It's In The Cards

I miss the voices in my head.

I miss them, miss them, my name ain’t Fred.

I can’t find them in the car.

I can’t find them near or far.

I can’t find them in a box.

I can’t find them wearing socks.

Not in the car.

Not near or far.

Not in a box.

Not wearing socks.

Help me, help me can’t you see.

I miss the voices agreeing with me.

Okay . . . you get the point. I’m floundering without my voices. I have 15k left to push out, but can’t do anything until I hear my MC yammering on about crap I don’t want her to. But, I have a plan to woo her back. If I were a fella this might be the point where I pull out some Barry White, a dozen candles, and draw a bubbly bath, but this isn’t the real world, it is a writer’s world. I need to be more imaginative than that. I have to up the ante, increase the conflict, dot my I’s and cross my t’s.

How am I going to do that you ask? First of all, excellent question; I like how you think.

This may sound completely crazy, but I like me some crazy. I’m going to give my MC a tarot reading. Hold your snickers. I’m totally serious and a whole lot desperate. This is the first time in over two years when I can carry on a conversation with my husband without some imaginary creation of mine interrupting. That may be nice for my husband to have my full attention, but it is so strange without the distraction.

For those of you who don’t know what a Tarot reading is, I’ll give you a quick version. They are a set of cards used to predict the future and are 100% accurate. I’ve done it for years and have predicted the breakup of Jen and Brad Pitt, global warming, and the demise of the Flow-bee. Actually, they are more like an in depth horoscope that you can skew any which way you want to. The cards deal with love, work, money, relationships, etc—life.

When I told my pixie friend that I was going to do a reading for my MC, she paused--one of those long pauses. I had to do a "are you there?" prompt, which didn't surprise me. She may talk to complete strangers at the local Sam's Club, but she is afraid of Tarot cards and believes they are the work of the devil. Maybe she’s not that dramatic, but she doesn't want anything to do with them. I suppose a lot of people raise an eyebrow, but I’ve never had a reading that hasn’t uplifted my spirits or left me with a negative feeling. Besides, I'm desperate.

 

So here goes with my reading. I’m going to do a three-card spread. I usually use the Celtic Cross which is eleven cards, but for time and the fact that my “inquirer” is as imaginary as the flavor in low sodium Progresso soup, I’m doing the short version.

Before I reveal my cards. Here is a quick pitch for my w.i.p.

Chelsea Kelley has finally broken free from her controlling ex-husband and has landed a job with a prestigious law firm. The only trouble is the woman who drove her sister to commit suicide in high school is her boss, Victoria Loveland. 

Torn between defending her sister’s honor and a promising future, Chelsea struggles to do the right thing and keep her family and Victoria in the dark. But when Victoria comes up missing, no secret is safe from the police, who believe Chelsea is the prime suspect.  Not only that, her ex-husband sees this as an opportunity to take full custody of their son. With the help of Victoria’s partner in the firm, Ryan Montgomery, Chelsea’s in a race to prove her innocence and the safety of her son before her past catches up to her.

Card one: What worries you?  8 of swords             

Card two: What you should not forget? Knight of cups               

Card Three: How you can resolve the situation? Empress

What’s cool about this reading is it fits with my character. I thought the cards would blend into my own life or problems but they don’t.

The first card tells me that my character is confused, isolated, and although it is for her own protection, it is keeping her away from the objective or solution. All of this is exactly true. As you read in the pitch, she is on the run from trouble—in hiding, actually.

The Knight of Cups reveals an approach or an offer. I’m not a Tarot expert at all, but I can interpret this in a couple of ways. The villain in my book has been toying with my MC with Clue cards, trying to lure her into more trouble. Before I lost my voices, I had just written a scene where the MC made a move based on the last clue. A cup card usually involves romance too and my character is stuck between two dudes. Both of which she cares for but she isn’t sure whom to trust. In one of the last chapters, a secret was revealed about one of the dudes and his character put in question. Is he good or bad kinda thing?

The Empress is a card of strength. My MC has relied on others for most of her life, including her current situation. Then she made a bold move on her own and that’s where I left off.

So what does this all mean? Do I magically have my voices back? Unfortunately, they are as silent as before. But what I do gather from this is that I’m heading in the right direction. My character needs to be a big girl and take care of some business and remember things that happened before, be it clues or whatever, to help her figure out what’s going on. We’ll see what happens, and if all else fails I may try some Barry White.

How far are you willing to go to reclaim your writing? Would you, could you read some Tarot? Would you, could you kiss a Pharoah?

Have You Seen My Mojo?

My critique group is falling apart. In 2010, we were rolling along full steam, writing, editing, learning, growing. Some were strictly online/email members, but there are three of us who remain tight and chat frequently. They are my best friends—kindred spirits. For the most part, I think we complement each other well. We all have our strengths; what one misses, the others usually sweeps up.

So what’s the major malfunction you ask? There are a few things that have came along and mucked up everything. One member, Elisa, has devoted the entire year to blogging. She has the craziest things happen to her, like an older woman calling her clothing business requesting, AHEM, a penis pump. She’s having a ball writing about her life, but she’s not critiquing or writing anything else—no time. (Check her out at The Crazy Life Of A Writing Mom, she has some great stories to share.)

My friend Angela is also blogging and building her platform. She has really grabbed blogging by the who-haws and learned all the ins and outs—twitter, hootsuite, and all that stuff. That’s great for her blog, but it zapped her time and energy to finish her zombie western. She has an agent shopping her YA contemporary to publishers, so I understand the need to blog and create an online presence. (Whimsy, Writing, and Reading—her blog is great too)

Then there’s me. I’d like to say that I’ve been so busy with book tours and promoting my best seller there’s just no time for the little people anymore, but not a chance. After twenty years with the same company, my husband is out of a job and I’m trying desperately to claw my way back into the workforce before we run out of money. My degree has collected ten years worth of dust while I’ve raised my kids. It isn’t going to be easy to jump back in—will an employer want to hire me after so long? My mind is cluttered with sadness, anxiety, and no voices. For the first time in years, I have no voices in my head.

I’m a former social worker who used to work with severely emotionally disturbed children. One of the things I developed in those kids was coping skills—healthy coping skills. So, here I am dealing with one of the most stressful times of my life and my one comfort—my coping skill—is silent. I miss the chatter in my head, the dreams at night, and the wandering images of my characters as I drive my daughter to school.

My problem has also put a damper on the others in my group. Our steamy romance writer, Krissee, had an agent request the sequel to her first novel. She asked us to tighten it up for her (she just finished it) but my mind was so cloudy, I couldn’t do it. She had her stuff in an agent’s hands and I let her down. Not fun.

Then there’s Wyatt—our newest member. He is totally getting the shaft. He’s a fantastic writer who doesn’t really need too much help, maybe just an extra pair of eyes to catch those darn repeaters, but he must be thinking what the heck was I thinking joining this group?

I feel bad slacking on my commitments, but can’t find my mojo. I miss the days when I marked the heck out of their work and sent it off excited for the day when I’d get a polished copy, tighter dialogue, and fantastic narrative. I loved seeing the progress, the talent. And to think that I had a small part of that is fantastic. I want that back. Even writing this blog, I see sentences I hate, that need work, but don't have the drive to fix them.

Have you ever lost your voices? Lost your mojo? If so, tell me how to get it back?