"Chapter Three"

 

            A few months ago, I began writing another novel. My first novel reprimands me daily from the wicker stool upon which she perches. She’s a strong piece (as first books go) with no purpose other than entertaining a reader. She’s not meant to change the world or make a statement about the mysteries of life. She evolved out of a dream, months of research, and commitment to completion. For years, the first draft collected dust in a box. I pulled the box open last summer and began the revising and editing process. I printed two copies of the new draft and handed one to a friend a couple of months ago. The other draft, sitting always within my peripheral vision, awaits input from another friend. If my dedication to my craft ruled my life, I’d make certain to deliver this copy sooner rather than later. But . . .

            In the meantime, I’ve started my second novel. This one has more import and weight. I whipped out the first two chapters with relative ease. The setting, characters and conflict established themselves almost magically. They are good people facing a seemingly insurmountable crisis with grace and dignity. I know they will prevail—if I can ever get the time to write beyond Chapter Three! To write a chapter takes longer than the quick fifteen minute blog entries I throw together each day. To finish Chapter Three, I need an uninterrupted block of time. Eventually, I’ll have an evening or an entire weekend open. By that time, I’ll be so familiar with the plot and descriptions within this next chapter that putting the words to the page will be effortless. For now, I’m satisfied with writing in my head.

The Golden Bracelet by Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"My Writing Process"

             

            Life stays with me in still shots. Vivid photographs develop in my memory which I neatly catalogue for later reference. When I write about a past event, a slide show runs in my mind until I find just the right moment. Then I hit the pause button and recreate the event. I can again feel annoyed that my hair, carried on the hot breath of summer, whips across my vision. I relive instantly the parental frustration of hearing another chorus of “I’m bored!” My eyes water once more with chlorine burn from staying in the pool too long, trying to decipher the rippled words spoken under water. Not all writers work in this way, but for  me, searching for that word or phrase that allows me to translate these pictures into someone else’s vision becomes an obsession. If I create a new world or character, I want my readers to experience my imagination with me. If they catch their breath at the turn of a phrase, or blush at an intimacy, or feel the flash of anger at an injustice I’ve revealed, then I feel triumphant.

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“From Nancy Drew to Stephanie Plum”

            Nothing pleased me more as a child than coming home to find a book-sized box on my twin bed. I always knew that I’d have hours of entertainment from the latest in my Nancy Drew mystery series. My sister hooked me on the young detective by loaning me a copy of The Secret of the Old Clock. By the time I turned seven, my parents decided to join the book club in order to keep up with my demands for the next edition.

            I loved reading the Nancy Drew series for several reasons. Even as a child, I enjoyed to puzzle over things and put together evidence and clues to solve a mystery. My goal with each book? Discover the solution to the crime or mystery before Nancy, of course! I smugly applauded my reasoning every time I put together the pieces of Nancy’s puzzles. Although I liked Nancy quite a bit, I identified more with her best friend, George. I felt George had a little more spunk than Nancy. As I read the books, I never imagined myself at the wheel of the blue roadster. Instead, I sat in the passenger seat, the loyal buddy ready to accompany Nancy on her adventures.

            Thinking back, perhaps Nancy Drew’s perfection put me off as a child. She always wore the perfect outfit, said just the right things, and never bungled nor had a misstep. With her impeccable father and flawless boyfriend, Nancy’s noble determination to help those around her made her an ideal heroine. I, however, needed someone with a little grit.

            As an adult, I still love reading light mysteries. Only now, it’s the latest Janet Evanovich installation that baits me. I hate having to wait for the next adventure of Stephanie Plum. Of course, this character embodies the antithesis of Nancy Drew. That clumsy, gritty, complicated heroine I longed for as a child appeared on the bookshelves in 1994. I identify with Stephanie Plum’s boldness. I love her imperfect family and her bumbling crime solving methodology. Whether she’s pressed against super-hot Morelli, or simmering next to sultry Ranger, Stephanie’s imperfection draws me into her world. As I lose myself into Stephanie’s adventures, I identify with her and not her best friend (which may be fortunate as Lulu’s a humongous, gun toting, ex-ho stuffed into Spandex.)

 Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman