Evenings at the Imagination College

Another chapter started, and another thousand words burned through pretty well.  I won’t say quickly, because it still took about ninety minutes to get to my nightly quota.  Part of that was from being tired as hell, and part of it came from . . .

Well, looking things up.

After my post about The Story of Albert and his love for The Duchess, I started thinking about that as part of a story I’d actually started putting notes to maybe a week before.  That story arose out of another idea, but it dealt with two of my characters going out to enjoy their birthday.  Yes, in my worlds, even if you are born twelve hundred years apart, you’ll share a birthday if you’re special—and if the author thinks there’s a good reason for it to happen.

As it is, given the date upon which their birthdays fall, getting them back in time to see one of the Genesis concerts held at the Lyceum in May, 1980, is something that can actually happen—and would put them in the ballroom for their birthdays.  Yeah, it’s a strange thing, because I never realized any of this when I was putting the character together twenty year ago—nor did I realize the significance of the dates, because, when I was finishing Transporting, I actually change the date of birth.

Strange, I know.

So, for the hell of it I started looking up things around that location—the theater is still there, running The Lion King pretty much non-stop—and began imagining the location in the 1980’s, with my character there wandering the streets of Westminster after the show was over.  It was a nice picture, and one that I can imagine even better once I know what the weather was like that night.  (Note:  it was cool, about 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and dry.  And Sky View Café tells me the moon didn’t rise until a little after midnight, and it was just past full.)

But I had other things bothering me as well, this time for another story for the same characters.  One of them buys some land—and by “land”, I mean they end up with enough property to start their own state.  It’s stated that they land will be managed as a natural preserve, and that most of it will be open to the public, with a “small” portion that will be kept completely private as their estate.

And how “small” a portion are we talking?  A parcel eighty by one hundred kilometers—or for those not completely into the metric thing, fifty by sixty-two miles.

That’s big; it’s pretty huge, actually.  The public land is even bigger, if you can believe that.  So I started wondering:  what does that look like in today’s terms?  If I overlay those dimensions over a map, how much of, say, where I live, will this estate take up.

Answer:  a lot.

The private land would cover something like five or six counties in Northwest Indiana; we’re talking the sort of estate that only third-world dictators get to enjoy.  As for the whole estate, the natural preserve that can be visited by people if they like themselves some wilderness?  Pretty much an area the size of the state of Indiana.

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to move all the people out of my home state and turn it into a park for all to enjoy.

Now I don’t have to wonder any more.

 

Museday

This is a strange thing to say, but I once had an idea for a story . . .

It was a very simple story, about a writer and his muse, which is nothing like that movie, The Muse, which was something of a Hollywood insider movie, and the muse in question may or may not have been a crazy person.  Mine is different, naturally.  And it’s not about a guy who was successful–it’s about a guy trying to find that success.

The gist of it is this:  the guy goes to bed one night, and he’s shaken awake by someone, a very pretty girl–think Manic Pixie Dream Girl type–who’s telling him that he’s got a great idea, and he needs to write it down now.  Of course, he does have one, and he writes it down, and when he goes back to bed, the girl is gone, vanished, totally ghosted.

But not for long.

She starts coming into his life when he least expects it.  She just shows up:  at home, at work, while he’s shopping.  She brings him ideas, and she won’t leave him alone until he starts writing.  The more he writes, the more she’s around, and eventually, as he works upon this epic novel, she’s living with him pretty much all the time.  He and she both know what she is, and they’re happy with that–

Or are they?

That was really as far as I ever got with the idea.  There was so much going on in my life at the time that I was lucky to find the time to even consider the idea, much less flesh it out.  But I’ve just added it to my idea file, so there!

I talk about my Muse a lot.  To me, she is a real person, with real feelings, real needs, real ambitions.  She doesn’t exist merely to get me off my ass and into writing–though, in order to write, I have to be on my ass, if you know what I mean.  She’s there to do her own thing as well.  It’s just that one of the things she does is inspire me to do great things.

I haven’t done those things yet, but I keep working at them.

There was a time when my Muse was the only thing that kept me writing.  She was the only one who believed in me, who encouraged me to push myself, who said, “Keep going.”  I listened to them, and even when things were so very dark for me that I didn’t know if I could continue, I kept going.  Because my Muse would be unhappy if I ever quit.

In my unpublished story Echoes, Albert recollects a dream he had about someone he once knew, a woman named Marissa.  There is a line in the story:

But Albert was in the mood to talk—or, if nothing else, to finish describing his dream. “She said, ‘I hope you are touching others as you touched me’.”

