Remember Jack Nicholson, the grumpy eccentric writer in "As Good As It Gets?" Well, add auburn hair (dyed, of course, to cover the grey), bi-focals and another fifty pounds (ok...ok, maybe a tad more) and you've got yours truly. I didn't mean to become obsessed with my writing--distant, isolated, totally focused and consumed--but I have.
For the past month, I haven't gotten dressed once before noon. This retired lady and her creaky knees crawl out of bed at eight, feed the cat and powers up the laptop, eager to return to Paris and the battle of wits between a French counter-terrorism agent and his nemesis, a vengeful terrorist known as "Death Shadow." Of course there is the American woman who needs protection from the terrorist after unwittingly exposing his bombing scheme. But who's going to protect the young government agent from her?
Now, it's the "her" I'm having trouble with. She's evolving. I didn't realize until my Critic Partner pointed it out that I'd written Alyson as being dumb. What? I reread the first chapter with a more critical eye. Sure enough, she was clueless to the danger she was in and, yes, dumb.Who wants a dumb heroine? I mean that's so NOT reality. Name me one dumb woman. End of discussion.
Alyson is forty. Niko is thirty. Do you see a problem? Me, neither, but Alyson does. For now.
And for now, I am swept away by this story. That worries me. How can I write this storyline so it's equally as enjoyable for the reader to read as it's been for me to write? This is a never-ending concern.
Meanwhile, I am the curmudgeon writer who looks on Twitter, Facebook, e-mails, laundry, dirty bathrooms and cat liter as annoying "must-do's" that pull me away from what I love. And I do love writing a good story.