Author: Mary Castillo

Back in September I had a tarot card reading. Some of the predictions came to pass, others I would venture to say were “misinterpreted.” (When you spend $40 on that sort of frivolity, rationalizing is a great skill.)

So I went to The Observation Deck and asked the cards what they needed us to know during our BIAW. The card I pulled advised: Study opening lines.

From the book:

You have a world of powerful teachers sitting on the bookshelves in your house right now. Pick up a favorite book and look at the opening lines. Who is speaking? How does the book begin? What has the author done to draw you in? How does the opening relate to the end of the story?

But if you’re not at the start of your book, perhaps today you’ll start a new scene or a chapter. If you close your eyes and imagine your character, what is the first thing out of his or her mouth? What is she or he thinking in that moment in time? What do they see? Are they touching something or someone? Write it down.

This is my unedited, off-the-cuff opening of chapter 24 of my WIP:

Dori walked up the front door of Starbucks on the corner of F and Fifth streets. Her fingers wrapped around the door handle and as if she were in a dream, she slowly opened the door and the smell of coffee wrapped around her, drawing her in. She blinked and then saw her, the mother of the woman she’d shot and killed three weeks ago waiting at a table by the window.

It might be rewritten. It might become scene two of chapter 26 in the final draft or I may cut the scene all together. (These things happen.) But after writing that paragraph, I have to find out what Dori will say when she walks up to that woman’s table. Will she say, “hi, how are you?” or will she sit down? I don’t yet know but I can’t wait to find out.

What are your first lines today?

Amy – 16 pages; total 18 pages
Erica – 4 pages; total 8 pages + one watercolor painting
Lainey – 2 pages + 7 pages of a new short!
Liz – 5 pages; total 9 pages
Mary – 11 pages; total 21 pages
Steve – 1,000 words; total 2,100 words
Tena – 6 pages

Keep ’em coming!

Living with a writer ain’t easy. Most of the time when I’m sitting at the dinner table, I’m not really there. I’m in make-believe land discovering something new about my characters or asking my brain, which is a blank slate, the directions around the latest road block in my story. We get cranky when things don’t go our way and suddenly run out of a room in the middle of a conversation to jot down an idea or a turn of phrase.

Writers who love their spouses speak of them as if they’re demi-gods because frankly it takes superhuman powers of patience to put with up one of us. Stephen King made his wife, Tabitha stand up during his speech for the National Book Award and accept her share of the kudos. When they were still living in a trailer, she rescued the manuscript of Carrie from the trash. When Stephen King was the biggest thing in publishing, she then rescued him out of the abyss of drug and alcohol addiction.

If Una Jeffers, the wife of Robinson Jeffers, didn’t hear his pen scratching, she would thump the ceiling with the top of her broom handle. He built a tower for her that overlooks Carmel beach and held her in his arms when she died.

The late Stan Rice inspired his wife to create Lestat. Nora Roberts’ husband willingly leaves the house so she can write in complete seclusion. Suzanne Brockman’s husband brought coffee and doughnuts to her and her readers at RWA New York.

My husband has read every single screenplay and book that I’ve written. When I handed him the manuscript of Hot Tamara, the poor man cried. He looked at me and said, “You did it, babe. This is it.”

Ryan is still at my side, bugging the crap out of me when he senses that I’m slacking off. He gives me his honest opinion even though I always break my promise not to get mad at him. He gets angry for me when I get a critical review or a rejection. Yesterday, he told me it was a matter of “when” not “if” I’d become a best-seller. I shouldn’t have been surprised because on our first date, he told me he wanted to be the first person to get a signed copy of my first published book.

To him and all the spouses who are crazy enough to marry and stay married to writers, I dedicate this song.

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This song pretty much sums up what I’ve been feeling since Monday afternoon. For us writers and artists, there comes a time when you have to stand your ground on a project that has come from the deepest, most personal corner of your soul. Even when the gate keepers tell you to put it aside and work on something else and you’ve done that on other projects, there is a moment that calls on all of your faith and hope. It’s scary as hell and I may very well fall flat on my face but this is that time for me.

So with that, I’m going back to work.

I thought I’d commented on last day’s blog (Madonna In the Slums) but it didn’t take.

I wanted to thank you guys for commenting. Our discourse helped me understand where my conflicted feelings were coming from. When I hear about the atrocities in Darfur and the AIDS epidemic in Africa, there this overwhelming dread and sickness that feels like its going to bury me alive. In my present circumstances, I can’t run off to these countries to help, nor do I trust that the monies donated to international aid organizations are going to the people who need it the most. So when I hear about Madonna jetting off with nannies and children in tow to stay at an exclusive resort and then walk the streets surrounded by personal security while the people shower her in rose and marigold petals …

Oh wait, there I go again! Quick aside: I’m man enough to admit that I’m a judgmental wench. But I’m one with a heart.

Anyway, after reading your comments and facing the source of my frustration, I decided not only to get back to work but to do something locally. I contacted the high schools in my area and in nearby Santa Ana to inquire if I could go in and talk to their students about following their dreams. I’m not giving nourishment to an AIDS baby – although I did that to many such babies at when I volunteered in the Neo Natal ICU at Daniel Freeman and LA County hospitals – I want to give kids in my community some hope. When I look back on my junior and high school years, I remember the former students who would come in and talk to the class. They came from the same neighborhood that I did and hearing how they got into Harvard or were interning at the White House made me think that my dreams, at that time, weren’t so impossible.

We are all connected, certainly. So if my simple story of moderate success can inspire someone close to home, then I hope the effect will ripple out into the rest of the world.

Best,
Mary