WHERE DID THE WEEK GO?

My goodness. In only twenty minutes it will be Saturday. Where did the time go? It seems like it was Monday a day or so ago. It's been one of those weeks when a lot was accomplished, and nothing was accomplished. One day fully wasted, trying to figure out what was going on with AOL, only to discover that once again they made a change without really letting subscribers know. Oh well, all's well that ends well, but they stole one of my days.

When I was writing the first draft of what was then "Dance Ballerina Dance," (now A DREAM LOST and THE DEVIL'S DUE) I didn't worry about the internet. It was around 1995, and e-mail was still something most people didn't have. The fax was the big thing. Right about that time, I was pulling together the pieces of a puzzle that would eventually become my first attempt at fiction.

I had the story of the kidnapped ballerina, I had some of what happened to her afterwards, but there were so many directions it could go. I just didn't know which fork in the road to follow. Finally I decided that I would use those first bits as the nucleus of the story. From there it could go anywhere my mind wanted it to, unlike writing magazine articles about specific things. I wouldn't have to adhere to the truth. I could create places, people, scenes, obstacles, triumphs and all of the other elements that make up a good fiction novel.

The problem was I'd never written fiction. I was an avid reader, but all of the nuances that I should have picked up from wonderful writers, skipped right past me. Oh, was I ever off base. First of all I thought it had to be big in order to sell it to an agent or publisher. How does 600 pages sound? Ridiculous for a first time fiction author--that's how it sounds to me now. But that was then. Use an outline, a time line, plotting sheets? Why? Just start to write. Let those creative juices flow.

Anyone reading this who is a seasoned writer, probably senses big problems on the horizon right about now. But did I know I was starting down a fourteen year road? You bet I didn't. "Probably knock it out in six months or so."--that's what I told myself, and told myself and told myself as months turned into years.

Over the next several posts, I'll talk about how Shawn (can't even remember the last name I gave her) became Jen Connor. And, how very much I learned from Jen.

That's it for tonight.

--Arliss Adams