Calling A Writer a Cuckoo Can Be A Compliment by Betsy Ashton

Have you ever been called a cuckoo? Or nuts? Or a little off? How did you react? Did you thank the person? Did you get angry? Did you not understand what was happening?

If you've been called these names and thanked the person, odds are you are a writer. Many of us are more than a little bent. We listen to the voices in our heads. We carry on conversations with imaginary friends. Some of us walk around outdoors gesturing madly while we work out a thorny plot twist.

Family learns to tolerate our behavior. They find in us comic relief from the seriousness of daily life.

I work out plot twists in the middle of the night. As I lie in bed, in and out of sleep, plots take shape. Dialogue flows. Characters form. I thank my spiritual muse for these nights of enlightenment.

When this happens, do I get up and race down to the laptop? Turn on the bedside light, write a note and wake up my husband? No. If the plot twist, dialogue and characters are good, I'll work with them in the morning. Some mornings, after a night when the spirit muse is in full voice, I do race to the laptop and let my fingers fly over the keyboard. A good day sees 3000 words pour out, some of which will actually make it into the finished manuscript. Others will be crafted, massaged, rewritten and even deleted over time. At least the draft captures the moment.

Good days find me at the keyboard for many hours. Words flow. Words don't. When the voices in my head are quiet or are arguing among themselves, I take a break and work on some marketing activities. When the voices quit arguing, I look back at what brought on the argument. Often it leads to a new plot line. Sometimes it leads to a whole new concept for a manuscript. Sometimes they paralyze my fingers, rendering everything I type rubbish.

Call me cuckoo. Call me nuts. Please call me a writer.

And then there are days like today when the gummy bears are in charge and nothing makes sense.

Some Like It Hot by Betsy Ashton

This month we write about the opposites, hot and cold. This applies to writers as well as everyone else. You'll notice I put writers in their own category. We are weird. We actually listen to and heed the voices in our heads. We make up things and think they are true. We make up people and inhabit their skins. We think this is normal. Psychiatrists think those who inhabit imaginary castles in the air are neurotic. And then these self-same psychiatrists charge us rent for those castles.

Okay, enough.

As a writer, I dabble with different genres, non-genres, characters, plots and settings. I play with voices, not in my head but on paper. I turned my second Mad Max manuscript into my agent at the beginning of this month. I needed a break from writing a series. I pulled out two manuscripts at the opposite end of the genre spectrum. Today's post is about the hot end, the yang of yin-yang symbology.

Annie is a comfortably married partner in a security consultancy. Her business partner introduces her to a computer genius. Tall, lean, rather plain but interesting face, uncomfortable in social settings, Annie is expected to hire this guy, bring him to clients and deliver new business contracts in cyber-security.

So far, so good. This guy is like a barn-yard collie, eager to please, but socially inept. Annie won't let him out of her sight when a client is around. She's afraid he'll promise something outrageous. Worse, as she gets to know him, she's afraid he'll be able to deliver what he promises too easily. She wants to keep his talent inside her firm.

Trips to London let the two step out of their mentor-mentee, boss-employee roles. Attraction comes through intellectual compatibility, not through hot pulses and heaving bosoms. Throw in an unhappy non-marriage (his) and a comfortable but not passionate marriage (hers), take them to London again, add seasonings, stir and bring to a boil. She discovers his other hidden talent.

Fun to write the hot sex scenes. More fun to write about the conflict, the guilt, the desire both feel when apart. So, this can't be a genre romance, because the principals are married to other people. It probably wouldn't work for traditional publishers even if they weren't married. Annie is in her mid-forties. The collie is 38. She's not a cougar. She's not a predator. He's vulnerable. He's honorable.

Hmm. A woman of a certain age. Hmm, love blooming where it shouldn't. Begs to find an audience.

Regardless of what happens, this has been a welcome respite from the series. It's been fun to write. Who know, maybe I'll get far enough to ask for beta readers. Maybe not.

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Many thanks to my readers who make this book a success. Many thanks for their kind words, their reviews, their offers of future plot twists.

Mad Max Unintended Consequences is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Or ask your local library to add it to its collection.