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Thankful Thursday: A Good Week (And a Contest Winner)

Posted on by beckylevine

Hump day has come and gone and I’m still smiling, so it’s time for another quick thankful!

1. I’m thankful for people who come read my blog (and hopefully enjoy it) and who leave comments and enter contests like this one. I’m thankful that nrhatch wants to be on an island with a flying dragon that hunts for its own food. I’m thinking, though, that after she reads her newly-won copy of Island of the Aunts, she’s going to see that even her flying dragon is likely to create some work for her to do!

nrhatch: please email me at beckylevine at ymail dot com, with your snail mail address, so I can get your prize sent off!

2. I’m thankful that I did work through to the end of my first draft, even with all the confusion about plotlines and storylines. Not only did the process bring me to some understandings I really needed, I do feel good about having written “The End,” and knowing that I can now get started on “The Beginning” again. And mixed in with this is me being thankful for the critique group who sticks this and every pass out with me, no matter how chaotic it all looks.

3. I’m SO thankful to Scrivener for bringing out a Windows version of their software. Honestly, the timing couldn’t have been better. It’s like the developer with the lovely British accent just knew I was getting ready to replot.

4. I’m thankful, all over again, that I have an interesting, creative son who is spreading his wings in ways I never could have predicted. I’m thankful that he has enough patience (most of the time) to let Mom flap around a lot just to try and coast along with him and check out the view.

5. I’m seriously thankful that my son has a father who truly partners in this parenting thing with  me, because both I and my son really need his take on things. Triangles can be tough, but–yay–this one works.

6. I’m thankful for all the writers in the world who research and write about the stuff I need to learn for my WIP. And, really, I’ll still be thankful, even when all the books I ordered this week show up, gather themselves into an intimidating pile, and glare at me every time I even think about doing anything except read them.

7. I’m thankful for the little sun icon that’s currently displayed on the weather page’s Halloween square. Let’s just keep it that way for another four days, okey-dokey?

8. And, finally, for what must be the gazillionth time in my life, I’m thankful for Dick Van Dyke. (When my son was a baby & had yet to decide sleeping through the night was a good thing, he timed his wake-up session to coincide perfectly with the Nick at Nite Early Morning airing of the Dick Van Dyke show.)  Last Saturday, the man was on Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. Go, listen, and laugh.

Posted in First Drafts, Uncategorized

The End. AKA..Whoa, What Now?

Posted on by beckylevine

I’m a little bit happy. And I’m a little bit scared. And I’m VERY kind, because I am NOT inserting a video of Donny &  Marie singing I’m a Little Bit Country.

You’re welcome.

So…I just finished the first draft of my WIP.

209 pages. 40 scenes. A whole heckuva lot of unknowns.

I’ve had my reservations about writing this loose draft, and–yes–there’s still part of me that wishes I’d been able to plot it more tightly along the way. But most of me is recognizing that, for this book, that would have been a large waste of time and maybe even messed me up big time. Because the realization I came to today, as I blasted through the last three scenes of the draft, is that there are two stories here.

One belongs to my main character, Caro, and I didn’t write nearly enough of that story this time around. The other story may belong to Caro, as well, but not to who she is at this age, this year, in her world. Or it may belong to another character, one I don’t know yet and will need to find before I pull the pieces of that storythat have showed up here into their own book.

I’m pretty sure there will have to be another book, because I think it’s the only way I’m going to deal with the sadness I felt today as I wrote these scenes. The story I won’t be telling yet is the story of the girl who gets to be part of Ida B. Wells’ world, whose life parallels and intersects with Wells, and whose choices will be strongly impacted by Wells’ beliefs and actions. That girl is not Caro. When I think about that unknown girl and about figuring out who she is and weaving a story for her, I am a bit intimidated, because it will mean very much stretching myself  into writing about a culture that is not one I know, not one I grew up with, and finding the connections and universals that I believe do exist.

