next his ear--the one that sticks up when he lies down--flaps. Then his mouth moves, as if he were grumbling--except he doesn't make a sound. Finally, he barks. One single, high-pitched bark. Dream over. Duncan wakes.

The only time I ever hear Duncan bark is when he dreams. I'd give anything to know what's in the dream that makes him do so--because in his wakeful life, none of the usual stuff does. He doesn't bark when my neighbors slam their doors. He doesn't bark when my neighbors stand in front of my house and talk. He doesn't bark when the plumber or the HVAC technician come into the house to work. He watches it all very intently, but makes nary a peep. What kind of dog does that?

Diving Back In

Almost one month ago to the day, I finished the first draft of my WIP. (That's work-in-progress, for those unfamiliar with the acronym.) That first draft took me 16 months to write. There were times I felt completely overwhelmed by the story, like maybe this particular story was beyond my ability to tell.

Now, after letting the manuscript sit for a month, I've spent this weekend re-reading it, reviewing my notes, and making a plan for Draft 2. The novel wasn't nearly as bad as I remember it being. It's still flawed (there's a reason schools call first drafts "sloppy copies"), but it has better bones than I thought it did.

A work-in-progress: my first draft manuscript, my list of revision notes, and pens and Post-Its to put it all in order.

I'm excited to dive back in. I've missed these characters. I've missed this story. And I've missed revising. Revising, I think, is my favorite part of the writing process. I revise much faster than I draft. It's far easier for me to re-shape or replace something that already exists than it is to come up with something new out of whole cloth. This is the part of the process where I shine, I think. And I'm eager to get going again.

I told myself that I'd finish my Draft 2 plan this weekend and dive into the actual revising on Monday. But my typing fingers are itchy, so I'll probably get started tonight. Tally ho!