CONFLICT!

by Gina Sestak

We want it in our novels, right?  Conflict, that is.  We pit our characters against each other, against themselves, against nature, against circumstances, against God.  Makes for a good story, but in real life . . .

I had some of that real life conflict this past week.

The snow began on Monday afternoon.  By the time I got out of my Pittsburgh Filmmakers class at 9:00, it was several inches deep.  I drove the two miles home very slowly, slaloming around the slow-covered streets, narrowly missing parked cars and on-coming traffic, and began to relax when I reached my house.   I was reluctant to park on the street for fear of other sliding cars, so I tried pulling into my snow-covered driveway.  Big mistake.  The car slid sideways and came to rest with its front in my barberry hedge, its middle blocking the sidewalk, and its rear sticking out into the street.  I tried to back it out, rock it out, put it in neutral and push.  I shoveled the snow around the car, threw down some salt, and tried again.  Nothing worked.  I conceded defeat and went inside to call AAA.

That began another conflict.  I really needed help getting my car out of the hedge.  By blocking the sidewalk, it was forcing pedestrians out into the street, the realm of sliding cars.  I didn't want to be responsible for anybody getting crushed.  AAA was busy, though, with stranded drivers and fender benders on the highway.  The operator didn't want to send a tow truck to someone whose car was parked at home.   After some discussion, I was able to convince her that my car wasn't parked at home.  It was wrecked at home.  She finally told me, "90 minutes."

I waited.

After nearly an hour and a half, the phone rang, and a man explained his tow truck driver hadn't been able to get up a hill and so they couldn't reach me.  I suggested an alternate route.  He expressed reluctance to respond to a car parked at home.  I went through my story again - the car isn't parked at home.  It's wrecked at home.  He agreed to send somebody.  I wasn't sure if he was really going to do it or if he just wanted to get me off the phone.

I waited.

Another call.  The tow truck had arrived.  A nice young man managed to get the car out of the hedge and positioned it against the curb.  I found the hubcap embedded in the hedge and he put it on the wheel.  All done, right?

Not quite.  The car looked fine the following day, so I drove it to an afternoon class at Pitt.  It looked okay when I came out, but by the time I got home the right front tire - the one that had spent most time in the hedge - was flat.  Another call to AAA.

I waited.

Another nice young man showed up and replaced the flat tire with a funny looking spare.  I took the tire to be repaired.

All told, this conflict ended well.  No one was injured and the damage was minor.  Even the tire survived, a cheap fix ($20).  Now that the car has been removed, the hedge appears to be okay.  And I have a bunch of new experiences to draw on in my writing.

So, how has your week been?

Researching Snow

by Annette Dashofy

My current WIP is set in mid January. In the snow. And the cold. As I’ve been shoveling my driveway (frequently!) in recent weeks, I keep telling myself that it’s research. The stinging pain in my toes as the cold seeps through the Gortex lining of my boots; the shiver as the snow I brush from my car finds its way down my collar and under my clothes; the bite of the wind on my face. It’s all finding its way into my story.

Note to self: Set future stories in the summer!

A manuscript I wrote several years back (the one that resides in a dark drawer in some undisclosed location) was set in Las Vegas. I’d never been there—still haven’t—but I collected photos and descriptions of the place. I researched it to the point that I held up my end of a conversation about the city with someone who frequented it. I worked on that story in the middle of winter, too. When I headed off to write, I’d say, “I’m going to Las Vegas,” and everyone knew what I meant.

It was nice. I could fool myself into thinking I was there. Warm. Sunshine. (Wistful sigh)

This month has definitely provided a wealth of material for anyone writing about winter. From the three feet of snow to the three foot icicles. Not to mention power outages. I’ve often bragged about my skills at “roughing it.” But roughing it in your own living room isn’t all its cracked up to be.

We were lucky. Our electric only went out for 11 hours. Others around us were without power for over a week. I’m surprised the murder rate hasn’t skyrocketed. Or maybe it has and the bodies are simply buried beneath the snow.

I stopped at a local station for gas. I felt dwarfed—my little Saturn parked amidst a half a dozen monster-sized pickups, all loaded with red gasoline containers. And not a smile on any of the faces of the drivers. At Wal-Mart, the weary shoppers were attired in bulky camo and Carhartts. The women wore no makeup and sported hair that hadn’t seen a shower in days.

Glum. The local population is glum.

And ask me about my Valentine’s Day. Okay, I’ll tell you. I held the aluminum extension ladder while my darling husband knocked down icicles and chiseled ice blocks out of our gutters. While I was holding the ladder, the ice was flying and falling and thunking into me head. My shoulders. My back. OUCH. At one point, I yelled up to Darling Husband and said, “You know…some girls get taken out to dinner on Valentine’s Day.” He grunted and kept on chiseling.

Yes, life is a bit challenging here in southwestern Pennsylvania at the moment. And I can’t even escape into my writing, because it’s more of the same. Snow covers the clues and wipes out the evidence. Eventually, in my story, the snow melts and reveals a clue or two. I’m hoping that it will eventually melt here, too, and reveal everyone’s good humor. I know it’s there somewhere.

So what is the environment of your WIP like? Does it take you somewhere sunny? Or are you, like me, unable to escape the wintery beast even in your prose?

January's Not So Bad...

by Joyce

As I sit and write this, it's snowing like crazy outside. It's damn cold. The high in Pittsburgh on Friday is supposed to about eight degrees.

But I'm going to look on the bright side and try and come up with some reasons why January isn't so bad. (Notice I said try to come with reasons.)

January is the first full month of winter. If it wasn't for cold winters, we wouldn't appreciate the summer so much. Think about January next July when you're sweating and complaining about the heat. And don't even tell me you'll be happy when it's 90 degrees. You know you'll be whining like everyone else.

You can wear all those beautiful sweaters you bought for 75% off after Christmas.

Ditto for the slipper socks.

The heavy coats hide the evidence of all the Christmas cookies you ate.

You can play "See How High Your Spouse Can Jump" when you touch him/her with your frozen toes. You get extra points if they jump all the way out of bed. Add more points if it's accompanied by a screech.

January White Sales. You can buy that tropical looking bedspread you've had your eye on. Add mosquito netting and some Caribbean music and you can pretend you're in Jamaica.

Snow shoveling is good exercise. So they say.

You burn more calories when you shiver.

Spring begins in March, which comes after February, which comes after January.

And last but not least, you can't go anywhere so you get more writing done. After you check all your favorite blogs and play solitaire until you finally win a game, that is.

Okay, everyone. Give us some more reasons to appreciate this frigid, gloomy month!