For now, though, I’ll be working with Caro and the story that is hers to live and experience. The story of a young girl, daughter of an immigrant, who has to fight her way free of her mother’s fears and find her route to and into some of the darker, more frightening parts of 1913 Chicago. Parts that do belong to her world, even as her mother fights to keep them away from her, to keep Caro sheltered from her own history and, definitely, her future.

Probably half the plot points I’ve written at this point don’t belong to Caro–they belong to that other girl. Who is starting, even today, to be a shadowy figure in some part of my brain and who will, I’m hoping, stay with me and become less foglike, even as I write with Caro.

I know that I have a choice here. I could keep working on the story that focuses on Wells and this other girl, or I can decide to put that story on the shelf…for now, and develop a lot more of the plot around Caro’s actions and choices. Today, and for a while, I’m sticking with Caro. Story for me is character, wrapped around plot, threaded with setting, complicated by relationships and conflicts. And Caro is strong in my mind right now, even if she isn’t yet strong on paper. Her strengths, her weaknesses, the grief she is going to face–these I know.

So these I will write. And revise. And revise again…

And, always, leave myself open to possibilities.

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Why I’m Wearing Purple Today

Posted on by beckylevine

This is (hopefully) a quick post about why I’m wearing purple today. (And, no, my son is wrong–it’s NOT pink!) I tend to keep this blog pretty non-political, ditto with a lot of my social networking stuff. It’s actually always been pretty hard for me to Speak Loudly in public (NOT in private; ask anyone in my family), and for years as an adolescent and woman in my young twenties, I did a lot of tucking my head, swallowing my anger, and not saying anything.

Too much.

Most of that quiet was about me, not about others, but–you know–not all of it.

Bottom line: Teen suicide is too important to be quiet about. Teen suicide that’s happening because cruel, careless, thoughtless…STUPID people are persecuting these kids is WAY too important.

I honestly don’t know if wearing purple will do a thing. I don’t know if the It Gets Better campaign will do enough–let’s face it, things should be better NOW. But–yes, if it makes one teen hold on, speak out, ask for help, NOT kill themselves, then it’s doing something, helping someone, and that counts. So maybe my wearing purple does, too.

Symbols. Sometimes they’re as frustrating as the problem they’re trying to fight–because even while I wear this shirt, someone else out there is alone and frightened and angry and way too close to despair.

The alternative, though—NOT wearing this color—felt worse.

This just gets to me so much, because it feels like history repeating itself over and over and over…Gays can’t marry. My father had a good friend who, not that many years ago, had to go to Arizona to get married, because California wouldn’t let him marry the Japanese woman he loved. Gay teens are killing themselves. Black men got lynched. Some of my family escaped Germany, some didn’t.

I could look at that paragraph and see the differences. But what I see is the sameness. Hatred. Narrow-mindedness. Fear.

And then, I guess, I just keep speaking out and fighting. And, yes, today–wearing purple.

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The Honest Scrap Award: Passing Along the Thanks

Posted on by beckylevine

Last weekend, Kim Koning sent me a note that I might want to check out her blog post. What a wonderful surprise to find out that I was on her list for the Honest Scrap blog award. Here’s the description of the award:

The Honest Scrap Award:

This award is about bloggers who post from their heart, who often times put their heart on display as they write from the depths of their soul. This means so much to me as that is the root reason of why and what I write about. I believe writing is your heart without a mask. My writing, whether it be a blog post, a poem, a piece of prose or a WIP is the truest part of my soul. To me writing is about honesty and truth-seeking. There is the saying that the pen is more powerful than the sword. I believe that writing is a way to challenge people and to speak often times for those who cannot speak.

As a recipient, I get to pass the award onto other bloggers who I think meet this description, and then you get to hear 10 honest things about me. Lucky you! I’ll try not to get too gushy. 🙂

Step 1: Sharing the Award

I’m going to pick some of the bloggers I’ve discovered more recently, bloggers who I think examine this writing life closely and, yes, honestly, but mostly with intelligence and imagination.