“You touched me.”  I have heard my Muse say that to me from time to time.  At least, I think that’s what she’s said.  You know how it is with Muses; one moment they’re very happy, and the next they’re pulling a knife on you.

Like the character in my idea, I would love to be able to sit and talk to my Muse.  To enjoy lunch with her.  Or dinner.  Or to wander a book store.  Connect with her in a way beyond the, “Me Muse, You Writer!” relationship.

It’s not possible, though, because my Muse is real only in my mind.  But . . .  She’s there every day.

Today is Museday, her special day.  How will I please her?

I’ll keep writing.

The Dreamland Bypass

Busy is my name today.  There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.

Time change is starting to get to me.  I was up about 5 AM local, which is 6 AM down where I work, and the chances of me getting a good night’s sleep are diminishing by the day.  I’ve sort of given up on the possibility of ever getting a full night’s sleep anymore, and as I get older, that’s going to become less and less an occurring.  Yes, there are things I can take to help me sleep, but the following morning I feel groggy as hell for most of the morning.

Though I feel groggy as hell right now.  Have you ever had to write when you’re mind is floating around, wrapped up in a nice, little cocoon of fuzz?  It’s totally charming; you should all try it sometime.  It’s wonderful!  Although I will say, if nothing else, it does make you focus like hell on what you’re doing.  You can’t let your mind wander when you’re cranking out a post (like here), or writing a story (like I’m going to do later), or creating a query letter (like I’m going to do much, much later).  When you’re full of energy, and your mind is clear, you’re usually mind jumping from one thing to another.  When you’re on the verge of loosing your shit, and you feel like, at any moment, your eyelids are going on strike because you’re keeping them up beyond their bedtime, you get your mind locked in on what you’re trying to accomplish.

Like, you know, trying to hit your thousand word limit on your story for the night.

Diners at the Memory’s End is getting big.  It’s also getting to be another story I’m enjoying a lot.  I think it’s because of the character dynamic I’ve created between two of my main characters, Albert and Meredith.  As I’ve said elsewhere, when I wrote this story the first time around, Meredith was something of a conniving little bitch, and she came off as being very unsympathetic, at least when I look at the story in retrospect.  Meredith is a person who’s in a very difficult position, and when her moment to be a little–well, maybe “bad” is the right word . . . when it comes, it’s going to happen for reasons other than, “I’m a nasty quim!”

Though I’ve always said my character are not in charge of me, I think they need to be seen in a very real light, and Meredith needs to be viewed with something akin to reality.  And the reality is, sometimes people do thing because it’s there, and they want it.

It doesn’t make them bad.

I also have a blog post to write later, and another one to format for publication on Monday, and this query letter–damn, man.  I need some rest!  Though I might just hold off on the blogging until tomorrow, that query could be money in the bank, and money is good.  Which reminds me:  someone I used to work with IMed me on Facebook yesterday, and the first thing they said was, “You making any money doing this writing thing?”  It’s not always about the money, folks.  If we didn’t like writing, we wouldn’t do it.  If we wrote only for the paycheck, we’d be monkeys.  Or, as Chuck might say, “Penmonkeys”.

But the biggest reason I’ll be busy today:  I have a teenager in the house.  My daughter turns 13 today, and there will be much merriment.  Shopping and lunch at a Japanese restaurant, then back with a couple of her friends to enjoy a Portal Cake (which is not a lie), and then having fun playing games.  Ah, to be that age again.

It’s a great time to be alive, is it not?

Midnight City

Here I am, early morning once again.  I was fighting off a cold last night; had a great deal of congestion start hitting me about noon yesterday, and kept right on through the evening.  Theraflu, tea and honey . . . I hit back, hard.  This morning–at 4:32 as I look at the computer clock–there is something lingering, a bit of a tickle in the upper chest, but I seem to have given it a beating.

We’ll see.

Of late, I’ve been on another of my song kicks.  I’ll get a tune in my head and I just don’t want to let it go.  This time the song is Midnight City, by M83.  There’s no deep lyrics or stylized meaning in this song–it’s simply straight-up tecno-synth rhythms with a great sax hook at the end.  The official video has a true Children of the Damned vibe to it, but the version I, at the moment, like the best, is one performed on The Carson Daly Show, mostly because the uber-chill sax player comes out and kicks all kinds of musical ass.

When I was doing a little research on M83 a couple of days ago–hey, I’m a writer, it’s what I do–I discovered that one of the co-writers of the piece, Morgan Kibby–a woman out of Los Angeles and an incredible performer in her own rights–was born on 3 May, 1983.   So she’s turning 29 today.  Happy Birthday, Morgan.

