The Staring Time

Good morning, my flowers:



This is what I call my "staring time." Usually only to myself, of course.



I've been staring at shiny palm crowns against a pale blue sky and listening to birds squabbling. They squabble because they're supposed to; there's no shortage of bird food in Kauai. Have you noticed how palm fronds click together, the sound they make?



All of this is background to the serious stuff of "staring time." My mind is open and racing along, picking up this piece of a story, taking a look and setting it aside--hopping into a character's head to see how it feels and how drawn I am to telling his or her story.



Between books doesn't last long for most of us, just long enough for the fire to start sparking and the excitement at the prospect of a new adventure to become too unsettling to ignore.



There is definitely a big place for guided invention. I do sometimes think, "What shall I write about and who will I write about?" And I scribble and mull and throw away lots of crumpled paper. But all of the filling in and fleshing out happens in a place I will never actually see or touch.



Magicville, maybe? Nope, don't think so--stories are part idea, part development (large part) and a lot of hard work that happens to be mostly a pleasure to me.



I think I'm going to go ahead with another Court of Angels book after OUT OF BODY, OUT OF MIND and OUT OF SIGHT. I am not even close to being finished with these people and, as tends to happen when writing a series of books, they are gathering some very interesting personalities along the way.



All of this adds up to the truth about "Staring Time" for me. I don't do well if I'm not writing. I'm a vessel without a rudder unless I have a place to go no matter where I am or what I'm doing. I'm on the case, folks and I'd better really get cracking.



We have a tiny silver Christmas tree on a table by the window and tomorrow I intend to decorate this little place. I'll put lights on when it's dark. The tree has always been the center of everything Christmas for me and I shall miss a big green tree smothered with everything our children ever made, multi-colored lights, glittery butterflies, sprays of sparkling ladybugs and anything and everything I have in all those basement boxes. But I'll walk barefoot through the village and look at other people's trees and listen to carols played on ukuleles and sung by some of the best voices in the world.



On Christmas Day we'll walk down to the beach to see all the local families having their luaus with children playing, dogs dashing about and people laughing, eating and singing. And there will be guitar and ukulele music, there is always that everywhere.



Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and may God bless us every one!



Stella