And ten things about me you may never have wanted to know:

1. I do worry more than I let you see on the blog. So much for completely honest. 🙂

2. Working at my parents’ veterinary clinic, I successfully and without injury held (down) many cats and dogs for exams. I have a huge scar on my hand from the one time I tried to hold my own cat while a vet took his temperature. File that under the category of Should Have Known Better.

3. I don’t really like the beach. I lived near it (5 minutes) for 18 years of my life and lived on it for a year in college, and have probably accrued fewer hours of actual on-the-sand-or-in-the-water time than many people who grow up in the midwest.

4. I took myself off to Great Britain for five weeks when I was 25, by myself, with a backpack and a lot of train tickets. Got lost many times, but lonely only once.

5. Someday I will probably own something produced and manufactured by Apple. But not yet. (Especially now that Scrivener for Windows is “coming soon!”)

6. I don’t like shoes. I wear them because I have to, but only when absolutely necessary.

7. You don’t want to give me a plant. For the house or outside. Not if you care for its survival. Seriously.

8. Years ago, a friend and I rode in the Port Townsend Kinetic Sculpture Race. We won a prize for best costumes. Don’t ask.

9. I type 100 words a minute. And, no, I won’t type all your college essays for you. Been there, done that.

10. When I was in grad school, I worked as a tour guide at Ashlawn, James Monroe’s home in Charlottesville, VA. And, yes, I started saying y’all. It just felt way too rude, in that place, to use California-speak: “Okay, you guys can move into the next room now.”

So there you have it. Happy Honest Scrap Award to Mike, Jordan, Michelle, and Claudia, and happy weekend to everybody else!

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Friday Five: A Random Version

Posted on by beckylevine

1. I’m meeting with a young writer today to talk about her novel. I’ve started reading it, and it’s fun, and I’m really looking forward to editing and brainstorming with her.  I’m also taking her a copy of my book, because she’s young and she’s clearly going to be a writer all her life, and it’s my decision that she should be know about critique groups.  Not to mention I will begin my indoctrination about joining SCBWI. Mwahaha!

2. I just read Deborah Underwood’s The Quiet Book. I know, I’m a bit behind, but I’ve been wanting to read it and then I found out that Deborah and I will be on an SCBWI critique panel at the end of this month , and then I really wanted to read it. And…wow. Honestly, I’m always hesitant about concept picture books, because I typically need story. Plus, I’d seen some of Renata Liwska’s incredible illustrations, and I knew that those were potentially powerful enough to take over from the prose. Nope. Yes, the art is amazing, but–honestly–so are the words. I read the words first, on purpose, and every single page evoked a sense for me–an emotion. Deborah hit the nail on the head every single time. Beautiful.

3. It’s cooled off. We actually just left the windows open last night, without running the so-loud fans. The car thermometer hit 117 degrees one afternoon this week, while son and I were sitting on an onramp waiting to get through the metering lights. I find it hard to even exist when it’s that hot. So yay for coastal fog and a light breeze.

4. There are colds in the house. Husband woke up with a slight sore throat and son is sneezing and sniffling. Medicine has been given, and I am crossing my fingers that the flu shot I got this week will magically transform into cold-protection. I may have to turn in to Lady MacBeth this weekend, to stay safe.

5. I have to go to the grocery store today. I went to the grocery store earlier this week. I’ll go to the grocery sometime at the start of next week. Am I having hallucinatory nostalgia, or did my mom manage to do a huge grocery run on the weekend & then stop for milk if we ran out during the week? And there were 5 of us then, to the 3 of us here. Was she just more organized (yes!) or more determined (less lazy) to really fill that fridge and freezer to the brim when she shopped (probably)?  Whatever it was, and as nice as the people at my grocery store are, I feel that I am way too familiar with that place. Do you ever find yourself wandering the aisles, “waiting” for something new and exciting and delicious and healthy and simple to cook to just pop out at you? Sigh. At least I’m remembering to bring in my reusable bags these days, and don’t have to ask the checker to “wait just a minute while I run out to the car.”

