Arrg! My head is too crowded! Must finish The Prophet, Book Three of The Graveyard Queen series (not to mention Lucy November and a possible Madam Know-it-all spin-off) before I can even entertain the thought of starting a new book, let alone a whole new series. But…the neatest thing happened this week. Well, neat and a little eerie and I choose to believe it’s an omen.
For a while now, I’ve wanted to try my hand at a Young Adult. I have a premise that I’m totally in love with tentatively titled Chrysalis about a sixteen-year-old girl named Mazzy (™ Mazzy Star). But I knew the idea needed some punch so I brainstormed with one of my writer friends, Heather MacAllister, and came up with a kick-ass way to elevate the idea to a higher concept. A sort of Twilight meets Terminator. Romeo and Juliet meets Matrix.
Basically, the story is about soul transmigration and I wanted to use butterflies as a motif since in some cultures they’re believed to be the carriers of souls after death/before birth. My son suggested I use moths instead because “they’re cooler than butterflies.” The minute I started thinking about moths, the whole story changed, became darker. Cooler. The imagery more menacing.
My daughter evisioned the setting somewhere near mountains, somewhere offbeat, somewhere like Marfa, Texas, because the desert adds a layer of mysticism to the story. (I’ve even managed to incorporate the famous Marfa lights into the plot.) Plus, it gives us an excuse for the road trip we’ve been planning since forever and the chance to stay in a 1953 Vagabond.
Anyway, back to the omen. As I said, I had to shelve the story while I worked on other projects. But recently the idea resurrected itself. Don’t know why, but it’s been on my mind for days. So much so that one night this past week, I started chattering away about it to my husband, who is rarely enamored with my ideas. He loved this one. Loved it. I took that as an omen, too. But it gets better.
The next day, I discovered that a huge Black Witch Moth (also known as Butterfly of Death) had taken up residence in our garage. She’s been there ever since, fluttering out of the shadows when I open the door, clinging to the wall for hours while she sleeps. She’s beautiful and eerie and a little scary.
The Black Witch has a fascinating cultural as well as natural history. Known in Mexico by the Indians since Aztec times as mariposa de la muerte (butterfly of death). When there is sickness in a house and this moth enters, the sick person dies. A variation on this theme heard in the lower Rio Grande Valley is that death only occurs if the moth flies in and visits all four corners of one’s house.
Here is a picture I took of the one in my garage, but it’s not nearly as clear as the one above. A photographer, I’m not.
In my last blog post, I talked about a character that had haunted me for years, impatiently awaiting the right story. Now I have a throwaway character from The Restorer that refuses to go away quietly. She also wants a story. Or even a spin-off series.
Like I even have the time.
I’m exaggerating, of course, because my characters don’t really talk to me. They talk in my head to other characters, but I’m still the boss of them. However, when a character refuses to go away—or lingers for years—I do think that’s telling.
The character in question is Madam Know-it-all, the palmist, who is about to be resurrected in The Prophet. At this point, I know very little about her except for an obvious sense of irony and a fairly generic description (see below). She’s a blank canvas, which is exciting because I can take her in any direction I want. Right off the top of my head, I see a character that’s a bit stereotypical on the outside. A little Oda Mae Brown, a little Annie Wilson with a dash of Adam Lambert. But deep down inside the soul and psyche of the character…now that’s where the real fun begins.
Let’s call her Mila for now (pronounced Mee-la) because I like the name and I liked Mila Kunis so much more than Natalie Portman (who I kind of wanted to smack) in Black Swan, but that’s beside the point.
Is Mila for real or a fraud or both, ala Oda Mae? What exactly is her gift? Why, other than her ironical tendencies, did she set up shop across the street from the more ‘lofty’ Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies? What is her relationship with Devlin (the series love interest)?
Because there is most definitely a relationship with Devlin. Here is the only passage which references Madam Know-it-all directly in The Restorer:
They had just come out of the house, Devlin and some shapely brunette, and though I couldn’t see her features as clearly as his underneath the porch light, I knew she was attractive. I could tell by the way she carried herself. Really good-looking people have an air about them. Temple had it. Mariama’s ghost still had it.
Devlin appeared to be in the process of leaving, but then the woman touched his shoulder and he spun back around. There was nothing particularly sexual about the interaction, but I did sense some intimacy in the way he peered down into her upturned face and a measure of urgency when he took her by the arms. My window was open, but I couldn’t hear a word of their conversation, no matter how hard I strained.
I believe Devlin and Mila have a past and a powerful bond. I think their relationship is not now and may never have been romantic, but the connection is more complex than friendship. And it either goes back to the days when Devlin dabbled in the Occult or to the time he (supposedly) spent in a mental institution. Or both because I do like a dose of crazy with my spooky.
So your assignment today is to help name Madam Know-it-all. I’m leaning toward something exotic, evocative and unusual. Although I do love the simplicity of the Vampire Bill in True Blood.
