Writing without borders - letting the muse do the typing.

While writing Socialite 1, I found that I enjoyed the process the most when I let the feeling of a scene take over.  Usually, after getting the kids either off to school or off to bed, I would sit at the computer and scan the excel spreadsheet on which I had each scene for each book described in a single sentence.  For example, one scene in the spreadsheet said: "Elle recites original poem during Jacob's English class".  That brief description allowed me to recall the whole scene as I had originally imagined it.  So as I was saying, I would sit at the computer and look over the scenes and eventually, one particular scene would begin to get my mind racing, developing the action, the dialogue, etc.  My fingers would get typing and a little while later the scene would be complete.  This process worked well, except during the scenes that were meant to contain music, or poetry.

The music and poetry scenes seemed to require a more organic approach.  Often I would look at one of the scenes and imagine how the action might develop, but without the central music or poem, I just couldn't get anywhere.  If I had a sense of how the song or poem would begin, I would go for a walk, usually to get a Starbucks' coffee, and arrive home with a complete scene ready to type into the computer.

In the case of the poetry scene mentioned above, I knew that I wanted Elle's poetry to be original - unlike anything that the reader had experienced (like the image of poetry above).  At the same time it had to be something that would allow for humour in the scene and enable the kids in the class to interact with Elle.  On one of my evening walks, the poem and poetry format came to me quickly and seemingly without effort.  It probably wouldn't have, if I had stressed about coming up with it while writing book 1.  Since I was writing all four books simultaneously, and out of order, it didn't matter to me that book 1 and book 2 had both been mostly complete when I finally was inspired to conceive of the "Hidden Word" format of Elle's poem.  I knew that scene was going to be in chapter two, but just left it incomplete until it came to me.

That scene is one of my favourites in book 1.  It is the first time that Jacob hears Elle speak, and only the second time that he and Elle interact  (earlier that day, Jacob's nose is smashed with a soccer ball, and Elle runs over and wipes the blood from his nose - without saying anything.)  The scene is also the second time that Elle modifies her voice to affect the behaviour of one of the other characters in the book.  Throughout the book series I play with causes of behaviour and the attribution or more frequently misattribution made by the characters for their own behaviour.  After this scene, Jacob can't get Elle out of his thoughts and attributes those persistent thoughts to a normal human interest of a boy for a girl, though the reader knows that there is a lot more going on that is not normal and not human.

Here is the entire scene:

Just as class was beginning, Matt, sitting right behind Jacob, jabbed his sunglasses - a permanent accessory propped on top of his bald head - into Jacob’s side and whispered, “Hey loverboy, look!  Your personal nurse just walked in.”

Mr. Estlin, who taught both English nine and ten, motioned for Elle to wait in the corner.  He was tall, about six foot five inches and looked very thin in his tight blue jeans, tan corduroy shirt, and pencil thin black tie that barely reached the middle of his belly.  His frizzy, permed, long, brown hair made him look at least five inches taller.  

“Alright!  Let’s quiet down,” he began.  He had a commanding voice that, combined with his physical appearance, ensured cooperation; the class quickly became quiet.  “I gave all of my classes a poetry assignment in the first week of school and promised a prize for the best composition.  Not everyone took the contest seriously,” at this a few students, including Jacob, laughed, “but a few of you handed in some excellent work.  Unfortunately there could only be one winner, and I am sorry to say that none of my grade tens could compete with the amazing poem that was written by this grade nine student, Elle Amis.  I can now reveal the prize, as it is something that will benefit all of you.  As the winner, Elle has won the opportunity to read her poem in front of both of my classes, so that we can all applaud her work of art.”  Some of the class groaned, others laughed, but most of them were just happy to have lost the competition.  

Jacob felt a little sad for Elle.  As he saw it, she had both won and lost.  He felt like Elle was being cheated somehow.  He spoke up, “Mr. Estlin, don’t you think that since Elle is new to the school you might give her something like a pen, or a book instead.”  

Matt, misinterpreting Jacob’s intentions added, “Yeah, spare us the torture, please!”  The class erupted in laughter.  