Happy Friday, everyone!

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Getting Back to the Calendar

Posted on by beckylevine

Here’s what I thought would happen once school started. I’d have 6-8 hours a day of just-writing time. You know, because high school would be so easy and straightforward and life, with all its complications and responsibilities and tasks would somehow magically take care of itself.

Um. Yeah.

Let me just say that the past few weeks have felt just a tad scrambled and random and disorganized and—okay,yes, productive in many ways, but not for my writing and not with a high degree of calm, relaxed, sanity.

Which, I reminded myself this morning, means it’s time for my calendar. It’s time to schedule my writing and to fit some planned time in for all that other life-stuff, too.

Here’s how it works, when I remember to do it. The first thing I schedule for the morning, in writing, or–these days–on my Blackberry-is the writing. I take up an hour slot on the day’s calendar, or if I’m being nice and generous, an hour and a half. Sometimes, when I first get back to this “system,” I have to fight the feeling that I’m only dedicating a small piece of the day to the thing I love most. Of course, then I think about the past week or two or…you know, and I realize that’s way more than I’ve been giving to my writing. I schedule this time for a few days, up to a week ahead–basically as far as I can look forward and know what life will be like. Supposedly, anyway.

For the rest of the day’s time, I think about what else I have to do. Sometimes I have an editing job or some freelance writing to fit in. Other times, like now, I feel a serious need to get in some solid exercise–another thing that typically goes missing when my life chooses the haywire path, so I make sure I get some of that down, in writing. This month, it’s paperwork–all the lovely financial-management joys that skulk in corners and make sneering nyah-nyah noises when I try and hide from them for too long.

Writing, exercise, paperwork.

I don’t know about you, but that’s plenty for me to fit into a day, along with, you know, spending time with my family, helping my son ride that school roller-coaster, keeping the house and food supplies in some semblance of order, and–lest we forget–reading.

I’m getting a bit freaked out again just looking at this post.

Breathe.

Okay.

I know this works. As long as I write it down. I might not be speeding along, but I’ll be making progress. And that’s really what it’s all about.

PJ Hoover uses her own very special time-management tools. If you haven’t seen her fun video yet, take a look here. And enjoy the calm.

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Laurie Halse Anderson’s SPEAK

Posted on by beckylevine

I’ve gone back & forth on whether to weigh in on this, thinking that there are so many people speaking eloquently that maybe my two cents will just be extra. But then that creates silence, at least on my part, and this is the whole problem.

If you haven’t seen what’s up, check out Laurie’s post here about what’s happening with her wonderful book Speak.

As I said, I don’t really know what more I can say that isn’t already being talked about, but for what it’s worth…

I am, as you could probably guess, vehemently against any kind of censorship or book banning. And I don’t care how much quibbling people do about semantics and meaning, when you tell a school they cannot teach a book, when you tell kids they cannot read & learn about that book in their school, when you forbid a librarian from carrying that book on their shelves–that’s censorship. There is no situation in which I find this kind of thing acceptable.

That said, I have a special feeling about Speak. As for many people whose tweets & posts I’ve been reading, Speak was perhaps my first intro into the brilliance of YA writing. I was reviewing books for the Horn Book Guide, and Speak showed up in one of the first boxes I was sent. I opened it, read, and was blown away. Years later, I had the same reaction when I read Wintergirls, also by Anderson, which I bought on purpose because her writing is so incredible.

Both books shocked me, stunned me, pained me. I do a great deal of reading while I eat, and if you think it wasn’t hard to read Wintergirls during a meal or a snack, without staring at the food on my plate, thinking about my attempts to eat healthily and lose weight, dig far into self-examination of my feelings and motives and behavior, well–think again. Anderson is too great a writer to deal with any of these topics and not make you hurt while you read them. To be honest, Wintergirls is a book I would talk to any parent-friend about if/as I recommended it for their child; I would urge them to read it as well & to try and create an opportunity to discuss it with their child, to–at the very least–stay open and aware to what was going on for their child as he or she read it. Because it’s scary.