A character named Lucy November has haunted me for years. She’s become so real that a writer friend claims she sees Lucy sitting cross-legged in an empty room, impatiently drumming her fingers on the floor as she waits for me to give her a story. Actually, she’s had a story—a whole book, in fact—called The Garden of Perpetual Slumber. That book has never been sent to a publisher, but it did help me connect with my current and fabulous agent, who resided for years at the top of my dream agent list. I still occasionally have to pinch myself but…I digress.
Back to Lucy. She’s an aspiring filmmaker who moonlights as a corpse cosmetician at a boutique mortuary in Austin, Texas. By boutique, I mean they specialize in elaborate/quirky funerals and life-like presentations. A little like Christopher Walken’s mortuary in Undertaking Betty but less Star Trek and more Rocky Horror if you get my drift.. Lucy also talks to the corpses and they talk back. She calls herself a facilitator because she likes to think that she helps them transition to the other side.
The problem with that book was threefold. Lucy had too many disparate jobs/hobbies/interests, the mystery plot was way too convoluted and the corpses were never anything more than a charming and/or ghoulish (depending on POV) diversion.
After much brainstorming and deliberation, I’m pretty psyched about the revamp. I’ve tweaked her occupation, incorporated the corpses into the mystery plot without resorting to the old ‘can’t move on until my murder has been solved’ meme and I’m integrating some mythology elements into Lucy and her love interest. Also, I’m dirtying it up a bit because, let’s face it, sex does sell.
But as excited as I am by these changes, something has been niggling at me for a while now…
Is Lucy a character whose time has come and gone?
How long should a writer cling to a character or a plot or even a premise before abandoning for greener pastures? After all, the cemetery restorer character in The Graveyard Queen series pretty much sprang fully developed from my imagination. The premise, plot, setting…everything came together seamlessly.
So what is the deal with Lucy? Am I trying too hard to make her work? Am I now so invested in this character that I’ve lost my objectivity? Has she taken on so many of my own personality traits that I’m unable to let her be who she needs to be? Have I become one of those awful stage mothers, pushing my beloved progeny into a direction she doesn’t want to go?
A name change sometimes helps, but my critique partners (who, for good or ill, are equally invested in Lucy) have mounted an impressive resistance. I like Rose Grimm; they, not so much. Similarly, my idea of moving Lucy from Austin to Savannah has gone over like the proverbial screen door in a submarine. And they’re right in that a change of venue shouldn’t be taken lightly. Setting is an integral cog in the character’s makeup. In fact, setting should be a character in and of itself. It should have its own voice, its own vibe, it’s own viewpoint.
Lucy November lives in Austin.
Rose Grimm would live in Savannah.
Let’s take stock…
Austin is a cool, laidback city that prides itself on its weirdness. It has always been known and loved for its subversive subculture and the peaceful co-existence of aging hippies, hipsters, yuppies, artists, new-agers and high-techies. It’s a haven for the nonconformist. A paradise for the crazies who dance to the music in their heads and march to their own drummers. Austin is the land of hidden grottos, crystal clear pools and more live music than you can shake a stick at.
It has a bat statue.
Here is the way someone once described Austin:
If I were to personify my city, I’d say that Austin is a pretty little hippie chick who’s come into her own. Beneath the nouveau trappings of wealth and sophistication beats the heart of a bohemian goddess who shops in thrift stores, makes her own soap and has an almost spiritual connection to the great outdoors.
This is Lucy in Austin:
So…if Austin is a pretty little hippy chick, then Savanna is a beautiful, aging, slightly jaded Southern belle.
If Austin has weirdoes, Savannah has eccentrics.
The city is old South. Deep South. The dark, quirky, Gothic South of Flannery O’Connor, Bonaventure Cemetery and John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It is a city cloaked in history and adorned with walled gardens, cobblestones streets, old stairways and delightfully funky art.
The famous Bird Girl statue—Little Wendy—resides here (now in the Telfair Museum of Art)
John Kelso’s description of Savannah:
I’ve only been here three days and it’s just a shooting, but give it time, okay. This place is fantastic. It’s like Gone With the Wind on Mescaline. I know you’re my agent. Listen to me, they walk imaginary pets here, Garland. On a f***ing leash. Alright? And they’re all heavily armed and drunk. New York is boring!
Arrg! My head is too crowded! Must finish The Prophet, Book Three of The Graveyard Queen series (not to mention Lucy November and a possible Madam Know-it-all spin-off) before I can even entertain the thought of starting a new book, let alone a whole new series. But…the neatest thing happened this week. Well, neat and a little eerie and I choose to believe it’s an omen.
Basically, the story is about soul transmigration and I wanted to use butterflies as a motif since in some cultures they’re believed to be the carriers of souls after death/before birth. My son suggested I use moths instead because “they’re cooler than butterflies.” The minute I started thinking about moths, the whole story changed, became darker. Cooler. The imagery more menacing. 
The next day, I discovered that a huge Black Witch Moth (also known as Butterfly of Death) had taken up residence in our garage. She’s been there ever since, fluttering out of the shadows when I open the door, clinging to the wall for hours while she sleeps. She’s beautiful and eerie and a little scary.
