Writers stumble upon magic every day. Usually, it is in the form of human emotion, kindnesses, awe-inspiring nature and events, creative endeavours, the little things. But, I think I have found a real-life time portal or Tardis for those fellow Dr Who fans.
Ever heard of a papasan chair? They’re these giant saucer frames on top of a tiny cylinder with an enormous round cushion. I have always wanted one. Always. Well, I found a gently used one and brought it home. I set it up in a corner and added soft blankets and pillows.
It was perfect. So perfect my cat screamed at me to get out so he could have it. This thing is my perfect reading chair. More importantly, it is a perfect writing chair.
I’ve been working on finishing up the Angels and Avalon series. There are three novellas, a final novel, and a short story in the main series planned. All of which I am hoping to publish by the end of 2019. There’s also a mini-series with Tyrel Hanson as he does his P.I. (paranormal investigation, and regular private investigation). I’ve got another series brewing for the years after that.
I faced a challenge. My life led to circumstances which created a block. I had to strain to squeeze and pull out every line of the stories I was trying to write. I’m a discovery writer. This means my process is guided by complete abandon and very basic outlines. Often these outlines stay in my head or get shared with a few close people in conversation. But I couldn’t even outline. The characters scurried away to the recesses of my mind, the story hid behind a misty barrier I could not pass. I managed to eek out the start of the novellas and novel, and the short story still.
The next novella’s title will be Innocence and Ire.
I’ll be doing a cover reveal and synopsis on Patreon where you can support future novels and me for just $1.
So I sent the novella off for editing to my amazing editor. At the back of my writing brain, though, was this nagging feeling that there was more to the story. No matter how hard I had tried though, I could not uncover what it was. When my editor returned the story to me, I polished and edited and rewrote. I thought, “Why don’t I add just a bit more here and there.”
I managed to squeeze a bit more. It was a complete story, but it still felt a little sparse. I didn’t have anything else left. I thought, okay. The story is done. I ordered the cover from the designer, anticipating to send the book to beta readers shortly. The designer got the amazing cover down on the first try. Not a common feat, but Streetlight Graphics has this uncanny sense of what you want or what a book needs.
All of a sudden I found myself with a HUGE plot point. HUGE. Exciting, amazing, and important. But, then the story fell flat again. I couldn’t pull out the rest no matter how much I fought or relaxed into it.
Then the chair.
I settled in and thought, I’m going to finish this today. Odd for having no idea where I was going or how to get there. As I crossed my legs and settled, placed my hands on the keyboard, I wrote the first word. Then something clicked, something I couldn’t fully form yet, but my fingers and writing moved of their own accord. Then, the story revealed itself.
I looked at the clock. I had been sitting in the chair for only an hour and a half. I had written over three thousand words. I thought, “Wow, that was really productive!”
It isn’t impossible for me to write that much. I usually write about 1500 words an hour. It was just unusual as it was a bit more than my regular speed. It didn’t feel that frantic of a writing session.
I shared the progress and a picture of the chair on Facebook.
I got up, stretched, took a short break and refuelled my body with some food and coffee in my author cup. The cup goes great with the chair, by the way.
Then I settled back down, rested my hands on my keyboard and began again.
I typed the last word in the story and looked up. It had been a fairly easy writing session. Normally, after a long writing session, I feel depleted but in a good way. I feel like I have been emptied, like my mind just ran fifteen kilometres and feels that exercise high. I didn’t feel that at all, so I figured I had maybe put down another three thousand words.
I looked at the clock.
Three and a half hours since I started. Three thousand words weren’t unreasonable in that timeframe. I looked at the word count. I looked again. I double checked. I saved. I closed the document. Opened it again and checked the word count, again.
“Impossible,” I thought.
But it couldn’t be anything else.
In just three and a half hours, I had written over eight thousand words. Almost nine thousand words. Over five thousand of them in just two hours. I didn’t feel like it. I felt energized, I could probably write more. Then I realized not only had Innocence and Ire’s plot and characters flowed and revealed itself, so had every other book I had planned in the series, including a renegade novella from Lucifer’s perspective I had begun last year and stalled on.
The only plausible explanation is the chair is magical, a time-portal that slowed the world down so I could write, and a writer’s battery which left me recharging while weaving words together. This magic time-portal chair has gifted us with these amazing new adventures. I can’t wait to share them with you.