It’s also real. And it should be read. And shared.

The same is true for Speak, which–again, if you haven’t read it–is about a girl who stays silent because of and about being raped. Rape that this man from Missouri (I really hate to even give him the validation of typing his name here) is calling porn. Sick? Oh, yeah. What’s sicker? That he’s trying to stop kids and teachers from reading the book together and talking about it.

I saw, after I first posted this blog, that Sarah Okler’s Twenty Boy Summer is also on his list. Here’s Sarah’s take on things. Twenty Boy Summer is another book I read and liked and that, in no way, fits the description this man is trying to apply to it. Ack!  I honestly can’t remember whether Slaughterhouse Five, his other target, was one of the titles I read in my Vonnegut phase, but I think you all can guess, by now, how I feel about trying to ban it–no matter whether it passed across my reading plate or not. (And if you want to roll on the floor laughing, do read my favorite story by Vonnegut–“The Euphio Question” in Welcome to the Monkey House.)

Anyway…when I was in high school, many years ago, our English teacher was told he couldn’t teach us Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate War. A board member came to speak with us, at another teacher’s request, and told us that this wasn’t censorship. I can still remember the absolute fury I felt at what I was sure was a flat-out lie. In hindsight, perhaps she was just eyeball-deep in denial, but that’s another kind of lie, and I still feel angry at her for forcing her lie onto our reading, our choices. I feel that same anger today.

So many people have made this statement in the past few days, but it’s worth repeating. I will allow you the right to have some say in what your own child reads. I will admit that there have been times in the past when I have skimmed/skipped portions of a book that I was reading to my son–some racist passages in older stories that I was just too unhappy about and uncomfortable to read out loud to him. Was this a good choice? I don’t know. Did I try, whenever I could, to read the passage and talk to him about it? Yes, I did. I wasn’t always successful in pushing myself that far. Do I pay attention to what he reads these days, at fourteen? Yes, I do. Do I try to read many of the books he’s reading–I do, for my own knowledge and entertainment, and to just…stay aware. So, yes, you have the right to do this with your children. You do NOT have the right to do it for my child, or anyone else’s children than your own. And I will Speak Loudly against you for trying.

As I said, people are blogging about this a lot, and you can follow the Twitter thread at #SpeakLoudly. Don’t know if what I’ve written is a contribution or not, but it was clearly something I needed to say.

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Friday Five: Road-Trip

Posted on by beckylevine

This morning, I drop my son at school and hit the road to San Luis Obispo for the Central Coast Writers’ Conference. I’m really looking forward to it. I love writing conferences, I get to workshop with teens, and I do love–every now & then-getting in my car and  just…driving.

Anyway, here’s what I’ll be doing today.

1. Driving down California’s Highway 101 through Steinbeck country and farmland and vineyards. I’ll be listening to NPR and KFOG until my radio reception goes out, but by then I’ll have stopped somewhere for a caramel machiato and won’t have any problem staying awake.

2. Drive past the conference site, down to Arroyo Grande–my hometown–and meeting an online friend for lunch.  Sherrie Petersen and I have been chatting online for a couple of years now–we’ve shared some critiques, swapped book titles, and commented on each others’ blogs. Sherrie’s coming up to AG to meet me, and it’s going to be great to finally say “hi” in person.

3. Head back up to Morro Bay, where I’m staying here for the weekend. Oh, yeah, I’ll be comfy and relaxed.

4. For the rest of the afternoon, I’ll either a) crash in the luxury of an hour or two of reading with no responsibilities or distractions or b) pop in my mp3 earplugs and go for a walk.

5. Get myself over to the conference for check-in, photos, refreshments, and the evening workshops. I’m not “on” until the next morning, so Friday night is for playing.

Hope everybody has a great weekend, and I’ll be back and blogging next week–same Bat time, same Bat channel.

