There are times, if anyone really listened to me talking to myself, I’m certain the people eavesdropping on my seemingly one-sided conversation would suggest at the minimum psychological help and at the other end of the spectrum a nice, safe, round rubber room where I couldn’t harm myself. The thing is, as a writer, I talk to myself quite often.
I was talking to myself the other day. The new romance I started for NaNaWriMo (which, by the way, I did not get 50K words done in the month—not even close) was going nowhere fast. Oh, I had my two main characters hurtling down the tracks at the astronomical speed of about 50 miles an hour (for the 1870s, that was an astronomical speed) and safely ensconced in a fairly deserted passenger car, and that was the problem. They were safely ensconced. So I backed the story line up and asked my characters what I missed.
Most authors can tell you that when an author asks a character (or characters) a direct question, the author may not like the answer. A.J. has always been one of those characters who has honed sarcasm into a weapon. Allison is a bit more blunt. I could clearly see the both of them in the passenger car, A.J. leaning up against a door, Allison on the bench seat in the back of the car. A.J. stated, drawl firmly in check, “I’d be inclined to hazard the guess that you missed getting us off the train back at the last station and with your keen sense of observation, you still managed to completely miss the rather unsavory sort who’s been following Allison.”
Really? Where was he mentioned? And why do you two have to get off the train?
“Don’t tell me you forget to write my suspicions in the scene where you introduce me. You made it a point to put me in those ridiculous heeled boots that made it nearly impossible to run after the train you made sure I missed.”
Sorry, Allison, guilty as charged. I did put you in the fashion of the day and I don’t recall you telling me anything about a man you thought was following you. Just as much your fault as it is mine.
So rather than listen to A.J. demanding to know if he needed to go tell the engineer that the train had to be stopped and backed up about 20 pages or if I was going to do that, I went ahead and stopped said train and backed it up. Added in the afore mentioned unsavory sort following Allison in the scene where I introduced her and now I have them off the train.
Things are rolling along now. At least where the plot is concerned. Those two, on the other hand, have just hit a major snag. Something about a wanted poster, aliases, and murder…