Which, of course, gets me thinking about anyone else I know born today.  Of course there is Christina Hendricks, born in 1975, just as I was getting ready to waltz out of high school with no plans whatsoever.  Most people know her as Joan Holloway from Mad Men, but, to me, she’ll always be YoSaffBridge from Firefly–she who will wash your feet while sending you to that special hell reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.

I also used Miss Hendricks as the template for our school nurse at the school my character Kerry goes to.  Nurse Coraline Gallagher, she of the very professional demeanor and alluring figure, and the one who first clued Kerry in on the ways of the willy Annie, is having her fictional birthday as well, since why not let her share the same day with her real counterpart?

But of all the 3 May people I know about, I have to save my last spot for James Brown–only because I met him while clearing customs on the way back from Tokyo once.  I’ve had a couple of celebrity encounters–the closest one almost being the time Mr. T just about hit me as I was crossing LaSalle Street on may way back to work–but I actually got to walk up to James, shake his hand, and share a few words.  Hey, we were waiting for our luggage; what else were we going to do?  But he was a very cool dude, though you did need an interpreter to understand what he was saying.

I know there’s lots others born today, and a few who checked out–William Shakespear (what did he ever do?), Christine Jorgenson (a girl close to my own heart), Anthony Ainley (the forth person to play The Master, if you know your actors) . . . plenty of people who have come and gone.

Why go on about this?

Because it’s my day, too.

Today is the day I turn 55, and for some reason that means something to me.  Don’t know why, because it’s just another year in a number of very long years.  Maybe because it feels as if I’ve left a lot of time behind me.  Maybe because I’m wondering how much more time I have ahead of me.

Maybe because I wonder what’s going to happen throughout the rest of this year.

I discovered yesterday that my story, Captivate and Control, will see the light of day next Monday, 7 May, 2012.  Today I’m supposed to receive the final version, cover and all, that will be sold, so I can promo the hell out of it, give it away, download it into an ebook and rub it all over me–whatever I feel like doing with it.  New territory here, because this is where I have to tell people, “Hey, you’ll love reading this!  Give me money!” and hope like hell they do.  The next few weeks are going to be interesting.

Oh, and finally!  I received my first review of my story Kuntilanak, which was self-published at the end of September, 2011.  Allow me to share it with you:

 

Kim Mutch Emerson Review for Kuntilanak – author Raymond Frazee, review by MasterKoda Reviews (Wendy Siefken reporting)

Raymond Frazee is a powerful story teller and Kuntilanak is a mystery and a thriller that will keep you guessing with each turn of the page. Frazee blends cultural folklore with new technology brilliantly as you step into another world. This reader was drawn into the story with each exciting twist and could the smell the ocean breeze as it swept through the Bamboo with this author’s excellent prose.

Without giving any spoilers away, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to Indonesia by reading this book of mystery and intrigue, set within a rich culture and surroundings. For anyone looking for a good mystery that will have you hanging on to the edge of your seat, read this book. Read Kuntilanak!

 

And there you go.

So I did my birthday ritual yesterday, which is going to a steakhouse for dinner.  There is a very good one just down the street from where I work, and I dined alone–though, I wasn’t really.  Then back home, fighting a cold, where I chatted a little and started editing Part 6 of Echoes . . . got maybe 800, 900 words into it, and my brain was turning to mush.  I wanted to stay up until midnight and see in the front end of my birthday, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Naturally, I crashed hard, only to wake up at 12:13 AM, so in a way I did see it in.  And I tossed and turned all morning, until the point where I decided to get up, flip on the computer, and create this post.

And read the well wishes left for me this morning.

I know I’ll get them on and off throughout the day.  I’ve already received one that–well, it touched me greatly, you can’t know how much.  I’m thinking there might be more, but this one has set my mood.  That one will help me get through the day–and, feeling as I do now, with this cold trying to fight back, and the lack of sleep really becoming an issue, I’m going to need help.

Maybe I can reflect upon the fact that my character Kerry shares the same birthday as me, and that means Nurse Coraline and he are probably going to share a little cake in the hospital–a place he’ll get to know very well during his first year at school–and maybe Nurse Coraline will lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek and wish him many birthdays to come, leaving Kerry very embarrassed, and giving Annie good reason to affix Nurse Coraline with a, “You’re kissing my boyfriend!” death stare.

And wouldn’t you know it:  just as I’m finishing this point, Midnight City by M83 comes on the streaming radio out of Chicago . . .

Talk about your synchronicity.