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Decorating MC’s Room, Part II: Discovery

Posted on by beckylevine

I’ve heard from other writers (the more artisty types) that when they go to think about what’s in a character’s purse or pocket, they find a surprise or two–something they’d never thought of as being part of who that character is. So I was kind of expecting a surprise–for Caro to sneak up behind me as I browsed through online photos from her century, her decade, looking for ways to fill her bedroom on paper and in my mind.

I’m not sure if that’s what happened. Or if the room I’ve ended up with is actually just the result of my limited artistic abilities. Either way, I have to say the experience–the process–has been pretty cool. Here’s how things went.

Yesterday, after finishing up my prep for the conference this weekend, I started looking for pictures of furniture from 1913. This is trickier than it sounds–I actually stuck 1910 into my google search, and I tried lots of variants on furniture, furnishings, “girls’ bedroom furniture”–things like that. I ended up with a lot of hits for stuff from Gustav Stickley and his Craftsman style furniture. Which was cool–our house is kind of a mish-mash of various craftsman styles, all through the interpretation of the man who built it for himself almost 100 years ago, and so we do know about Stickley, and we love his stuff. But…I’m pretty sure Caro’s family was not furnishing their home with the modern-at-the time, expensive furniture he was building. So I ended up just going with some stuff that looked “old” to me and basically picked out a bed, a mirrored dresser, a student desk, a bookshelf, and a rag rug. I’d been thinking that if I had the patience and talent, it would be cool to print it out all in black-and-white and then wash various bright colors over it–because Caro is struggling to reconcile her dreams about the wider world of modern Chicago with the tight boundaries of the world her mother has created in their home. But…the work and the skills needed for that felt a bit overwhelming. My goal was for this to be done before I leave for the conference, not to be left for me to work on when I get back–that’s when I’m going to dig into actual writing again!

So I decided to let my printer do the work for me. I did print out all the basics in black & white, but then I went for a second layer of things in color. I picked out the perfect quilt for Caro–in a light burgundy with blues and silvers–to go onto the plain bed. I left the rag rug in color–figuring this was something that she made as a school project & worked on with her grandmother’s help. I filled the bland, boring bookshelves with books in bright colors. This was fun–it made me think so much about what Caro’s struggling to do, to keep herself interested in all the life “out there,” while her mother pulls at her to stay in the narrow, safe world of their home. And I think, when I hang this collage in front of my workspace, it’ll remind me of that struggle as I write–and of the difference between Caro’s personal energy and the dull darkness of her home. Just to give you a taste of how that looks, here’s Caro’s camera–a 1910 Brownie–on her desk.

There were a couple of magic moments. Photography is becoming increasingly important to my story, as I work through the first draft, thanks to a suggestion from one of my critique partners. Somewhere in Caro’s room, her real room, a photograph is tucked away–one from the past that will (if I can make all this work) play a huge role in the changes she will need to make. At the same time, Caro is actively involved in modern photography, having taken classes for a while, helping out a teacher of photography at Hull House, and just recently getting her own camera. So I was looking for an old photograph that I could–I didn’t know, maybe glue UNDER something in the room–to be hidden like she’ll need it to be, but that she and I would know was there.

Instead, I thought of that dresser with the mirror–the mirror Caro’s mother would have made sure was in Caro’s room, so that she can check on how she looks, get ready for spending time with young men, all the girl-on-the-path-toward-marriage stuff. And of course, I knew, in a flash that Caro doesn’t use the mirror for that. Instead, she covers the mirror with the photographs she’s been taking. I’ll be attaching photos of Chicago landmarks to Caro’s mirror this afternoon.

