Reading Out Loud
I’m really messing with my own head. After reading the manuscript backwards, I’m now reading it out loud. All 200 pages.
Reading out loud helps me hear any bumps and awkwardness that I haven’t caught yet. Of course, I feel like an idiot doing it, so I make sure I’m alone before I start. And I take breaks, to avoid losing my voice too quickly. At least I’m not reading it out loud backwards.
Maureen
Reading Backwards
Once again, I’m reading a manuscript backwards. Well, to be precise, I’m reading the chapters in reverse order. It’s a technique recommended by Art Slade, and it’s truly vile. Strange. Awkward. Weird. But it’s enormously helpful, too.
I’ll be grumbling for days as I work my way back through my manuscript, but when I’m done, I know it will be better. And that’s always the point.
Maureen
Objects with Character
At one of my school events, a teacher said he’d noticed I animate inanimate objects in all my books, and he wanted to know if I’d done that as a child. I’d never been asked this question (which makes it a really good one), and couldn’t answer. But I’ve been thinking about it, and noticing – indeed, I did it as a child, and I still do it, all the time.
I saw a photo of tall strange flowers and they looked like birds to me, ready to take off. The animals in pictures seem capable of speech, and I’m sure toys play at night, when no one is looking. Mirrors, gates, rocks on the sidewalk – they could all be alive, in my world. Anything with character could be… well, a character.
Now that I think about it, I realize this is, perhaps, a little strange for an adult. But perhaps not so strange for a fantasy writer.
Maureen
Spring Wildness
There’s something miraculous about spring. It’s inevitable, the return of life after a long winter, and yet when it happens, it’s always wondrous.
A tiny creamy yellow crocus is blooming on the east side of the house, my first flower. Daffodil spears are up and starting to form buds, and I found some red peony tips just emerging. Snowdrops will be blooming soon, too.
There’s a time in the early spring garden where everything is tousled and messy from fall leaves and stems I haven’t cut back yet, with green poking through, determined to grow in spite of the cold.
I’m always in a rush to start the cleanup, as an excuse to be outside, but then it looks too tidy, with the lawn raked and the beds cleaned, waiting for the rampant growth of May and June to make it look wild again. It suddenly seems tame, and I miss that early spring wildness.
Maureen