Jacob felt embarrassed that he may have just made things worse for Elle.  He tried to clarify, “I just think that it’s probably a little embarrassing for her to be forced into standing in front of a class of strangers, you know, in the limelight.”

Mr. Estlin considered this request for a moment then turned to Elle and said, “do you feel uncomfortable in this situation, Elle?  If you would rather not present your poem, I could read it instead.”

Elle looked at the faces of the students in front of her, smiled and in a sweet, confident voice answered, “I’m fine.”

“There you have it, Mr. Liebe.  She’s fine.  Let’s give her the floor, everyone,” said Mr. Estlin.  “First, I should explain the type of poem she has created, as we haven’t covered this particular style yet.  She created her poem in the newest poetic format called ‘hidden word’ created and popularized by our country’s current poet laureate, Aladar Roch.  In ‘hidden word’ poems, the last word in each stanza is omitted; yes, that’s right, it’s just left out.  The text of each stanza is cleverly constructed to suggest the identity of that final missing word.  I think it would be fun if we all shout out the first word that comes to mind as Elle pauses at the end of every fourth line where the hidden word is located.  Let’s see if Elle was successful in getting us all to think of the same thing.  Her poem is titled Cicada.  You can begin whenever you are ready, Elle.”

Elle stood at the front of the class, looking poised and confident.  She didn’t look directly at Jacob, though he was now staring at her.  She flicked her long hair over her shoulder and began to read her winning composition.  Most of the students in the class appeared bored - it was poetry after all.  She read slowly and loudly:

Buried I hid

   Eight years then five

   You thought I was dead

   In truth, barely ________

Elle paused, and a few kids in the front shouted “Alive.”  Matt yelled, “Sex!”  The students looked at him and he whispered, “he said to say the first thing that came to mind.”  A few students laughed, but not Jacob.  

Elle waited a few seconds for the class to become quiet again, then continued,

Escaping the tragic

   Avoiding the sin

   As if by magic

   I shed my _______

Elle paused again, and this time most of the class shouted, “Skin.”  Mr. Estlin cast a smile at Elle, though she didn’t see it.  She continued to stare at the class and concluded with,

This voice will assist

   So love I can bring

   No lover resists

   Whenever I ______

“Sing!” the whole class shouted in unison.  

Mr. Estlin looked very pleased.  “Great job, Elle.  It worked perfectly.  How about we give a round of applause to our poet!”

The students clapped, and the boys cheered loudly, as boys will always do for a beautiful girl.  When the cheering reached a peak she spoke up in the most imploring and sweet voice, “you are just so nice. I can’t thank you enough for being so gracious.  I beg one favour, though.  Could I please recite a very short poem written by my favorite author?  It is very short and I am sure you will like it.  Please?”  This last word echoed in the class room for a few seconds before the boys broke out even louder than before in thunderous cheers.  

Mr. Estlin was proud of the enthusiasm in his class.  He asked, “who is the author?”

She replied, “E.E. Cummings.” 

“Oh what a treat!  We would love to hear one of his classic poems.”  

She waited for silence, then began, “I carry your heart with me” with a different voice than she used for her earlier poem.  This voice was deeper, almost husky, and sexy.  The atmosphere became cave quiet as her voice bounced off the classroom walls.  

For Jacob, it seemed that each word took a few seconds to cross the gap from her mouth to his ears.  Her eyes moved around the room, but her voice, destined to find him, seemed to get lost in a search for the most worthy listener, eventually choosing Jacob.  

When she spoke the line, “here is the deepest secret nobody knows,” he hung onto those words wanting nothing more than to know what her secret was.  Then he was rewarded with the answer as she slowly, purposefully whispered, “I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)”.  He started to feel embarrassed as the tears welled up in his eyes and had to pretend to sneeze so he could bring a tissue to his face.  

 

Remember:  book 1 is free at most ebook retail sites, so download it today.  I would love to hear your comments as well, so if you have time, enter a review of the book at the store where you got the book.  Or simply leave a comment right here on this blog.  

Here are the links:  

Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Martin%20Renaud

Apple iPad, Ipod, Iphone: http://itunes.apple.com/ca/artist/martin-renaud/id477163464?mt=11