Tag Archives: writing

The Woman in the Blue Coat

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She swept her chestnut hair out of her face avoiding his gaze from the opposite side of the coffee shop. He sat slumped over his laptop. He made it appear as if he was more interested in something other than her sparkling blue eyes and demure smile. He knew from experience she would never look his way. He eyed her over the screen hoping this would be the day she would turn and walk over to him. She would introduce herself. She would tell him she had been noticing him for the past few weeks, but she was too shy to say hello. He would ask her to sit down. They would laugh and talk over several coffees, not noticing the world around them. They would discover they had so much in common and make plans for dinner.

He watched as she turned her collar up over her neck and grabbed her cup to leave. The door swung open with a blast of wintry air and she was gone. Her blue coat billowed behind her as she walked up the street and out of sight. He closed his laptop and sighed. He stuffed it into his satchel when he heard his name, “Mitchell!” He looked up and saw Kate’s wide smile from behind round dark-rimmed glasses.

 “I thought that was you! I got coffee. Do you wanna sit?” she asked as she brushed her auburn curls from her brow.

“Nah, thanks, Kate. I was getting to work. You enjoy,” he said. She sat and sipped her coffee watching him gather his bomber jacket from behind the wooden chair. The shop was beginning to bustle with the hum of customers ordering their lattes before a hectic day. Kate unwound her knitted scarf and placed it on the table. She stared up at him as he donned his jacket and slung his satchel over his shoulder. He gave her a warm smile that made her insides melt and her hands tremble. She set her coffee down to prevent the contents from spilling everywhere.

 “Okay, um, well, have a good day,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice the flush in her cheeks and the sweat beading her temples.

 “Thanks, Kate. You too. Nice scarf, by the way,” he said, giving her a wink. She could feel herself weakening and willed herself to stay upright in her chair.

 “Oh, thanks! My Gran knit it for me for Christmas last year and I love it, it’s so warm –“

 “That’s great, Kate.  See ‘ya later,” he replied, taking his empty cup and rushing out the door. Kate sat with the words, “Yeah, see ‘ya,” tumbling gently over her lips. She watched him sprint into the burgeoning sunshine.

Days passed and Kate revisited the coffee shop that Mitchell frequented. She knew there was a woman he wanted to see. He would sit alone at the corner table facing the door. He would open his laptop and position it preventing unwanted conversations. Kate had seen her waltz in with her long blue coat and her matching scarf wrapped elegantly around her neck. Her long brown hair swayed as if it had been washed and combed moments before entering the shop. Kate wasn’t jealous of her, exactly. She was annoyed that Mitchell had found her so captivating. She watched him wriggle in his seat the moment she walked in. He would stare atop the computer screen, and watch her order. He smiled when she smiled. He almost drooled as her hand brushed against the barista’s fingers when she gave her money. It was nauseating. It bothered Kate so much she often thought about asking him why he did it day after day but thought better of it. She couldn’t embarrass him like that; she wouldn’t.

Monday morning arrived rainy and cold. Kate sat at Mitchell’s unoccupied table wondering what had become of him. She could arrive at any minute and he wasn’t there to capture Miss Blue Coat’s entrance. Kate sipped her coffee and watched customers rush inside from the spatter of rain. She saw her right away. A black rain slicker replaced her long blue coat. She danced inside the door, deflating her opened umbrella. She motioned for someone to follow. Kate’s heart leaped at the sight of him. He was beaming despite the rain soaking his dirty blond hair and dampening his cheeks. He took up the height of the door as he guided her by the arm to the line. He looked like he would burst with joy. He had found her. Tears began to well in Kate’s eyes and she brushed them away. She hoped he hadn’t seen her in his spot watching them be happy together. Her fists clenched and her face flushed as she tried to move. She stayed forced to watch as the happy couple ordered their coffee and laughed at the rain. Kate stared as he put his hand on her waist.  She thought she might be sick. She gathered her things and raced for the door, but it was too late. Mitchell had seen her, “Kate? Join us!” he called. She barely heard him as she pushed through the crowd to the door. She managed to get outside when she felt a hand on the crook of her arm pull her to him. The rain pelted their faces, her tears melding with the droplets.

“What are you doing out here? Come inside,” he said as he watched her face fall.

“I can’t,” she whispered. Kate searched the ground for the words she needed to say, but couldn’t find. He tilted her chin and forced her to look into his eyes.  He returned her gaze with such tenderness it made her heart ache.

  “Kate,” he said, “you don’t understand. I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for her. I’m done waiting.  You see, I never knew my sister. I’ve found her, Kate! I want you to meet her.”

The Waiting Game

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As I continue to take a deep dive into writing the sequel to False Hope, I find I get lost in the idea of writing a perfect story. There is no such thing, of course, but the expectation to write a better or equally enthralling tale hangs steadily over my head. I bat at it to get it away, but it returns ready to study over my shoulder and comment on the already hashed out plot or dialogue. “Why is she saying that?” or, “Who is THAT?!” 

It’s a never-ending battle between the imaginary hangers-on who trod on my words and try valiantly to fool me up, and my characters’ wills to be authentic and allow their voices to be heard over all the objections. It’s a little crazy over in here.

