THAT'S NOT MY TABLE.
By day I write stories.
By night I wear an apron.
And in the middle somewhere is me.
Where I write
July 25, 2011
The Fine Art of Procrastination
This is a photo of a building in Denver that I took two years ago because it was where I imagined my main character, Genevieve, lives. In my still-not completed mystery/romance novel she lived near downtown Denver in an old neighborhood where I once lived so when I traveled there again, and saw this building, I decided a photo of a real building, might help inspire me to believe even more in my novel. I imagined Genevieve lived in a second floor loft apartment above a shop which sells cupcakes. In reality, there is an tea house and a pet supply store, but in my novel there is not only a cupcake shop but also a shop called The Pink Corset where Genevieve works part time selling costumes. In my novel there is a Spanish restaurant on this street, too, where she meets up with a former lover. I'm embarrassed to say I took this photo two years ago which means I should be writing my next novel and not still struggling to complete this one. This might be yet another procrastination tactic of mine, I wouldn't put me past it, but I thought perhaps writing a blog about my novel might actually help me actually write and not go on Facebook and look at silly stuff such as photos of a guy who jilted me twenty years ago. How delighted I was to find he is no longer dark and handsome but gray and fat. In my novel, Genevieve's former lover has only improved with age, like fine wine. The Imagination can be so much more fun than reality.
This is the Platte River in Denver. Genevieve's loft apartment is just a block from the river and at night she can often hear the water rushing and the wind in the trees. In reality there aren't many big trees and the water isn't that loud, but isn't that what creative license is all about? A writer's job is to spice things up. Something scary happens to her one night as she is walking her dog, Winston, on the path which runs alongside the river. I used to walk my two dogs along the river when I lived in Denver but nothing scary ever happened to me except one time a homeless man did expose himself but there was nothing very mysterious about that.
This is a waterfall outside Boulder, Colorado where several key scenes happen in my novel involving all sorts of stuff which I need to look at my novel again to actually remember. Come to think of it, in the last chapter I wrote, I left Genevieve in a perilous position on the top of this water fall, her life in danger. In truth, I've never hiked this path to the top of Boulder Falls but maybe, if I get this novel finished, I will hike to the top and have a glass of champagne. Hmmm now that might motivate me to finish my novel. Bubbly stuff.
And finally here I am in front of the little red house with white trim where I lived in Denver while earning my journalism degree during the 1980s. This house is just a few blocks away from where Genevieve lives above the cupcake shop, working at the Pink Corset, having adventures with a dashing former love, trying to solve a mystery involving her best friend that died involving gypsies. I don't live in this house anymore, but a part of me still remains there, the one who first decided she wanted to write. Now, all these years later, I better get going. Genevieve waits. I think I've mastered the fine art of procrastination and now it's time to master, or at least practice, the fine art of writing.