And then I’ll be putting the whole collage together–using a lot of other photos to kind of connect the whole room, to add a layer of the book’s story threads onto the physical furnishings of Caro’s room. Here are some of the photos I collected:

  • Jane Addams-by herself and with the children she did so much for
  • Ida B. Wells–I wasn’t able to find any actual old photos except for those I’ve seen on book covers, but I did come across a few that I hadn’t seen, and I grabbed those.
  • Suffrage marchers.
  • Immigrant children and families in the tenements.
  • Sisters who look a lot alike. These connect up with an important piece of back story will be one of the big threads I need to weave into Draft 2.
  • Mothers and daughters. I think, ultimately, this is what Caro’s story will be about, and I wanted portraits that somehow showed the difference in generations, or the differences in dark fear and bright life between the two women. For these photos and for those of the sisters, I let myself step completely out of the 1910s and out of the U.S., just looking for women who made me think about the personalities and threads I need to remember and develop as I write and revise.

Does Caro like her room? I’m not sure. I think she likes that I haven’t left her to the boring gloom her mother would have her live in, and I think the spots of color are definitely her doing. In truth, though, I was decorating this room for me–not for Caro, and the exercise has–as I was hoping–brought story elements closer to the surface for me, has given me something that will remind me to keep the tension, the conflict, and the importance of what Caro is trying to do in the front of my mind as I work.

And maybe, every now and then, we all need to spend some time with our scissors and glue sticks.

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Me to MC: Let’s Decorate

Posted on by beckylevine

It’s been too long since I worked on my novel. In terms of actual writing–August was great & productive, with getting the synopsis written & filling in some gaps in the middle. And I’ve been doing some more reading–trying to connect with Ida B. Wells and get close to what it is about her that inspires me and needs to inspire Caro. And I won’t have much time this week to really focus in, because I’ll be getting ready to head down to San Luis Obispo to talk at the Central Coast Writers’ Conference.

With the “writing” time I will have, I’ve decided to play. Caro and I are going to decorate her room.

This should be interesting. My visual-art talents are pretty much limited to drawing stick figures–really simple stick figures. If you read Susan Taylor Brown’s blog, you may have seen some of the art collage work she’s doing–here’s her page on Flikr to really look at the beautiful pages she’s created. Anyway, I do NOT have aspirations to this level, but it has gotten me thinking. I may do some searches for furniture around 1910, print some of them out, and do the more basic-level, think-first-grade kind of collage. I’m picturing printing everything in black & white, then maybe washing some colors over it (like I know what that means or even how to do it quickly and easily!).

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what I need to furnish & decorate Caro’s room. I want, somehow, to catch the period and her personality–the contrasts between the way her mother will have set up the room when Caro was younger and the layers Caro has added as she gets older, the things that contrast and conflict with the original feel & look. So I’m picturing some pretty sturdy, long-lasting furniture, but with bright and cheerful colors–which may be where the wash comes in. And I think whatever I put on top of things will be important–the blanket on top of the bed, the items–necessaries and extras–on top of the dresser, the books on the shelves. Underneath becomes critical, too–what is Caro hiding away, from her brothers and, most importantly, from her mother? There’s a photograph somewhere, that I think was originally Mama’s, but which Caro now has–without her mother realizing it’s “gone.” There’s a place that Caro’s little brother sits when he visits, and something her older brother fiddles with when he shows up. And there’s probably a scuff on the floor where her father stands, just inside the door, because he’d rather talk with Caro downstairs, in their shop, then in a place where she’s growing into a young woman he doesn’t quite understand.

I’ve heard authors talk about figuring out what’s in a character’s pocket, or purse, and I think I probably need that, too. For some reason, though, it’s starting to feel as if Caro’s room is what’s critical here. When she steps out of that room and into the rest of the house, she walks into the control of her mother, and that world isn’t great for asserting any individuality. When she pushes through that space to outside, into Chicago, she’s venturing further and further from what she knows–loving it, but also having the bigger world threaten her edges. So her room, I think, will be the last spot where she actually knows who she is, and even that is changing on a daily basis.

Where does your hero live? Does he or she have a space that is truly theirs? And what’s in it? What’s on display for anyone to see, and what’s tucked away? Have you thought about decorating lately?