I plod on; however, some days are better than others. On the days I feel the weight of eyes following my fingers over the keyboard, I tend to meander over to an online puzzle to divert the attention. Sometimes it works, but often it ends up in time wasted doing puzzles instead of figuring out dialogue. My characters end up hanging around in unfinished scenes. It’s like they’re suspended in mid-air and mid-sentence unsure as to where to go next or how to get out of there until I write them out.  They’re standing around waiting for the writer to get them moving on or something big to happen.  “Oh, boy here we go again she’s gone over to the puzzles and left us here stranded in the woods with crickets and ne’er-do-wells about. Could be a long night,” they say, and tap their watches and stomp their feet.

That’s how I imagine them, anyway. I try to finish an entire chapter so no one is left waiting for me to decide if they live or die, move on, or move out, or just plain eat the sandwich they bought a few paragraphs ago.  Characters live in my head an on my screen. I can’t just leave them hanging, that wouldn’t be fair.

The perfect story is far from perfect or complete. Yet. I’m battling COVID fatigue, procrastination, and online puzzles to get a few chapters out. In the meantime, I will do my best to get these people to bend to my will and to say what they need despite the expectation of perfection hanging around.  He’ll have to wait it out and stop nagging if any real writing is to get done. 

Maybe he’ll go on and do a puzzle….

Stay safe and stay tuned,

KJ

Stumbling Onwards

Posted in Books, Misguided Musings by
I often feel like I’m flailing hopelessly in anything I set out to do. I’m not alone in that feeling.

I’ve resolved to keep my head down and concentrate on the project ahead of me, instead of focusing what I’ve done. Putting out more work and aiming for something better than the last, helps me to continue moving forward. The compliments and the accolades are nice and it’s good to garner feedback, but in the end, it’s only the work that’s important. It’s what lines your shelves or fills your inbox. It’s a confusing and often challenging process. I’d like to think there are other people who feel the same, and we have mutual struggles. Everyone is kind of wandering around trying to do the best they can with what they have and work hard. We are all trudging uphill and holding on to the belief the hill will eventually even out and we can just stop and rest for a bit; have a gander at the view and take a deep breath. I do a lot of research, read as many how-to’s as possible, but it’s tedious. It’s not always useful nor the best plan for me. I often end up doing my own thing and hoping it works out. Best put, I fly by the seat of my pants and I hope I don’t crash and burn.

In the meantime, if you feel like you’re the only one struggling up that hill, you are not alone. I’m right there with ‘ya. I’m the one with my head down and my sturdy shoes strapped on tight so I don’t trip over a pebble and roll back down. Also, I bring wine. Lots of wine…

Stay safe,

KJ xo

Handling Rejection

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There are many writers who decide to publish their work independently for various reasons. Many are frustrated with the extended time it takes to propose traditional publishers. By the time the manuscript hits their desks, they read, and ask for more chapters only to reject it in the end, a good six months has passed. At least. In that same six months, an independent author could have the book edited, a professional cover completed, and hit the internet for sales. Many opt for the latter just for time constraints. I enjoy the process of self-publishing. I like creating my own covers. I had help on my latest, Kevin, and it was a joy to involve other talented individuals who understand your vision and want to help you realize it. I enjoy searching for the right images, I enjoy formatting and learning about fonts and which paper is best for the look I want inside the book, as well as out. Yes, it’s hard work. Yes, it’s frustrating and if you don’t want the hassle of doing any of that work yourself, then hiring a professional to do it for you is a great option. If traditional publishing is more your thing, being prepared for the many letters and emails you will receive is a must. Rejection is as much a part of that process as querying potential houses.

The rejection letters I have accumulated over the years have all taught me a thing or two. The form letters were not constructive, however, I have a few who took the time to give me pointers on what a traditional house would be looking for. Keep to their specific genre, edit carefully, take your time with the characters, etc. Initially, the letters stung. I took them to heart. I gave it a bit of time and after looking at them again, with more of an open mind and less swearing, they were actually useful. When I approached writing my first novel, I sat down and went through a more methodical plotting strategy. I went online and searched how other writers plot their stories. I watched videos, I bought novel-writing books and I researched how to edit. I downloaded editing software, I purchased a copyediting book, I wrote and re-wrote. I continue to research other ways on how to approach a novel. I structure things differently. I seek advice from other writers. I do all of this now, and never would have thought of doing any of it had I not been rejected. I value the opinions and I learn more everyday. It’s not a race, it’s a marathon and I learn something new with each book.

I’m preparing to write my third novel, the sequel to False Hope. I’m taking my time with it. I have storyboards in place and I will continue to read and write and work. The rejection letters are sitting beside my desk prepared to be read again. They’re not pleasant, but they remind me of how far I’ve come and how far I can go. Rejection is a natural part of any business, not just writing and accepting it as a tool for learning instead of a personal attack is far more beneficial. Take a look at those letters. Read them for what they are intended; as a guide and a tool, not as a means of sending you away. Good luck.

KJ xo

Is Validation Overrated?

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We look for validation from others in order to feel accomplished, but do we really need it? Our own satisfaction from doing good work should be enough to propel us on to the next project, but we often look to others for their thoughts, input, feedback and yes, validation. Their nod that our work is sufficient or competent, often means more to us than our belief in our work. It should be the other way around. Our confidence should trump others’ opinions, but we are slaves to peer pressure and popular opinion. Collective agreement. I have to take a step back and be grateful for the ability to write stories I want to tell and have people enjoy them. That basic appreciation for why I write keeps me going. Look for your own purpose and appreciate the hard work you’ve been putting in to creating the best representation of you, out there.

Take care,

KJ xo